Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(15)

He delivers a soft chuckle. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s kind of a big day.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” I remark with a sigh.

“Aren’t you excited? Pastor Roland is like a rock star.”

My eyes open wide. “What?”

Jonah’s face turns serious as he puts up his hands. “I mean… I don’t… I don’t like idolize him, or anything. I just… I respect the way he’s helped the students here, and across the country, reach Jesus.”

It takes me a minute to realize how nervous I’ve made poor Jonah. His intensity around the word “idolize” reminds me that these kids aren’t supposed to hold anyone or anything in higher esteem than God.

Not their parents, not their future spouses, and not their future children. No one.

Well…we. We aren’t to hold anyone higher than God. I wonder when my “me vs. them” mindset will change.

Do I even want it to?

Shaking my head, I try to calm Jonah’s nerves. “No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just…I’m from Connecticut,” I concede with a sigh. “We don’t hear much about…all of this. I’ve never had to bring a Bible to church before, either, which is why…” I hold out my hands, which are spectacularly empty.

Jonah’s easy grin returns. “Here, use mine.” His tanned hand extends toward me, grasping a thick soft-bound Bible with a black leather cover.

“What will you use, then? Do we share or something?” I take the heavy book and set it in my lap.

Jonah reaches in his bag and produces an iPad. “I got it.” He smiles and leans back in his seat.

“Right,” I mumble. “There’s an app for that.”

Jonah laughs louder, his shoulders shaking as Eden sits on the other side of him. “She’s funny,” he says to her.

Reluctantly, I make eye contact with Eden.

You see, it’s clear to me she has a thing for him. At least, it is when looking at their interactions through my “regular people” standards. She blushes when she sees him and laughs a little longer at the things he says. In Secularville, USA, even the hint that your friend likes someone means that they’re 100% off-limits until a relationship decision has been made. And, most times, after that.

Here, though? I don’t know what the rules surrounding all of that are. When my eyes connect with Eden’s, there’s nothing but elation there. She’s nodding along with Jonah’s assertion that I’m funny, and there isn’t a hint of a claw coming from her buffed and polished nails.

I hold up the book. “He lent me his Bible,” I feel the need to explain.

She waves her hand in the air. “He’s always prepared.”

I have so many jokes on the tip of my tongue, but before I can spit any of them out the lights over us are dimmed and lights facing the stage-like area are turned on, revealing a band.

“Welcome to Carter University!” the lead singer bellows into the microphone.

Everyone around me goes nuts, clapping and cheering as they rise to their feet. I follow suit, noting the band’s name on the bass drum: Water on Fire. Having thoroughly researched all things “Student Life” at CU, I’m not surprised to see the university’s main worship band taking the stage.

The band is made up of a mix of male and female CU students, and the roster of the group changes as members graduate and new members join the fold. There’s a percussionist, a couple of guitars, and a keyboard, along with several microphone stands. But that’s standard instrumental stuff. What’s not so standard is the large projection screen behind them displaying the words to the songs they’re singing.

They start with what I take to be a very common contemporary worship song, given I hear it on the Christian music station daily covered by many different artists. I sing along and feel electrified by the talent of the group and the energy from all of those around me. Most everyone in the room, including my roommate and Jonah, has their hands raised. Some all the way up to the sky, some out to their sides, some only lifting one hand—or both. Either way, there’s lots of open praising around here.

And I’m uncomfortable. It’s not even that I can’t lift my hands. It’s that I don’t want to. What’s the point? Can’t I just sing along? I happen to know this song by heart so I’m able to close my eyes and rid my sight of the raised hands and focus on the words.

Blessed be the name of the Lord…

There’s a slow bit in this song that leaves Bridgette sniffling as she sings through whatever emotion the words have brought up. During this portion, I hear prayers springing up around me. Some in whisper, some in talk-volume. I tune into the voice on my right.

“Thank you, Jesus,” Jonah prays in a fierce whisper. “Thank you for leading me here. Guide my words and actions, Lord. Help me be a light. Let me hear you, Lord Jesus…”

It’s the most I’ve heard him speak since I met him yesterday, and I’m wrought with emotion. I feel like I’m violating his privacy somehow, though he’s well aware we’re all in public. Permeating my discomfort is a heavy sense of love. Love. Capital L. Not for Jonah, but for his clear passion for God, felt not just through his words but in the way they’re delivered. Among his young friends, next to a relative stranger, as he embarks on something he’s waited years for.