Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

by Andrea Randall

  “Like half of CU,” I remark.

  “Yeah?” He looks pleased with himself. “What are the kids saying these days?” he asks in a mock-elderly voice.

  I shrug and try to even out my breathing. It’s been months since I’ve gotten any decent exercise. “Oh, you know, you’re all controversial and stuff.”

  “And stuff… Well, I guess that’s something. I’d rather they keep talking in indecision than to stop talking all together. Why did you ask about my parents?”

  “I just want to know where I come from,” I admit.

  This stops Roland in his tracks. When I back up, he grips my shoulders. “You come from God, Kennedy.”

  I roll my eyes so hard they hurt.

  “No,” Roland preempts my retort. “Listen to me. Not just this situation, but life will throw you all kinds of curveballs. You’ll have lots of corners you’ll turn around and find yourself questioning your motives, your decisions, everything…” He puts his head down for a moment and catches his breath. “The one thing you can always hold on to is that He is your true father.” Roland points to the sky for effect.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  “Do you?” His eyes bore into mine, and I’m once again feeling naked.

  “No,” I admit, starting to run again because I can no longer stand the intensity of standing still. “God’s just someone I pray to. Someone who can help me, but who rarely does.”

  Roland starts to slow his pace, falling behind me slightly. “What? Wait a minute.”

  “No!” I run faster as tears well up. “The omniscient, omnipotent creator of the universe is my father? What father would let their child grow up thinking her birth father didn’t want her? What father would steal my grandmother away in a car accident last year?” Thinking of my mom’s mom stops me, and I bend forward to place my hands on my knees. “What father,” I continue, “lets me come to this school? Lets me play with fire by wanting to get close to you in the middle of kids who are exactly nothing like me?”

  “Kennedy!” Roland catches up to me and puts his hand on my shoulder.

  “What?” I snap. “What pastoral wisdom are you going to rain down on me right now?” I wipe my nose with my forearm and continue down the trial, walking.

  “I don’t know,” he calls after me.

  I turn around. “What?”

  “I don’t know,” Roland repeats, catching up to me.

  “What good does that do me?” Out of the corner of my eye, I try not to notice that we swing our arms the same way when we walk.

  Roland stops, grabbing my wrist so I’m forced to stop and have the uncomfortable conversation. “If I knew everything, then God wouldn’t be so big, would he? I don’t have all the answers, Kennedy. I wish I did, believe me, sometimes I wish I did. But I know the One who knows all the answers. And, at the end of the day, I have to cast my cares at his feet and trust that I’m part of his plan. Not the star of the show.”

  “Who is the star?” Joy? I think snarkily.

  “Jesus Christ, Kennedy.”

  “What?” I snap, assuming he was cursing.

  “No.” Roland snickers. “Jesus. Christ. All the glory goes to Him.”

  I huff. “So it’s really all about Jesus?” I feel stupid for asking.

  Roland grins. “Now you’re getting it. Come on, let’s finish our run.”

  “Wait,” I call out, suddenly hyperaware of my surroundings. “Won’t it be weird if we’re, like, seen running together?”

  “No. I counsel students one-on-one all the time. Sometimes we run, play basketball, golf, go get coffee. Whatever.” His face is beaming with pride as we fall into an even cadence once again.

  “You really love what you do, huh?”

  Roland points to the sky again. “I’ve got the best boss.”

  “Apparently, it really is all about Jesus,” I say to Chelsea and Asher while I tie on my apron for my Friday shift.

  After Roland and I ran, we grabbed an ice cream at a custard place downtown and then he returned me to my dorm so I would have ample time to shower and change for work.

  “Well, hallelujah!” Chelsea cheers in mock enthusiasm before turning on the blender.

  Asher shakes his head and laughs. “What was it that you thought it was all about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess. I mean, I guess I thought they were all fans of Jesus. Not followers. Not blessed children of God.”

  Over the past few hours, I’ve been replaying almost every conversation and interaction I’ve had since the start of the semester. My friends aren’t perfect, I recognize, but they have a belief. Sure, I don’t know when some of them turn from dimply, honest smiles to hard-headed bureaucrats, but for now, in this moment, they love Jesus.

  “And what did Pastor Roland say about branding?” Asher seems intently interested.

  “That people make up their own way to follow Jesus. Assign words and rules to him that he never assigned to us. He spends a lot of time preaching about it. His sermon series from two weeks ago until the end of the semester is titled, Rebranding. You should come.”

  Asher nods approvingly. “He sounds like a cool guy. I could get behind his brand,” he challenges.

  “I don’t think he has a brand,” I defend. “I think his brand is Jesus. That’s it.”

  “Uh-oh,” Chelsea says like a toddler. “Quick, Asher, get the life preserver. Kennedy’s becoming a Jesus Freak!”

  Asher laughs. “She doesn’t need a life preserver. Jesus walks on water.”

  “Ha, ha. Very funny guys.” I shake my head and begin grinding coffee beans in anticipation of the next rush.

  “We’re just teasing,” Asher says apologetically. “I’m happy you’re questioning. The worst thing kids on the hill can do is stop asking questions.”

  I stop the grinder. “Wouldn’t you say that’s the worst thing anyone can do?”

  He nods. “I would. So, you’re telling me you want to get out an hour early tomorrow for the Bible study?”

  I came in a few minutes early to plead my case. “Please.”

  Chelsea rolls her eyes. “Oh, sure. So you’re telling me if I want to go to a Bible study, you’ll let me off early on our busiest night of the week?”

  “Chelsea,” Asher sighs, “I’d let you off early with pay if you wanted to go to a Bible study. I’d literally pay to see it.”

  She sticks out her tongue, exposing her black barbell piercing, and grabs and empty dish bin. “I don’t need the money that bad…yet.” She winks and heads to the cafe to clear tables.

  I chuckle and push the button to brew a fresh pot of decaf. Roland will be in soon, and when he comes on Saturday nights, his coffee is sans caffeine.

  “Hey,” Asher nudges my side, “don’t let her get to you.”

  Looking up, I’m confused to see a semiserious expression on the rather goofball manager’s face. “Huh? Oh, Chelsea? She doesn’t. She’s just teasing. I’m kind of used to it. Kind of straddling the line myself these days.”

  Asher’s eyes pinch at the sides as he seems to study my face. “What’s changed?”

  I swallow hard and shrug. “I don’t know, really,” I admit. “Even though there’s a lot going on politically on the hill that I don’t agree with, I feel like that’s kind of missing the point. Like, if I use that stuff to judge Jesus, I’ll never want him. But, honestly, I’m feeling myself pulled in that direction, and I’m seeing that the political stuff and some of the day to day stuff is just clouding it all. I want to follow Jesus, not the latest brand. I think.”

  “You think?” Asher leans against the counter, looking amused.

  “God could have come down and destroyed the world with the snap of a finger and had us all start all over again. But he didn’t. He came as a baby.” My voice drops to a whisper. “A baby. A tiny person that needed to be nurtured, then grew to nurture, and who knew what was going to happen and did it anyway. For us.”

  Asher clears his throat and shifts slightly. “I thou
ght you were only in an Old Testament class? That sounds like New Testament territory, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “I read ahead,” I tease, sticking out my tongue as Chelsea had earlier.

  He laughs. “I’m going to need to write, ‘keep your tongue in your mouth,’ in the dress code, aren’t I?”

  My eyes are drawn to a familiar voice at a nearby table, and instantly blood rises.

  “What?” Asher cranes his neck to follow my line of vision. “Oh, good. Your door-to-door friend.” He spots Joy accurately.

  “She’s not my friend,” I assert.

  “Just keep an eye on her. She hasn’t been a problem since that one day you were here with her.” With that, Asher heads back to his office, and I’m faced with taking Joy’s order, since Chelsea is busy checking out tattoos on a customer.

  “Hey, Joy.” I smile and try to sound as friendly as I can.

  “Hey,” she says with relative niceness. “Just a medium soy latte, please.”

  I nod. “Okay, I’ll have it up at the end of the counter in just a minute.”

  Joy turns and walks directly to the end of the counter, watching me as I work on her drink.

  “Eden says you’re coming to Bible study tonight?” She speaks over the high pitch of the steamer.

  “Yep. Want this for here or to go?”

  “Here.”

  I finish her drink and slide it across the counter. “There ya go.”

  “We’re starting the Gospel of John tonight,” she says after her first sip. “I’m glad you’re coming.”

  “You are?” My eyes widen and I feel a twinge of hope for Joy.

  She nods. “I’ve been praying for you a lot.”

  “You have?” I arch my eyebrow—twinge of hope slowly packing its things.

  “Yes. I recognize how hard it is to set aside a life of sin and try to follow Jesus. I admire you, Kennedy. See you tonight.” She turns on her heels and heads to the back corner, taking out a book for our Old Testament class—no, we don’t just use the Bible—and begins studying. Presumably for our mid-term on Wednesday.

  Life of sin?

  She said it without a trace of venom in her voice, yet I’m left feeling dirty, exposed, and pissed off. What is it about me she finds so sinful? My upbringing? That’s all she really knows about me. As I silently curse her assumptions of me, I realize mine of her aren’t any better. And, you know what? She’s right. The choices I’m making lately have been hard. So hard, I feel like I can’t even talk to my mom about them. If I told her I was interested in learning more about being baptized as an adult, she’d lecture me for thirty minutes or more about how it isn’t necessary.

  This middle ground I’m trying to navigate is feeling narrower and lonelier by the minute. I know I’ll eventually have to make a choice, but I’m realizing that it’s less a choice between one side and the other. It’s a choice to stare at Jesus or those around me. For the time being, my eyes are flickering all over the place.

  Right on schedule, Roland walks in and sets his laptop at the far corner booth—windows on both sides facing the street.

  I start on his decaf cafè au lait, and a calm feeling builds in my chest. Not the anxiety I’ve experienced around him or the mention of him for most of my life. As crazy as it seems, Roland is the most middle ground I’ve got right now.

  “Hey you!” I say over the sound of frothing milk. “Fresh decaf. Who knows how long the other stuff has been in there.”

  “Thanks.” Roland smiles easily and rests his elbows on the counter. “Still going to the study group tonight?”

  “Yes.” I hand him his drink and lean in to avoid being heard. “Even Joy is excited that I’m eager to leave my life of sin,” I whisper, nodding discreetly in her direction.

  Roland shakes his head. “She’s pretty—”

  “Intense?” I cut him off.

  He shrugs. “Yes. But I think you and I have different ideas of what that word means. I think her heart’s in the right place.”

  “I think you’re paid to say that.” I smile teasingly as I return to my tasks.

  Roland gets down to his own work, and I find myself a little bummed that we won’t get to have our normal Saturday night chat. I’m ready for more from him, though I don’t know what that will entail.

  I push that thought aside and decide to talk to him about it after services tomorrow. If I survive night one of Bible study, that is.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Crush

  It’s 8:00 pm on the nose, and I’m sitting at a table in the student union, surrounded by people I know: Bridgette and Silas, Joy, Matt Wells—as promised—and Eden and Jonah, who are holding hands and gazing at each other bashfully from time to time. I find myself having to force looking away from them. Who knew handholding could look so intimate? The RA from the guys’ dorm, Jack, is leading the prayer. Apparently Maggie usually comes, too, but is off campus this evening.

  “Father,” Jack starts with his comically twangy accent. He sounds like a parody of a person from the South, honestly. “Please watch over our hearts and minds as we dive into your Word this evening. Please guard our tongues as we discuss the issues that may arise from reading your Word with our human minds.”

  He’s good at prayer, though.

  We say “Amen,” in unison and everyone opens their Bibles. I always have mine on me now. Honestly, I’ve learned you just never know.

  “Okay,” Jack starts the session and nods to me. “First of all, let’s welcome Kennedy and Matt. Glad you guys are here with us. We’re in the Gospel of John, which, to me, is the most exciting and passionate of all the Gospels.”

  “Amen,” Jonah replies in earnest agreement. “When I’m feeling lost or far away, I turn here.” He points his finger to the words, and heads bob in agreement.

  Mistakenly, my eyes wander to Matt, who is staring at me with a forced lost look on his face. I suppress the chuckle and nod with everyone else. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Matt shake his head and look down to his own Bible.

  Trying to be one of them. He’s said it out loud to me once, so I know the thought is running through his head.

  Jack opens with a question. “While there’s lots of great stuff we’ll dig into in this Gospel, can any of you tell me some things that are unique about this text in comparison to the other Gospels?”

  Pride. Pure, greedy pride bursts through my chest as I shoot my hand in the air.

  “Kennedy.” Jack doesn’t sound as surprised as my friends look. He doesn’t know much about me, I’m assuming.

  “For starters, how the text itself starts. The other three Gospels start with the birth of Jesus. John’s Gospel starts with the creation of the world, and illustrates—with importance—that Jesus has been around since the time the universe was created. This trickles through the rest of the Gospel,” I’m on a roll, “when we see that Jesus’ deity is emphasized in this book. In the others, it’s his humanity.”

  “Oh!” I start again, before anyone else can speak. “The first miracle of Jesus, as described by John, is turning water into wine at that wedding. That’s not discussed in the others. And,” I add in one last thing quickly, “it’s only kind of accepted that the Apostle John wrote it. But it’s highly contested. Apparently.”

  My eyes roam the table as I sit back in my seat, and I see a mix of shock from Joy and Silas and pride from my roommates. Jonah looks conflicted, as usual—the poor, broody boy—and Matt only looks at me and mouths, “Seriously?”

  “That’s good, Kennedy. Really good. About ninety percent of the Gospel of John is unique compared to the other three. We’re going to spend the next few weeks examining why that might be. We’ll cover some practical reasons, and then get into the debatable ones. First, though, I want us to simply read this text for what it is—and try not to compare it to the others. And we’ll be able to discuss why this Gospel is the go-to Gospel for evangelicals.”

  “Because it’s the only one that talks about being born aga
in,” I blurt out without raising my hand. “Sorry,” I whisper.

  “Your enthusiasm is refreshing, Kennedy,” Jack says.

  “Yeah,” Eden replies. “I had no idea you knew so much about this.”

  I shrug. “Pastor Roland had a sermon series on this two or three years ago. I found it really fascinating.”

  I remember the series as the first time I transitioned from passive viewer to engaged listener. I’d never in my life heard about the differences between any of the Gospels, let alone one that was so different that, while listening to the series, it seemed odd to me it was included in the group at all. It was the first time I brought the Bible to my computer, googled, and made notes. Something in the words of John’s Gospel stirred inside me that day three years ago.

  Until this moment, I’d always thought it was simply my critical mind that fed on the comparisons, the layers of meaning. I’ve always defaulted to digging into any text I read, and for the first time with the Bible, I was given something worth uncovering. I knew I’d never “discover” anything scholars hadn’t already argued to exhaustion, but something about it ignited me.

  Admittedly, the Gospel of John is the only text I really know this well. Which is kind of unfortunate since there are books after, written by John as well—if you believe this Gospel was written by John at all—and contextual texts throughout the rest of the New Testament that scholars use to detangle him a bit.

  Maybe I could be a Biblical scholar, I think as I daydream for a brief second. If people have been studying it critically for…however long there’s been an actual Bible…then certainly I could make a career about it. And since I’m technically a Christian, but not a “fall down on my face” kind, maybe that will give me a different perspective than those who can’t view the Bible as anything other than absolute truth.

  Then I tell myself to calm the crap down. This is all just interesting, not a lifelong mission.

  “Two or three years ago?” Joy leans forward, her face toeing the line between interested and annoyed.