Popular: Boys, Booze, and Jesus

by Tindell Baldwin

  Matthew 10:22 says, “All men will hate you because of me, but he who stands firm to the end will be saved.” John 15:18-20 makes it even clearer:

  If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you. Remember the words I spoke to you: “No servant is greater than his master.” If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also. If they obeyed my teaching, they will obey yours also. (emphasis added)

  This makes sense if you break it apart. Satan is the king of darkness; Jesus is the Light of the World. Satan despises God, so people who are deceived by Satan come to believe they don’t need God. Satan hates truth, and he convinces his followers that truth is boring and plain and offers nothing. Satan wants you to believe that what God is offering you is social suicide and you’ll never be happy. He wants you to believe you can’t make it without the things of this world. I believed that; I thought I needed the alcohol and the drugs, but in reality I needed a Savior.

  John 1:10-13 says,

  [Jesus] was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.

  God makes it very clear here that people who believe that the world has more to offer than He does have swallowed a lie—so much so that they don’t recognize their own Father. You might think you can see and that you have a handle on the darkness, but you don’t even know where the light is. How can you know where you stand when no one around you has a lamp? I didn’t believe I was hurting myself; I didn’t believe I was doing anything wrong; and worst of all, I didn’t believe I needed a Savior. Then the lamp was raised in my life and I saw all the demons lurking around me, demons I had created. My heart had been ripped to shreds, and my body was covered in scars. Until I found the light, I couldn’t see any of this, because I was standing in the darkness.

  I know we don’t like to think of God as hating anything, but God hates sin because He loves us so much. He hates the distractions of this world that cause us to forget about our real purpose. He loved us so much He gave His only Son to us; it makes sense that He would be angered when we reject His precious gift for things that mean nothing. The real reason we’re here has nothing to do with what we can gain, but rather what we can give. God weeps when His children end up self-destructing because Satan has convinced them that there’s no other way. Though God weeps for your pain, He knows a way out, a way that will forever glorify Him.

  Satan wants you to self-destruct. I could dress that up in pretty church words with less intimidating meanings, but until we grasp the truth, we will never recognize the lies. God wants only good for you, a great abundant life full of joy, both now and in the life to come. Satan wants you chained to this world by the bondage of your sin. If you think I’m extreme, then he has you fooled. If you think you’re dabbling in something you can handle, then you’ve already put on the handcuffs. I dabbled once. I drank my first beer at fifteen, and in three years’ time I was addicted to alcohol and drugs and had lost my virginity. I was living with devout Christian parents and brothers, but it has nothing to do with family. Heaven isn’t a club; you don’t get in because of who you know.

  It wasn’t for lack of guidance that I made these mistakes. It was because my eyes were covered by the lies I bought into. I went to church. I knew the stories. But knowing has nothing to do with believing. I dabbled and then drowned. Sin is one small step after another that take you leaps and bounds away from God.

  Some coyote hunters have a way of killing their prey: they make a blood Popsicle with a razor blade in the middle. The coyote comes to the smell of the blood, begins to lick it, and keeps licking it, drinking in the taste of an animal’s blood. Then he gets to the razor blade, licks it, and begins to cut himself. However, the coyote can’t distinguish between his own blood and the other blood. So he keeps licking, drinking his own blood and slowly dying. Each lick is fatal, but each lick tastes so good. The hunter, meanwhile, is waiting in the bushes for the prey to die.

  Sin is much the same. The first few licks might be harmless, but at some point you’ll get to the razor blade. At some point you’re going to start killing yourself one decision at a time. One beer won’t hurt me, lick. Two beers are no big deal, lick. I can fool around with this guy, lick. Maybe if we just took it a little further . . . I mean, I really love him, lick. One puff won’t kill me, lick. Before you know it you have drained yourself of your own blood while Satan sits behind the bushes and smiles his big GQ grin. Then there is God weeping at your side, watching the beautiful thing He created killing itself.

  When you were slaves to sin, you were free from the control of righteousness. What benefit did you reap at that time from the things you are now ashamed of? Those things result in death! But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves to God, the benefit you reap leads to holiness, and the result is eternal life. For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

  ROMANS 6:20-23 (EMPHASIS ADDED)

  So here you are, uncool and fighting something that wants to kill you. Sounds more like a good novel than your life. But it is your life; you’re fighting a crucial battle for your soul. God has equipped you with everything you need to fight the enemy, and He has already won, but that doesn’t mean the battle’s over. God’s given you a game plan; you just have to heed His guidance. Until we live in a sinless place, we will have to fight the ruler of this crumbling world.

  Here’s my take on a pretty well-known passage about how God equips us:

  Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take a stand against the devil’s schemes. For our fight is not against our flesh and blood, but against the dark forces that have taken control of this world, the evil spiritual forces. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can make your stand when the world comes out to get you. Stand firm with the belt of truth (know truth so that you can outsmart lies; we cannot rebuke lies if we do not know truth), the breastplate of righteousness (keep your body righteous so when the devil tempts you with fleshly desire you answer with God’s righteousness rather than weakness), and with your feet firmly planted in readiness (never believe you are immune to the struggles of this world, otherwise it will be easy to catch you off guard). In addition to all this, take up your shield of faith (unwavering trust in the Lord’s promises); with this you can block all the arrows of the evil one.

  EPHESIANS 6:11-16 (PARAPHRASED)

  CHAPTER 11

  WHAT DOES DIFFERENT LOOK LIKE?

  ONE MORE PERIOD TO GO. I tell myself that every time I have to remind the kids there’s no talking during a test. I’m lucky they had a test today, because I’m not in the mood to raise my voice. I hate raising my voice. Silence has become a big part of my life. It helps me think, and with middle schoolers, I have a lot to think about.

  The oddball in the class asked me to call her Inker, and the other kids snickered. I could tell she marches to the beat of her own drum when she asked if she could read me an excerpt from her dragon book. I can only assume her new name is a character from her sci-fi/fantasy novel. She was the first to finish her test; she’s probably off-the-charts smart. Her tie-dyed dragon T-shirt hangs over faded jeans, and when she looks at me it’s as if she doesn’t see me.

  There’s one in every class—the kid the other kids laugh at, the oddball or the social misfit. They’ve perfected the art of not seeming to care. True or not, it’s almost as if they don’t notice. Sometimes I get the feeling the only reason the other kids make fun of them is because they’re jealous that the misfits have so clearly staked out their own identities, or think they have. By rejecting the whole conc
ept of “fitting in,” misfits each get to be their own person. I wonder who it’s harder to be: the misfit who has her own identity or the girl who’s just another face in the crowd.

  You have to lose so much to be part of the “in” crowd. You have to give up your identity, your values, and anything else that’s deemed uncool. But to be different, really different from the crowd, you need nothing more than yourself. You can be free from other people’s expectations of you, knowing that after the teenage years fade away you’ll be left with something solid: your true self. I bet the misfits have learned early how much family means (maybe by having one, maybe by not having one) and the value of one good friend. I have a feeling Inker understands more of herself at fourteen than most kids her age.

  I wish I’d had the courage to stand apart from the crowd. I wish I’d had the courage to chance loneliness to keep my values. Why is it that the fear of the unknown will keep us from almost anything? I thought being uncool would kill me, but a few years down the road, I realize being cool doesn’t really matter. The crowd I was dying to get into has long since faded, and in its place are the relationships I tried the hardest to leave behind. If only I’d had the courage to be different. I might not have as many good stories, but I’d have a lot fewer scars.

  After class, I let Inker read me an excerpt from her book. She put on her best Shakespearean accent and read me a few paragraphs. I have no idea what she said, but I told her she was an excellent reader. She smiled proudly; she already knew. She told me she read at a twelfth-grade level at the age of fourteen. If nothing more, she was honest. What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of confidence in myself even today. I came home from work that night, tired and not feeling like myself, and lost myself in a few good shows. For a moment, I wanted to be Inker.

  My dad once told me that normal is just a setting on the washing machine, and the longer I live, the more I see that to be true. Take heart in the fact that there is no such thing as normal. If there were, we’d live in a very boring place. You may find people who enjoy the same things as you, dress like you, or even look like you, but I guarantee that even if you’re in the majority where you are now, you’re in the minority somewhere else. I grew up in an area where everyone was like me: white, middle class, comfortable families. After college, I moved to Houston with my husband and quickly realized I was the minority in my new city.

  God needs many different types of people to fulfill His purpose of spreading the gospel. You may have flipped to the back cover of this book, looked at my picture, and immediately thought, What’s she going to tell me about God? Or maybe you and I look similar, and that’s why you bought this book in the first place—you could relate to me. As universal as I might attempt to be, I’ll not be able to minister as well to some as I can to others. You are perfect for whatever God wants to accomplish through you. Having the strength to be different is one of the hardest things you might ever do, but is it harder than living with decisions you will forever regret? No! Is it harder than telling your fiancé that you just couldn’t wait for him? No! Being different is hard, but so is living with regrets or consequences of decisions you made to be a part of the crowd.

  Take a minute to breathe and tell yourself that high school is not forever. If you don’t belong now, it’s not the end of the world—rather, it’s just a tiny glimpse of the world. Think about this: research has shown that kids from ages fifteen through the early twenties have a hard time grasping the idea of the future because their brains aren’t fully developed. In other words, you really can’t grasp all the future can hold. Today might feel like the rest of your life, but let me assure you, it’s not!

  Different doesn’t mean you have to wear those corny Christian T-shirts that change popular sayings into Christian ones. It doesn’t mean you have to stay home on Friday night and read the Bible. And it doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy TV shows, popular music, or alcohol when you’re twenty-one if it fits your beliefs. It means you live a different type of life. You stand out because God resides in you, not because you wear a T-shirt that says, “Jesus died for MY SPACE in heaven” (sorry in advance if you own that shirt).

  Once I became a Christian, I knew I had to start living a different life, and for me different was terrifying. I’d built my life around not sticking out, around blending with the in crowd, and now I was forced to abandon my faith or stand alone.

  I was in a sorority that mainly consisted of either party girls or Sunday-only Christians. I was very different from most of the girls when I gave up drinking, and even though I loved them dearly, I knew I couldn’t live like they were. I didn’t quit talking to them, but I started staying sober when we went out. I made changes that showed something had happened on the inside that made me different from how I’d been. Was it easy? No. I hated it. I watched as the other girls had what seemed like a wonderful time, and I was left driving. I had to slowly learn how to have fun without the parties and alcohol. I made small steps away from that lifestyle, and God remained faithful and brought me great Christian friends.

  I went on to have a wonderful college experience, meet the man of my dreams, and get married right out of college. I was more fulfilled than I ever thought I could be. I realized after “giving up” my party lifestyle that I wasn’t actually giving anything up. God’s Word (truth) is a “lamp to my feet” (Psalm 119:105), and it’s only when you have a light that you notice you’ve been living in the dark. Many times God does not reveal this to you until you’ve been obedient and given up what you clung to so tightly.

  To be honest, I had a hard time letting go of two things in particular: boys and alcohol. Typically, when there are boy problems, it’s because you have “daddy issues.” But I don’t have that excuse. I have a great father. I’m a psychologist’s nightmare (I know because from ages sixteen to eighteen I puzzled many of them). I just have boy issues. I craved attention from boys, as many teenage girls do, and to me my beauty was my only asset. Alcohol gave me the confidence I needed to be who boys wanted me to be. When I first became a Christian, I was so in love with the Lord, but I was having a hard time giving up my bad dating habits and alcohol. I tried every way possible to justify drinking, and in the moment I could always manage to convince myself that if I drank a little but didn’t get drunk, then I’d be okay. I knew God was pleading with me to stop; He knew I was hurting my body and making decisions that left me filled with guilt. But I was still dabbling, still putting my foot in the waters of sin while I clung tightly to my Bible.

  The summer after my freshman year of college I was really battling what I wanted and what I knew God was calling me to do. I have to reiterate that just because you become a Christian, it doesn’t mean that what you want and what God wants for you are instantly one and the same. I didn’t have a lot of Christian friends, so I went out with my friends from high school to the college near my hometown. While I was there, I ran into an ex of mine who I dated for a minute after I lost my first love, and I immediately fell into my habit of neediness. I wanted so desperately to be loved. I still didn’t understand that sex does not mean love. I began to drink, just a few shots to kill the pain of longing, but it just got stronger. I was drowning out God’s voice telling me I didn’t have to do this, that He loved me deeply. I didn’t care; I wanted to be loved that night.

  To this day, the details of that night are a blur to me. I didn’t end up with my ex. Somehow, I ended up with a stranger. I woke up in a strange bed with the taste of throw-up fresh on my tongue. I wasn’t dressed, and there was a condom wrapper on the floor. I guessed what had happened. . . .

  Plan B

  We drove past the building in downtown Atlanta three times before we actually found it. A homeless man sat at the corner with a shopping cart full of his belongings and watched my best friend’s BMW X5 drive back and forth. We finally parked behind the brown, nondescript building and found the elevator. The sign beside each floor showed us where we were going: Level 5—Planned Parenthood. A man in a business suit in
side another office watched as I pressed the button. I knew he was judging me, and I couldn’t blame him. I wished I could explain, wished I could tell him I was a good girl. I wished so much that I wasn’t at this place making my way to somewhere I never wanted to be.

  When we made it to the waiting room, I signed in and took the appropriate forms, and we sat down. My best friend tried to make me smile, but I was too ashamed. As I looked around, hopelessness seemed to cover the room like a dark cloud. Most of the women were older, a few joined by their boyfriends or husbands. A few had children on their hip; one little boy was crying. It smelled like a doctor’s office, but not a very clean one. I tried to focus on the forms—just information about my sexual activity. There was a place to mark if you’d been raped. I wondered if I could put a question mark there. The truth was, I didn’t know. Maybe I’d consented, but maybe I hadn’t. That wasn’t why I was here, though; I hadn’t come for counseling. I’d come for the Plan B pill. I had come because I wanted to make absolutely sure that my one mistake didn’t lead to a lifetime of regret—even if it meant doing something I didn’t believe in.

  I turned in my forms and waited for the lady at the counter to call my name, a large, stern woman who gave me a look that felt so cold. I thought I knew what she was thinking: Why is this rich white girl in downtown Atlanta for the Plan B pill? I wished I could tell her my story, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d ended up there myself.