Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(14)

“Oh yes. Yes. Absolutely,” Eden replies with conviction. “He’s unconventional in his dress and delivery, sure, but he has a massive heart for Jesus.”

I cough to cover up the laugh at the h-word I thought was about to follow “massive.”

Bridgette nods. “I remember all the fluttering about when he was hired. It was crazy.”

“Wait,” I interrupt. “Don’t you live in Tennessee? How’d you hear about a church hire here?”

“I’ve wanted to come to Carter since I was eleven,” Bridgette answers matter-of-factly. “The school and news surrounding it have been on my radar forever.”

Eden nods. “The summer camp I work at always has lots of CU kids, too. They talked about their excitement when he was hired. Well…most of them.”

“Most?” I question. While I know there were mixed opinions among the adults in the church and on campus, I knew nothing about the reaction of the young people.

Bridgette shrugs. “Just like any group of evangelicals, you’ll have a wide range of opinions.”

You will? First I’m hearing about it.

“Some are more legalistic than others,” she continues. “They didn’t like how he dressed, or his softened stance on certain political issues.”

“What issues?” I didn’t know Roland to have any political opinion that I’d categorize as soft.

“Oh, who knows.” Eden waves her hand. “Like…I don’t think he’s ever preached about homosexuality from the pulpit.”

I scrunch my forehead and wait for more. Apparently, there isn’t any more. That’s it? That’s the litmus test for liberalism these days? Who hasn’t preached against homosexuality from the pulpit?

“Or abortion,” Bridgette adds.

Right. We can’t forget abortion.

While this snippet of conversation opens more questions about those who run CU and the parents of my fellow students, it leaves me worrying less about the possibility of Roland saying something completely insane.

“Ready?” Eden asks, giving her lips one final coat of gloss.

Gloss and soft colors are allowed. Deep red isn’t.

Once we deposit our toiletries into our room, my roommates and I make our way to the UC.

It’s bigger than it looks online. Not quite as large as New Life Church—which could easily fit the 6,000 enrolled students of Carter University—but certainly enough to hold the 1,500 in the freshman class.

As we spot the guys we ate with last night, including Bridgette’s brother, Silas, and my social savior, Jonah, a question brews in my mind.

“Hey,” I ask anyone in the group who is listening, “is R—Pastor Roland preaching four times today?” I know that each class has their own service on “Welcome Back Sunday,” but this is the first time I’m considering the potential stress of having to give four sermons in one day.

I hate that I care.

Silas shakes his head. “No, that’s why this is extra awesome.” He smiles as he claps his hands together once. “It’s like hitting the jackpot on commencement speakers, but this isn’t even commencement.”

“Fan of his?” I chuckle and take the first open seat I spot. “What’s the big deal? Can’t we go to New Life on Sundays if we want?”

Bridgette sits to my left, her brother next to her. He leans forward to speak. “You’re right. But the thing is, the university has asked him to address their new students. The incoming class. It’s like they’re accepting him on a whole different level. Trusting him to talk to the most vulnerable minds on campus.”

My scrunched eyebrows appear to give away my confusion. Bridgette deciphers Silas’s excitement. “What he means is…there’s talk that this is a signal that the university is loosening up a bit. If they’re letting a left-ish evangelical pastor address the freshmen—the first Message we’ll hear at Carter—maybe they’re ready to take a look at some of their outdated practices.” She shrugs and pulls out a Bible and a pen from her purse.

Uh-oh.

Seriously. Of all the ways I planned for this moment—my first service as a CU student—I couldn’t remember my Bible? Granted, bringing one’s own Bible to church where I come from is unnecessary. We use the Book of Common Prayer and scripture readings are printed on a leaflet handed out at the beginning of the service. I knew Bibles were used during these services, but thought they’d be provided. Looking around, though, I see that was an error in judgment on my part.

I look to Bridgette almost pleadingly, only to find her scribbling notes along the edge of one of the pages in her Bible. I didn’t even realize you were allowed to write in that book, let alone in the purple pen Bridgette seems to fancy. Wiping my dampening palms down the front of my skirt, I begin looking around, certain a Bible will turn up somewhere. I mean, of all the places in the world for one to drop from the sky, you’d think this would be it.

“Is everything okay?” a familiar voice to my right questions.

Looking up, I find Jonah, who had been in conversation with Eden and someone else they seemed to know from summer camp, taking a seat next to me.

I take a deep breath.

He smells like soap.

Stop.

“I…uh…I forgot my Bible,” I offer as I press my palm into my forehead and close my eyes.