I finally reached the coveted age of sixteen and I got to go into school late that day so I could take my driver's exam. It was raining and I passed with a 96%. Parallel parking is one of my spiritual gifts.
My dad was generous to buy my first car for me, although it wasn't exactly what I was looking for. It was a 1987 Toyota Corolla hatchback, in blue. It started most of the time, although not well in the winter, and instead of a radio it had a plastic plate. Apparently in 1987 a radio was not a standard feature. So when I was driving somewhere with my friends, especially to Young Life club, I would bring along a little battery-operated FM radio player and we would rock out. I eventually got a radio with a tape player when I graduated from high school.
A few weeks ago I saw another late-80's model Corolla hatchback in a parking lot and when I saw the owner get into it, I told her that I loved her car because it was my first car. I told her how I loved the rear windshield wiper. I told her how people used to hit my car all the time by accident, but it didn't matter because everything would just bounce off the bumper. They don't seem to make bumpers that you can bump anymore. And I told her how my paint job faded pretty bad so whenever someone would ask what color my car was, I told them it was tie-dyed. She loved that and said she was going to use it from then on. I think it is a real blessing in disguise to have a crappy first car.
At this point in my life I had decided that I was going to be a follower of Jesus. Inwardly I had peace but outwardly I felt awkward. Growing up in my Catholic family, we talked a lot about Catholic things but not a lot about Jesus. I wasn't used to expressing my faith and I knew this would be a problem because I was all in at that point. I wasn't planning on being a preacher or anything, but I knew that eventually people would ask me what I believed or why I was a certain way and I knew I would want to answer confidently. Especially at school-- a public high school-- where being friends with Jesus could very well send you to a different lunch table, I wanted to be able to express my choice without embarrassment.
So early on this year I shut myself into my room and I practiced saying the words out loud that I was so uncomfortable uttering. I would say, "Jesus. God. I am a Christian. I believe in Jesus. I am a believer. Christian. Jesus. Jesus," and on and on until I felt prepared to answer for myself to real people.
The Bible says, "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect," 1 Peter 3:15. I am sorry to everyone who has been turned off from Christ because of Christians. We are supposed to be able to answer for the hope we have, with gentleness and respect. When the Bible says this it is basically saying to do it for our own good, so that we can have a clear conscience, not to try to convince anybody of anything. But I digress.
I was going to a small Young Life "Campaigners" group all year and I loved it. I even showed up the day after my grandma's funeral and Mindy said she was surprised to see me there, but there was nowhere else I wanted to be.
This was supposed to be the time that I would get confirmed in the Catholic church. I went to confirmation classes for almost two years but when the sacrament drew near, I wrestled more and more with how I would marry this commitment with my new faith. I think I have always taken commitments very seriously and so for me to just go through the motions, knowing full well that I did not want to continue in the Catholic church, was not an option. The thought of that felt like self-betrayal to me.
So I eventually got the guts to tell my dad, who had fortunately been prepared by two of my older siblings who decided to be non-Catholic Christians as well. I think he took it pretty well but my Aunt Mary, on the other hand, did not. She was supposed to be my confirmation sponsor or mentor or whatever they are called.
I don't remember the exact sequence of events but I remember Aunt Mary showing up at my school one day to try to take me to stay at her house for a while. I got wind that she was there and sneaked a ride home with a friend. She later showed up at my house but I refused to go with her. I remember that my dad was home, standing by, but he pretty much left the decision up to me and supported it. After Aunt Mary went home, he offered to take me shopping at the mall. We shopped at malls back then.
Then sometime later my dad and brother and I were having lunch or dinner at Aunt Mary and Uncle Gene's house and she got very emotional about how rebellious she thought I was being. I'm pretty sure she called me things like selfish and spoiled and then she definitely slapped me in the face. I rode home with my brother and I remember having a good, long talk about everything and I think we took a detour to a parking lot so he could teach me how to drive a stick shift. That is when I remember really starting to become friends with Zac.
The Bible also says, just before that bit about being able to give a reason for your hope, "Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good? But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. 'Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened,'" 1 Peter 3:13-14. I don't want to paint a bad picture of Aunt Mary or anything. She apologized later and I think she was going through a rough patch in life and she and Uncle Gene are a couple of my favorites now. That time was important for me and the testing of my faith. I think that everyone has to find their own faith and decide for themselves what they do or do not believe, and that was my time. That was when my faith first grew legs.
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