Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

“What gives?” I demand, crossing my arms and sitting on my bed.

I start running through all possibilities in my mind. Am I messy? No. Plus, it’s only our second day here. Am I loud? No. I barely speak. Maybe that’s it. Before long, my stomach drops at a fourth, ugly possibility.

Roland.

I swallow hard, racing through various scenarios in which they would have discovered that we’re DNA related. I bite my tongue and wait to see if one of them is going to speak.

Finally, Eden sets down her pen and walks over to the bed, sitting gently next to me. Bridgette plunks down on the other side, and suddenly it feels like our first day in the room when they prayed for my fractured spirit due to my fatherless upbringing by an unwed mother.

“Kennedy,” Eden starts. I’ve only known her for two days, but she’s a clear leader. Confident and well-spoken, I’m sure she’ll have no problem landing the role of a prominent pastor’s wife. Though, briefly I wonder if that will be satisfying enough for her. She’d be quite effective delivering the Message, I think before drawing my attention to her words once more.

“Bridgette and I were talking,” she continues.

“About me,” I state flatly.

“Yes, but not like that,” Bridgette adds quickly. “Not bad.”

“Okaaay,” I draw out slowly.

Eden folds her hands in her lap. “First of all, we want to apologize for being really intense on Saturday. We didn’t mean to shame you about your dad not being around—”

“My stepdad is my dad,” I correct.

Eden bristles slightly, clearing her throat. “Exactly. I’m sorry for insinuating he wasn’t, or that you should be ashamed in anyway. Condemnation is no way to win hearts.”

Whose heart is she trying to win? And for what?

“I just…” Bridgette enters the conversation with loads of hesitation. “We weren’t aware that you weren’t…saved. At first we assumed you were like the rest of us and that you’d get our sympathy about your parent…situation—”

“Wait, wait, wait.” With my heart racing, I stand and take a few steps forward, turning to face my roommates. “Not saved? What are you talking about? I’m a baptized Christian. Just like you.”

Eden’s eyebrows scrunch inward. “But you said you’re Episcopalian.” Her voice slows down over the last word as if it’s in a foreign language.

“I am.”

“Don’t they, like, baptize you as babies?” she continues.

I nod. “Yes.” I know most evangelicals don’t baptize as infants, allowing children to choose Christ. It’s never made much difference to me either way.

Bridgette’s face relaxes. “Oh, so you’re born again?”

“What?” For the simplicity of the words, I’m having great difficulty following the flow of this conversation. “No. I was baptized as an infant, have gone to church my whole life, and believe in God, and Jesus, and his resurrection, and all of…that.” My hand waves through the air like a lunatic while I dispense my Christian credentials. Despite not having gone through confirmation yet. Though I know that term will likely be foreign to the girls in front of me, and I have little desire to enter into a lecture at the moment.

Eden’s face morphs to a look of longing as she continues looking at me. “That’s not… That’s not the same thing.”

My mouth drops open in astonishment. Eden’s face isn’t as accusing as her words, which makes it worse, in my opinion. Bridgette, having said very little through this whole conversation, stands and pulls her Bible from her backpack.

Here we go.

“Acts,” she says softly as she thumbs through her NIV—New International Version—the Bible of choice of Carter University. “Acts 2:38. Peter replied, ‘Repent and be baptized, every one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins. And you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.’”

“Okaaay,” I reply.

Bridgette sits in her desk chair, leaving her book open. “Accepting Christ into your heart is an act of love. Of rebellion. Loving Christ and rebelling against Satan.”

I shift slightly at the mention of Satan. While he’s an understood character in my religious tradition, his name is typically only uttered within the lines of scripture. To have him a breathing member of this conversation makes me uncomfortable…which I guess is the point.

“Right,” Eden adds. “It’s not really something that infants can take on consciously, can they?”