While I don't want to dismiss the idea that Christian teens honestly seek to please God, I believe it's their desire to know the future that most forcefully drives their interest in knowing God's will. They know that trusting God and living according to His plans will bring them the greatest joy, so they want to know exactly what they should do to "have a nice life."

Unfortunately, when leading youth in a Bible study on discerning God's will, they're often left frustrated or even disappointed, realizing there's no magic way to peer into the future. Their fascination with God's will may be a Christianized-version of their peers' interest in psychic hotlines: They're more interested in knowing how following God will impact them as opposed to simply following Him because they're called to do so.

Another indicator of Christian teens' future-focus is revealed in their biblical studies preferences. When asked which book of the Bible they would most enjoy studying, 32 percent of the teens in my friends' survey listed the Book of Revelation as their number-one choice. (No other book received even a 5 percent share of the votes!)

Was the Future an Issue in the Past?

Is this future-fear a contemporary phenomenon for teens, or is it best understood as a developmental constant? An interesting poll conducted by Youth for Christ magazine in 1953—the height of the Cold War—asked young people, "Are you disturbed about your future in an atomic age?" The writer described the results as a "thrilling witness of what Christ means in a Christian young person's life." It was his contention that Christian youth didn't fear the future. Only 5 percent admitted being afraid; and these, the author was quick to point out, were all younger than 16; in fact, 93 percent responded that they weren't afraid of the future. However, in reading their remarks, the students didn't deny a fear of the future so much as they expressed their confidence in God. "These things must come to pass." "Jesus holds my future." "The Lord is coming before an atomic war." Does their attitude reflect a resignation of the inevitable, or true confidence in the future?

Another publication from that same year suggests that youths were fearful of the future. They were described as being plagued by fears of the uncertain future and impending doom, haunted by the possibility that they wouldn't survive the Cold War. One pastor expressed it this way: "Young people come to me in confidence…frustrated and wondering whether in a war-ridden world, with all of war's aftermath, life has meaning; and there is no general nostrum I can give, no one over-all statement that will do. I must show the pertinence of Christ for the young people who face life today as it actually is."

Other writers have described the '50s as a less fearful time for teens than life today. They experienced family stability, with plenty of time for recreation and relaxation. Their lives were characterized by "optimism, economic security and clearly defined career and gender roles." There was little confusion about future roles for males, and even less for females. Today's myriad of choices open to young men and women of all races and socioeconomic classes only contributes to their future-fear and adds pressures that didn't formerly exist. Society's tendency to rush children to adulthood also has been attributed to increased pressure and stress on adolescents in the last decade.

Whether the fear is new or as old as adolescence itself, the important thing for youth leaders to recognize is the powerful grip that the future has on our teenagers. Let's ask ourselves such key questions as:

• Do we encourage kids to make significant personal decisions on their search for self—or do we force-feed them answers?

• Do we provide reasonable boundaries, allowing students opportunities to take some risks, but avoid the development of risky behavior patterns?

• Do we play on kids' fear of the future by using it as an evangelistic strategy; or do our kids know that salvation is for today, not just a gift they open at death?