Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

Admittedly, there is a lot of indecency. I’ve never been one to show a ton of skin, but it’s never really mattered to me what other people wore. Sitting on this sidewalk, it suddenly feels like a skin-fest—the warm weather an excuse for some women to wear little more than they might wear in the bedroom. I quickly put my “regular world” eyes back on and pretend like it doesn’t matter.

“I like that you guys do that,” I finally say, returning to my coffee.

“Really?” Bridgette looks at me with wide eyes. I swear she always looks like a four-year-old on Christmas morning.

I nod. “Yeah, I do. I think it’s great that you look out for each other.” All eyes at the table are on me, but no one is saying anything. “What?!” I exclaim. “Look. Yes, I’m from Connecticut and I’m Episcopalian and I was baptized as a baby and haven’t been since, but…” I sigh and run a hand through my hair, leaning back. “But that doesn’t mean I disagree with everything you guys do. I don’t know if you’re all judging me or whatever, but I want to say that I’m sorry for judging you guys. That’s all I’ve done since I walked on campus, honestly. And I’m sorry.”

Eden slides her arm across my shoulders and pulls me close to her in a side hug. “I’m sorry, too,” she says as she rests her head on mine.

“Yeah. Me, too,” Bridgette and Silas answer together, causing a chuckle to ripple through our table.

Brent and Joy are noticeably silent. Brent I can excuse, given we met about a second ago. Joy…well, I’m not surprised. I think she wants to keep judging me. Which is fine, because I want to keep judging her. I’ll pray about it, I guess, since that’s what we’re supposed to do, but I just don’t like her.

Noting Jonah’s silence, I sneak a glance his way and see him looking at me with that endearing half grin. He nods, seemingly in approval of my judgment confession, but says nothing. It looks like he wants to say more than has been offered by our friends, but his mouth won’t open more than his grin. To be frank, I feel some sort of connection with Jonah. I don’t know if it’s romantic, or friendly, or just a general kinship. Exploration of my feelings around him seems unlikely given the rare circumstances men and women are allowed to be alone together during their time at CU.

Before I can give this more thought, Eden speaks up. “Oh! Hey, look. It’s Pastor Roland!”

Naturally.

I don’t hesitate with my game face. It was practiced before I’d even met him in the first place, so putting it on is no more challenging than putting on socks. Just one foot, then the other. I crane my neck a bit to see the sidewalk and, sure enough, down strolls Pastor Roland, looking unremarkably similar to how he appeared on stage on Sunday. Jeans, short-sleeved shirt, Converse sneakers. He earns an A in image branding, if you ask me. Completely approachable one hundred percent of the time.

He spots me when he’s a few paces from the table, and I note the rise and fall of his shoulders in a deep breath. The smile widens and he stops and rests his hands on the wrought-iron fencing that delegates the outside seating area of Word.

“Hi, Pastor Roland,” Eden greets brightly. She stands to shake his hand, and the rest of our tablemates follow.

I’m one of those tablemates, and I do the same. He greets everyone, mostly by name, which I count as impressive given we’ve only been in school a week, then he gets to me.

“Kennedy, right?” he play-acts.

“Mmm hmm.” I nod and produce a tight smile. “Good to see you again.”

“You, too.” His eyes look so pitiful, I have to look down and return to my seat. They’re creasing at the edges—seeming to simultaneously smile and cry. I wasn’t counting on seeing him again until Sunday. So close.

“Enjoying this gorgeous day, I see,” he continues when we’ve all returned to our seats. “I’m glad to see it. Make sure you don’t get stuck on campus for too many days at once. There are lots of service opportunities in the community.”

“What do you recommend?” Joy asks in a purely business tone.

Roland rattles off the names of shelters, soup kitchens, and opportunities involving young children in the community. Joy actually takes out a notebook and writes down names and information. My chest aches a bit as I listen to the passion in Roland’s voice. He seems to know a great deal about each organization he discusses, from Mercy House Homeless Shelter to an afterschool program for underprivileged kids. He has such a good heart.

And I didn’t get any of it.

“Some of those places have employment opportunities, too,” Roland says, wrapping up. “There are very few off-campus jobs available—especially for freshmen—so check them out before they’re all gobbled up.”

Gobbled up? We’re not first graders.

Despite his corny turn of phrase, this perks my interest. “There are still off campus jobs available?” Obviously, this section isn’t highlighted in our student handbook.