The Greatest Untapped Mission Field

So I was sitting in church Wednesday night, thinking back on my senior year of high school—specifically on P7. My senior year, my best friend, my pastor's daughter, and I started a P7 Bible study group at our high school. I got to thinking about how we missed out on a great opportunity. We didn’t get one person to church. We may have planted the seed, but we failed to harvest the crop. We kinda dropped the ball, so to speak.

I’ve been reflecting on how many Pentecostal families homeschool instead of sending their kids to school. The answer is: a lot. It hit me that our high schools and middle schools are this massive, untapped mission field.

I was dating this girl, and it was getting kind of serious. One night, we were talking about the future—our goals, plans, and how we’d raise our children if we got married—just really different things. I decided, and I don’t know if I ever told her this, but I want to be the kind of parent whose kids are always bringing other kids to church. I want my kids to be in a position to be a light and a witness to their world.

A year ago, I had to sit through the funeral of a very good friend of mine. He was 18 years old and died of cancer. He was a friend, teammate, and inspiration to me. But I failed him. Many days after he was diagnosed, we all knew it was only a matter of time. He was going to die. Me and him, we’d sit on the couch in the football locker room after practice—him ravaged by chemo, me worn out from football—and we’d talk about all kinds of things. But I never once told him about God. Not once did I open my mouth and tell him about this great God that I served. I kept telling myself, I’ll tell him next time I see him. Next time. Next time. But that “next time” never came. One day, I woke up to the news that he was gone.

It shattered me. Here was this guy who meant so much to me, and I had failed him. I only ever mentioned church once, in passing. I asked him if he wanted to come, and he said “sure,” but I never followed up. What if I had followed up and got him to church? God could have changed his life. What if?

I had my chance to allow God to use me to impact someone’s life, and I failed. I carry the guilt of, What if I had allowed God to move? It spurred me to start the P7 group with my friends. I broke down one Wednesday during altar call while playing music. I began to pray, God, I cannot let another kid in my school, another friend, die without me trying to tell them about You. I cannot claim to be the driving force behind the P7 group, but after this heartbreaking incident, I was more determined to help start it.

My entire life, I’ve been taught separation. It’s a key tenet in the Pentecostal faith. But I feel that one of the most overlooked parts of separation is the difference between separation and isolation. They may sound similar, but they’re very different. I am all for separating ourselves from the world: yes, let’s not go to bars; let’s dress differently; let’s uphold standards of holiness; let us be tongue-talking, one-God believers; let us have true, real worship. Let’s dive into the Holy of Holies. Let us be that peculiar generation, the chosen people.

I’ve heard many people use 1 Peter 2:9—
"But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light"—
to justify an isolationist mindset. But I have never read in the Bible where it says, Cower in your houses and avoid the world. It’s not there. Instead, I’ve read in Matthew 28:19, "Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost."

I believe in going out to the streets and reaching humanity. Revival requires action. There’s a reason it says “Go ye therefore” and not “Stay ye therefore.” Go! Go! Go!

In Isaiah 6:8, God asks,
"Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?"
And Isaiah responds,
"Here am I; send me."
God was looking for someone to go to His people, to the lost sheep, and Isaiah stepped up. Then in verse 9, God says,
"Go, and tell this people."
I want to be like Isaiah. When God says, “Go,” I want to say, “Yes, Lord,” and go.

The churches with the biggest revivals are the ones actively reaching people. A church that stops reaching the lost becomes stagnant. And how does something become stagnant? By having no inflow and no outflow—just sitting there, unmoving. For a church to avoid stagnation and remain a living body, it must have newcomers and must send out workers into the field. A church isn’t a final destination; it’s a hub, a centerpiece of a network. And one of the greatest mission fields is our local schools.

I was homeschooled from fifth to seventh grade. When I returned to public school, it was a slap in the face. I wasn’t prepared for how kids acted in public schools. It was rough. I fell into friendships I shouldn’t have, began cussing, and acted out. It wasn’t Christian behavior. If I had stayed in public school, I might not have been so shell-shocked and vulnerable. I would’ve had more opportunities to minister and reach my classmates.

By homeschooling kids, are we withholding the truth from schools? Are we neglecting the greatest untapped mission field? Schools are the one place where people from all backgrounds gather. It’s like God is laying them on our doorstep, saying, Here—just sow and reap.

I’ve heard many Pentecostal teens talk about wanting to be used by God and feeling called to ministry. Well, don’t wait for the foreign mission field. Your school is your mission field. There are lost and dying kids walking your halls. Go to them. If you feel called to reach people, start now.

My pastor once asked me, What are you doing to achieve your calling? Ministry is something you work toward. You won’t wake up one day as a missionary or pastor. You have to live it. You want to change the world? Start with your school.

Go ye therefore. They’re waiting. Quit neglecting the greatest mission field known to man. Take the leap. Say, “Here am I. Send me.”

I leave you with this: Go. Your mission field is waiting.