I am in light pink leggings and an oversized sweatshirt from the Express and I have an umbrella in hand. I’ve just come from the cafeteria and I feel like I am sneaking out of the dorm to head out to some ungodly sort of place.
I’m alone and the air is crisp and getting cooler by the moment.
I can still hear the way the leaves crunched under my feet and the way my heart pounded in my chest. It was Tuesday night and it was my first night of the weekly gathering at the Baptist Student Union.
I make my way through the glass doors and I climb the stairs to meet the group of people that will eventually gather me up and love me back to Christ.
I sit alone on the back row and go through the motions of music and hand shaking and people meeting and sit back down before anyone really notices me.
But one boy occupies the Outreach table and he just won’t let me sneak out the door before I leave my contact information. He’s got red hair and clear blue eyes and he’s a little too friendly. He must be hitting on me, I think to myself.
“I have a boyfriend,” I tell him casually as I fill out the form.
I am mentally making a promise to myself that I will never be back.
Too many smiles and hugs and happy faces leave me feeling molested by Jesus and when it’s over, I walk home alone.
I sneak into my dorm room and slip into my t-shirt and shorts and climb between the sheets.
I can’t shake Jesus and those happy faces and that red-headed boy consumes my thoughts as I drift off to sleep.
In less than 8 weeks, the world as I knew it would tilt and send me spinning.
Would I be ready to receive all that the Lord threw at me or would I reject Him again?