First Contact
My transition to fundamentalist Christianity began in college. When I started college at the University of Florida, I had not yet turned 17 and found myself terribly lonely, frightened and homesick. After my fall term I actually wrote my dad a letter begging to be allowed to move back home and get my college education among my friends and family. I thought I made a good case, but my request was denied and I returned to Gainesville after Christmas break more homesick than ever.
There was a young man who lived in my dorm who had become a casual friend, someone I’d go to the cafeteria with and whom I perceived to be a nice person, His name was Wayne, and he was in ROTC. I had noticed that whenever we sat down to eat, he would say a prayer of thanks for his food, but otherwise I hadn’t noted anything overtly religious about him.
One day, as we were returning from the cafeteria, he casually asked if I’d like to go to a Bible study with him the following week. I pictured a little church with friendly people, and since I was lonely, I told him, sure, I’ll go with you.
When the time came I followed Wayne to another floor of our dorm and entered the room where the Bible study was being held. My mental picture of a little church with nice, friendly people was a bit off the mark. Instead I was faced with a dorm room full of other students who were seated on the floor, on the beds, and in a chair or two. Very soon the room full of guys turned to one older guy, who welcomed us there and began the study.
The study leader read a passage of scripture (I noticed that everyone there had a Bible and found the passage quickly) and asked the group to share about someone who’d had a profound impact on their life. One after the other, these young men spoke without hesitation, naming a specific person, always another man, who had “brought them to Christ.” I remember being somewhat amazed that they all had their stories at the ready, since I had no idea at this point that they were all members of the same church and had organized the Bible study group with the sole purpose of recruiting others. Like me, for example.
A couple weeks passed and I had forgotten all about the Bible study when I was visited by one of the guys who had been there. His name was George and it turned out that he was assigned the task of following up with one of the visitors: again, me. Over the course of the next few weeks, George befriended me, inviting me to go to movies, skating rinks, the Bible study group (which I learned was called a “Soul Talk), and church services. Although I wasn’t into the church thing, he was persistent, and I went to church with him. Eventually George asked me to have a one-on-one Bible study with him on a weekly basis. Not wanting to disappoint him, I agreed.
At what point would a little bit of backbone have saved me decades of misery in an oppressive, guilt-inducing, control-mad cult? At what point would a polite but firm “No” have taken my life on a completely different trajectory? But I didn’t say no. Instead, over the following weeks and months I allowed myself to be talked into “giving up everything to follow Jesus.”
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