Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(47)

“Interesting word play,” I remark with a chuckle.

He doesn’t laugh. “That’s how Jesus works, Kennedy. He wants to get it so people can’t tell where you end and He begins.”

“Didn’t God destroy the world with a flood?” I reference the story of Noah from my Old Testament class. From the Bible, literally, but most recently my OT class.

Roland lifts his chin. “Sometimes…sometimes God has to take matters into his own hands. Sometimes he has to overrun the sin and destruction we can bring into our lives. Sometimes He has to wash us clean the most powerful way possible so when we come up for air, all we’re calling is His name.”

In the middle of my visual of a raging ocean storm and Roland bobbing and gasping amongst the waves, the alarm on my phone dings, indicating the end of my break.

“I’ve gotta get back to work,” I say with an admittedly shaky voice while forcing myself to my feet.

For the first time since setting foot at Carter University, I want to stay and talk with Roland. I want to hear about his flood and his resuscitation into someone that is a perfectly functioning human being. Someone who went from escaping parental responsibility to talking about the shame and regret surrounding the decision to millions of viewers across the world.

Moreover, I want the flood. Whatever it is that Eden has. Whatever keeps Bridgette smiling and Jonah honest and pure—I want that. I want to come up for air. To untie the expectations from Mom, Dan, my friends, and even the people around me. I want that air to be Him.

I want to be flooded.





CHAPTER FIFTEEN


Hope Now


It’s Parents’ Weekend!

Do I seem excited enough? Really, I truly am thrilled to be seeing Mom and Dan for the first time since the semester started. As the weeks have gone on, our every other day chats have moved to 2-3 times a week. Between studying, working, and praying, I’m busy. Honestly, I’m starting to feel a little burned out from the thrice-weekly church services, but I’m digging my heels in. I need it, I’ve rationalized to myself.

That’s the other thing. I’ve been feeling this tug, a tug I recognize as God. It’s really been all-consuming—much the way the Bible indicates it should be—and I don’t know how to tell my mom. Sure, she goes to church (she raised me Episcopalian) but spirituality is fluid for her. Go to church on some Sundays, but make sure we hit the important holidays, and say grace before those holiday meals. Prayer is something reserved for before bed or when someone is sick. There is church life and regular life. And, by the way, feel free to pull on tenants from other spiritual traditions outside of Christianity to get through tough times. You know, pray to “Mother Nature” when you need a sunny or rainy day, and count on Karma to take care of those who’ve wronged you. These were all things I’d counted as normal before coming to CU.

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.