Thinking about a strange novel idea. Went to Fazolis. Here's what came out...
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We met in the summer, three unlikely friends brought together by a common enemy—Greek.
Julie was a Methodist, sort of. Two weeks before starting seminary she wasn’t even a believer. She had gone a few times to a United Methodist church when she was a kid. But it all seemed so boring to her, even useless.
She had gone into social work because she wanted to help people. About three years in, she was pretty discouraged. She wanted to help people so badly. But it was such an uphill battle.
The last straw was when one of her clients took her own life. She had worked so hard with her—well beyond the norm. But you can’t watch everyone 24/7. A person’s going to do what a person’s going to do.
It was then she saw a billboard. Sometimes you wonder if those signs do any good. I think, as often as not, they tick people off. But that day Julie heard a message: "Have you tried God?"
She went to that Methodist church for the first time in twenty years. She wasn’t even able to talk to the pastor, but an older lady in the back struck up a random conversation with her.
“You seem like you’re looking for something,” she said.
“God, I guess,” Julie said with a chuckle.
“Well, you’d think you’d come to the right place.”
Before she knew what was happening, Julie was having a home cooked meal with an 87 year old widow. She shared her story. The woman listened.
“I think God might be calling you into ministry,” the older woman finally said.
“What?” Julie blurted out. She later expressed to me repeatedly her shock at such a question.
Our friend Bobby not only thought such things were ridiculous but exclaimed at one point, “Were you even baptized at the time?” he asked.
“No,” she said with a grin. “I’m still not.”
Being friends with Julie would be hard for Bobby even beyond the challenges of seminary itself.
By the end of that lunch, Julie took comfort in the thought of starting seminary to find out what God had to say—if he even existed.
The timing was right. Intensive Greek was just about to begin in July. Bobby and I were headed in the same direction, although by different paths.
Bobby was a Southern Baptist. He hated the thought of going to a “liberal Methodist seminary,” but he had a good job working third shift at a mail facility and he didn't want to move. He thought he could work all night, take classes in the morning, and sleep a little in the afternoon and early evening.
He had looked at other choices, including online. None of them clicked with him. He felt like his foundation was strong enough to survive liberal Methodist professors. Maybe he could even convert a few.
Ultimately, he wanted to preach, but he wasn’t quite sure how to go about it. Baptist churches don’t always have a good structure for a person to get a church. He had tried to connect with various small churches in rural North Carolina, but he hadn’t been successful. He thought maybe if he had a degree in Bible it might help.
To be frank, his presence at Coke Seminary was an oddity. I’m sure he wouldn’t have come if some bizarre donor hadn’t set up a special scholarship just for Baptists. They hardly ever had anyone to give it to.
One day, he finally walked into the admissions office and jokingly asked, "You don't happen to have any scholarships for Baptists."
The lady looked at him funny and said, "Funny you should ask..."
Me? I was a charismatic. Assemblies of God. It was a strange place for me too because I had a sneaking suspicion that nobody there exercised any spiritual gifts. (I was wrong, by the way.)
I was between things. My girlfriend had dumped me for a random woman we met at Myrtle Beach—that was tough. I decided I should get my life in order. One thing led to another and, before you know it, I found myself learning the Greek alphabet in a two-month summer intensive.
It wasn't how I had seen my summer going.
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