I’m not sure how many high school students I’ve spoken to over the last few years, but it would be in the thousands.

Many of them have very low self-worth.  And I’m aware that even the ones who can appear to “have it all together” are many times wearing a mask.

Sometimes, at the end of a presentation, I will use the money analogy.

“Does one of you have a $20 bill?”  Typically, a couple of students start digging into their pockets.

“Will you allow me to use it for a demonstration?  I promise I’ll give it back.”  They smile as they hand it over.

Holding up the $20 bill, I ask if I gave the money its value.  Of course, we all agree that I didn’t.  Then I ask if they gave the money its value.  Again, we all agree they didn’t.

“So we all know that something greater gave this $20 bill its value.”  Heads nod up and down.

“Would you like to have the money?”

They all look at each other then start raising their hands and yelling, “Yes!!!”

I take the money and crumple it, spit on it, assuring them that I’m probably sick, and throw it on the floor, my heel crushing it some more.  Picking it up, I ask, “Would you still like to have it now?”

“Yes!!!” they all exclaim.

Looking them straight in the eye, I explain, “This is the way God views you.  No matter what has happened to you, or what you’ve done, you are still worth your same original value to God.  And He always wants you back.”

Tears form in some of their eyes.

I then give the money back to the student who gave it, but offer to exchange it for a clean one.  They always politely decline, and very tenderly put the dirty money back in their wallet.

After one presentation, a young woman said, “I found the $20 bill on the street the other day.  I think you’re supposed to have it….”  She insisted that I keep it.  I put it into my jacket pocket.

A few months later, my husband and I were in church and it was time for the collection.

The pastor said something he didn’t usually say.  “As you give your offering this morning, please remember that it represents you.”

I could feel something in my pocket and pulled out the money, immediately knowing I was to put it into the collection plate.

My husband said, “You can’t put that in their there.  Just look at it!  It’s dirty.”

“Oh yes I can,” I said as my eyes filled with tears.  “It represents me…”