She brought the fuzzy piece to her chin and swallowed. “About six months ago, I moved here. Well, not alone, I mean—with my parents. And my brother. Oh, and Nigel, my iguana. But I guess that’s totally beside the point.”

Jitters traveled from her hands to her knees and back up again. Despite the fact that her last few breaths had gotten stuck in her throat, Amanda inhaled one more time. How did the youth pastor stand in front of everyone and deliver a message each week? Knowing she had the floor for only a few minutes, Amanda tried to collect her thoughts for her youth group’s Testimony Night, the event she’d been dreading for the last two weeks.

“Anyway, even though I was different—I mean, you know, I’m not exactly the cutesy-cheerleader type. Sorry, no offense.”

Amanda squinted past the lights to see if anyone was glaring at her. Her shoulders relaxed. No wrinkled noses. No arched eyebrows. No disgusted lip curls; just eyes staring at her, waiting for her to finish. Amanda cleared her throat and hoped the quiver in her knees wouldn’t escape through her voice.

“The thing is, you guys, you little nits. You accepted me. You didn’t turn your back on me when I did things that were, well, you know, wrong or whatever.”

Amanda felt the sharp eyes zeroing in on her. She wiped her free hand on her pants and continued.

“I’ve learned a lot since then, and you guys were a big part of that. Lately, it’s like . . . I don’t know, like God’s been tapping my shoulder, getting my attention with stuff.”

Taking another deep breath, which lodged itself right in the middle of her throat, Amanda recalled a recent time when she’d felt one of those taps.

An Attention-Getter
“Need some help?” Mike, a volunteer at the homeless shelter, had asked her.

He grabbed the other handle before she answered, and together they balanced hot soup between them. When they reached the table, he supported most of the weight as they lifted the soup pot, replacing the empty one. Amanda spun on her heels to thank Mike, but his plaid shirt disappeared when he turned into the doorway, heading back into the kitchen.

“Hey, you left before I could say thank you,” Amanda said, approaching the stoves that were heating the kitchen like a sauna.

“I’m here to help,” Mike shrugged and stirred a pot of soup. “So that’s what I do.”

Karen, the shelter’s administrator, walked in followed by a few new faces.

“Amanda and Mike, I’d like to introduce you to some new volunteers who will be helping us this afternoon.”

Karen waved Mike and Amanda closer. “This is Amanda. She’s been with us for a month, and this is Mike, the hardest working guy you’ll ever meet.”

The new volunteers smiled, politely shook hands with Amanda and Mike and then followed the trail of the mother duck out the door to the serving area.

“Man, that was a nice compliment,” Amanda said, heading back to the stoves and the aroma of chicken and noodles.

“Thanks.” Mike wiped his forehead with the arm of his sleeve. “I just wish others around here would carry their weight. Instead, they sit around talking with the homeless and reading their Bibles. You can’t get much done sitting on your rear.”

Back to the Present
Amanda blinked, bringing her thoughts back from the mental collage of last Saturday to the crowd before her.

“You see, the other day I was really busy with a bunch of stuff, like volunteering at the shelter. Later that night, though, I realized I was sort of missing the point. You know, like all that stuff doesn’t really matter if I’m not putting God first. Anyway, I guess all I’m trying to say is . . .”

Amanda scanned the room, the weight of the microphone heavy in her hand. “Well, this is kind of lame, huh? I’m not very good at this whole speaking-in-front-of-people thing.”

Laughter ripped through her last words. Feeling the urge to laugh along, a smile danced across Amanda’s mouth but faded once she spotted Hannah.

“Are you OK?” Amanda had said to Hannah, moments before taking the stage. “I can tell you’re not. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

“Pray for Katie,” Hannah whispered, wiping her eyes. “She’s quit coming to youth group.”

Amanda folded her arms across her chest. “Of all people, I never thought I’d hear that about Katie.”

“I know. It’s been hard watching my best friend fall away from church,” Hannah said. “But right now the only thing she’s into is her boyfriend.”

“Katie? The one who headed up the ‘No Dating‘ series for last summer’s Bible study?”

Hannah studied the floor. “Yeah, she’s walking away from it all.”

“And you’re not chasing her?” Amanda asked.

“It doesn’t matter what I say anymore.”

Amanda shook her head and shifted her focus back to the audience. “Actually, the truth is, I was going to run away from home before I came to this church. I was depressed. OK, seriously depressed.”

Amanda pulled her sleeve up, running her fingers over the red strips of scars, displaying them to everyone.

“I’m a cutter . . . was a cutter. But you guys showed me what it looks like to know Jesus. You never turned your back on me. So, um, thanks for showing me what the body of Christ could be.”

Amanda placed the microphone back in the stand. Silence hung thick in the air for a few seconds until Hannah started clapping. Amanda tucked her hands in her pockets and headed back to her seat. One by one, and then in groups, her peers stood to their feet. Amanda hoped that familiar shoes would guide her back to her chair. She heard someone from the back of the room holler, “Go, Amanda. You rock!”

No, Amanda thought, a warm spot migrating to her heart. She didn’t hide the smile pushing to escape as she slouched into her seat. God rocks.