Running Scared: Part 4, The Real Beginning

Answers to tough questions never come easy. The students in classroom eighteen knew how to ask them of me and each other.

"Where is God when I hurt?" "Why did He allow so much bad stuff to happen in my life?" "How can I know He loves me?"

Genuine questions from a group of students who want to know the answers. We've spent over a week addressing these inquiries and others. Most of the students have approached me with doubts and uncertainty about their Christian faith and yet a willingness to allow me to discuss their issues.

I don't have all the answers. My faith has been stretched in some way by each one of them.

At the end of last week's class, the students continued our conversation in the hallway. I ushered them into an empty classroom. More that half followed because they didn't have a next period class.

Our discussion continued for another half hour. They were opening up to me and to each other. How I praised God!

When the conversation slowed, I shooed the students out—except one. I'd promised her we would talk.

Kaylee hugged the other girl. "Grab tissue. Mrs. Perkins has a way of making you cry." She smiled at me.

"Really?" I raised a brow. "Am I that mean?"

"No." Kaylee tilted her head. "Just that caring." She walked out.

I pulled a chair up across from where Rachael sat. I looked at her and smiled. "You said in one of your papers that the past was the past. No need to dig it up. Either you don't want to deal with your pass so you buried it, or you've dealt with what's back there. I don't think the latter is the case."

Tears streamed down her cheeks without her saying a word.

I stood. "Let me grab the tissue."

She nodded.


I don't mean to sound cliché, but this class has changed my life. Since college I've had a desire to work with high school students, yet God has seen fit to allow that desire to grow for almost 25 years before allowing it to become a reality.

I almost missed the opportunity.

When the principal of the school asked me to teach this class, I came close to saying no. I knew what I wanted to teach and this wasn't at the top of my list.

"I really believe God will use you with this group of students," she'd said.

But was I willing to be used?

I’ve often told the students God changes my lesson plan on my way to school.

They laugh.

But He really does.

I'm so glad I listen. I'm glad He loves this group of seniors enough to not leave them where they are.

Running scare. Not sure of what the future holds for them when they’re no longer high school students. They will soon learn many are still running scare. Even after high school, from young adults to seniors. It’s the scared, that I pray they don’t focus on, but the running—and to Whom.

God's not through with the students in room eighteen.

And He's not done with me.