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In my last post, I told you about my beginnings - how I was born into a Christian home, baptized and raised in the church, and active as a child and youth in the church. When I left home for college, I drifted away from the church. Once I turned my back on the church, then what?
Before I tell you about my journey away from the church, let me emphasize - I didn't have a clue about life, college, career - about anything. I "thought" I knew what I wanted to study (marine biology). I thought I knew what I wanted to be (an army officer, airborne ranger, Special Forces). I thought I knew where I was headed (success, be all you can be, do what you want). However, the reality was "I had no clue.” I didn't know what college was really going to be like. It certainly wasn't anything like high school and I certainly didn't have the study skills needed to stay afloat. Don't get me wrong, I was okay for a few semesters, but then life, my lack of skills and preparation, caught up with me. So let me start from the beginning.
I showed up on the UT campus in August of 1985 raring to go. I had my books. I was registered for my classes. I had my requisite burnt-orange t-shirts. I was ready! For the first few weeks, I easily fell into the rhythm of school - up in the morning, off to breakfast and classes, break for lunch, back to classes, dinner followed by an evening reading and studying.
I originally planned to room with one of my high school friends. However, at the last moment, he changed his mind and went to Rice University. This left me high and dry for a roommate. Instead of someone I knew, I got a "potluck" roommate assignment. He was a nice guy from Nawlins (that would be New Orleans, for any of you non-Cajuns) and had such a thick Cajun accent that it took me most of the semester before I could understand him. We didn't talk much. My other high school friends lived in dorms on the other side of campus and it was difficult to stay connected. It wasn't long before I was in a funk - lonely and depressed.
For the first three weeks, or so, I did go to Sunday morning church services. There happens to be a United Methodist Church on the edge of the UT campus, which was "convenient" for me. I sat in the balcony. I sang the hymns. I listened to the message. Yet, it didn't feel like the church where I grew up. Of course, it wasn't, you say, it was a different church. I have found that when you argue with your 18-year old self, it's like reasoning with a brick wall. In addition, I should point out that I attended church with the attitude that I was there to get something out of it. Not once did I think that I was supposed to be an "active participant.” Nevertheless, I digress…
Much to my mother's chagrin, I stopped going to church. She even encouraged me to try other churches or denominations in order to find one that suited me better. "What? Go to another church? Blasphemy!" (I know many of you have probably thought the same thing.) But I refused and chose to sleep in on Sundays. Of course, when I went home, I went to church with my family. That was the only time I would see my "church friends.” The faultiness of my 18-year old logic was that "it" was all about church.
For a brief time, I participated in a bible study with some other guys in my dorm. Yet when they started talking condemnation and damnation, I got a bit queasy. This wasn't the language I had heard in church growing up and I certainly didn't feel like it was "fair" to condemn people who may never have heard about Jesus. So I quit. But I certainly didn't pick up the torch to carry the gospel to the lost.
One morning I was walking across campus when a young man stopped me on the plaza of the main building and asked if I knew Jesus. I told him that I did and he responded by asking me if I were saved. Saved? Hmmm, I told him, how could you be sure if you're going to heaven? Wasn't that up to God? I believed in God and I believed in Jesus but I didn't think you could truly know if you were saved. Funny, I can still see this young man's face in my memory - a blonde curly-haired surfer dude. What do surfer dudes know about salvation? The conversation quickly turned to street corner evangelism and I politely excused myself and left. Funny how this event has stayed with me even though I know I did nothing with it at the time.
For the next twenty years, I continued to live this life of denial. A life of my own choosing and direction. Yes, I went to church when I was with my family, but I didn't do anything about my own spiritual growth or formation. I joined the National Guard and did my basic and infantry training at Ft. Benning - most of the time in a depressed funk. I flunked out of college after five semesters because I chose to party rather than study. I chased girls. I drank. I did what I wanted to do. Even while I was in the desert, God never deserted me. (To be continued...)
~~Ken
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