Grandpa was so thin I barely recognized him. The burly Norwegian had lost half his weight. Doctors gave him less than six months. Tubes for breathing and tubes for feeding hung from his cancerous frame. He struggled to keep his eyes open to watch his Minnesota Twins baseball games on television.

One night we were alone. The only light emanated from the television's white glow. Pat Sajak was praising Vanna for her letter-turning adeptness—this was Grandpa's favorite game show. Groggily he mumbled for a drink of water. I walked softly over to his bed and sat beside him. Lifting the Dixie cup to his face, I fumbled to get the straw between his thin, cracked lips.

I desperately grasped for a way to start a spiritual conversation. He'd heard about Christ before, but hadn't accepted Him. I squeezed his arm. "Grandpa, are you scared?"

"No," he struggled to whisper. "I just want to get this over with."

Before I could get any further, Grandma, aunts and uncles rushed in. I melted into the background while their busy shadows attended to Grandpa. I resolved to return the following weekend.

But later that week I received the call. Grandpa died. Alone in my dorm room, I slumped on my couch. Then, suddenly enraged, I tore off my baseball cap and fired it against the door.

"I can't believe You pulled this! You didn't even give him a chance!"

I've always believed that nothing happens on earth without God's permission. So what was the hurry? Why couldn't—or wouldn't—He wait one more week?

Then I stumbled upon Job 38. The interrogation that Job—and I—mounted against God suddenly turned on its head. I felt the weight of God's glory, and my anger began to transform into . . . fear.

"Who is this who darkens My counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundations?" (Job 38:2-4, New International Version).

It was as if God said, Remind Me again, Bill. Have you ever told the sun to rise, or seen the gates of death? He began showing me that my accusations were, in fact, an indictment on His character. As the Creator of the universe, God alone understands the deepest mysteries of life and death.

At the funeral, I approached Grandpa's body. Shaking. Steadying my hands on his casket, I whispered through hot tears, "Lord, I trust You with this." Even when I don't understand.

As you mentor another believer, keep a notebook. Get a three-ring binder, some dividers and some lined notebook paper. Behind each divider, list three components for each person you meet with:

1. BACKGROUND
Keep personal information about the person you are mentoring that you won't want to forget, like contact numbers, significant dates (anniversary, birthday) and personal interests.

2. LESSONS
List some training objectives that you plan to discuss. Consider these foundational subjects: assurance of salvation, being filled with the Holy Spirit, the Bible, evangelism, the local church and prayer.

3. DIARY
Draw a vertical line down the middle of a sheet of paper. Title the left side Planned and the other side Did. On the Planned side, enter the date of your next meeting and list exactly what you plan to cover (the training objective to discuss, questions to ask, quotes and Bible verses to read together). Afterward, enter on the Did side what actually happened, questions your disciple asked, and problems or prayer requests.

Adapted from Personal Disciplemaking by Christopher B. Adsit.

Fear gripped me as I jockeyed river currents in my kayak. My knuckles were white from clutching the paddle so tightly. In a continuous mile of expert-level rapids with jagged rocks called the "Wild Mile," there was a good chance I would get hurt if I didn't navigate precisely. I needed to trust everything I had learned about kayaking and apply it.

The first rapid, aptly named the "Big Drop," included a gigantic recirculating wave that stretched across the girth of the river. I once heard of this watery beast ripping a guy out of his kayak and cartwheeling his 220-pound body for 30 seconds.

I skirted the Big Drop, crashed through 8-foot waves and paddled through the rest of the rapids unscathed. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating.

At times we all go through life's rapids. We like eddies—the calm, predictable spots where the river seems in our control. Yet in the swirling waters of heartache, suffering and loss, God often deepens our faith. We learn then how to trust Him.

When we're facing the thunderous breakers, we want out. But these times of turmoil force us to rely on God, not ourselves. Faith can be terrifying and exhilarating, all at once.

A feeling of satisfaction swept over me after drifting into the calm portion of the river. I was a better kayaker because of the experience. So it is with faith. Looking back, seeing what we have gained, we appreciate the lessons of dependence learned in rough water.

Vonette and I both pursued very materialistic goals in life years ago. Our dreams had included the finest European honeymoon that money could buy; a home in the fabulous Bel Air district of Los Angeles; securing the region's finest voice teacher to develop Vonette's already beautiful singing voice; expensive new cars for both of us; and all the other things that typically accompany wealth.

But after we decided to make Jesus Christ the Lord of our lives, we found ourselves beginning to respond to His command: "Seek first His kingdom and His righteousness" (Matthew 6:33). We realized that the more we learned of God's love and provision for us, the more we could trust Him. Every day, in some new and exciting way, we were learning that God's will was better than our own. We no longer had a great appetite for the materialistic goals that had previously driven us. Now we wanted our lives to count for eternity.

We believed in setting goals; only now we desired to do so with God's guidance to make sure our goals were His. One Sunday afternoon in our home in the Hollywood hills, we were talking about how our trust in God had grown, wondering aloud what new goals we should place before Him. Vonette, always practical, came up with an excellent suggestion: "Why don't we go to separate rooms and make a list of the things that are important to us? Then we'll compare notes and agree on a final list."

Vonette went into one room and I went into another, where we each prayed for God to show us what He wanted us to do, then wrote our ideas on paper. When we came back together, our lists were different, but after a time of discussion we agreed on the following items:

1. To live holy lives controlled and empowered by the Holy Spirit.
2. To be effective witnesses for Christ.
3. To help fulfill Christ's Great Commission (His command to "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature") in our generation.
4. To have a loving, Christ-centered, nurturing home.
5. To have two to four children.
6. To have two cars.
7. To have a house nice enough for entertaining the President of the United States but modest enough that a person from skid row would feel comfortable.

On that Sunday afternoon in 1951, Vonette and I sensed the Lord leading us to make an uncommon commitment. As a businessman, I was accustomed to signing contracts to signify agreement with someone regarding terms of a working relationship. "What if," I suggested to Vonette, "we put what we have written in the form of a contract with the Lord, and surrender our lives, goals, material possessions and our future completely to Him?"

If this idea had been presented to us years earlier, we would have scoffed at it. This just was not the typical, college graduate, ready-to-conquer-the-world approach to life! Neither am I suggesting that every Christian do something like this. Such a transaction is strictly between an individual and God, as it was for us. But we sensed the Holy Spirit at work in our hearts, maturing our value system, and showing us a deeper meaning to life.

Vonette readily agreed that this was something we should do together. Prayerfully, we signed our names to the contract as a formal act of our commitment to Christ and His cause. It was not an emotional undertaking, but a transaction of the will.

To this day, more than 50 years later, we are convinced that our early "contract with God" prompted our Lord to entrust us a short time later with the vision for Campus Crusade for Christ—first came the contract of surrender, then the vision.

Whenever the temptation has arisen to "store up treasures on earth," our written agreement with God has come to mind and, with His guidance, steered us away from wrong choices. We agreed in writing to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and claimed His promise that "all these things will be given to you as well" (Matthew 6:33).

We did not know what was to happen as a result of our commitment to become "slaves of Jesus," but I know God did.

Adapted from Come Help Change the World, © 1999, by Bill Bright, New Life Publications, Campus Crusade for Christ. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

I'll never forget the wisdom of that little boy's surprise answer.

Recently I read a children's book to my Sunday-school class of 5-year-olds. In Little Rose of Sharon, author Nan Gurley tells the story of a rose in the Valley of Sharon whose greatest desire is to please her Creator with the loveliness of her petals.

A fierce storm comes up one night, and the little rose hangs onto her petals and her beauty with all her might. When morning arrives, she is relieved to see that she has lost neither one. But close to her stem lies a tiny dove's egg blown off its nest and hidden from its frantic parents. The baby bird inside will surely die if left unprotected from the cold.

The rose has to make a difficult choice. She can keep her precious beauty and do nothing, or she can provide a velvety blanket for the egg with her soft, red petals. The decision is made, and one by one, each petal drops to cover the egg. The baby dove, unaware of the sacrifice, is able to survive and be reunited with its parents. The rose is now ashamed of her barren appearance, but is warmed and valued by the Creator's gentle touch, kind words and smile of approval.

After finishing the story, I asked the children if the rose reminded them of anyone. I fully expected the universal response to all Sunday-school questions: "Jesus"—and this time it would even be the right answer. He and the rose both gave all that they had so others could live.

But one little boy, caught up in the drama and emotion of the story, immediately blurted out, "My mother."

Clearly the boy recognized the sacrificial nature of his own mother's love. He was the one who taught me the lesson that day. Our calling as parents is to model God's character to our children. How wonderful it would be to have a character that so mirrored Christ's nature that my own child might also get us confused.