My freshman year wasn’t just the year I started dating JT, got broken up with by him, and then got back together with him.
It was also the year I became a Christian.
I just didn’t know it at the time.
You might remember that I mentioned about 837 posts ago that I was a very literal child and prayed every night because my mommy told me to?
Well, sometime during spring that year I had a realization-
You only ask Jesus to be your Savior one time. You don’t need to ask him every night.
And I thought God would probably enjoy it if I prayed something different, that really related to my life, and if I actually talked to Him, and didn’t just recite the same words I had prayed over and over for at least 15 years.
I didn’t really tell anyone about my realization because I was kind of embarassed that I hadn’t really understood prayer for all those years. Plus since JT always wanted to leave the Baptist Student Union (BSU) meetings right after they were done, I wasn’t really close to any other Chrstians but him.
But he went home for the summer. And since I lived fairly close to USC, I got to spend some time with people in BSU other than JT. It turned out that they went to church near my parents’ house, and I started going with them. I had been going to church with JT during the school year.
We went to church in Hollywood.
Have I mentioned that he may have been a bit concerned with appearances?
And that maybe the appearance of being a good Christian boy was more important than actually being a good Christian boy?
I don’t remember what came first, the break-ups or the helpful comments on my appearance.
But I do know the first break-up was sometime during the spring semester of my freshman year.
It was my first broken heart, but I can’t really remember why JT broke up with me. I remember there were lots of assurances that he really did love me.
And I don’t remember why or when we got back together, but we did.
It was the start of a pattern. The outside world could never tell if we were broken up or together, and really, I don’t think anyone knew how often he broke up with me. Off the top of my head I can remember four times over the course of my freshman and sophomore year. I know one time it was because he was going up north for an away game, and well, there was this other girl going to be there and he just needed to be free for nature to take its course.
Only nature didn’t take its course, and we got back together at some point.
When we weren’t broken up he liked to talk about getting married after we graduated. And he thought I was totally beautiful. Except, was I gaining the freshman 15? I wouldn’t do that, would I? And there’s this girl in one of his classes, she got all tanned over the weekend and was wearing a shirt that showed her stomach…maybe I was a little too pale, and I should start tanning? And this other girl in his class, she was really aggressive in the way she flirted with him, and maybe I should be more aggressive.
Yeah, can someone tell me why I didn’t run screaming in the opposite direction? Because looking back, I don’t know how I put up with it for so long, or why I let it make me insecure.
But I did.
By Christmas my freshman year, JT and I were an O-fficial couple.
I figured he hadn’t really cheated on me at Thanksgiving, because we hadn’t ever decided that we were an exclusive item or anything.
He bought me a Bible for my Christmas present. And I actually read it sometimes.
And we went to BSU (Baptist Student Union) meetings every week during Spring semester. He always wanted to leave right after, so I didn’t get to know the other people there very well, but over time I did meet a lot of them.
I remember one night as we were headed out the door, someone stopped me and said, “Hey, Christy. Have you met Isaac?”
There was a guy leaning against the wall, his hat pulled low over his face.
He didn’t really say anything. He kind of smiled a little at me.
I thought, “He’s cute. Too bad he has no personality.”
And then JT and I walked out the door together.
*Read parts one through seven here.
When I went to college, I was ready for a little partying. My parents were very cruel strict wise and didn’t allow us to go to parties in high school.
So once I was beyond their control, I went to Tijuana with a cousin and went bar-hopping. JT had become my standard for morality, having a Bible and knowing how to use it and all.
And he thought it sounded like fun.
I also started checking out the Greek system. I knew my parents couldn’t afford for me to join a sorority, but a friend in my dorm did, and once she was in, we started making plans for me to go to a huge party with her.
But as I was walking down the hall to have her check out my wardrobe choice for the party that night, another friend was coming the opposite direction.
Pale, wrapped in a blanket, shivering, and so out of it that she didn’t even notice me as she passed by and I called her name.
We ended up having to call emergency services and she and I rode in the back of a police car to the closest emergency room in the middle of the night somewhere in South Central Los Angeles.
You know, where the Rodney King Riots were.
Still, I think I was safer there than I would have been at that party.
And I have no doubt that God intervened to stop me from going down that bright, happy party path.
*This is part seven in a series. The rest is here.
I went to Sunday School when I was young. Sometime around fifth or sixth grade I stopped.
There was a little fat boy who had a crush on me.
His parents taught the class, and they thought it was cute.
I however, did not. He always sat by me, which is like, so totally the end of the world. So I stopped going to church.
Obviously I had all my priorities straight.
But when JT invited me to go to a welcome party for the Baptist Student Union, I said yes. I considered myself a Christian. I had been to Sunday School.
And after that mall experience with JC, a good Christian boy (read: non-criminal) seemed like just the guy I needed.
Plus, he was the guy every girl in the dorm wanted, so I wasn’t about to turn down time with him.
Soon we were unofficially together. We did everything together. He was the son of missionaries, and I thought he was so spiritual. I mean, he owned a Bible and even knew how to read it.
And when he came back from Thanksgiving break, he told me he had made out with an old friend of his.
But it made him realize that I was the only girl he wanted in his life, and he was in love with me.
And I believed him.
*This is part six. Read the rest here.
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