Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

I know that CU isn’t necessarily what’s “normal” when placed in the scope of the entire United States, but—as Roland so helpfully pointed out—it’s normal for here. And, while I’m not prepared to evangelize to anyone but myself, I am reading beyond class materials. I don’t need knowledge of the Bible, per se. I have a course load that helps with that. But Bridgette was overeager to lend me some books of hers that deal with prayer life and doubt. Who knew hardcore Christians admitted they doubt? Well, they don’t so far as I’ve seen—but Bridgette had the book. Maybe she figured she’d meet someone like me.

Anyway, my family will be here in a few short hours, and my roommates and I are making our room extra cute to show off to our parents. Twinkle lights, pictures of flowers and inspirational Bible quotes to decorate the wall, and we look like model students who don’t spend the ten minutes before room inspections tearing around the room like crazy people to keep us a few checkmarks above demerits in that area.

“Who did you say Jonah was with?” Eden asks as she puts the finishing touches on making her bed.

Even though my “chat” with Jonah at the coffee shop was two weeks ago, I’m just getting around to telling the girls about it.

I look up, thinking for a moment. “John and Mark… No. Matt. John and Matt.”

“Stevens and Wells, I think,” Bridgette says to Eden before turning to me. “They’re in his dorm, right?”

I nod.

“That’s them. John Stevens and Matthew Wells.”

“Weird,” Eden says, stepping back from her bed and seeming to admire it for a minute.

“Weird?” I ask. “Which part is weird? I’m guessing we’re calling two different things weird here.”

They laugh. We’ve all stopped tiptoeing around our differences. It turns out Bridgette and Eden have loads of differences between the two of them, which, admittedly, makes me feel better. Bridgette is far more socially conservative than Eden or myself, but Eden is far more likely to bang on someone’s door and tell them all about Jesus. Her passion is in evangelism and just general jubilation about the Lord. Bridgette is much quieter—the fierce kind of quiet. I don’t know where they stand theologically, though, because I’ve asked that we don’t spend our free hours in our room bantering about religion. It’s just too much for me. If they do talk about it, it’s when I’m not around.

“Do you know which one was doing the hand thing?” Bridgette asks, tapping her finger against her lip.

I shrug. “He was beefy big. Like, looked like a football player. A good four inches taller than the other two.”

“Wells,” they say in unison.

“But the other one was encouraging him,” I add.

Eden sits at her desk. “Matt Wells—the beefy one—is a football player. He’s from Georgia, or Alabama, or something like that. CU gave him a full ride for their football team. I don’t even know if he’s a Christian. Or anything, really.”

Ah, one of the fabled athletes that attend CU without having to go through the regular application process, as described to me by Maggie several weeks ago. They don’t need to be Christian, technically. But they have to agree to uphold the same code of conduct the rest of us are subjected to.

“Silas says he really pushes everyone’s buttons, like this is all some joke to him.” She looks a little less wounded than her words would suggest.

“Doesn’t he get the same demerits we all do?” I question.

“He knows just the buttons to push,” Eden pipes in. “Sure he gets demerits, I’m guessing. But there’s no way CU is going to kick him out. He’s too valuable to the team, from what I hear. I mean, unless he starts having sex and throwing parties in his room, I’m guessing CU is stuck with him.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute…” I wave my finger in disapproval. “You guys are acting like he was the only one there. The other kid—John—was laughing, too.”

“Was Jonah?” Eden asks with a fresh wave of childlike optimism in her eyes.

“Of course he was.” I chuckle. “He laughed for, like, a second. Then he saw me looking at them and he put his head down. Then apologized later.”

“Right,” Bridgette says. “He apologized while the other two hightailed it, right?”

“Who’s this John Stevens?” I ask, groping around to make my point that God kids aren’t perfect.

Eden takes a deep breath. “He’s a PK from a few towns away.”

Preacher’s Kid.

“See?” I say with the enthusiasm of an attorney winning their case. “Even he’s not perfect.”

Bridgette laughs. “No one said anyone was perfect, Kennedy. It’s just that Matt is kind of…difficult. Silas said he and Jonah have been trying to hang out with him more to calm him down a little so he doesn’t get kicked out.”

“Why wouldn’t they want someone who does stuff like that out of their hair?” I sit on my bed, leaning back on my hands. I think of all the jock-jerks I didn’t hang out with in high school for precisely that reason.

Eden shrugs. “They just want to give him a chance to do better, I guess. To show him a better way. We can’t spread the word of Jesus by only talking about it with people who already believe.”