Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(52)

Eden grips my hand and leads me through the hundreds of people that have descended on Mission Hall. While I expected her family to be sitting with Jonah’s, I’m still caught off guard seeing him at the table.

“Guys,” Eden introduces me from the head of the long rectangular table, “this is my other roommate, Kennedy.”

Eden’s clone, who I take to be her mother, rises to her petite feet and extends her arms. “Kennedy! I’m so glad to finally meet you. I’m Lily, Eden’s mom. We’ve heard so much about you!”

Great.

After hugging her mother, I shake the hand of her father, Ford. Ford Vaughn. It sounds so exquisite, I’d expect him to be in a board room. He might be a businessman, but it occurs to me I don’t know what he does.

“And,” Eden points to the young man next to her father, “this is my brother, Caleb.”

Oh, for the love of…

Unsurprisingly, but still startling, Caleb is impressively handsome. He has light hair, which would have curls to match Eden’s if he ever let it grow, as evidenced by the thick waves. The genetic lottery hit the Vaughn children at least twice—I don’t know what their sister, Hannah, looks like—because Caleb’s eyes are the exact shade of green I’d thought an anomaly in Eden.

“Kennedy,” he gives a sweet smile as he extends his hand, “great to meet you.”

“Likewise.” I manage better than usual manners while shaking his dark, tanned hand.

Earlier in my life, I’d chalk the deep tan up to genetics or extra days at the beach. After half a semester at Carter, though, I’m assuming he’s been on a mission trip to somewhere like Africa.

My parents spot me from across the dining hall and make their way toward us. Eden’s mom seems to notice and promptly instructs her family, and Jonah’s family, to move down so we can all sit together. So much for a quiet lunch with my parents. Just as well, really. I’m not sure where Mom’s head is at, and I don’t want to talk about Roland. I’m granted space from Roland-talk, I reason, in the company of people who know nothing about him.

Once we’re all seated, Mom opens her mouth. “So, what do you all think of Pastor Roland?”

If it wouldn’t look so dreadfully tacky, I’d slam my forehead on the table. Instead, I clench my teeth and flash a “how dare you” glare to her before looking at the rest of the table for their answers. I am curious, it turns out.

“I think he’s headed to do some great things at this school,” Caleb starts. “That sermon today highlights where his head’s at. The Message, not the politics.”

“Aren’t those the same thing sometimes?” Mom asks in a non-threatening voice. “I mean, it sure seems the Message gets pulled into politics a lot.”

Caleb shrugs. I hold my breath. “That’s something else,” he replies respectfully. “What I’m talking about is the church as a body. Hearing about Jesus’ words while at church gives people an opportunity to go home and consider what’s been said. They can pray on it, and then apply it to their lives accordingly.”

I know Mom wants to spar, to talk about women’s rights and gay marriage and everything she fights for on a daily basis. Thankfully, she’s sitting next to me, and I place my hand on her knee, giving it a pleading squeeze.

“I don’t know,” a man who I assume is Jonah’s dad says, a few people down from me. “I think he might be a little too liberal for the foundations of this school. Once you let one in, more will follow.”

Like ants?

“Dad…” Jonah sighs and shakes his head.

“What?” he replies, looking over to his son. “She asked an honest question, and I’m giving an honest answer.”

“More will follow?” Jonah questions, toeing the respect line. “They’re not like ants. And, they’re not really they.”

My mouth drops as Jonah verbalizes my thoughts.

“Everyone has opinions that can’t fit into a single box,” Jonah continues. “Pastor Roland is one of those guys. Besides, he’s never preached on any of the issues I know those of us at this table are avoiding talking about. For now, can’t we agree that his ability to engage the student body is impressive? He’s always around campus or downtown at the coffee shop, just chatting it up with students. I believe he cares about our hearts.”

Jonah and his dad stare at each other for a moment while the table watches. The CU student offspring among us are more riveted by the showdown than the parents are—the adults all seem to be shifting in unease.

“Perhaps you’re right, son,” Jonah’s dad concedes. “After all,” he addresses the table with a politician-like smile, “that’s why we all do what we do, right? To praise Jesus and spread the Word?”

“Amen,” Eden’s parents mumble.

Mom chuckles. Dan offers an, “Absolutely.”

Everyone returns to their meals, but I notice a dark cloud forming over Jonah’s end of the table. All I knew about his parents before this moment was that they were a pastor-family, conservative in their music tastes and displeased with the idea of a worship rock band. It’s clear to me there is a lot more going on between Jonah and his dad than musical tastes.

Slightly satisfied that everything is, in fact, not perfect for the students at CU, I finish my meal in silence. With a growing curiosity of the man behind the mask of Jonah “I live for Jesus only” Cross.