© 2009 Brad Sargent
Used by Permission

It’s been about 25 years since I first contacted an Exodus ministry, and 20 years since I attended my first Exodus conference – in Philadelphia 1989. Those were the years when conference attendance hadn’t gone beyond about 250 people. (I’m still in touch with some of the people I met back then, and we’re still moving forward!)

Who would’ve thought that relatively soon after my first conference, I’d find myself working as the first “publications and resource specialist” at the U.S. headquarters office for Exodus. I worked in that position from 1991 until the office moved from California to Seattle in 1996.

My main roles involved research, writing, editing, and conference organizing. On occasion, I’d answer the phone. Whether the caller who wanted help was a man or woman seeking to overcome their own same-sex issues, or a pastor or parent or spouse, there was one question I heard more than any other: “What is your success rate?”

That question popped up so often, it became a frustration. There were no formal studies available from Exodus ministries then – who had funds or time to conduct such research? And yet, callers were anxious to know: If I’m going to invest myself in a transformation process, will it pay off? It’s just part of human nature to want a guarantee, but there was (and is) none we could give. What was our success rate? I was at the point of saying, “Well… 100 percent for those who follow Jesus Christ the rest of their life.”

But I had to realize the REAL question hidden underneath the surface question. It was not ultimately about success rates, but about hope. Can I change? Can things be different? Can I live a normal life? Can I have hope?

We’re all looking for certainty, but faith is based on more than just clinging tightly to right information. I’ve come to believe that hope is far more tied with the content of our imagination than with our mental cogitation. If we cannot imagine a future different from the present – if the extension of our current situation seems inevitable – then we have a vain imagination. It is empty of goodness and of hope.

Our hope gets drained when we imagine things will always be the same as what we face right now. But a vacuum in the soul seems to be the place most prepared for Jesus Christ to dwell. Only He can reverse the void by infusing it with Himself. He is our horizon that we are marked out to move toward. He is our future. He is our hope.

What is your success rate? The answer never was really a WHAT. It always is a WHO. Jesus Christ is “success” because He was obedient to the Father’s plan. When we find our identity in Christ and not in our own strengths or weaknesses, we too can find success in living. Not perfection, but perseverance. Not absence of temptation, but freedom from feeling we have to give in. Not a guarantee by following rules, but genuine hope empowered by grace.

Perhaps the deepest success of Exodus has been in restoring a sanctified imagination to those who’ve grown devoid of hope. From that beginning point, we can engage in a trajectory toward overcoming, restoration, and wholeness. In the famous words of a fashionable grey Sy Rogers/Eleutheros t-shirt from 20 years ago: “I used to be, but I’m not any more. I Corinthians 6:9-11.” Change happens, so hope is possible.

I can imagine joining in at next year’s conference to celebrate 35 years of Exodus’ pioneering efforts in whole-person discipleship. It’d be great to cheer on next generations of overcomers, families, friends, and ministers as we continue our journeys of transformation! Hope to see you there…