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facility, and sleep in his dorm room. Roy is fat. He sweats constantly. His skin leaks grease. His slick hair sticks to the pimples on the back of his neck. He talks constantly. He won’t let you say anything. He barely pauses to take a breath.
    I am embarrassed to be seen with Roy, but Gordon College students are not. They stop and take time to talk to him. They listen intently as he rambles on and interrupts anyone who tries to speak. They shake his hand or give him a hug. They ask him to sit with them at dinner and invite him to evening gatherings. I can picture Roy Carson as a student at Nitschmann Middle School. And I can picture him failing the presidential fitness test. But I don’t think anyone at Gordon would care.
    The curriculum and special religious focus at Gordon College hold no special interest for me. I don’t care about learning economics from a Christian perspective or hearing a biblical viewpoint in a science class. Instead, I think about the terrible days at Liberty High School. I think about the beatings and the sleepless nights and how hard it was to concentrate in Mr. Wetcher’s algebra class. If my parents are going to force me to go to college, I want to go somewhere safe. I enroll as a student at Gordon College.
    1.4
    In the fall of 1990, I spend my first semester at college adjusting to life in a Christian dorm. Wood Hall is the oldest dorm on campus. Half of the building is reserved for male students, the other half for female. There are visiting hours for the opposite sex on the weekends, but only in the evenings. While there is no prohibition against dating, students of the opposite sex are forbidden to make public displays of affection. Some students push the envelope by holding hands. The girl from First Presbyterian Church visits me on campus and we push the envelope even further.
    I meet students from a variety of Christian backgrounds. Many attended private Christian high schools that funnel them into Christian colleges like Gordon. Some of them talk about the dangers of a secular education and the effect it can have on faith. During a class on the New Testament, students debate the origins and efficacy of infant baptism. A student stands up and says anyone who was baptized as an infant needs to be baptized again. There is some disagreement, but most students concede that babies can’t accept Christ. Someone else tries to argue that if you aren’t baptized as an adult you aren’t really Christian, but the professor says this is going too far.
    The sentiment reminds me of the Sunday night youth group meetings at First Presbyterian Church, where youth leaders taught us that you needed to be saved to belong. I am uncomfortable, but I stay silent. I want to be safe at Gordon, I don’t want to be a target again, so I avoid defending anyone my classmates say doesn’t belong.
    1.5
    The week before Thanksgiving of my first semester at Gordon, someone hands me a pamphlet advertising a support group for students from non-Christian homes. At the bottom, there is a series of questions.
    Do you pray regularly with your family?
    Do you read Scripture with your family?
    Do your parents speak the name of Jesus?
    Were you baptized as an adult?
    I answer no to these questions. I tally up my score. The score says it is possible I do not come from a Christian home.
    I attend the support group meeting along with other students who may not come from Christian homes. I meet two other Presbyterians. The leader of the group gives a talk about visiting churches where the congregants don’t even carry Bibles. He says this is very dangerous. He says there are houses throughout America where the name of Jesus is never mentioned.
    At Thanksgiving, I return home and show Don the pamphlet. I ask him if I should be concerned about my family’s Christianity. My parents never talked about issues of faith around the dinner table. My grandmother never talked about Jesus. Instead, my