Sitting in Cook County Jail’s waiting area, I sensed so much pain in the faces, words and body postures of those patiently waiting with me. I felt the darkness. We all were waiting for hours to see someone for 15 minutes who was in more pain than we were. Though we were all so different, we all shared the same depth of heartache.

It was my turn. The young man was excited to see me, although through a thick, dirty, glass window. He longed for a hug he hasn’t had in nine months. Then it was time to leave. He walked away heartbroken, regretting the choices he had made, scared to come back out only to make the same choices. There was nothing more I could do.

This particular week was intense. I was bombarded with hurting young people who are in a private prison of their own, having no escape from the pain that engulfs them. This pain has become their comfort zone. It simply has paralyzed them from seeing possibility and opportunity. In this week alone, I held a depressed gang member who cried in my arms as he awaited the fate of his court case. Another day, I talked with a young lady whose pain caused her to rebel dangerously. Another day, I was comforting some people whose friend was killed by a rival gang.

I work with young people always in transition—not into middle school or transitioning into college. I work with young people who are transitioning into the real world after being kicked out of school or dropping out, going from the streets to prison and back to the streets, or going from being a teen with no responsibility to becoming a full-time, single parent.

At times, it’s unsurmountable for one person to take. I often feel helpless. For every kid we get out of a gang, 10 more join. For every young man we send to college, we bury five others. What difference am I really making?

In my despair, God reminded me that I am not the fourth member of the Trinity.

For many years, I was under the assumption that my input, my opinions and my well-thought-out strategic plans were mandatory for the lives of people around me to be changed (with the help of Jesus, of course). I just knew God had chosen me because of my hard core life experiences, unlimited victories, invaluable wisdom, impressive resume and undeniable success rate at giving advice. God was so impressed with me and my works. It merited me an executive position as the fourth member of the Trinity. I admit, I was a little intimidated by all the responsibility that came with this honor; but because of how fabulous I was, I realized I could do this Trinity thing.

Then came Flaco, the kid every youth worker dreaded, the kind I embraced. He was a challenge, but not for the fourth member of the Trinity (so I thought)! No matter what I did, the advice I gave, the love I poured on him (or suffocated him with), my personal money I sacrificed, nothing was happening. This kid wasn’t interested in anything except getting high and gang banging. Forget a job, forget school, and definitely forget God. I spent nights praying, crying and offering my solutions to my Trinitarian Committee Members, but nothing was happening.

Then I went to church one Sunday. I saw Flaco there with a friend I had introduced him to a couple of days before. I watched them intently from a distance. As the sermon ended, I saw my friend walk Flaco, who was in tears, to the altar. Flaco accepted Christ into his life.

I was humbled.

God didn’t need me as much as I thought. God was already at work in Flaco’s life before I arrived on the scene. The Trinity already had a plan for Flaco’s life. It wasn’t my responsibility to make it happen or guide his path. There was no need for the Trinity to consult me about anything. The Trinity needed me to surrender my will and plans for Flaco and seek God’s will to see how I fit into His plan for Flaco.

Too often, we believe God has ordained us to be superheroes in young people’s lives. We think we have all the wisdom, the right programs, the perfect sermons, and the supernatural ability to change the hearts of young people. The truth is, all we can offer is an uncompromising, unrelenting love that pursues them, unmovable support, undeniable hope, and a joyous introduction to the God who has the power to change the hearts of a young people—and we get the incredible privilege to go along on their journeys.