We all have students who seem “the least likely to . . .”
You start a group and they come twice in eight weeks. You call them, text them, Facebook them, drop by their school. Nothing. Maybe an occasional connection, but mostly you pray.
Don’t stop praying. Or pursuing. We know a youthworker with just such a student in his group. Unexpectedly the guy showed on a retreat, engaged . . . and came back to Christ.
There’s a long poem on the Internet called The Hound of Heaven, by Francis Thompson. I keep this part in my prayer journal:
I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind;
and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated, Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after . . .