Two years ago, I became a Young Life leader. Working consistently with high schoolers, you can imagine that I experience a lot of interruptions. And considering the specific group of guys I lead are very rowdy and loud, I hear a lot of funny—and sometimes questionable—things about God and the Bible. It’s not unusual for me to be interrupted several times while giving a Club Talk (our 20-minute devoted scripture time at the end of each weekly event). Sometimes, kids loudly declare, “I’ve heard this story before!” and ask to leave, or they try to guess the next word I’m going to say—shouting “Jesus,” “the cross,” or “resurrection!” Interruptions are just a normal thing we deal with.

One of my favorite parts of leading each week has become picking up my friend, Tyler. Tyler has Down syndrome, and he thinks about life very differently than I do. While we love having him at Club, I especially love picking him up and driving him home because I get to talk to him about so many things and get a glimpse of the world through his eyes.

One of my most memorable interruptions from Tyler happened nearly two years ago, one of the first times he ever joined us. He saw me holding my Bible and shouted, “I hate that book!” I asked him why he said that, and after a few eye rolls, he told me his grandparents have read to him from the same book, and he finds it incredibly boring.

Since then, Tyler has continued to come to Club almost every week and we’ve grown quite close. I’ve found that it’s not just the Bible he finds boring; nearly anything he doesn’t fully understand, he calls boring. Tyler is brilliant and talkative. He loves being a part of conversations, though his mind tends to wander down its own unique path. He often responds to what he’s been thinking about, not necessarily what’s just been said. This confusion often leads to him checking out and dismissing it with his usual verdict: “boring.”

As we approached Easter this year, our Club Talks followed the Easter story closely, culminating in three of the most critical Gospel talks we give each semester: the Sin Talk, the Cross Talk, and the Resurrection Talk. One of our other leaders, Emily, gave the Sin Talk this time. She defined sin broadly as “anything that separates us from God,” and used the classic illustration of a great chasm between us and God. She drew an arrow from us into the chasm, explaining that no matter how hard we try to jump across, we always fall short—into the pit of sin and death.

We intentionally ended the Sin Talk on this heavy note so that over the next two weeks, we could introduce the cross, and then the hope we have in the resurrection.

While Emily was speaking, I noticed that this was one of the first times I had seen Tyler stay completely engaged—he hardly took his eyes off her drawing. After she finished speaking, he approached her, gesturing toward the whiteboard, and slowly asked, wide-eyed: “God jumped in and died?”

He was getting it! His watering eyes told me he was beginning to grasp the gravity of what we were telling him. Tyler didn’t realize it, but he was skipping ahead in the story. I gently explained that we hadn’t gotten to what God did yet, and that all he needed to focus on for now was that we jump into the chasm, and we die. We are incapable of crossing on our own.

Boy, did his question stun me, though. Tyler was confused because Emily’s drawing only showed us falling into the chasm. He wondered if God, too, would jump in and die. He was sad to think that God, who he has been told is good and powerful, might also suffer the consequences of sin and death. It was profound to realize that even in his confusion over the meaning of the diagram, God was present and at work within him.

I sat on Tyler’s question for two weeks, eager to reach the Cross Talk and Resurrection Talk so we could fully answer him. When we got there, I redrew Emily’s diagram and reminded Tyler of the question he had asked.

I explained to him that the story of the cross had been the answer to his question: God did jump into the chasm and die. Tyler was exactly right—an innocent Jesus took our place by jumping into the chasm and dying for us.

But that Monday night, just after Easter, we finally got to finish the story—that’s not where it ends. Jesus didn’t stay dead. He was raised back to life! He conquered sin and death once and for all. On the board, I crossed off the word “sin” inside the chasm and drew an arrow pointing up out of it—showing that Jesus didn’t stay in the chasm of death but instead rose again!

I drove Tyler home that night and asked him what he thought about the Club Talk. He said it was good. I asked him what he thought about Jesus jumping into the chasm instead of us. He said it made him sad. I gently reminded him that we don’t have to be sad anymore because Jesus didn’t stay dead! He came back to life, and now we can be thankful for what He did for us.

I could tell Tyler thought the ideas of resurrection and eternal life were interesting. I’m not sure if anyone had ever really explained it all to him in a way he could connect with before, so I excitedly told him that because of what Jesus did, there’s also now a way for us to live forever with Him! He sat quietly, wide-eyed.

I spoke the way he does, saying, “Isn’t that so cool, bro?” He nodded. I kept the momentum going, using words and examples I hoped he would easily latch onto. I explained that if we believe Jesus is who He says He is and what He did for us, and if we put our hope in Him, we too will be saved from death.

The final piece of the puzzle—the cross—fits perfectly into the chasm. Jesus offers us, through His crucifixion and resurrection, a new path—a way across the chasm. Because of His sacrifice, and because He lives, we now can live too. What great hope we have in Jesus!

At that point, I looked Tyler in the eyes and asked, “Do you believe everything we’ve told you about Jesus?”

He said, “Yes.”

I asked him, “Do you trust in Jesus and want to put your hope in Him, so your relationship with God can be restored?”

He said, “Yes!”

While holding back tears, I told my friend how happy I was, because that meant we would be friends forever. Even after we died here on earth, we would live together forever in Heaven with God and all our other friends who also trust in Jesus.

Of course, he wasn’t going to satisfy me with the reaction I wanted, so I was not surprised that he simply shrugged and said it was pretty cool. Then he begged me to play his favorite Katy Perry song, Roar.

Tyler may not have fully understood the gravity of the declarations he made that night—but I did. Two years ago, he told me he hated the Bible because it was boring. Now, Tyler knows who Jesus is, what He has done, and he believes it! I sobbed tears of joy all the way home, praising God and thanking Him for saving my friend. God truly does meet us right where we’re at. Even our friends who the world might overlook or underestimate deserve to hear the Gospel and be given a chance to respond to it. I will forever be grateful to Tyler for asking questions and helping me understand Jesus’ sacrifice in a new, refreshing way: God jumped in!