A Collaboration Between AI and Lewis McLain
Josh closed the devotional in his lap, letting the pages fall together with a soft thump. The hum of campus life outside their dorm room faded into the background. He looked across the room, watching Marcus tap away at his video game controller. There was something on his heart, a stirring he couldn’t quite ignore any longer.
“Hey man,” Josh said, voice easy and calm, “Can I ask you something without it being weird?”
Marcus didn’t look away from the screen, but his tone was open. “Yeah, sure. What’s on your mind?”
Josh leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “Do you ever miss it? Church, I mean. Not the rituals or the formality—just the whole experience. The community, the purpose, the peace of it all?”
Marcus paused his game, the screen freezing on some digital battlefield. He set the controller down and leaned back in his chair. “Sometimes, yeah. But not in the way people probably think. I don’t miss being told how to live. I miss the feeling of being part of something bigger. The laughter after youth group. The quiet during prayer. It felt… safe.”
Josh nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get that. For me, it wasn’t always the sermons. Half the time I was zoning out or drawing in the bulletin. I say that, but I know I was picking up on the stories and the lessons shared. But those moments when the worship hit just right, or the late-night campfire talks—that stuff stayed with me. Like wooing echoes.”
Marcus gave a small smile. “Funny you mention campfires. I actually got re-baptized at camp. Twice, actually. First when I was twelve, then again at sixteen. Thought maybe if I started fresh again, something would finally stick.”
Josh’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “I didn’t know that. That takes guts, man. What was it like for you the second time?”
Marcus stared up at the ceiling for a beat. “Hopeful, I think. Like I really wanted God to notice me. I was ready to mean it this time. But then I got back home, school picked up, friends changed… and I fell back into the same old routine. After a while it just felt like I was pretending.”
Josh’s voice was gentle, free of any judgment. “I think a lot of people feel that. I know I did. I used to think being a Christian meant being ‘on fire’ all the time. But now I see it more like an anchor. Even when I drift, I’m still tied to something unshakable.”
Marcus looked at him, curiosity softening his features. “But how do you stay with it? Like, really? College is wild. Nobody here seems to care about faith anymore. I know I don’t take advantage of church and Christian groups around campus, so I shouldn’t be complaining.”
Josh gave a wry smile. “Honestly? Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m doing a great job at it. But I keep coming back to Jesus. Not the idea of Him, but the person. I’ve seen what I become without Him. I get lost in distractions, numb to everything. But when I give Him space—even just a sliver—He shows up. In quiet ways.”
He paused for a moment, then added with a small laugh, “You know, one of the times I felt closest to God was actually at camp. There was this one night where we were all under the stars, no lights, just hundreds of us sitting on blankets and logs. And then out of nowhere, the speaker says, ‘We have a surprise guest tonight.’ And it was Michael W. Smith. I’m not even kidding. The real deal.”
Marcus blinked. “Wait, the Michael W. Smith? The worship guy?”
“Yep,” Josh said, eyes bright with memory. “He didn’t make it a big concert or anything. Just came out with a guitar and started playing Awesome God. And then the whole camp just stood up, arms raised, voices loud and cracking from emotion. It was raw. And holy. I think I cried without even realizing it. I felt so… known. Like God was right there.”
Josh softly recited the lyrics, almost like a prayer:
Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
He repeated them, his voice steadier:
Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God
“Even now,” Josh continued, “when I feel distant, I go back to that night in my mind. It reminds me He hasn’t changed, even when I have.”
Marcus was quiet, visibly moved. “Man, I haven’t thought about that song in years. That brings back something.”
Josh nodded. “Music has a way of slipping past all the defenses. Sometimes all it takes is one lyric, one memory, and the door opens again.”
Marcus tilted his head. “But how do you know it’s actually Him? Like, not just your own thoughts or wishful thinking?”
Josh nodded slowly, recognizing the sincerity. “I used to ask that too. But over time, I started to notice patterns. Like peace showing up in chaos. Random moments of clarity that hit when I read a Scripture verse. Friends texting me exactly what I needed to hear without knowing it. It adds up. And the Bible—I used to think it was outdated. Now I read it and it’s like it knows me better than I know myself.”
Marcus looked down at his hands. “I wish I could believe like that again. But I feel fake. Like God’s moved on and I missed the last bus.”
Josh leaned in. “You’re not fake, and you’re definitely not too far gone. Jesus is drawn to the ones who feel furthest. He always went to the doubters, the outcasts, the ones who didn’t fit. You’re exactly who He came for.”
A half-smile crept onto Marcus’s face. “So you’re saying I’m a project case?”
Josh laughed. “I’m saying we all are. But God doesn’t see us as projects. He sees us as sons worth rescuing. We all come messy. That’s the point.”
Marcus grew quiet. The hum of his paused game filled the silence. “What do you do when you pray and it feels like no one’s listening? When it’s just silence or static in your heart?”
Josh sighed, then smiled gently. “I tell Him that. I don’t pretend. I’ll say, ‘God, I don’t even know if You’re there, but I’m showing up.’ And you know what? He honors that. I think He respects honesty of the heart more than performance.”
Marcus nodded slowly. “I used to talk to Him that way as a kid. It felt simple then. Now everything feels tangled, like I’m supposed to have all the answers before I even speak.”
Josh leaned back, his voice softer now. “What if He doesn’t need you to have answers? What if He just wants you? The real you. Doubts, questions, baggage and all.”
Marcus’s voice dropped, almost a whisper. “But where do I even start again? I can’t fake it.”
Josh’s eyes were kind. “You don’t have to fake anything. Just take one honest step. Even if it’s just saying, ‘God, I don’t know.’ That’s a beginning. That’s faith too.”
Marcus looked away for a long moment, then back. “Do you ever feel like you’re missing out by following Christ too closely? Like… other people get to live freer?”
Josh considered that. “Yeah, I’ve felt that. But then I look at what they’re chasing. I’ve seen people try everything to feel alive—parties, hookups, success—but they still end up empty. I’d rather miss out on the noise and have something that lasts. Real peace is better than cheap highs. In fact, my highest highs are when I’m totally surrendered by Christ.”
Marcus took a deep breath, voice fragile. “I want to try. Not to impress anyone. Just to see if I can open the door again. Maybe it’s not too late.”
Josh smiled deeply. “It’s never too late. And if you want to know what it takes to begin again—to really follow Christ—the Bible makes it pretty clear. Romans 10:9 says, ‘If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.’ That’s it. It starts with belief and a simple confession.”
Marcus leaned forward slightly. “So it really is that simple?”
“Yeah,” Josh said. “And over time, your understanding grows. Your faith deepens. But the doorway is wide open to anyone who will walk through.”
He reached over to grab a wrinkled paper from his Bible. “This is something I memorized in confirmation class. It still centers me. It’s called the Apostles’ Creed. Want to hear it?”
Marcus nodded.
Josh recited it, quietly but clearly:
I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
Maker of heaven and earth.
And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord;
who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, dead, and buried;
He descended into death.
The third day He rose again from the dead;
He ascended into heaven,
and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty;
from there He shall come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic (with a little c) Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting. Amen.
“That’s beautiful,” Marcus said. “I forgot how solid and grounding that sounds. Like, this is what we believe. Not just feelings, but truth.”
Josh smiled. “Exactly. Truth that holds even when we feel lost.”
Marcus whispered, “Then maybe it’s time I came home.”
Josh nodded. “Let’s do it together. Doesn’t have to be a ceremony. Just a conversation. Want me to start?”
Marcus nodded, tears welling. “Yeah. Please. ”
Josh bowed his head, reverence settling in.
“God… it’s Josh here. And Marcus too. We’re not perfect. We’re not here with polished words. But we’re here. Thank You for never giving up on us. For chasing after us even when we wandered. Be near to Marcus. Make Yourself real to him again. Remind him he’s loved. Draw him home. And allow me to be part of the journey. Amen.”
Marcus swallowed hard, voice trembling.
“God… I don’t know what to say. I feel far. But if You’re still there and accepting of me… I want to come back. I want to feel You again. I want to start over, but this time for real. Help me. Please. I believe in You. And I believe in Jesus. I want to follow Him.”
Josh opened his eyes, heart full. “That was the most honest, beautiful prayer I’ve heard in a long time.”
Marcus wiped at his cheek, smiling through wet eyes. “Thanks for seeing me. For not preaching. Just listening. Just being here.”
Josh nodded. “This isn’t about converting you. It’s about walking with you. Because I believe Jesus is already closer than you think. And He’s not going anywhere.”
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