For God has not called us to impurity but to live in holiness. —1 Thessalonians 4:7
In the winter of 1975, I traveled to South America on a teaching mission for youth leaders. My ministry companion on this trip was one of the most important youth professionals in the United States. Ken Overstreet had founded San Diego Youth for Christ in the early 1950s and was one of the most prominent experts anywhere.
On the way to Argentina, we stopped for a day in Rio de Janeiro. We laughed our way through this incredible city, desperately trying to turn our broken Spanish into Portuguese. It didn’t work. We chuckled nonstop.
The next day we flew to Buenos Aires, and for the next week, we led sessions on effective youth ministry for several dozen young and eager South American ministers. Even though I taught a few sessions, Ken was the expert. I was honored just to be there. With him.
Over the next ten years, Ken and I stayed in touch. When we talked, it was one of those pick-up-right-where-we-left-off deals. I’m sure you have some of those, too.
And then one day I got a telephone call I will never forget. Ken had collapsed while working in his San Diego ministry, some thought from exhaustion. Later that night Ken was admitted to the hospital for tests.
The caller gave me the doctor’s report. “Ken Overstreet has full-blown AIDS.” I remember gasping in disbelief. “This is impossible,” I heard myself saying out loud.
Ken was a married man with two beautiful children. When we were in South America, Ken talked about all three of them constantly. But Ken had led a double life: one as a straight man with a wife, children, and youth ministry and one a secret life of hardcore promiscuity and sin. When I heard about this, I wept.
The prognosis was clear: Ken only had a short time to live. I jumped on an airplane and went to see him. He was an unrecognizable shell. I sat next to his bed and laid my hand on his boney arm. We talked. We laughed as we remembered our time in South America. We cried openly as he talked about the part of his life I knew nothing about.
A few months later, I called to check in. His sister answered the phone. “I’m sorry, Robert, but Ken is almost gone. He doesn’t recognize anyone. He hardly speaks at all.” I hung up the phone, knowing I would never speak to Ken again. In thirty seconds, my phone rang. “Bobby,” the voice sounded strong, “what are you doing hanging up on me?” It was Ken.
I apologized, and he laughed. We talked one last time. He told me he was sorry that his life was ending this way, and he told me that he was thankful for God’s grace and forgiveness. I told him I was, too. Then we said goodbye. The next day Ken Overstreet died.
The apostle Paul did not write the words “keep away from sexual immorality” (v. 3) because God is some cosmic spoilsport, straight out of Victorian England. He told these men to live this way because if they didn’t, their hearts, their bodies, and their families would be broken—smashed into tiny pieces by their careless and intentional disobedience.
Sexual purity is not God’s great practical joke on men, testosterone mercilessly coursing through our veins. Purity is His blessing. It’s His promise. If we cross this line, we will die.
Even though it’s been many years, I still miss you, Ken.