Hello, and welcome to York. Welcome also to Christis, where I've been pondering all summer over what to write for this freshers issue, to help you start the clichéd "best years of your life"? I was going to write something clever (well, I think so) about discerning the truth amidst different opinions. That article may still get written sometime. But last night, everything changed.

Rob is dead. He killed himself. He suffered from depression, but I don't know the details - I hadn't spoken to him in three years. A classmate of mine, I'd never counted Rob (not his real name) as a friend. He may even have made me cry once or twice, back in year 7. Ten years on, the formerly fragile crybaby is happily starting his third year of university. The formerly "normal" Rob is facing an eternity that I don't think he believed in, having found nothing in this life to commend it. This raises a big problem.

I don't mean the "Why is this happening?" question. To quote someone I greatly admire, it "may sometimes have no answer beyond the brute fact of occurrence." In less philosophical language, "Shit happens". No, this problem is far more personal.

As I said, I don't think Rob was a Christian. I don't pretend to know where he is now; that's not the point. I am, however, sure that each and every one of us was made by a personal God, that we can get to know Him, that He loves us enough to die for our sakes (John 3:16-17), that this gives Him the power to eventually overcome any fault or problem we may have, and that each of us can ultimately only be happy together with the God who made us and knows us. This isn't merely some cosmic insurance policy, though. Eternal life with God starts now. In the words printed on Starbucks' coffee cups, "You were made by God, for God, and until you understand that, nothing will ever make sense."

Had I communicated any of this to Rob? Not that I can remember. In school, I was probably too busy with my own problems. Rob may have known something about me being 'one of those Christian weirdos' but I'm pretty sure he found me very easy to ignore, even in our small school. Looking at it from an outsider's point of view, I doubt many could tell that the members of the school Christian Union were in a unique kind of relationship with an all-loving, all-powerful being. I'm shamefaced to admit, things haven't really improved since. I've made some token efforts, but I doubt many people would describe me as being infectiously enthusiastic about my amazing God. Right. Now I've got out of the way my piece of self-loathing at someone else's expense, a question arises. What can we do about it all? I don't think it's too harsh to say that most Christians my age - and indeed, of my nationality - are rather like me. We've got our own problems. The Church in England is in steady decline; we hold the most fabulous truth the world could ever know, yet has the sudden outpouring of joy and excitement from every church in the land amazed people into finding out more?

The Old Testament speaks often of tithing; giving away ten percent of everything we receive. Jesus went further, pointing to a widow who'd just given away "all she had to live on" in Mark 12:44. Perhaps it's time to stop applying this only to money. Do any of us give even a tenth of our time to God? Our abilities? Contrary to received wisdom, we're not at university primarily to get our degrees. Don't get me wrong; I'm in York and not, say, Aberystwyth, because I liked the course I'm studying here. We're Christians first though, and students second. At all times of our lives, we should think firstly of advancing God's eternal plan, and secondly of whatever plans we make ourselves. After all, "What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? " (Matthew 16:26) If we drop a degree grade, so what? According to Jesus, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me." If we're to spread God's love that can overcome even problem

s like those Rob had, an annual church Christian Aid week and a bit of social action here and there isn't good enough.

All this sounds dangerously like the "religious fundamentalism" that the press so love to warn us of these days. My talk of "not being at uni primarily to get our degrees" conjures up awful images of terrorist cells, living seemingly normal lives while meeting in the evenings to plot the overthrow of society. Surely though, anyone who stands for something they regard as absolute will always make enemies. And surely, an all-loving God is worth making enemies for? So, though we may not slip easily into any human culture, here's to living a love so selfless, so stupid and so self-sacrificial that nobody can fail to notice. Do it for our crucified Lord. And do it for Rob, who needed it so badly.

Good luck with your degree.