The Unlikely Disciple Part 22

For one, seeds of ideological diversity are sprouting. New Facebook groups created since I left include "Good Stewards.h.i.+p of the Earth and its Creatures Is a Biblical Mandate Not a Leftist Sentiment," "College Democrats of Liberty," and "G.o.d Is Not a Republican" (which put my jaw on the floor). For another, campus culture is moving even more quickly toward the mainstream. Liberty students tell me excitedly about the relaxed hair code for men (locks that come over the ears are now legal), and there's talk of a new, loosened alcohol policy that allows students one booze-related indiscretion before they're expelled. Fox, my old RA, described this year's campus atmosphere to me this way: "I don't know exactly how to express it, but there's a new electricity at Liberty. It's not just the rules changing. I think this school is changing a lot. People are trying new things. G.o.d is moving in different ways."

As for Dr. Falwell, his memory still hovers low over Liberty's day-to-day operation. At the first convocation of the fall semester, Jerry Falwell, Jr. chose to replay one of his father's old speeches on the Jumbotrons. The younger Falwell has been easing into his role as Liberty's chancellor, but no one seems to think he has filled Dr. Falwell's shoes entirely. Today, I went on Liberty's website to check out the campus happenings, and as always, I was astounded by the amount of attention paid to the deceased founder, and how odd that attention can appear to the outside world. On the front page, I saw a picture of Dr. Falwell's completed headstone, located at his burial spot, just outside his office on the Mansion lawn. The headstone took the shape of a ten-foot limestone cross, topped with an eternal flame powered by a propane feed.

I shook my head in amazement. Really? A former segregationist, and the way you memorialize him is by erecting a burning cross?

A few days after I left Liberty for the last time, I tried to peel the silver Jesus fish emblem off the b.u.mper of my Honda. The metal part came off easily, but a brown fish-shaped residue remained on the b.u.mper, and no amount of scrubbing or sc.r.a.ping could get it off. I appreciated this on two levels. First, it meant that when I gave the car back to my dad--I had borrowed it from him for the semester--he was forced to drive around our ultra-liberal college town with the outline of a Jesus fish on his car, drawing worried stares from our friends and neighbors.

Second, the indelible Jesus fish provided me with the world's easiest metaphor to describe my transition from Liberty back to the secular world. Namely, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't quite sc.r.a.pe it away. Even when I was back at Brown full-time, caught up once again in the flood of papers and seminars and parties on the weekend, something about Liberty kept nagging at me. I kept having flashbacks of my time there--my Sundays in the Thomas Road choir loft, my History of Life cla.s.s, my prayer chapel session with Zipper--and each memory was followed by a rush of guilt.

For almost a year after I left Lynchburg I had kept up my pretense about my Liberty semester. I still hadn't told any of my friends there that I had come to Liberty, in effect, to write about them. My reluctance to reveal myself was completely selfish: I just didn't want to be a villain. How could I tell Jersey Joey that I had been hiding a huge part of myself from him for an entire year? How could I explain to Zipper that I wasn't saved? It would be better for everyone, I thought, if Liberty heard about my book another way. Maybe someone would put the puzzle together on their own. Maybe my publisher could send a nice letter.

But in April, eleven months after I left Liberty, I decided I needed to go back and tell them myself. If my semester at Bible Boot Camp taught me one thing, it's the freedom of conscience that comes with confession. I realized that the only way to get rid of my emotional burden would be to confront it head-on. And so, stomach in knots, I made the twelve-hour drive to Lynchburg.

The first person I saw was Jersey Joey.

"Rooster!" he said, pulling me in for a hug. "Good to see you, ya friggin' queer."

Joey and I went out for dinner on the first night of my visit, where we spent a solid hour catching up, talking, laughing. He told me about some of his exploits, like a non-Christian girl he had recently begun to date. The girl is a waitress at a Lynchburg restaurant, and several weeks before my visit, Joey slipped her his phone number. She called, they hit it off, and before long, he was smitten.

"This girl is danger," Joey reported. "She's not into religion, but she's real pretty, and she's got these huge knockers. Huge, Rooster. Double Ds. I can barely get my hands around 'em."

Joey promised that he was carefully guarding his virginity, but he wasn't sure how long he could hold out.

After a few more stories, I looked him in the eye.

"Joey, there's something I need to tell you."

He deadpanned, "Let me guess . . . you're gay."

"No."

Deep breath.

"I wrote a book about us, Joey. I came to Liberty to write about the school. I'm a writer. And after I left, I turned my life--our lives--into a book."

Joey squinted at the sky. He flicked his cigarette, sending embers flying.

"Rooster, are you serious?"

"Yeah. I am."

He looked at me. Now, he was breaking into a sly smile.

"You little b.a.s.t.a.r.d! I knew it!" He laughed for thirty seconds straight, coughing out spidery wisps of smoke. "You were always doing weird c.r.a.p! Taking notes in church, asking weird-a.s.s questions, always wanting to know everything about everybody. I knew something was off about you."

Joey and I spent the next two hours in the restaurant parking lot, sitting on a ledge and talking about my book. He wanted to know everything: how I'd decided to come, what I thought about Liberty, what the best and worst parts of my semester were. We laughed about the time he had almost caught me, when he asked if I was working for Rolling Stone Rolling Stone. I showed him proofs of the cover design my publisher had drawn up. He liked it, though he pointed out that my author photo looked "gayer than gay, but what would I expect from the Rooster?"

I was blown away. Why wasn't he yelling at me? A year and a half of secrecy, and he makes gay jokes? Didn't he think I was satanic?

"This blows my mind, to be honest," he said. "But I'm not mad. I think it's pretty cool actually. I'm happy for you. I haven't read a book in six, seven years. But I might read this one."

I thought Joey's reaction was a fluke. He was my best friend at Liberty, after all. Surely, other people wouldn't respond so warmly. But I was wrong. Over the course of the weekend, I told twenty of my closest Liberty friends about my book--including Paul, Zipper, Pastor Seth, and Eric--and the strangest thing happened: everyone forgave me. In fact, the reactions I got surpa.s.sed even the best-case scenarios I had drawn up in my mind before my trip. After I rea.s.sured people that I hadn't come to Liberty to disparage it, and after I said that I had changed their names and identifying details, everyone was excited to read my take. They wanted to know what the book was called and where they could buy it. But for whatever reason, they weren't mad. My roommate Eric, upon hearing my news, apologized to me.

"Wait, why are you you sorry?" I asked. "I'm the one who was hiding things from you." sorry?" I asked. "I'm the one who was hiding things from you."

"I know," he said. "But if I had known who you were, I would have tried to show you a better picture of myself."

I reminded Eric that I had come to Liberty to get the real story of Liberty life, not an airbrushed facade.

"I know," he said. "But I still wish I had acted better toward Henry and stuff. I guess it's a good lesson for me."

People even seemed to understand why I had gone incognito. "You would have had a totally different semester if we had known you weren't a Christian," said James Powell. "I don't think you would have gotten the real story."

This part of my confession--the news that I wasn't an evangelical--was the only part that was met with anything less than excitement. When I told Zipper about my Quaker roots, he gazed at the floor.

"So, does this mean you're not saved?" he asked.

I wanted to give Zipper the spiel I had concocted in my mind since leaving Liberty--about how although I had stopped short of getting saved, I had experienced immense spiritual growth at Liberty. I wanted to tell him that his warmth toward me, and the warmth of my other Liberty friends had been a better apologetic device than all the Way of the Master routines and History of Life cla.s.ses combined. But I knew what he meant. Zipper wanted to know if I had prayed the Sinner's Prayer, if I had gotten down on my knees and asked Christ to be my personal savior. And I had to tell him that I hadn't.

"Wow," he said. "Well . . . wow."

The news that I wasn't an evangelical confused Zipper, and it confused many more of my Liberty friends that weekend. In their mental categories of saved and unsaved, what I told them took me out of the saved category, but it didn't put me fully in the category of unsaved, either. For a Liberty student, an unsaved person is someone who doesn't get it, who doesn't know how to quote C. S. Lewis or sing "Jesus Paid It All" without looking at the words. And for them, the fact that I did did know these things, that I had gone through the same Christian gauntlet as them, made my story all the more confusing and all the more heartbreaking. My news would have been easier to swallow if I had been a Jew or a Muslim or a steadfast atheist. But to be know these things, that I had gone through the same Christian gauntlet as them, made my story all the more confusing and all the more heartbreaking. My news would have been easier to swallow if I had been a Jew or a Muslim or a steadfast atheist. But to be this this close to Christianity for an entire semester and not have accepted Christ? It killed them. close to Christianity for an entire semester and not have accepted Christ? It killed them.

"It's such a shame, man," said Rodrigo, my hallmate from Mexico City. "Think about it: you had every chance. every chance."

So they prayed for me. In the weeks following my Liberty visit, I was the subject of one-on-one prayers, group prayers, even long-distance prayers. James Powell sent me a text message two days after I left that read, "Hey buddy. Just wanted to let you know that I'm praying for you this week. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you."

A few weeks later, I made the hardest confession of all. I called Anna to tell her, at long last, why I had been so hesitant to get involved with her at Liberty. Fists clenched, I told her my secret, and like everyone else, she reacted extremely well. She was relieved to know that I had a valid reason for snubbing her after our series of dates, although she called me a "borderline pansy" for not asking her out anyway. We spend almost an hour laughing and reminiscing about our semester-long quasi-romance, and at the end of our conversation, we said a tender goodbye and promised to keep in touch.

After telling my Liberty friends about myself, I felt the burden of a year and a half's worth of white lies and equivocation lift off my shoulders. I was finally free to be myself. I could talk to Zipper on the phone without pretending that my world was being rocked by G.o.d like his was. I could talk to Anna without any fear that I was leading her on under false pretenses. Everything I did, even at Brown, took on a new aura of openness. I began to tell everyone in my life exactly how I felt about them at all times. I poured my heart out at every available opportunity. I grabbed at transparency like an addict grabs at a crack pipe.

And over time, I found that the distance separating my two worlds all but collapsed. Having thrown off the yoke of exaggeration and half truth, I was now free to be the same guy--the exact same guy--when talking to my Liberty friends and my Brown friends alike. I somehow thought this synthesis of personalities would be greeted with fanfare or celebration, but it pa.s.sed more or less unnoticed. A few of my Brown friends noticed a new streak of earnestness (one friend began calling me "Hallmark"), but the people at Liberty were almost completely unfazed. They saw me for who I am, and even though I'm sure they're not completely happy with it--I'm guessing they'd like me to curse a little less and pray a little more--they didn't seem altogether shocked or dismayed that I was living on my own terms, at my own pace. The conversion attempts I got eventually slowed to a trickle, and when that happened, my Dorm 22 hallmates and I were left yammering on about our grades, our career anxieties, our families, our love lives. Finally, we were friends, with nothing left in the way.

Did my semester at Liberty bridge the G.o.d Divide? Of course not. It would be asinine to cue up the triumphal music now, as I claim some diplomatic victory or other for myself. At the end of the day, the two sides of this culture war still have glaring differences, and those differences are likely to continue to define the relations.h.i.+p between the evangelical community and America at large for decades to come. Humans have always quarreled over their beliefs, and I suppose they always will. But judging from my post-Liberty experience, this particular religious conflict isn't built around a hundred-foot brick wall. If anything, it's built around a flimsy piece of cardboard, held in place on both sides by paranoia and lack of exposure. It's there, no doubt, but it's hardly forbidding. And more important, it's hardly soundproof. Religious conflict might be a basic human instinct, but I have faith, now more than ever before, that we can subvert that instinct for long enough to listen to each other.

Earlier tonight, I got a distressed call from Jersey Joey. The girl he's dating, the non-Christian waitress, has been hinting strongly that she wants to have s.e.x with him. Joey, who has never considered the prospect of premarital s.e.x all that terrifying, is still trying to make up his mind.

"I mean, I know I shouldn't," he said. "But man, Rooster, I really want to. I don't want to wait until I'm freaking married to lose my virginity. That could be five, ten years from now."

I told Joey that I'd respect him no matter what he did, that he didn't need to apologize to me if he went through with the deed.

"Tell you what," he said, "if I lose my virginity to this girl, you'll be the first to know. Wish me luck, Rooster."

We laughed and said our goodbyes, and after hanging up, I went straight to my knees. If that's not worth praying for, I don't know what is.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

It takes a village to raise a child, but it takes something much bigger to guide a child through his first book. A tri-county area? A city-state? I'm not quite sure.

In any case, I was nineteen when I began writing this book, and while I may not have been a child in the legal sense, I certainly felt like one. The book-writing process is more daunting and byzantine than I ever could have imagined, and I wouldn't have gotten past the first page had a great number of people not stepped in to offer their guidance and wisdom.

I'm thankful, first and foremost, to my editor at Grand Central Publis.h.i.+ng, Ben Greenberg. Ben provided witty insight and a probing editorial pen when I needed it most. His faith in this book borders on hard-line fundamentalism, and his patience with me is bottomless. Every writer should be so lucky.

A million thanks to my wonderful agent, Kate Lee at ICM, whose thoughtfulness and tenacity are miracles of the highest order. Another million to A. J. Jacobs, who took me under his wing three years ago and turned me, almost single-handedly, into a writer. His sage advice, inexhaustible generosity, and sheer big-heartedness are the reasons this book exists at all.

I'm also grateful for Jamie Raab and the rest of the Grand Central Publis.h.i.+ng crew for helping this book along from proposal to publication. Tanisha Christie (publicist nonpareil), Nick Small, Peggy Boelke, Kallie s.h.i.+mek, Valerie Russo, and Flag Tonuzi were especially great to work with. Thanks to Jeremiah Guelzo at Stone Blue Productions for taking the photograph that appears on this book's front cover, to Larissa Silva for her cheerful a.s.sistance, and to Big Tam for his expert video work.

All my thanks to the folks who read this ma.n.u.script in various stages of completion and gave me valuable feedback. Andrew Marantz edited many, many versions of these pages, worked his magic every time, and is responsible for most of the good stuff in here by now. Jon Margolick, Ariel Werner, Rhoda Flaxman, Scott Poulson-Bryant, Chris Unseth, Deborah Roose, and David Snyder all lent their eyes to the effort. Pastor Mike Wessells and the Reverend Jon Huyck fixed my theological mistakes, and three Brown University faculty members--Ross Kraemer, Doug Brown, and the Reverend Janet Cooper-Nelson--steered me to deeper a.n.a.lytical waters. And speaking of Brown, I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the deans and faculty members there who helped me jump through bureaucratic hoops before and after my semester "abroad." Without their support and flexibility, I'd almost certainly be kicked out by now.

I'm indebted to my family members, of course, for their unswerving love and loyalty. My parents were wonderful throughout this moderately traumatic process. Ken and Gretchen Roose and Warren Wickes, my grandparents, supported me even when it hurt. My aunts Tina and Teresa went miles beyond the call of duty. My cousin Beirne and cousin-in-law Adam came through in the clutch for me, and my big brother Carl kept me afloat.

Many other friends supported this project in ways big and small. Robert Smith III lent me a "What Would Jesus Do?" book from his childhood; Jimmy Lowe transcribed interviews like a champ; David Leipziger did a mitzvah by flying down to Lynchburg for a visit; and Laura Bitner deserves a heavenly reward for her Bible tutoring sessions (among many other things). Huge thanks to the Temple family for keeping me well-fed while I wrote at their house, to Mary Meadows for her books and sermons, and to Jacqui Friedman for, well, everything.

Of course, there is one group of people I could never thank enough, no matter how much s.p.a.ce I devote to the attempt. Namely, the students, faculty, and administrators of Liberty University. When I arrived on campus in January of 2007, I never thought that the world's largest evangelical university would feel like home, or even a home away from home. But by experiencing your warmth, your vigorous generosity of spirit, and your deep complexity, I was ultimately convinced--not that you were right, necessarily, but that I had been wrong. Thank you for the lessons you taught me, even when you didn't know you were teaching them at all.

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY.

I found the following books helpful during my semester at Liberty. To see a list of my cla.s.s readings while there, and to test your own Bible knowledge on actual Liberty University exams, visit www.kevinroose.com.

Adams, Marc. The Preacher's Son. The Preacher's Son. Seattle: Window Books, 1996. Seattle: Window Books, 1996.

Armstrong, Karen. The Battle for G.o.d: A History of Fundamentalism. The Battle for G.o.d: A History of Fundamentalism. New York: Random House, 2000. New York: Random House, 2000.

Arterburn, Stephen, and Kenny Luck. Every Young Man, G.o.d's Man. Every Young Man, G.o.d's Man. Colorado Springs: WaterBrook, 2005. Colorado Springs: WaterBrook, 2005.

Balmer, Randall. Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory: A Journey into the Evangelical Subculture in America Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory: A Journey into the Evangelical Subculture in America. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006.

Bell, Rob. s.e.x G.o.d: Exploring the Endless Connections Between s.e.xuality and Spirituality. s.e.x G.o.d: Exploring the Endless Connections Between s.e.xuality and Spirituality. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2007.

------. Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith. Velvet Elvis: Repainting the Christian Faith. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2005. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2005.

Bentley, Michael L. "Creationism Through the Back Door: The Case of Liberty Baptist College." Science, Technology, & Human Values Science, Technology, & Human Values 9, no. 4 (1984): 49-53. 9, no. 4 (1984): 49-53.

Budziszewski, J. How to Stay Christian in College. How to Stay Christian in College. Colorado Springs: Th1nk Books, 2004. Colorado Springs: Th1nk Books, 2004.

Campolo, Tony. Letters to a Young Evangelical. Letters to a Young Evangelical. New York: Basic Books, 2006. New York: Basic Books, 2006.

Chambers, Oswald. My Utmost for His Highest. My Utmost for His Highest. New York: Dodd, Mead, and Company, 1935. New York: Dodd, Mead, and Company, 1935.

Cherry, Conrad, Betty A. DeBerg, and Amanda Porterfield. Religion on Campus. Religion on Campus. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001.

Comfort, Ray, and Kirk Cameron. The Way of the Master: How to Share Your Faith Simply, Effectively, Biblically--the Way Jesus Did. The Way of the Master: How to Share Your Faith Simply, Effectively, Biblically--the Way Jesus Did. Wheaton: Tyndale House, 2004. Wheaton: Tyndale House, 2004.

Durkheim, Emile. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. The Elementary Forms of Religious Life. Translated by Carol Cosman. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Translated by Carol Cosman. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001.

Ehrman, Bart D. G.o.d's Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question--Why We Suffer. G.o.d's Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer Our Most Important Question--Why We Suffer. New York: HarperOne, 2008. New York: HarperOne, 2008.

Falwell, Jerry. Building Dynamic Faith. Building Dynamic Faith. Nashville: World Publis.h.i.+ng, 2005. Nashville: World Publis.h.i.+ng, 2005.

------. Falwell: An Autobiography. Falwell: An Autobiography. Lynchburg: Liberty House, 1997. Lynchburg: Liberty House, 1997.

------. Listen, America! Listen, America! New York: Doubleday, 1980. New York: Doubleday, 1980.

Falwell, Jerry, and Elmer Towns. Church Aflame. Church Aflame. Nashville: Impact Books, 1971. Nashville: Impact Books, 1971.

FitzGerald, Frances. "A Disciplined, Charging Army." The New Yorker The New Yorker, May 18, 1981.

Harding, Susan Friend. The Book of Jerry Falwell: Fundamentalist Language and Politics. The Book of Jerry Falwell: Fundamentalist Language and Politics. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000.

Harrington, Walt. "What Hath Falwell Wrought?" The Was.h.i.+ngton Post Magazine The Was.h.i.+ngton Post Magazine, July 24, 1988: W19.

Harris, Harriet A. Fundamentalism and Evangelicals. Fundamentalism and Evangelicals. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998.

Harris, Joshua. I Kissed Dating Goodbye. I Kissed Dating Goodbye. Colorado Springs: Multnomah, 1997. Colorado Springs: Multnomah, 1997.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Blithedale Romance. The Blithedale Romance. New York: Penguin Cla.s.sics, 1986. New York: Penguin Cla.s.sics, 1986.

Holmes, Arthur F. The Idea of a Christian College. The Idea of a Christian College. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1975.

Jacobs, A. J. The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible. The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Follow the Bible as Literally as Possible. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007. New York: Simon & Schuster, 2007.

James, William. The Varieties of Religious Experience. The Varieties of Religious Experience. New York: Modern Library, 2002. New York: Modern Library, 2002.

Kinnaman, David. unChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity. unChristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity. Grand Rapids: BakerBooks, 2007. Grand Rapids: BakerBooks, 2007.

LaHaye, Tim, and Jerry B. Jenkins. Left Behind. Left Behind. Wheaton: Tyndale House, 1996. Wheaton: Tyndale House, 1996.

Lamott, Anne. Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith. New York: Riverhead, 2005. New York: Riverhead, 2005.

Lewis, C. S. Mere Christianity. Mere Christianity. New York: HarperCollins, 1952. New York: HarperCollins, 1952.

------. The Problem of Pain. The Problem of Pain. New York: HarperOne, 1940. New York: HarperOne, 1940.

McLaren, Brian D. Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope. Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2007. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2007.

Miller, Donald. Blue Like Jazz. Blue Like Jazz. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2003. Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2003.

Mooney, Margarita. "Religion, College Grades, and Satisfaction Among Students at Elite Colleges and Universities." Paper presented at the 2006 Annual Meetings of the a.s.sociation for the Sociology of Religion. Revised paper obtained from the author on December 1, 2008.

Noll, Mark A. The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind. The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994.