Matt Chandler - The Gospel Wave

If you have your Bibles, go ahead and grab those. If you don’t have one, there should be a hardback black one somewhere near you. Once you’ve got one of those, turn to Acts 17. I know we just read Matthew 28; that’s kind of our jumping-off point, but I want to walk through Acts 17 with you as we dive back into our Gospel series. I’m always struck by the generosity of God around the teachers here at the Village. I was chasing bull elk up in the mountains of Colorado, and then Josh and Adam did an exceptional job, and my heart is full—and so is my deep freeze. Now we’re going to dive back into this passage.

Jeff’s family of origin had already fallen to pieces by the time I met him. He was living with his grandparents, who had given him a love for Gaither Quartet music, which made him a bit of an outlier in the high school that I attended because he not only loved them but also couldn’t understand why we mocked him for his love of that. He would say things like, «Do you hear that tenor?» or «Do you know how hard it is to hit a harmony like that?» making it all the more easy to mock and belittle him. Yet, Jeff walked up to me and said, «I need to tell you about Jesus. When do you want to do that?» He became the voice that God used to pull me into the Kingdom of God.

I left in May, being one of the better partyers at my school, and returned in August or September wearing an «I Heart Jesus» shirt. I didn’t know what to do except what I saw Jeff do. So, I would say, «Hey, I need to tell you about Jesus. When do you want to do that?» but I didn’t have Jeff’s lifelong church background; I didn’t have his grandparents shaping and helping him understand things. Instead, I had Chick Tracts. Do you remember Chick Tracts? If you have a church background, maybe you do. They were like these comic book tracts that told Gospel stories—some of them were absolutely awful—but there was one that I actually liked called «This Was Your Life.» So, I would say, «I need to tell you about Jesus. When do you want to do that?» and I would give somebody a «This Was Your Life» tract.

I just track-bombed my high school; I mean, they were on urinals and stuffed into lockers. If there was a place to put a «This Was Your Life» tract, I Heart Jesus Matt Chandler was putting them everywhere. One of the first guys I started to try to share the Gospel with was named Jimmy Herford. Jimmy was like a wannabe thug, you know, who would fight almost anyone and had quite the weed problem before a weed problem was common. That’s what I wanted; I wanted the fringes, man. I didn’t want the quasi-good kid; I wanted the guy who might punch me in the face at the mention of this stuff. So, I started sharing the Gospel with Jimmy, gave him a tract, and he read through «This Was Your Life.»

Then it was in a history class, and somehow, I was in the hallway. I don’t know if I was making up a test or if my voice—something that everyone appreciates now—had gotten me in trouble again. So, I’m in the hallway and Jimmy comes out with a bathroom pass, and he’s like, «Man, I love this; I love what you’re saying. But man, I get high every day. There’s just no way I’m going to…» and then he kind of storms off. It’s not long until Jimmy becomes a Christian. I’ll actually tell you the rest of his story next weekend when we talk about the simplicity of the Gospel.

Jimmy doesn’t know what to do except what he saw me doing and what I saw Jeff doing and what Jeff’s grandparents had put into his soul. So then, Jimmy starts going around, finds an «I Heart Jesus» T-shirt, and he starts going around with «This Was Your Life» tract. He meets Brent Beard, who was this kind of monster of a defensive lineman and also a guy prone to violence. It seems like that was the stream I was in at the time. Not long after, Brent becomes a Christian. You know what he starts doing? What he saw Jimmy doing, what Jimmy saw me doing, what I saw Jeff doing—what Jeff had put into him through his grandparents.

Someone is behind the grandparents; you tracking with me? And then someone is behind them, and then someone, because you and I find ourselves caught up in something here that goes way before us and will be here long after us. I’m curious—this is like participation time. How many of you became Christians because you had Christian parents who shared the Gospel with you and became Christians at a young age? If that’s you, raise your hand high. All right, now how many of you—that’s not your story? You became a Christian because of a coworker, a neighbor, a friend, a roommate, or some divine appointment that occurred?