By Jonathan Walker

January 17, 2000

I am marked. Wherever I go and whatever I do, I am not simply a college student, but someone else. It's like having a personal John the Baptist who goes before me in every situation. It's both a weight and a joy. It is my last name.

January 10, 2000

So we're into 2000. The gigantic Y2k hoax has ensured that the new millennium has begun in our minds—whether or not the mathematicians insist that it doesn't start until 2001.

By Alicia Becton
January 3, 2000

The old "Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin" cliche is much easier to say and agree with than to actually put into practice. This is especially true with certain types of sin. In human eyes, there are degrees of sin whether or not there are in God’s eyes; therefore, we allow ourselves to pick and choose whom we will witness to and avoid those that make us the most uncomfortable. You don’t agree with the previous sentence? Sure you do—you don’t have gay friends to whom you’re trying to witness. I do.

For our first Christmas together, ninetyandnine.com asked everyone to submit their answers to three questions; one that touched on personal needs, a second that touched on spiritual priorities and a third on future hopes. The questions were:

By Debbie Goff
December 12, 1999

“Michelle is dead.” My mind raced at the words. What Michelle did I know that was elderly or sick? None! Michelle Goff, mother of four small children, church member, alto in the choir—dead of a heart attack at 29!

By Julie Long

December 5, 1999

Imagine being blindfolded, twirled around a half-dozen times, handed a gun and instructed to hit a bull’s eye on a target.  An undoubtedly ludicrous expectation. Yet, the unfortunate reality is that many churches use similar methods to reach the lost in their surrounding communities.  At best, it’s a hit-and-miss method; at worst, the church body ends up shooting itself in the proverbial foot.

By Cara Baker
November 28, 1999

This summer I was catching a connecting plane to Cleveland from Detroit when I heard that the departing gate had been switched across the airport. I set off running harder and faster than Jackie Joyner-Kersee as I heard “Final boarding call for Flight 3948 to Cleveland.” I thought I would die. I pushed harder as faces blurred past me, sharp pains cramped my side, and my lunch swam in my stomach.