By DAVID EPPS
Guest Columnist

I was bored to tears on that hot, sticky day in June of 1965. Already, only two weeks out of school, I had run out of things to do during summer vacation on this warm Sunday afternoon. August would bring the dreaded two-a-day football practices, and ahead loomed six more weeks of inactivity.

So, I grabbed my Fender Musicmaster guitar, located my Sears Silvertone amp and headed to the front porch to practice some of the songs we had been learning in the rock n' roll band where I played rhythm guitar.

As I was struggling with a few of the popular British tunes, I noticed an automobile drive past our house and stop. After a moment, the car backed up and out stepped two girls I had seen at school. Sherry Cloninger and Andrea Carter were at least a year or two older than me and I had admired their beauty from afar. And now they were headed into my yard!

I stood up to greet them and the man with them driving the car. Although I knew them, they had to ask my name and, after exchanging a few idle comments about the muggy weather, they invited me to go with them to their church youth group. I would discover later that the three (the man turned out to be Fred Austin, the brand-new pastor at Mountain View Methodist Church) were on the way to church when one of the girls spied me sitting alone on the front porch. After some hesitation, they decided to stop and see if I would like to go along.

When I asked what a youth group was and what it did, Andrea, who had the whitest teeth and the most darling eyes, sweetly explained that there would be Bible studies, swim parties, dances, hay rides, trips to Buffalo Mountain Camp, and a host of other activities.

When I asked if any girls would be at the youth group, Andrea and Sherry just looked at each other, then back at me, and smiled.

“Why not?” I responded.

I obtained my mother's permission to attend the youth group and joined Andrea in the back seat of the pastor's car. After about a mile of travel, I said, “How many kids are in this youth group anyway?” Again, Andrea and Sherry looked at each other, back at me, and smiled. Then Andrea said with absolutely no embarrassment, “Well, now there are three!”

It was a chance encounter that would change my life forever. A few months later, I would publicly confess my faith in Christ and would receive the sacrament of baptism. I would be elected the president of the smallest youth group in Tennessee and, after I coerced my friend Steve into attending, he would be elected vice-president and, later, we would swap offices.

Under the gentle encouragement of Sherry and Andi and the watchful eye of the Rev. Austin, who would be tagged “Rev. Freddie” behind his back, we began to gather our friends, classmates, and girlfriends to this small group of kids that met in the white country church way out in Preston Woods.

We did indeed do all the things that the girls had promised we would do. We learned something about the Bible, had swim parties, movie parties, dances, and the other social functions. We also had high moments of spiritual encounters on the tops of ridges at Buffalo Mountain Camp, nestled in the woods beyond the rural area just outside Johnson City, Tenn.

We had a chess club, made movies, published a youth newsletter, and even sponsored a youth boxing tournament (BIG mistake!). I preached my very first sermon, all 11 minutes of it, during Youth Day at Mountain View. I played high school football, was a top competitor on the school's karate team, and briefly attempted to compete in the shot-put on the track and field team.

But my love, throughout high school, was the youth group. When I couldn't get a ride, I would walk the two miles to church, confident that someone would give me a ride home following the meeting each Sunday evening. By the time I graduated from high school, the youth group had grown from three kids to over 75 and the church had built a beautiful new brick sanctuary, complete with a bell tower and a huge cross on the sanctuary wall behind the Communion Table.

When I left home for the Marine Corps during those turbulent and confusing days, the Rev. Austin would write me, sending words of confidence and encouragement, as I successfully navigated the rigors of Parris Island, S. C.

During my days in the military, I would sense a call to the ministry and, eventually, would return home to complete college and begin work in a church.

In 1971, on Labor Day, I would marry a Baptist girl in that hushed sanctuary where I had often meditated on that rough cross. Steve, who I had dragged with me to the second youth meeting, would be my best man and drag me into the sanctuary.

All that began some 34 years ago. During my 28 years in the ministry, I have served as a youth pastor (twice), an associate pastor (twice), a university campus minister at three institutions, served as a pastor to seven previous congregations, served as a police chaplain to four agencies, traveled as a short-term missionary to two African countries, and served several terms as a denominational official. Three years ago, I began ministry as a mission pastor and church planter.

As far as I can count, some 5,000 people have made commitments to Christ during those years and over two dozen people have entered the ministry under my training and sponsorship.

It's been quite an adventure for a kid from the hills of eastern Tennessee. All because two high school girls saw a guy they didn't know strumming an electric guitar, sitting alone on his front porch — and decided to invite him to church.

Whose life will you change this week?

[Father David Epps is rector of Christ the King Charismatic Episcopal Church and is Canon Missioner for the Diocese of the Armed Forces (Law Enforcement and State Guard Chaplaincy). He is a member of the Bishop's Council for the Diocese of Georgia. He may be contacted at CTKCEC@aol.com or at P. O. Box 2192, Peachtree City, GA 30269.]

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