Theological Progressions, Part 2: Conversion Theology

Summer 2002… the cafeteria was about to close, and emphatically so.

It marked the close to the greatest year of my life.

I graduated high school and was off to the University of Connecticut. My fresh start! No longer would I be the pretty-well-liked-but-by-no-means-popular-enough kid. It was time for me to come out of my shell, meet new people, and, just to be honest, drink and party a lot.

I made up my mind that I would be as friendly and outgoing as possible. My dorm room door stayed open and I did my best to make friends with everyone. I eventually found a crew, something I never had in high school.

I had friends, I was partying, I was working out, I was playing basketball, I was getting good grades, I was going to church. Life was great!

In the meantime, an old friend had come back into my life during the previous summer. He had “become a Christian,” whatever that meant, and often engaged me in conversation about this. I was happy for him, because it certainly seemed to bring improvement to his life. But I was already religious, so my attitude was good for you, but don’t try to get me to change.

We stayed in touch over my year at college. I never told him about my newfound partying ways. I felt guilty, for some reason, talking to him. But I didn’t let it deter me.

Finally, my freshman year was completed, and I was back home and miserable. I couldn’t wait to get back to school. But again, in the meantime, my old friend comes into play. He invites me to his church. It was different than the ones I was used to. I didn’t think it would count if I went to his church. But I tried it anyway. Two Sundays in a row.

I heard a gospel message each time. I partied once in between, for the first time ever at my own house. As I was picking up empty beer cans and cleaning up someone else’s vomit in my backyard, a very captivating, very other thought entered my mind: This is not the life you were created to live. So maybe I should go back to church, I thought.

Afer that second gospel message – that You probably know something about God, but you probably don’t know him personally…and if you don’t know Christ personally and have received forgiveness for your sins, you will go to hell…so repent and be born again message, I gave it up. I knew I was missing something. I knew that what I was hearing was true. The truth. And I knew that I was either all in, or not all in, that there was no line to be straddled.

So I raised my hand, asked Jesus to forgive me, told him I would follow him and I wanted what he wanted for my life.

And it took!

My life was suddenly and drastically changed. And I knew it. I knew I was giving things up. I knew I was gaining things. I knew I belonged to God in a way I never had before. I felt different. Lighter, happier. The world seemed crisper to me.

But wait… what about everyone else?

I said to my friend on the way home “This is awesome for me and you. But what about my family, your family, our friends we grew up around… do they go to hell? Is this really the way it is? Black or white, Jesus or no Jesus?”

“Yup.”

“So what do we do, we gotta tell everyone, right?”

“Yup.”

And thus, within 10 minutes of my own conversion, I was persuaded that everyone else needed to be converted, too.

I went back to Uconn as a different person. I didn’t quite fit in with my friends from the previous year. I didn’t feel comfortable partying. I sort of became a loser. But I was fired up to tell everyone who didn’t know what I knew about what I knew. Since I was only the second Christian I’d ever known at that point, I was convinced that nobody else knew. So I had to tell them. Who else would tell them? (I found much support from the book of Romans).

I really had no grasp of the Christian faith at that point. I probably couldn’t spell atonement or discipleship or Ezekiel if you had asked me. But one thing I knew: that Jesus got me, it was wonderful, and he wanted to get everyone else too. So I tried to get’em.

I started random conversations with people, invited them to bible study, handed out bibles, and even wrote an article for the Daily Campus (go ahead, read it!), Uconn’s student newspaper. This was my mission, especially since it seemed liked most Christians didn’t really care all that much about it (though they certainly paid it lots of lip service).

That’s how I started the walk of faith.

Summary for me at this time:

1. Who was I? I was saved! I used to be deceived; now I had true knowledge. I was in darkness; now I’m in the light. My purpose was to live for God, and spread the news about Jesus. I found my identity in the praise I was given for my boldness and enthusiasm.

2. Who was God? He was a rescuer. He created the world, but it went to crap because of our sin. Jesus came to win us all back to God. He wanted me in on this mission. And that was simply the end of the matter.

3. How did I see others/How did others see me? People were either saved or lost. Just about everyone I’d ever known up to that point was lost. Some of my friends thought I was a loser, or holier-than-thou. My family thought I joined a cult. I beat some people over the head in my zeal.  Christians were impressed with my boldness. But I felt I didn’t fit in with Christians – there was a lingo and a culture that seemed weird to me. But I knew this was family. That’s who I could hang out with. Everyone else, I needed to save. Again, very simple.

4. What have I taken with me? Nine years later, I look back on my evangelistic zeal from this time with some jealously. I wish to get some of the fire back. Yet I was so incredibly immature, and I know I damaged some relationships. My identity needed to be formed in the person of Jesus, not what I could do for him. I never learned to pray much, either. But I realize that that’s how it goes for many new Christians. The paradigm shift is so drastic, and the joy is so genuine, that you have to share it with anyone at any cost (even detrimental cost). It was high-energy, fast-paced, lots of zeal but little knowledge conversion theology. And in hindsight, I wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything.

Advertisement