On the last day of our backpacking trip through the Porcupine Mountains of Michigan, we ran out of food. Buck, Dan and I tried fishing, but all we could catch were suckers, too bony to make a decent meal. We ate them anyway, and, careless college kids that we were, tossed the bones over our shoulders into the bushes.

Late that night something big began crashing around in the woods. The rangers had said bears inhabited this distant stretch of Lake Superior shoreline, but we hadn't given them much thought. Now, huddling around the campfire, we could think of nothing but bears. I glanced at our shelter—a tarp lashed between two trees—and hair prickled on the back of my neck.

Buck and Dan suggested we pray. I'd gone on the trip, in part, because as a young believer, I looked up to these two fellow students who helped lead Campus Crusade for Christ at Michigan Tech. We'd had a good trip so far, talking about the Lord and witnessing to fellow backpackers. Prayer sounded good to me, though I doubted God cared that much about our bear problems. "Dear God," prayed one of the guys, "We're Your children, and we love you. Please send the bear someplace else."

We crawled into our lean-to and went to sleep. Nothing bothered us.

The next morning we found fresh bear sign 50 yards down the trail. A few hundred yards on the other side of us, another group of backpackers had hidden in their tent and watched a bear rip open three packs looking for food. Among other things, they said, the bear had eaten 40 "hits" of speed.

The bear had to virtually walk through our campsite, strewn with sucker bones, to get from one point to the other. Hmm . . . it seems God did indeed care about our bear problems.

But we hadn't yet gotten the full message. Dan went down to the shore and collected an armload of driftwood. He started to throw a piece in the fire when Buck stopped him. "Hold up a second, Dan! Look at those funny scratches on the wood. They almost look like words."

We cleaned dirt out of the scratches, and sure enough, words began to emerge on that bleached-out piece of wood. At some point in the past somebody had carved on it the words: "God answers prayer."

Spiritual maturity doesn't happen over-night. When John wrote his first epistle, he mentioned little children, children, young men and fathers (1 John 2:12-14)—each at a different level of growth.

Although it's not always easy to pinpoint a person's maturity level, the following chart has given many Campus Crusade for Christ staff members a jumping-off place to help someone grow.

Level of Growth	Non-believer	Carnal Christian	Growing Christian	Reproducing Christian
Capability	Cannot feed self	Must be fed	Feeding self	Feeding others
Commitment	None	Weak	Strong	Consistent
Your responsibility	Live and present the gospel	Build	Train	Send
Suggested materials or resources	Four Spiritual Laws, Gospel of John, give your testimony, invite them to church	Invite to spend time with growing Christians, present Holy Spirit booklet or Transferable Concepts, 10 Basic Steps, quiet time	Inductive Bible-study methods, Scripture memory, God: Discover His Character by Bill Bright	Master Plan of Evangelism by Robert Coleman, Personal Disciplemaking by Chris Adsit

For many of these materials contact New Life Resources at 1-800-827-2788.

During one of the terrible days of World War II, a father, holding his small son by the hand, ran from a building that had been struck by a bomb. In the front yard was a shell hole. Seeking shelter as soon as possible, the father jumped into the hole and held up his arms for his son to follow.

Terrified, yet hearing his father's voice telling him to jump, the boy replied, "I can't see you!"

The father, looking up against the sky tinted red by the burning building, called to the silhouette of his son, "But I see you. Jump!"

The boy jumped, because he trusted his father.*

The Christian faith enables us to face life or meet death, not because we can see, but due to the certainty that we are seen; not because we know all the answers, but because we are known. Hebrews 11:1 states, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (New International Version). As we look to the future, with all its uncertainties, we look through the eyes of faith.

*Story adapted from Illustrations for Preaching and Teaching from Leadership Journal, (Grand Rapids, Mich.; Baker Books, 1993).

Darrell Nelson lives in Poplar, Wis., with his wife, Cindy, and four children. The avid hunter pastors Mission Covenant Church.

One of the hardest changes for parents is watching their children grow up, move away and become independent. I remember the day that Vonette and I helped our older son, Zac, settle into his dorm room at Life Bible College in Los Angeles. Later we helped our younger son, Brad, pack his car to leave home and drive across the country to Washington, D.C., to work for Senator William Armstrong of Colorado.

Before each of our sons left home, we got down on our knees together to thank God for him and pray for his safety. When we rose, we embraced and expressed our love.

As Brad drove away toward Washington, Vonette and I waved valiantly. I forced a smile and stemmed my tears. My little boy isn't little anymore, I thought as his car disappeared around a bend. He's on his own now. The "empty nest" syndrome that comes when your last child leaves home is very real.

But our boys are independent adults now. They do not need us like they did when they were young. Of course, I would not wish for them to come back because they have lives, families and ministries of their own. Yet we will never forget the emotionally difficult change we experienced when each of our sons left home.

Today, we live in a time of hyper-change. Fashions and trends change weekly; people relocate frequently; technological advances quickly make the past obsolete. A way of life that was once familiar and comfortable to us rapidly fades away. This change produces a great deal of stress. As we search for stability, we wonder if there is any permanence anymore. Is there some anchor that will hold us so we will not be swept away by the waves of change washing over society?

Yes. Life and its uncertainties may shake us, but God, the Rock of Ages, does not move. If we cling to Him, His strength sustains us.

God never changes. God has never had to learn anything; He has always been omniscient. God has never had to develop talents or skills; He has always been able to do everything. He has never needed to mature; He has always been perfect in all of His attributes.

God's character is constant. Unlike us, He does not compromise or change His values. He cannot be manipulated or persuaded to go against His Word. Furthermore, God is not moody, as we are. When I come before Him in prayer, I do not have to worry that He has just heard prayers of someone who really made Him angry and will take His anger out on me. He does not get tired, and He is not too busy to listen to my concerns. As the faithful Father, He is always there when we need Him. He is not more loving one day because He feels good and more judgmental the next because He wakes up on the wrong side of the bed.

If God's character does not change, then it follows that His Word does not change either. If His purposes do not change, then the instructions He gives to us do not change.

Isaiah 40:6-8 records that "people are like the grass that dies away. Their beauty fades as quickly as the beauty of flowers in a field. The grass withers, and the flowers fade beneath the breath of the Lord. And so it is with people. The grass withers, and the flowers fade, but the word of our God stands forever" (New Living Translation).

Perhaps you are thinking: If God never changes, what is the purpose of prayer? I want to caution you about using God's immutability as an excuse not to pray or to ask Him to intervene in your daily life. Although He will never change His plans, Scriptures abound that show how God can alter His temporary purposes in response to our faith and actions.

For example, He may reverse His judgment because of sincere repentance of sinners (Jonah 3:4-10). At other times, He responds to the needs of human beings or the fervent prayer of the righteous (Numbers 14:1-20; 2 Kings 20:1-6; Luke 18:1-8). This is one of the mysteries of God's nature. We know that God never changes, and yet He relates to us and gives us our free will. When we pray and ask Him to intervene in our lives, He does so—when it is in line with His will.

Take comfort in the fact that God never changes; but realize that when we seek His face in repentance, we can expect Him to respond to our prayers, and change our world and us.

Tomorrow is 'No-Rules Day,'" I announced to my two elementary-aged children. For one magical day, they could wake, eat and behave as they chose. They were free from my rules, with one exception—safety rules still held. Their eyes lit up at the news.

My son awoke at the usual time, grabbed some cookies and clicked on the television. My sweet daughter nervously asked when we'd be leaving for school. "You tell me when you want me to take you," I replied. They left on time, wearing outfits suiting their style.

They came home from school to snack on chips and soda, then went outside to play. They returned at dark. I bit my tongue as they bounced on the sofa, but they surprised me by sitting down to books and homework. A short while later, my son asked about dinner. "Dinner?" I asked. "It's kid's choice today." They slapped together some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then topped those off with chocolate-chip ice cream.

Over dessert, I offered to read Katie's Adventure at Blueberry Pond, by Josh and Dottie McDowell. We read about how parents' and God's rules protect us, then talked about our family's rules, and rules found in the Bible.

I told them that even I have to remember to obey God's rules, because when I haven't, I've gotten into trouble. Sometimes, I said, I've even experienced God's discipline. When I don't feel like listening to God, I remind myself that He's my good and loving Father and He knows what's best for me. So I choose to obey.

When we finished talking about the book, I sang a hymn I often sing to them: Trust and Obey.

"How did today go without any rules?" I asked later that evening.

"Great!" said my son. "I have a headache," moaned my daughter.

"Should we do this everyday?" I asked. "No," responded my daughter vehemently.

But I don't think my words reached my son's ears. His blond hair must have flicked them away as he leapt from sofa to love seat and back again.