The prayer team asked if there might be a student named Jeremy in the crowd of 35.
“Here,” he said, standing up.
“In our prayers an hour ago we thought we heard things from God that might help you.”
Jeremy was the fourth student to receive words of special knowledge from the prayer team — a humble, soft-spoken trio from a local church.
“Jesus loves you exactly as you are. He wants you to know he’s not a boss or a slave-driver. . . But you’re being held back by something . . .“
Profound, yes, but fairly standard prophetic encouragement.
Jeremy affirmed quietly that the words had meaning for him, and sat down with little expression.
Later, he survived the evening worship service for awhile before finally escaping into the prayer room, face cupped in his hands.
I didn’t recognize him. “Can I pray with you?” I said cautiously.
“Yes.”
“What’s on your heart?”
A long pause. “I’ve been cutting for twelve years. It’s an addiction. No one knows.”
“Have you taken that step to become a follower of Jesus, to enter God’s family?”
This was language from our seminar earlier in the day. He knew what I was asking.
He shook his head, not ready. Still confused.
“This is my first time at an event like this. I just started coming to InterVarsity.”
I prayed for his affliction and asked if I could inform his campus staff. He agreed.
I spoke with the staff later. He told me the story behind Jeremy’s cutting: parents out of the picture, isolation. And . . . the occult.
