We left off yesterday with an idealistic 18 year-old, a Baptist college and new found freedom. When I left for my first semester, I was excited about the new adventure and at the same time apprehensive about what college might be like. I had seen the movies and I was mildly concerned that I was in over my head. My guiding principles of faith wisdom were to stay away from sinful people and choices. I felt there was no better place than a University where we did not co-mingle dorms (except from1-6 on Saturdays and Sundays with the door open), we had mandatory chapel, alcohol was strictly forbidden and we could not dance on campus. What trouble could I possibly encounter in such a place?
Honestly, my freshman year, I did not find much. While I certainly did not find a home in the library, I also enjoyed my new found freedom to snooze right through class, eat all of the ice cream I wanted and stay up late in the night talking on my credit card calling card (remember those?) to friends at home and at schools across the country. The 40' phone cord would stretch from my room into the hall bathroom and I could stay up all night on the phone. This was amazing! No one was going to tell me to do my homework. No one was going to tell me not to stay up and watch TV all night. And there was this new thing called email! I could type things to friends and send them on the computer and if I stayed in the dorm computer lab long enough, they might write me back. It was CRAZY! You can stop laughing now. I know, I was wild.
The one consistent that year was that I went to church. I tried them all. I like the Methodist the most, but I did find dancing in the aisle at the charismatic Baptist church fascinating. Especially since we could not move our hips in a fornicating fashion on campus, but when you put on flowy polyester, Jesus loved it. I found a small group that I ate dinner with each week in the home of a precious woman who tried desperately to love the most ragtag group of kids. She was gracious and kind. I also visited many other college services, bible studies and student union groups. I never found a place that I LOVED, but most Sundays, I went somewhere. Even if 11am Sunday morning came and went in my pjs, I would spruce up a bit and go to eat in the dorm, pretending that I had checked the box.
After a first semester that landed me no 'real world' college experience and academic probation, I had to buckle down and make better grades. I had a goal. I wanted to join a sorority. When I went home for the summer, I made it a personal mission to test out a few experiences that had been on the naughty list for all of adolescence. I used that summer to stick my toe in the morally off limits pool and guess what, I did not combust. Not only did I survive, I began an immediate love affair with the feeling of chemically induced freedom and I was off to the races.
I will lump the next 2 years into one bucket. What you must know about these years is that I loved my friends, my life, my sorority, my college and I needed this season. I am the person that I am today because of this season. What I will not go into are marked occasions when I knew in my gut that I was in over my head. I was hurting. I was in a class called Intro to Ministry that I had been tricked into taking. I had to acknowledge the fact that at one point I had realized a call to serve God with my life and yet I was in a place that had me running in the opposite direction. I didn't know how to put the brakes on. I didn't know how to make since of this very real experience of calling and the very harsh reality that I was sprinting as fast as a I could to prove to God that I was unqualified. This all culminated on Ash Wednesday 1996.
I can remember deciding that I was going to go to an Ash Wednesday service. I probably did not even tell my roommates where I was off to, but I can still remember the dress I wore. I remember walking in the downtown church with its big stained glass windows and musty smell. I can remember the wrinkly usher handing me a bulletin. These things were familiar. They were like a warm blanket on a cold night. They were the balm on some very open and gaping wounds that needed to be cleaned out. I don't know what was said that night. I don't know what we sang. I know that I sat by myself in the pew and with all of the earnestness that I could muster, I came home. I didn't know what that meant, but I said, "I'm listening."
Now, I'm guessing from the events that took place the remaining 3 months of that semester, most in my circle of friends saw very little change. But that night opened a conversation with God and me to begin some housekeeping. This led to my first job that summer in student ministry. It led to more changes my senior year. It led to the decision to apply to seminary after graduation. It also led to the first of my tattoos, courtesy of a bonding experience with my supervising youth pastor.
On my hip is a swimming ichthus. The ichthus an image of a fish used as a symbol of Christianity. You may know it as the decal on the bumper of cars. You know the ichthus on my hip is swimming because it is blowing bubbles, three of them to be precise. I believe in art symbolizing my faith and this piece was a worthy tribute to the place of desperation and confusion and hope that were all propelling me forward. I didn't know where I was going, but I trusted that this was a journey worth continuing.
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