The Young Man at the Fountain

I recently found something I hadn’t seen in years: a newspaper article from The Tartan, Radford University’s student newspaper. It was dated May 3, 1984, and the headline read, “Cattell feels ‘called’ to preach.”

There I was, 21 years old, standing at the campus fountain, preaching about Jesus Christ.

When I looked at the photograph, something remarkable happened. I didn’t just remember being there. I felt as though I was standing there again. More than 42 years had passed, yet I could still remember what it was like to stand in front of that fountain and preach.

I even remembered something rather funny about the photograph. It was staged for the newspaper, and I distinctly remember holding in my stomach because I didn’t want to look fat! Of all the things to remember after so many years, that was one of them.

But the photograph brought back something much more important, too.

Finding the Courage

When I first felt called to preach, I was frightened. Standing before strangers and speaking publicly about God was not something that came easily to me. I remember praying, fasting, and listening to Christian music, trying to find the courage to do what I believed God was asking of me.

I often thought about Peter walking on the water. As long as he kept his eyes on Jesus, he could walk. But when he looked at the wind and the waves, fear took over.

That was how I felt. When I focused on God, I found courage. When I began thinking about the people watching me, what they might say, or whether I would embarrass myself, the fear returned.

Eventually, I realized I couldn’t wait until I was no longer afraid. I simply had to begin.

I remember opening my mouth and speaking the first sentence I had prepared. Then another sentence followed, and another. Before long, I was preaching.

By the time the newspaper reporter came to interview me, I had been preaching at the fountain regularly. I was no longer struggling with the fear that had accompanied those first attempts. In fact, I remember being excited that the newspaper wanted to tell my story.

The article mentioned that I preached three days a week, sometimes while students stopped to listen and others simply walked past. Some mocked me. Others encouraged me. Even Christians had mixed reactions.

I told the reporter that the criticism didn’t really bother me because at least people were thinking about what I was saying.

I also quoted 1 Corinthians 1:18, a verse about how the preaching of the cross can seem foolish to some while being the power of God to those who believe.

I wasn’t standing there because I thought everyone would agree with me. I was there because I believed God had called me to preach.

A Road I Couldn’t Yet See

Reading that article today, I’m struck by how little I knew about what lay ahead.

I was considering full-time ministry, perhaps becoming a pastor. I had no idea where that calling would eventually take me, the churches I would serve, the people I would meet, or the difficulties I would encounter along the way.

There would be wonderful years of ministry, but there would also be disappointments and painful endings. My life would eventually take directions that the young man standing at that fountain could never have imagined.

And then Valerie noticed something in the article that I had overlooked.

In 1984, I had told the reporter:

“I told God if he ever wanted me to stop to let me know, but He keeps on getting me out there every time.”

Valerie reminded me that years later, God did tell me to stop.

And I listened.

There came a time when I knew I needed to lay down the ministry and devote myself to caring for my family. It wasn’t a decision I struggled to discern. It was obvious to me what I needed to do.

That didn’t mean I had stopped loving God or that I believed my calling had disappeared. I simply understood that the direction of my life was changing.

What strikes me now is that I had spoken those words to a newspaper reporter when I was only 21 years old, never imagining how they would one day be fulfilled.

At 21, I asked God to tell me when to stop. Years later, He did. And I listened.

The Young Man Is Still Here

I look at that young man now, more than four decades later, and I recognize him.

Not simply because I remember standing there, but because I recognize the desire in his heart. He wanted to follow God. He wanted his life to mean something. He wanted to be faithful to what he believed God was asking him to do.

I still want those things.

My life has changed in ways I never could have imagined. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve experienced victories and failures. I’ve walked roads I never would have chosen for myself.

But through all of it, God was there.

He was there when I was frightened to open my mouth. He was there when I stood at the fountain. He was there through the years of ministry, through the disappointments, and through the seasons when I couldn’t understand what was happening.

And He is here today.

Perhaps that’s why finding this newspaper article means so much to me. For a moment, I can stand beside that fountain again and remember what it felt like to be 21 years old, excited about following God into an unknown future.

I wish I could tell that young man some of what lies ahead. But I wouldn’t want to take away the adventure of discovering it for himself.

I think I would simply tell him to keep going.

Because following God isn’t always about continuing down the same road. Sometimes He asks us to take a different one.

The important thing isn’t where the road takes us. It’s that we continue to follow Him.

And wherever that road leads, God will be there. He always has been.