Stay Out of the Woods

Hallelujah, hallelujah. It's a profound honor to be here tonight for this very special gathering, and I count myself blessed to get to be here, to be a part of this special time. I look at the lineup of speakers and realize that I have socks older than many of them. I'm the senior statesman in this lineup; I know that I'm the old guy that they brought in. I made the mistake once of pointing out to somebody who asked me to preach at a youth setting — I said, "You know, I'll be—" this was a decade ago — I said, "You know, I'll be fifty by the time that happens." And immediately he responded — he wasn't trying to be smart; he just said, "Oh, no — we know; we wanted an elder to come in." I said, "Just shut up. I'm just done with you." There's no reason to say that. And that's been a decade ago, almost. I count myself blessed, and I thank this youth committee. You've got great leadership here. I'm so thankful for these men who invest in you; thank God for them. Brother Story, thank you to you and your district board. It's a great privilege to be here tonight. Many friends in this house — if I start down that line, I'm going to be in trouble.

Now I want to tell you something. I had something very uniquely profound happen to me, and I don't know if you're staying or going or sitting or standing or whatever, so I'm just not going to give you instruction; do what you want to do. Something very unique happened to me in preparation to preach here tonight, and I'm careful with this, but it happened. So I was working on a message to preach tonight — I'll preach it sometime — but was praying and preparing. I just was struggling to get clarity about what to bring you tonight, what to deliver over this pulpit. I was wrestling with it, and I was praying. A morning a week, week and a half ago or so, something like that, I just kind of said, "Lord, I don't understand — can You—" You can stand, all — we're twice as old as you; we've been standing while you were worshiping; you can stand. I said, "Lord, I'm just not sure why you're not speaking to me more clearly about what to do and where to go, and I just need You to speak to me." And the Lord did so. And you can think what you want about this, but He said, "I spoke to you twenty years ago about what to preach tonight." I couldn't equate that initially. The Lord spoke to me about a message that I preached to your parents — to your older brothers and sisters, perhaps, if they're a lot older than you. And I said, "Lord, I'm pretty sure I preached that down there already." He said, "Not to them." That made me a little uncomfortable, I've got to admit.

I got up from prayer that day, and I went over and was getting ready for the day, and I got my phone. I looked — I had a text message on it from an elder that I have great regard for; he has open license to speak into my life at his pleasure. He sent me a text; said, "I was praying for you this morning, son." He said, "God told me to tell you that any time He'll let you, you need to preach to a new generation of young people" — and he named the message that the Lord had spoken to me moments before. I quit arguing about then. I got to my office, or to my computer, that day and opened up my email, and I had an email from a lady — I've never met her; I don't know her at all. She said, "Brother Graham, I just wanted to email you and tell you that when I was a teenager, you preached a message" — and she named that same message — "she said, it impacted my world," and she said, "I just hope all our young people can hear that someday." So I quit arguing at that point. So if the fact that this is twenty years old bothers you — I didn't have to tell you; you'd have probably never known. But the Lord sent me here tonight to bear a message to you, and I'm going to do my best to do that. Amen.

I will read tonight from 2 Samuel chapter 18 and verse number one. 2 Samuel 18 and 1. The Word of the Lord says this: "And David numbered the people that were with him, and set captains of thousands and captains of hundreds over them. And David sent forth a third part of the people under the hand of Joab, and a third part under the hand of Abishai the son of Zeruiah, Joab's brother, and a third part under the hand of Ittai the Gittite. And the king said unto the people, I will surely go forth with you myself also. But the people answered, Thou shalt not go forth: for if we flee away, they will not care for us; neither if half of us die, will they care for us: but now thou art worth ten thousand of us: therefore now it is better that thou succour us out of the city. And the king said unto them, What seemeth you best I will do. And the king stood by the gate side, and all the people came out by hundreds and by thousands. And the king commanded Joab and Abishai and Ittai, saying, Deal gently for my sake with the young man, even with Absalom. And all the people heard when the king gave all the captains charge concerning Absalom. So the people went out into the field against Israel: and the battle was in the wood of Ephraim, where the people of Israel were slain before the servants of David, and there was there a great slaughter that day of twenty thousand men." Watch this next verse: "For the battle was there scattered over the face of all the country" — watch this line — "and the wood devoured more people that day than the sword devoured." Out of 20,000 that died, more than 10,000 died not because of an arrow or a spear or a sword; they died because of their environment. The woods destroyed them.

I will preach tonight, with the help of the Lord, this message: Stay Out of the Woods. There are some places you don't belong. Soldiers don't belong some places. The Lord's going to help us tonight. Now, if you've got a Bible in your hand, got a phone in your hand — if you've got a girl's hand in your hand, put that down. Bible, your phone, all the above: put it down, put it in your pew.

You know what one of the things that weighs on me the heaviest, coming to preach to you, is this: how many of your mama's prayers are in this place tonight? How many of your pastor's prayers are in this place tonight? How many grandmothers said, "Please touch my baby while they're there this week"? I feel the weight of that. But for the next couple of minutes, we ain't trusting Grandma's prayers, and we're not counting on Pastor's wife's prayers. I want you to pray — and I don't want you to lift your hands and duck your head and mumble a couple little somethings. I want you to pray like Holy Ghost filled young people can pray. I'm going to ask you in about ten seconds to throw your hands up, throw your head back, lift your voice, and say — God, you pray in your words, but God, "Whatever You want to say to me tonight, I want to hear it." You do that right now. Put your hands up. Lift your voice and pray out loud. Hey, Jesus, we need Your voice to thunder in this house tonight with divine authority. Speak tonight, Jesus, by the authority of Your Word. Touch the hearts of these young men and young ladies tonight. Oh God, I pray Pastor's prayers would be realized tonight. I pray Mama and Daddy's prayers would be activated tonight. Let the prayers of grandparents who have interceded for these young people, God — let them be activated tonight in this place. Do Your will over the next little bit, in the name of Jesus I pray. Hallelujah. That's all right — clap your hands, but don't do it without your voice. Lift your voice and shout hallelujah to the name of our God. Hallelujah. You can be seated.

I have a mission from heaven's throne tonight. I will not beat around the bush; I will come straight to the point. I take upon myself tonight, at the constraint of the Holy Ghost, a task which is not enviable, but one which is needful. My purpose, my commission tonight, is to do what I can to see every one of you go to heaven. It is not God's will for you to come and be in meetings like this and someday down the road hear the words, "Depart from Me; I never knew you." That is not God's will. Against that goal, it is necessary sometimes to sound a warning, to alert the students of God's church to dangers that would pull them away from the cross — as the prophet said, to blow the trumpet in Zion and sound an alarm in His holy mountain. And so, like it or not, I'm going to put some of you on edge as soon as I get started this evening. God sends me to remind this group of young people of the dangers of worldliness.

I'm not your pastor, and I'm not going to clothesline preach to you tonight, but I will without fear tell you that worldliness — being like this present world, thinking like this world, dressing like this world, talking like this world — I'm sorry — watching what this world watches, listening to what this world listens to, visiting the same websites that this world — that is not God's will for my life. That is not God's will for your life. That is not God's will for His church. No, this is not a cult, and we're not going to be some Branch Davidian gathering and isolate ourselves inside a walled compound. We are in this world, but let us not forget: we are not of this world. And it becomes oh so easy for the systems of this world, and the thinking of this world, and the values of this world, and the priorities of this world, and the affections of this world to attach themselves to us.

But I remind you tonight of the words of Scripture in First John: "Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world." Why? "Because if any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in—" Sorry, that's — you can like it or not, but that's what the Bible says. If you love this world, you don't love Him. Conversely, if you love Him, you don't love this world. No man can serve two masters. I'm sorry: you can't sing in the youth choir on Sunday and then love the world on Monday. One or the other has to break loose out of your heart, because "all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever."

I pray you can hear me tonight. I want every young person in this house to get something beating down in your heart, that you will shun worldliness. I want to turn the heart of every student to the voice of your pastor tonight: stay away from worldliness. I charge every young man to let the Holy Ghost lead you away from worldliness. I call on every young lady to maintain a righteous separation in your appearance, to stay away from worldliness. I'm going to preach it with or without you. This church — His church — must not talk like, look like, dress like, think like the world. And at some point you've got to make up your mind: your quest is not to see how close you can get to the world, but to see how close you can get to Calvary.

When I was pastoring — I'm a recovering pastor — I was pastoring, you know what just set me off, was like fingernails on a blackboard to me, when someone would look at me and go, "Well, can you prove to me that'll send me to hell?" Back in St. Louis, tonight, there is a beloved, beautiful creature — and last Friday we've been married 38 years; she's amazing. It would be like me walking up to Michelle and saying, "I love you. I love you. Now tell me how bad I can treat you, right up to the point you divorce me. Man, I don't want to get kicked out or nothing; I don't want this to come to an end; I want to stay married. But I want to treat you as bad as you can stand. But I love you. But what's the line? You know, what's the point of no—? But I love you. But tell me how far I can go before you just won't let me stay in—? But I love you." It ain't going to take very long before that lady is going to question whether or not I really love her. Then why do we think we can walk into church and say, "I love You, Jesus. I love You, Jesus. I love You, Jesus — but will that send me to hell? Because I want to get just as close to the world as I can. I want my dress to be just as immodest as it possibly can. I don't want to go to hell." I'm calling on the Apostolics at this day to turn your back on that attitude and say: "I'm not trying to see how close I can get to the world and still stay saved. I want to see how close I can get to Jesus. I want to see how close I can get to Calvary. I want to see how close I can get to the cross."

I would to God some of you would get it down. You want to know why I'm here? You want to know why I'm here, when some of the kids I went to youth convention with didn't make it? Because I remember the night I got on my face at an altar and I said, "God, I've just got one thing: how close can I get to You? How much can I know You?" And if you can get it down in your belly to say it's not about how close I can be to the world — it's how close — what will help me find Him? What will help me please Him? What will help me make Him happy? When my wife hears out of me, "I just want to make you happy. What can I do to please you? What can I do for you today, honey? How can I make you happy? I love you" — then she believes it. So when it's no longer, "Well, I only dress this way because if I do different, Pastor's going to set me down out of the youth choir," and instead it's, "God, what puts a smile on Your face? Does it make You happy when I go to school and look modest? Does it make You happy when I don't watch that? Does it make You happy, my heavenly Father, my heavenly lover — does it make You happy when I don't talk like the kids at school? Does it make You happy when I don't find certain things entertaining? Does it make You happy when—" And when you get that attitude down inside of you, you are insulating your spirit against what hell would like to do to you.

Somebody's got to make up their mind tonight: "I don't want to please this world; I want to please my Father. I don't want to please the kids at school; I want to please my heavenly Father. I don't want to please the most carnal member of my youth group; I want to please my Father." I want to be balanced. I plan to be reasonable, but I will be biblical. And in that quest, we must be reminded that the Word of God says in 2 Corinthians: "Wherefore come out from among them, and be ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch not the unclean thing; and I will receive you, and will be a Father unto you, and ye shall be my sons and daughters, saith the Lord Almighty." You can like it or not; it will not change the Word of God. God said: if you're going to put a smile on His face, you've got to come out of this world and say, "I'm in the church. I'm sold out. I'm in this thing for good." I will come out and be separate.

And while I'm on my old man rant: I'm trying to figure out why the most carnal kid in the youth group sets the spiritual climate. I'm trying to figure out why you let the guy sit down on the end of the pew, hadn't obeyed your pastor in ten years, try to decide how much we worship. I don't want you to be ugly to anybody, but if you're going to hell, you're going without me. I don't care. I can't control what you do. But if you think just because you're going to backslide that you're going to cause our youth group to be carnal — no, no, no, no, no. We made up our mind. We made up our mind: you can come with us, or you can stay behind, but you are not going to look at me and stop me from being consecrated. You are not going to convince me to wear stuff Pastor preaches against. You are not going to invite me over to your house and start showing me movies that I ought not be watching. You don't control my walk with God. I'm not looking to be like you; I'm looking to be like Him.

Give me a minute here. The events that lead us to the text for tonight's message are sad ones indeed. David, the man after God's own heart, has led the nation successfully for quite some time. The people of God have prospered; the nation has had its apex, militarily, economically, religiously, up to that point. Jerusalem has been recaptured; the ark of the covenant resides there, as God ordained. But David's life is marred by the sordid affair with Bathsheba. In a season when David should have been out leading the people out into battle, instead he's lounging at home, and from his rooftop spies his neighbor bathing, and he lusts after her. And when the sinful choice he makes leads to the conception of a child, David attempts to cover his tracks by calling her husband home from the battle, so everybody will think it's his baby. Uriah's integrity — her husband's integrity — prevents this scheme from working. So David arranges for his death in the battle, puts him in the front of the battle to be sure he's killed, then marries his widow before anyone can piece together that the baby was conceived before this all went down. The prophet of God confronts him, names his sin. The judgment is this: that the sword of the Lord will not depart from your house. And so is set in motion events which heap heartache upon tragedy into David's family. The baby that's born from the sin dies. His son Amnon assaults his half-sister Tamar. Absalom, her full brother, is so furious that he arranges the death of Amnon. Absalom, because of that, flees from David lest his father kill him out of the vigilante justice that he's meted out. He's gone for years from David's presence. And then finally, upon returning, Absalom begins to steal the hearts of the people away from David. He was a handsome man. He stood by the gates they'd come through to see the king, and he'd say, "What's your problem?" And they'd tell him. He'd say, "Oh, you may not get what you want from David, but if I were king, I'd do this and this. I'd give you what you wanted — if I were king." And little by little he turns the heart of the people to him, until, when all the people were looking his way, Ahithophel counseled Absalom to make his strike. He leads the revolt, and civil war breaks out in the land. David, the rightful king, flees with those who are loyal to him, and the civil war is set. Some say only about four thousand went with him. He divides them into thirds for the conflict, puts them under those three men that I read their names to you earlier. As David's men are leaving for battle, he asks for mercy for his son. And then the show is on. It's a furious conflict, with over twenty thousand men dying that day.

I was just in Pennsylvania last week; I got the tour of the battlefield at Gettysburg. Three days of conflict — 53,000 Americans died. It's horrible to even think about, to look at that land and visualize 53,000 corpses laying across that land in a three-day period. This was at a pace of 60,000 in three days — 20,000. But what is interesting to me, young men and young ladies, hear me: more than half of those did not die from an arrow or sword or a spear or any other weapon of war. More than 10,000 died from their surroundings. The Bible records that the battle raged over wooded area, and that the terrain killed more than the soldiers did. Can you imagine 10,000 casualties who fell simply because of their location? More than 10,000 who died not from the battle, but from their escape route. Better than 10,000 corpses litter the countryside — not because they weren't skilled in combat, not because they didn't have the right weapons, not because their leaders weren't good, but because they put themselves where they did not belong. They positioned themselves in places that soldiers don't belong. Soldiers did not belong in the woods; they belonged on the battlefield. They fell, they were slaughtered, they were destroyed, because of a trip into the woods.

And so I preach to you precious young people, that I love, tonight: stay out of the woods. Hear me, because I'm old enough that I've seen far too many who fell — not because the enemy was too strong for them, because he's not. They did not die spiritually because they didn't have the right weapons; they had the right weapons. They did not die because they didn't have good leaders; they had good leaders. It wasn't their enemy. It wasn't their weapons. It wasn't their leaders. It was their surroundings. They put themselves in places — listen to me — they got too comfortable in the wrong places. There have been great men and wonderful women and fantastic young people who thought that a little trip into the woods of their carnality would not hurt them, only to discover that the woods were not as safe as they thought they were. Hear the heart of someone who loves you tonight: stay out of the woods. Stay out of the woods. Stay out of the world. Stay in the church. Stay in the battle. It's not safe out there. You go out there, you may not come back. You start playing around with that stuff, you may not get away with it. It may get a hold of you. You may die. Because the devil's convinced you you can run out and do that, and you can always come back. But I'm telling you: half of them that went in never made it back again. And I don't have the statistics, but I've seen an awful lot go into the woods that never came back out. I've seen way too many go play around with their carnality and never make it back to the altar. You hear me right now: this may not be fun, but this is important.

The woods are dangerous because they look enticing. I mean, let's just be honest: a wooded area is a beautiful place. I grew up in Southern Illinois. Back behind our house — we lived out in the country — there were acres of woods. It was beautiful. We loved to play up there. That's back when we did this thing called "go out and play." It was shaded and cool, beautiful vistas. I was in California some time back; we went up across the Golden Gate Bridge, went to Muir Woods where the redwoods are. And then more recently we saw the giant sequoias. Listen, it's spectacular. It's not a matter of whether or not it's attractive; it's a matter of whether or not it's dangerous. I mean, look — hey, I ain't real bright, but I think I got it figured out that cheese is attractive to the mouse. You think hell is stupid enough to bait the trap with something that's not attractive? You think he's dumb enough to try to lure you out of the church by, "Hey, come out with me, I'll give you an addiction. Come on, rebel against your pastor; I'll lead you to commit suicide"? You're going to go, "I don't think so." But he says, "Come on, it'll be fun. Come on, man, you'll be popular. A different set of girls will look at you if you like." Come on, now. The danger with the woods is they look attractive, but the beauty can hide the danger. "Oh, Pastor, how could something this lovely be dangerous? How can something that feels so right be wrong? How can something that I enjoy be a— wait, it's sin to me. Look at it, Pastor — it's beautiful, it's lovely, it's just woods. Come on, Pastor, it can't be that big a deal. I mean, I know she doesn't go to church, but she's so pretty, Pastor. I mean, I know you said I shouldn't, but the job pays good, and I'd only miss every other Sunday."

Some years ago, I preached a camp meeting in South Dakota. They have their camp out in the Black Hills, in the western side of the state. It's beautiful, man — that camp is awesome, a beautiful place. I had a little cabin out in the woods. I'm a morning guy; I wake up early. So I'd get up in the morning — across the road from my cabin, out in these woods, there was this big valley, and these rocks that just jutted out into space. I mean, you're like four hundred feet up in the air out on the end of these rocks. And there'd be deer grazing down that valley; elk would come out. I mean, it was awesome. So I'd get up in the morning — sun's coming up — I'd get me a cup of hot tea, take my Bible, go out there and sit on those rocks and read. I got there on Monday; I preached Monday night. I did that Tuesday morning. I did that Wednesday morning. I did that Thursday morning. Thursday, during the day session, the district superintendent, the late Brother Gary Legg, got up and made an announcement. It went like this: "Hey, all you parents, I want to remind you: keep your kids off these rocks out here, where the rattlesnakes sun themselves." I went to Brother Legg; I said, "Hey, Brother Legg, I'm just, you know, I'm a guest here, but that's a Monday announcement. That ain't a Thursday announcement, dear God. I've been out there three mornings." You know, Friday morning when I woke up early, you know what I did? Rolled over. It was beautiful; it was dangerous.

And you've got to make up your mind: you're not going to be governed by what attracts your flesh. You've got to make up your mind — you're not going to make decisions based on how much it appeals to you. You've got to make up your mind: you're not going to choose your path based on what your flesh likes. You've got to look and see if there's a snake in there someplace. You've got to let your pastor guide you about the dangers of certain things, and make up your mind that says, "I don't have to understand, but if my authority says to stay off those rocks, I'm staying." Hey, hey — ask me how many snakes did you see? Ask me how many snakes did you see? How many did I see? None. But the man of God said they were there, so I didn't go back out there. "Well, I don't see anything wrong with it." What'd your man of God tell you? "I really don't see any danger in it." What'd your man of God tell you? You better submit yourself to that man and say, "Even if I don't see it, even if I don't understand it, I'm not going certain places, because my pastor said it's dangerous."

Because I tell you: more have died from the woods than have ever died from the enemy. The devil can't take your soul. He can't make you backslide. He can't destroy you. But the woods — as lovely as they look, as enticing as they may appear, as beautiful as they seem — many have entered those woods, and they never came back out again. I could tell you stories of those who left the battle: "It's just too hard to live for God. I'm tired of being disciplined to obey God. I just want to take a little stroll through my carnality. I just want to escape for a while into the woods of my own self-pleasure and my own way." And I've watched them, by the score, disappear among the trees. And we've prayed, and we've trusted, and we've interceded, and we've watched — but they never came back. Why? Because somewhere in that journey, they met dangers they never expected. Somewhere in that little trip, they encountered obstacles they didn't look for. Somewhere in that voyage into the woods, the world got a hold of them and would not let them go. Beware of the beauty. Beware of the attraction. If it weren't attractive, it wouldn't be a temptation. But that book still says: love not the world. Love not the world. Love not the world. Stay out of the woods. Stay out of the woods. Stay out of the woods.

Because, see, woods disorient their victims. We've all heard the accounts: a hunter, a hiker, a child — whether they wander in innocently or on purpose, somehow they lose their way. Listen to me right now: if you don't remember anything else I say to you tonight, you better remember this statement: getting out of the woods is always harder than getting in. Anybody can walk into the woods, but not everybody finds their way out of the woods. It seems like it should be so easy: just turn around and go back the other way. But the experts tell us you can't walk a straight line in the woods. There's too many things to dodge around, there's too many obstacles, too many things you have to crawl over, until before long, he's walking in circles. He doesn't even know which way back to safety. Oh, he wants out. There's a bunch of people that would love to be out of the woods. There's young people you've worshiped with on this campground that would love to be here tonight. And I know what you say: "Well, they should come." They can't find their way. They're lost in the woods. They didn't think it would happen. Hell never told them, "You go do this, just play with this a little bit" — and before long, you won't even be able to find your way to the altar again. But it happened. And it can happen to me, and it can happen to you. And that's why you and me, Bubba, we've got to make up our mind: "I ain't going out there. I ain't playing with that. I'm staying right here."

You've got to get it down here. There's got to be a young lady out there somewhere that says, "Devil, for the last time you've tempted me to cut my hair — I ain't doing it. This is my covenant with God. This is who I am." There's got to be a young lady out there that says, "I'm not going to be tempted to put those britches on one more time. You can't win on this one. I've made up my mind. I am not pleasing my flesh. I am not pleasing my carnality. I'm not after what you can offer. I'm staying in this thing. I will not go out in the woods, because if I start down that way, I may never find my way back."

The woods get people all twisted up in their thinking. They stumble over their sins. They get bogged down in their guilt. And try as they might, they can't find their way out again. And I know that doesn't make sense to you right now: "Well, they know where we are. We have church every Sunday. The altar is right where they left it." I know. And that hiker's truck is right where he left it, too — but he can't get back to it, because the woods have got him. These woods, they have fatal injuries in them. Commentators suggest that those woods where the ten thousand fell were home to bogs of quicksand that swallowed men whole. You see, sometimes you get out there, and even if you know which way to go, the woods has such a hold on you, and it pulls you deeper and deeper and deeper, and you get stuck in the mire, and the habits and friendships and relationships, until the more you struggle, the deeper you get, and the first thing you know, you're in over your head. Stay out — stay out of the woods. Don't try to get out of the woods; stay out of the woods. There are traps and pits of danger, and they're waiting on you. Stay out of the woods. You may get in over your head. Stay out of the woods. It may swallow your life until you can't even see anymore. Stay out of the woods. Other commentators have suggested that those woods were home to wild beasts, and what the quicksand didn't consume, the beast did. You see, as long as you're in the church, the devil's no match for you. But in the woods, you're no match for him. I hate to be ugly — it just comes natural sometimes — but you listen to me: you're not tougher than anybody else that went into those woods. You're not stronger, you're not smarter, you're not wiser than the scores, than the thousands of young people before you that have decided the church was too restrictive, and God was just being mean, and Pastor was being a bully, and "I'm just going to do what I want, and I'll always come back." You're not stronger than them. If they failed, you could fail. If you stay in the church, it cannot touch you. But if you get in the woods, sometimes you can't touch him. Stay out of the woods.

And so, what of Absalom? I'm nearly done. You know the story, probably. Absalom let his hair grow all year — very vain man — let his hair grow all year, and then he'd cut it at the end of the year and weigh it. He's fleeing from the battle, because ten thousand of his soldiers have fallen in the woods. He's fleeing through the woods on the back of a mule, his flowing hair flapping in the breeze, tangles in the limb of a tree, and the mule runs out from under him. He's hanging there by his hair from the limb of a tree. The woods grabbed him. They bring a report back — a guy sees him there. Stand with me; I'm done. Comes back and tells Joab — Absalom — stand with me, I'm done. Please stand with me. Musicians, come help me. They come back to Joab and they say, "Absalom, man, he's hanging out there — hair, tree." Joab says, "Why didn't you kill him? He's the enemy of our king. Why didn't you take a sword and kill him?" The guy says, "I heard David say to be merciful to him. I ain't killing him. I'd have given you ten shekels of silver—" "I don't care if you give me a thousand; I ain't killing him. He's the king's son." So Joab says — he literally, you read it yourself — "I ain't standing here and talking to you any longer." And he goes to find the guy that the woods have captured. It's Joab; he's a bad dude. But he doesn't take a sword; he doesn't take a spear. The Bible says he takes three darts. Now, they're not the little ones we play with, I'm sure. But even at that, he didn't kill him. The Bible says very clearly another group of guys came later and killed him. He just played with him. "How'd that plan work out for you, bud? Go ahead and play. Go ahead and play — y'all, how'd that work out for you? How'd that rebellion go for you? Hey, let's play a game: start him swinging, just to make it challenging. Hurts, doesn't it? Bet you never thought that would happen to you when you left the youth group. Ow. Joab, why don't you just kill him? There's no big hurry. I can always get to his heart, as long as the woods has a hold of his head." "Hasn't hurt me yet, Preacher." Oh, no — he can always destroy your heart, as long as your head is caught by this world. If the woods has your mind so captivated that every Friday night you've got to let Hollywood feed you, he can destroy your heart at his pleasure. You ain't going anywhere — the woods grabbed your mind. And the thing that terrifies me for you is that you stand here tonight, while that incredible worship team's doing their thing — dance on the grave I was living in — but you're just dancing on the end of a limb, because the woods has a hold of your mind. "For to be carnally minded is death"; it's enmity against God. If your mind — if you've been snatched off your perch by a tree, the enemy will torment you, and then kill you at his pleasure, if the woods has a hold of your head. And so, once the enemy has destroyed his future, once the enemy has decimated his calling, once the enemy has had all his fun with him, then a group of guys gather around and they finish him off. But he didn't die when those men surrounded him. And he didn't die when Joab was chucking darts into him. He died when he went into the woods. He just didn't know it yet.

If I chose to, I could put names to the stories, and I could tell you person after person after person after person the enemy tormented and then he killed him. But he was dead the moment that he agreed with hell: "I think I'd like to do that, even though the pastor says not to. I'll be back. I'm just going to make a little trip out in the woods." And we stood there and we pled with him: "Please don't go there. Please don't date her. Please don't run with them. Please, please, come back here. Come back here." And he looked over his shoulder — you could still— "Come on, come on, come on." And I watched him, step after step, Sunday after Sunday, altar avoided after altar avoided, get deeper and deeper and deeper, until finally they disappeared from view. I didn't see him anymore at youth service. Oh, every now and then you'd see him between the trees — they'd show up on one Friday a month. But they got deeper and deeper and deeper, until the report came back: "Did you hear? He was arrested on a drug possession charge." "No — how did that happen?" He got in the woods; couldn't find his way out. And I know right now what you're saying. The devil's telling you: "That'll never happen to me." Why? Because you're smarter than he was? Because you're stronger than he was? Because you're more spiritual than he was — in your rebellion? No, no.

Would you close your eyes with me right now? We're fighting hell this very moment, because the devil knows he can't take you out when you're in the middle of the church. He can't destroy you from the middle of the prayer room. He can't consume you from the middle of the youth group. But if he can get you to just leave it all behind and stroll out in your carnality, and just get out there in the woods of self-rule, and kind of stroll through the glade of rebellion, and drift your way through the trees of "I'm smarter than my pastor" — if he can get you out there, there's nothing you can do. You can't stand up against him. He'll kill you when he wants to, because the woods will get a hold of you.

I know this is awkward, what I'm about to ask, but this altar service tonight really demands a posture of brokenness. I'm going to ask any of you that can, if there's room around you, to get down on your knees in this altar. There comes a time we have to humble ourselves, be broken in the presence of God. I don't — don't stop praying. Don't stop making noise. Don't stop using your voice. You've got to pray. But I am telling you: somebody's eternity hinges on what happens here in the next little bit. Somebody's eternity is going to be decided by what happens. We're going to read the story: you're going to be hanging by your hair from a tree someday, and Satan's going to be throwing fiery darts into you, and there's nothing you can do about it, because the woods has gotten a hold of you. I know where I am in the Holy Ghost right now. Pray, pray. Hey: stay out of the woods. Stay out of the woods. Stay out of the woods.

Pastors, youth pastors, moms, dads — I know it's horribly crowded down here, but man, it'd be great if some of you could get into these aisles and lay hands on these kids and pray for them. It'd be so good if you'd plead over their soul. Hell is fighting us right this moment; he does not want these young people responding like this. But I really don't care. You've got to make up your mind. You've got to make a decision, young lady: "I'm going to look godly. I'm going to be modest. This appearance is not because Pastor makes me live this way; it's because I please my heavenly Father." Hey, young man: you've got to decide that God's opinion means more than the football coach.