Sure, I can make it. Those dates don’t conflict with anything,” Marta said into the phone. “Let me know what I should bring. I’ll head out to a store today to see if I can find some good hiking boots.” She paused, then giggled at Brent’s next comment. “Yes, and nylon and wool socks! Good grief! So, who else is going?” Pause. “That’s great! I haven’t seen him since he transferred to Cedarville. Brent, I’m getting excited about this trip!” Pause. “So the group is going to be, you, me, Tara, Eric, Karen, and Terry. Is that right?” Pause. “Sounds great! I can’t wait!” Pause. “Okay, let me know about what I can bring. You have a good remainder of your day, Brent.” Pause. “Thank you. Bye!”

Now she had to go shopping in order to find what apparently were the most important articles of clothing in the whole wide world … nylon and wool socks.

THURSDAY,

JUNE 18 – 2:13 P.M.

THURSDAY AFTERNOONS DURING the summer months allowed Brent and his former high school basketball coach, George Chamberlin, to get together and talk over lunch and sometimes to go out to do some manly things: shooting at the range, a few holes of golf (a sport at which Brent knew he was rather bad), play a game of pick-up basketball at one of a few outdoor courts in the area, and sometimes, like today, go biking.

They opted for a ride along the Ohio & Erie Canal towpath; at least that’s what it had been at one time. Now it was a series of biking & hiking trails, the full length of which was about 100 miles between New Philadelphia and Cleveland. They had never cycled the full course, but they kept talking about getting it done. 200 miles round trip would be quite the trek.

It was a beautiful day with the sun shining down through a near-full canopy of trees. Brent loved Summer. It didn’t get much better than this. They were now enjoying a water break after about fifteen miles of riding, both drawing the cool liquid out of his own respective stash of sports bottles.

Another thing Brent loved was the man with whom he was hanging out.

George Chamberlin had approached Brent after graduation in May of 1983 to ask if he’d be up for a little mentoring in his Christian walk. Brent jumped at the chance. Where Brent was now in his walk with the Lord was attributable, in great part, to this man. He also believed that his dad’s salvation was just around the corner. George and his dad shared several common interests, not the least of which was U.S. history—the subject that George still taught at the high school.

George and Brent sat on the dark gray wall of one of the abandoned canal locks that lined the trail. Sweat that soaked their hair also ran down their faces and necks into their T-shirts.

“So, tell me about this backpacking trip you’re going on,” inquired George, wiping sweat from his eyes with one of his shirt sleeves. “Sounds like you’re pretty excited about it.”

“Yeah, I am. It started out with us just looking for ways to stay connected over the summer. That is, Marta, Tara, and me. Then it got bigger out of necessity when we decided that going backpacking with some other friends would be a cool thing to do.”

“Okay, I know Marta, but who is this Tara?”

“Well, she’s someone that Marta and I met at the college. When we crossed paths with her she was pretty distraught.” Brent went on to describe their initial encounter and budding friendships with the girl.

“Anything there on a more personal level for you, Brent?”

Brent was glad his face was already hot from the exertion of the bike ride, which probably saved him from some visible signs of having been caught off guard with the question. “Umm … Well, she’s not a Christian yet.”

“Not exactly what I asked,” said George with a smirk.

Brent sighed, looked at the ground for a moment, then looked over to George and met his gaze. He already knew where this was going to go.

George was a good mentor, helping Brent to steer clear of some decisions that would have compromised his walk with Christ. After avoiding some of those bad choices, Brent had been glad of the man’s guidance and his persistent questions about the struggles he’d been having. Most of the time, though, the questions were less than comfortable to answer. This held the prospect of being one of those times.

Brent couldn’t help but grin as he answered. “Well, she is hot.”

George couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow. You sure know how to dodge giving a direct answer to a direct question.”

“Okay, okay … Yes … maybe.” Brent broke eye contact and looked straight ahead. “I mean, there is definitely something about her that is intriguing. She’s outgoing and lives a little on the edge. She likes a lot of the same activities that I do, and … she seems to be interested in me.” Brent paused. “There, is that a little closer to the answer you were looking for?”

“Nailed it,” George responded. “So, she’s hot, has an apparent interest in you, and you two share some similar interests. So far, so good. But…”

“But…” Brent interrupted, “she doesn’t know Christ.”

“Pretty big element, don’t you think?” asked George with a look that changed from humored to more matter-of-fact.

“Yes, it is. Very big. And it’s not lost on me. In fact, Marta and I have both been praying for her and talking with her about Christ. Well, talking as much as she’ll allow, anyway. It seems pretty awkward for her to talk about.”

“I remember a young man of about sixteen having that same initial reaction,” said George as he quickly lurched sideways to bump shoulders with Brent.

Brent smiled. “Yeah, I remember too. Don’t know where I’d be if it hadn’t been for you taking a chance to express your faith in Jesus that day.”

“Okay,” said George, once again serious, “what are your intentions with Tara on this camping trip?”

Brent blanched. “Well, nothing really … outside of just being friends.”

George shifted to turn more toward Brent. “This is where the rubber meets the road, Brent. There may or may not be opportunities for getting into trouble during your camping trip…”

“George, there’s not…”

George raised a hand. “Let me finish. Brent, you’re 21 years old; a full-fledged godly man. But you’re a man with weaknesses. All of us have those areas in our lives where compromise is just one overwhelming temptation away. Your past with your ex-girlfriend, Michele, opened a big bad door in your life.

“The first year that you and I started getting together after your graduation you admitted to me that you and Michele had been sexually involved. With that type of experience, especially one that lasted well over a year, comes more struggle than if it hadn’t happened at all. It’s not easy to put the genie back in the lamp, if you’ll excuse the non-Christian euphemism. And trust me, there will be opportunities on this trip for you to compromise, especially if you’re right about this girl having eyes for you, too.”

“I know you’re right,” Brent admitted. “Trust me, though … more than anything I want to see her saved.”

“That’s great, Brent. I know that about you. You’ve got an evangelist’s heart. But having the right heart is only part of the solution that you need to keep yourself from falling. Do you want to know what the other part is?”

Brent smiled and nodded, knowing that he’d just gotten cornered.

“The other part is a good decision, backed up by commitment. If you go into this trip wondering how far things might go with her, you’re going to be looking for and hoping for opportunities. Opportunities to start holding hands… Opportunities to steal a kiss out on the trail when no one else is looking… Opportunities to take things—or allow for things to go—further. My guess is that you’ve already imagined some of those things.”

Brent cringed internally. This man knew him. Supposedly that was a good thing, but right now Brent didn’t like getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Brent hadn’t imagined that Tara and he would be “sleeping” together, but he had fantasized about his hand running through her hair and drawing her into a tight embrace; then that lingering kiss. Brent sighed, and George must have seen it.

“Brent, I’m not trying to rain on your parade, but I am trying to keep you from doing damage from two standpoints: 1) you feeling guilty for compromising on your commitment to only date a Christian, and 2) not being different from any other guy that Tara might have had. You want this girl to come to Christ, but the biggest thing that you can do to hinder that is to compromise for the sake of a good time. Make sense?”

Brent looked at his tennis shoes and nodded. He heard George take a deep breath then stand up.

“I think I could make it a few more miles before heading back the opposite direction,” said George with renewed vigor. “That is, if those formerly athletic legs of yours can handle the burn.”

Brent stood up, too, and looked at his mentor and friend. “Bring it on, old man.”

George laughed as he grabbed his bike.

Brent smiled, but his mind was not going to let loose of this conversation for a while. It was time to make a decision. He hoped he’d make a good one, and just as importantly, back it up with a true commitment. He wasn’t sure he liked ditching his mental fantasy.

I wonder how much commitment twenty miles of praying will get me? Brent asked himself.