I became a Christian at the age of 22, by way of someone I never would have expected. It was the summer of 1998, four years prior to me submitting my life to the Lord. I was leading a private camp and awaiting the arrival of my assistant. She bounced in with her blonde ponytail, blue eyes, and bubbly spirit. She was a few years younger than I — and seemed it. Not that she was immature, she wasn't, but there was innocence about her that poured out as she spoke and interacted with the campers. Our first meeting would be God's way of changing the whole course of my life.
She and I were polar opposites. I was black and she white. I was in college and quite academic and she had decided to leave college early to do campus ministry. Later I would find out that she came from a fairly wealthy family and I was poor. Most importantly, she was a Christian and I was not. She would eventually share the gospel with me and I would resist it for four years.
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