Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

It wasn’t so bad, talking with Eden and Bridgette. Despite my negative assumptions about the evangelical pair, the positive assumption that they’d be forgiving was spot on. I told them that I was really sensitive about salvation and baptism and everything, and admitted I felt judged by them.

They looked woefully heartbroken. They spent more time apologizing to me for how they made me feel than I did to them for acting like a wretch. Eden offered up a quick prayer, asking God to help keep our emotions gentle with each other. I squeezed their hands and offered a stern “Amen” at the end. They promised they’d keep praying for me and were quick to add that they’d be praying for peace and clarity. Salvation. They meant they’d be praying for my salvation, but they kept that to themselves, as did I.

The rest of the week carried on much the same, academically speaking. My courses this year flow much like my high school courses did. I have all of my classes every day except Friday. Most freshman course loads looked similar. It seemed to be Carter University’s attempt to facilitate the transition process, and I quite liked it. This meant I had Fridays off; so did my roommates and friends. I assume this is in an effort to offer a day of study and homework, since there’s lots of worshipping to be had on Sundays.

Over a late breakfast in the dining hall on our first Friday as CU students, everyone is discussing their first week of classes.

“My Old Testament class is going to be awesome,” Silas speaks emphatically. “It’s so awesome to see all the seeds of Jesus sprinkled everywhere in those books.”

I eye him curiously. I’m in his class, but his assertions make me feel as though I’ve missed something. I know I haven’t, and he’s just thoroughly more well-versed on the Good Book than I am. His enthusiasm encourages me that I might find some stuffed under my seat at some point.

“It’s gonna be hard though, too,” Jonah adds. “There’s a lot to remember.” He makes brief eye contact with me before returning to his triple-stacked pancakes and impossible amount of syrup.

We haven’t spoken since last Sunday when I basically admitted I wasn’t sure of the power of the Word of God. I don’t blame him for his cautiousness of me. The Doubter. I’ll cut myself some slack. I don’t doubt the existence of God, but I question his plan. None of my friends seem to, though. They all just keep asking to be a part of it.

“Lord, let me be a willing part of your plan,” Joy is often heard saying at our nightly floor prayer sessions.

Every night.

Every night we get together as a floor to pray. Pray and praise about the day that has passed and the one forthcoming. It exhausts me, honestly, to be spiritually dialed in all the time, which is interesting because it’s a thought that had excited me preceding my stepping on campus. I mean, who doesn’t want to be in constant contact with God?

Me. I don’t. I’m realizing that sometimes I need a little bit of space. Conflictingly, I’m finding that’s not really an option. There’s no space from God or CU.

In fact, I’ve only made it on Facebook once this week. Once. I logged on in the library on campus, but kept my message of I’m alive, no worries, just settling into my new environment short and sweet. I’m sure you can imagine the responses that status garnered.

Have they burned you at the stake?

Pray for me, from a guy friend whose profile picture showcased him flanked by two girls with Greek letters across their chests.

That I get laid soon! He completed his thought in another reply.

Am I allowed to visit, or will the pearly gates be closed?

I haven’t responded to a single one, nor have I accepted the budding Friend Requests from my CU crew. It’s hard enough to merge these two worlds in my head, let alone on social media.

It turns out that just as much as I don’t want my CU friends to judge me by what they see on my—or my high school friends—Facebook pages, I don’t want my “real life friends” to judge me or my CU friends. At all.

The thought alone of Greek Letters Guy—Sam—scoping the pages of Eden and Bridgette and the comments that would follow is enough to make me shiver. He’s a total pig…which had seemed kind of funny until last week. There’s a weak—but growing—desire brewing inside me to protect my CU friends from…something. I know it sounds self-righteous, but it’s real.

“We should go downtown today,” I suggest as I move the remnants of my omelet around my plate. “We haven’t had much time to explore our surroundings.”

There’s a stiff silence all of a sudden. Of course there would be. Even though Asheville is in the South, it’s still a city—and a fairly liberal one, at that. It clicks just then that that’s at least partly the reason for all the group and chaperone guidelines surrounding going off-campus. One wouldn’t want to be bit by a gay vampire, or something.

“Yes!” Bridgette answers excitedly, which was unexpected. “I want to get a nose ring!”

My eyes widen and a huge smile pulls at my mouth.

“Bridge!” Silas gasps. “Mom and Dad will—”

“Oh, calm down.” She waves her hand. “I’m eighteen.”