Mark started his lecture the same way he always did, by snapping his fingers slowly and rhythmically, like a ticking clock.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
He didn’t say anything. He just snapped.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
The sharp, loud clicks reverberated off the walls of the chapel, where several hundred high school students waited nervously for Mark to speak.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Finally he paused, scanned the room solemnly, and asked, “Did you know that every second, seven people die?”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“That means twenty-one people just passed into eternity.”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“By the time you put your head on your pillow tonight, six hundred thousand people will have walked off planet Earth and stood before the throne of Almighty God.”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“How many of them will go to hell?”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“More important, do you care?”
Snap.
A former college basketball player with an imposing six-foot-seven frame, Mark traveled the country, asking questions like these of Christian college students and church youth groups. He spoke with captivating intensity, punctuating each sentence with conviction, as if pounding a gavel. He shared stories about his life as an evangelist and described how he witnessed to strangers at public parks and sporting events, in airports and on airplanes, at shopping malls and bars, to waitresses, salespeople, postal workers, pedestrians. He taught the Way of the Master technique (made popular by Kirk Cameron on TBN), in which the proselytizer approaches a person in a public place and asks if the person obeys all of the Ten Commandments. If the person admits to breaking just one of the commandments, the evangelist uses the opening to explain how sin separates us from God and how the only way to restore relationship with him is to embrace Jesus as Savior. Failure to do so results in a one-way ticket to hell.
“How many of you have witnessed to someone within the last twenty-four hours?” Mark asked. “Raise your hands.”
A palpable awkwardness fell over the auditorium as one or two people (who I suspected were fibbing) raised their hands.
I suspected they were fibbing because the first time I heard Mark speak, I fibbed a little myself. I was in high school at the time and a few weeks earlier had witnessed to my lab partner in biology class. I figured that no one else in my youth group ever would have done something that brave, so I went ahead and raised my hand even though it hadn’t technically happened within the past twenty-four hours. I soaked in Mark’s approving glance, only to feel a wrenching twinge of guilt after he looked away. I’d just broken one of the Ten Commandments.
This time, as a young adult with a seat in the balcony and a little less to prove, I didn’t raise my hand.
“That’s not right,” Mark said as he surveyed the meager response from the students. “That’s just not right.
“Let me ask you something,” he said. “How many of you believe that hell is a real place?”
A few people in the auditorium murmured “amen.”
“If you believe hell is a real place, then the question isn’t, How can you share your faith? but, How can you not share your faith?” Mark said. “The two most important questions you will ever ask yourself are these: One, Do you know where you are going when you die? And two, Who are you taking with you? Once you die, there is no turning back. You are either in heaven or in hell, and you will be there forever and ever and ever and ever. The question for those of you who are born again is, Who will be there with you? You’ve got extra tickets to heaven in your pocket, and you’ve got to hand them out now because you can’t cash them in after you die.”
Mark went on to share some anecdotes about people who had near-death experiences that involved fire and wailing and that sort of thing. He implied that born-again Christians have good near-death experiences, but everyone else has bad near-death experiences. (I’d seen enough Barbara Walters specials to know this isn’t true.) He then offered some pointers for witnessing to people who believe in the theory of evolution, which he described as having “absolutely no evidence to back it up.” (I’d seen enough of the Discovery Channel to know that isn’t true either.)
“Let me ask you something,” Mark said as the clock approached 11:50. “How many of you are happy to be alive?”
The students sensed this was a test, so the applause was hesitant.
“Sure beats the alternative, right?”
The room fell silent again.
“Folks, the apostle Paul said, ‘To live is Christ and to die is gain.’ I’ve got news for you: death beats life. If your dream is to be with Jesus, then death beats life. The problem is, you’re too distracted by the stupid, pointless things of life to care about eternity. You’re too distracted by homework and ball games and parties to make sure you’re witnessing for Christ.”
“Every second, seven people die.”
Snap. Snap. Snap
“Will you be the next to go?”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“Or will it be your neighbor?”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
“Who’s going to stand up for God today?”
Snap. Snap. Snap
“And who’s going to let him down?”
Snap.