The Freshman



“Studyin’ hard?” 

I blinked at the young man meandering past the couch where I was huddled, feverishly slurping soup and cramming for a final exam approximately 30 minutes away. Was this kid talking to me? “Uh, yeah…” I shook my head and lowered my eyes back to my notes. 

Less than two minutes later, he was back. Pointedly dropping himself onto the seat to my left, he peeked at me from under a sagging red hat, sprawling tendrils of dark hair framing his glasses. Nope, I’d never seen him. He decorated his query and re-fired: “So do you have a big test comin’ up or somethin’?” The nerve! He was acting as if we were grade school buddies. “Yeah,” I answered, trying my best to wipe the bafflement off my face. “What are you doing?”

Taking a swallow of his 20-ounce cafeteria cola, he replied “Eh, nothin’ much. I just thought you needed someone to talk to.” I inwardly guffawed—this sounded like the start to an ill-played pick-up line. But his statement had triggered a faint warning light in my brain. Someone to talk to. 

I pasted the fragments of my shattered concentration back together, trying to make a rough sketch of this young man. He was a freshman with no major field of study. He was from a small town in northern Minnesota. He currently lived in Tamarack, the oldest (and rowdiest) dorm on campus. College was alright, he said, except for one thing. “I’ve had some trouble makin’ friends. I don’t even have a roommate!” I raised my eyebrows at this oddity. “I thought it would be a good idea to have my own space,” he sighed, “but I guess not.” 

This tired, desperate admission stirred a dusty corner in my heart. Had it only been a year since I was the misfit newbie on campus? His melancholy brown eyes appealed for help. How could I have forgotten?

“Don’t the people on your floor keep their doors open? Have you tried attending floor events? What about student clubs?” I was hemming and hawing now. “For me, going to a Bible study was great last year.” My religion bait didn’t taste right to him, and he quickly turned the topic of conversation to my piano performance major. Abruptly, he grabbed his backpack and stood to leave. “I’ll let you keep studyin’.” 

Still somewhat dazed, I waved. He was gone. I didn’t even know his name. 

Opportunities often come when we least expect them, and are usually one-time events. “The freshman,” as I started thinking of him, haunted me. He needed help, and I had failed to give it. I cried out to God as the One who knew exactly where he was and what he needed. I searched for him in while eating in the food court and walking in the hallways. And as I did so, I began to notice many other unfamiliar faces. Faces filled with laughter, faces wilted with worry ….just faces. No matter the facade, I realized that hidden inside was someone who needs Jesus Christ. 

Whether we know Him or not, God knows us—just read Psalm 139. The Creator of the universe sees us as we really are. There is no faking it. In light of God’s holiness, we are completely sinful. Even our occasional kindness is tainted with selfishness. Under God's perfect justice, we stand condemned.

Our only hope is found in God's beloved Son—Jesus Christ—and His sacrificial death on our behalf. He who never knew sin of his own “became sin for us that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.” (2 Corinthians 5:21) Christ’s work accomplished everything—that means we must do nothing! Eternal life is freely ours when we accept by faith this amazing gift of love. And when that momentary decision is made, we are permanently flooded in grace (unmerited favor), never to be rescinded. We are unworthy, yet declared righteous in Christ; fully known, yet fully loved.

This hope is too incredible—too vital—not to share with the hurting people around us.

“I, even I, am He who comforts you.
Who are you that you should be afraid
Of a man who will die…?” 
(Isaiah 51:12)

How do you view people? Are you looking past the faces of the people God has placed in your life?

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