The Campus

1/6/1996

We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.I Thessalonians 2:8

4

SOME TWENTY MINUTES southeast of Hampton Street, in an older part of town, Rick Adams watched with interest as a small pickup truck pulled up beside Haskall Hall.

As the pickup rolled to a stop, Rick walked out the double doors, quickly descended the concrete steps and poked his head into the open window of the pickup. “Can I give you a hand unloading?”

“Uh, sure.” The owner of the vehicle, a lean redhead with faint traces of a moustache, squinted into Rick’s face. “Rick Adams!”

Rick smiled. “Hello, Eric. Did you have a good summer?”

“Yep!” With that, the energetic youth climbed out the window of his pickup while Rick watched in bewilderment.

“Why did you do that?” Rick asked as he grabbed a guitar and basketball from the truck bed.

“Just following Robert Frost’s advice.”

“Robert Frost…the poet?”

“Precisely.” Eric cleared his throat and drew a clenched fist to his chest. “Two paths converged in a wood and I chose the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.”

Rick raised his eyebrows suspiciously. “You’re kidding. That’s why you climbed out your window?”

“No.” Eric shrugged and bent over the back of the pickup. “The door’s broken. But I thought you’d like the poem.” Eric smiled, grabbed a taped up brown suitcase and waved for Rick to follow as he led the way up the steps.

“By the way, you’re looking pretty tan,” Eric commented over his shoulder as they trekked down the long, narrow hallway. “There must have been a lot of sun in New Guinea.”

“How’d you know I went to New Guinea?” Rick asked with amazement.

“Well, there are two reasons.” Eric stopped to make his point. “One, I am a genius. And, two,” Eric shrugged, “I saw your picture in the school’s summer newsletter.”

Rick rolled his eyes at Eric’s playful arrogance and watched as he continued down the hallway. What a goofball! Rick shook his head. Although he didn’t know his new roommate well, he suspected there was depth behind his quirky personality. Smiling to himself, he followed Eric through the brown metal door into their room.

IT WAS SATURDAY morning, and for Rick, the first week of classes had flown by. The first week of his senior year was over. Only thirty-five more to go. His mind filled with anticipation as he made his way, sports bag in hand, down the street from his dorm. Finally he reached the large wooden building and stepped inside. As the wood and glass doors closed behind him, he stood and took a long, reminiscent breath through his nose.

The “Old Gym,” as it had come to be called, still had the musty, sweaty smell Rick remembered from before the summer. It had always seemed the temperature inside this stuffy building was more extreme than it ever was outside. Today was no different.

“Hey, Rick, wanna play a game? We need a good outside shooter,” a sweaty player asked with a bounce pass to Rick.

Rick stooped over, bounced the ball twice, and went up for a ten-foot jumper. “Uhhh!” The ball hit the front of the rim and bounced off to the left. “I thought you needed a good player,” Rick teased, chasing the loose ball. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m actually here for intramural practice. We’re starting early this year, so we’ll be good and ready to take you out way before the championship.” He had the ball in his hands again and went in for an easy lay-up.

“Yeah, we’ll see!” the other student taunted. “Maybe you can play next time. Looks like the summer’s made you rusty, anyway.”

Rick laughed and made his way to the other side of the gym, where the rest of the team was already gathered. He knew most of these guys, having played with some of them for three years. There were a few new faces, mostly freshmen, hoping to make the A team.

“Hi, my name’s Rick Adams.” Rick shoved his hand toward one of the newcomers.

“Eddie.” The young man nervously accepted Rick’s hand and gave but a quick look up.

“Today, let’s do some warm-up drills.” The announcement came from their intramural coach. “I want a chance to see how some of you new guys look and see how many of you old guys were slacking off this summer.”

The young men began a series of dribbling, lay-up, passing and one-on-one drills. Some of the freshmen found it hard to keep up, though one or two showed promise. One of those was Eddie. Though a timid 5 foot 7, he demonstrated exceptional ball-handling skill.

During the one-on-one drill, Eddie tried defending a 6 foot 5 junior who burned him to the goal.

“Ah, give the short guy a chance, Moose,” one of the onlookers rebuked playfully.

“I figure if a guy’s that short,” Moose retorted, “he’s gotta prove himself to play on this team. So far, he ain’t done it.” He gestured with his head toward Eddie, who was making his way to the back of the line, head down.

Rick placed himself strategically in the opposite line, cutting in front of Moose. When it was their turn for the one-on-one drill, the ball came to Rick. He passed it to Eddie. “I think you can do it, man. Let’s see.” Eddie hesitated — then, noting the warm confidence on Rick’s face, looked up and started toward the goal.

Rick was all over him, guarding him with all he had — but Eddie was quick. Every time Rick tried to steal the ball, Eddie bounced it between his legs and maneuvered away. As they approached the goal, Eddie head-faked right, then went in for a left-handed lay-up.

“I guess he’s proven himself now,” the coach retorted with a chuckle. “Welcome to the team!”

THE AGING WOODEN floor of the stately Bible building creaked under the weight of the pacing professor. Classes were over for the day and George Archer, twenty-two-year veteran professor of Old Testament, listened attentively to the summer missionary ventures of his prize pupil.

“It certainly sounds like you had an exciting summer, Rick,” Professor Archer concluded. “It’s great to see you back on campus. The break was refreshing, but this can be a lonely place during the summer. There are no headhunters here to break up the monotony.”

Rick laughed, “You know…actually, there was one man in the Church we worked with who was a former cannibal. Can you imagine that?!” Rick shook his head.

Professor Archer returned a smile and continued thoughtfully studying the face of the young man seated in front of him. Hope tugged at the corners of his mind. I wonder?

The recent years had been bleak. True, church growth figures in their denomination did not reflect the alarming decrease in attendance, conversions, missions and benevolence that many denominations were experiencing. Nevertheless, the professor had long since resigned himself to the facts. The bulk of the student body, even at this Christian college, cared little about spiritual matters. Faith was sentiment — not devotion to the person of Jesus.

What was the point of lecturing students who cared more about their GPA than about God or His Word? Professor Archer wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t that no one cared. There was a core group of students who were very involved in spiritual activities. But even many of them seemed motivated by fleshly adrenalin for their own “ministry” or ambition for a religious career. Surely, that wasn’t the case with everyone. The glimmer of hope the professor sensed that day spawned an idea: Invest in those with potential — they are the future.

Professor Archer broke the silence. “Do you plan to return?”

“To New Guinea?” Rick shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. The thing on my mind right now is finding some way to wake up the students here.”

“That’s quite a task,” Professor Archer acknowledged. “Many appear to be sound asleep.”

“True enough.” Rick wrinkled his brow. “But I really think it’s because they haven’t had a chance to see something different. There’s been very little demonstrated that would inspire them. They need to see the life of Jesus walked out — not talked out.”

5

“NA EM I TOKIM olgeta disapel, Sapos wanpela man i laik beihainim mi, em i mas daunim em yet,” Rick smiled broadly as he held the small leather book in one hand and waved his other hand in the air as if telling a story. “…na i mas karim diwai kros bilong en long olgeta de, na em i mas beihainim mi.”

“What was that?” A voice braved from the back of the crowd.

Rick laughed heartily, then addressed those gathered on the campus lawn before him. “Well, that was the verse of Scripture I want to talk about tonight…in Pigeon.”

“Bird talk?” the same voice ventured, evoking laughter from the few who heard.

“No, not bird talk. In fact, those are the words of Jesus in the language of the people of New Guinea. Let’s read it again in English.” Rick grabbed another Bible off the grass. “Turn to Luke 9:23.”

It was a beautiful night to be outside. Very few clouds were visible, and a myriad of stars adorned the sky. The moon, nearly full, illuminated the faces of the gathered students.

“Then Jesus said to them all: ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit his very self?’”

This particular Friday night tradition was older than any of the students gathered there. This was the first devotional of the year, and many were eager to listen to Rick. During the previous year, he had become one of the more frequent and popular speakers at these events.

“In case you couldn’t tell, I spent some time in New Guinea this summer. Our time with the people there was eye-opening. And as costly as it was for them, some of the natives gave their lives to God. That passage in Luke really means something when they become Christians. Many of them really do lose membership in their families. The costs are real. The costs are high.”

Looking around the circle of familiar faces, Rick spotted Amy. He had met this tenderhearted girl last semester in an advanced Bible class. Sensing something special about her, Rick had begun to look for ways to get to know her, and it wasn’t long before they began spending a lot of time together. While he was overseas, they wrote back and forth as often as the slow mail delivery allowed. Rick smiled at the thought of being around her again. He laid aside the fond memories as the call of the moment pulled him onward.

“As I flew back to the States, I thought about how easy we have it here. Then I read these words of Jesus: ‘Deny yourself.’ I see how they would apply to me if I was a New Guinea native. But how does this apply right here on a Christian college campus? What does it mean to take up my cross when the biggest challenge I face is a term paper? How do I lose my life when the choices I face each day — my degree, my goals, my future — are all about me? Obviously, I have a lot of questions and not many answers — yet. Mostly, I want to challenge us all with the things that have challenged and convicted me lately.

“In view of what Jesus has said, here are some questions you can ask yourself that are a little more practical: Why are you pursuing the degree you are pursuing? Is it so you can have a high-paying job and live comfortably after retirement?” Rick paused and scanned the faces closest to him. “Or, is it so you can use your talents and money to serve others? When you’re deciding how to spend a Friday night, is your decision based on how much fun it will be…or is it based on how you can make a difference in someone’s life?”

The words sounded direct because they were. But those gathered knew they came without accusation. They were rooted in sincerity and concern.

Rick’s new roommate, Eric, candidly weighed the night’s thoughts. He had not known Rick long, but had already caught glimpses of his gentle, sober insistence that the words of Jesus be followed, even when they hurt. Eric was beginning to learn, with Rick’s help, that caring about people and eternal things could be part of his everyday life.

Drifting clouds now veiled the light from the moon, and only the faces nearest Rick were distinguishable. He softly finished the words he’d begun only minutes before.

“You get the idea, don’t you? And if you pursue these thoughts — and I hope you will — you’ll begin to realize like I did…it’s not that we have it easier than a native in New Guinea. We just need to open our eyes more to the opportunities we have to deny ourselves, take up our crosses and follow Him. After all, isn’t that what it’s all about? Why don’t you look for opportunities, even tonight, to serve someone…to serve Him.”

6

THE HILLS BLAZED with fiery colors, as fall announced its triumphant arrival into the valley. The semester was well under way, and the campus bustled with activity. Hearing the 1:00 bell, stragglers quickened their pace and darted into various rooms of the old Victorian mansion which housed the Bible department.

In Professor Archer’s classroom, it was quiz time. The students strained and sweated over the tough questions staring back at them from their test papers.

As his students finished their quizes, Professor Archer stroked his graying beard, musing the question he was preparing to ask. “Did the Christians in the first century study the Scriptures?”

“Of course!” came the immediate response.

“Oh, really. Now what do you suppose they read?” Professor Archer loved forcing his students to think.

A senior Bible major in the front row shot back an answer. “I imagine they studied the earliest Gospel.”

“Well, the first Gospel, the Gospel of Mark, isn’t thought to have been written until after the year 65. So, did that leave the first thirty years of Church history with nothing to read?” The wrinkles next to his eyes, evidence of decades of smiles, clearly marked the professor’s enjoyment of this game called education.

“Let me put it another way.” Professor Archer didn’t let the silence settle too heavily before he prodded again. “In the book of Acts it says that Paul reasoned from the Scriptures, proving that Jesus was the Christ. Now, consider this: If what we commonly call the New Testament was not even written until at least the sixties,…then what was Paul using to convince people about Jesus?”

“I guess…the Old Testament,” came a hesitant reply.

“That’s right!” The professor paused long enough to get the attention of the drowsier students. “For a Christian in the first century, what is called the Old Testament was the Bible.” He quickly scanned the room, noticing looks of surprise. “Most people in our generation don’t read the Old Testament with the sense of awe and respect it was intended to engender. These aren’t just quaint Bible stories, but the unfolding of the divine plan of a Just and Sovereign God.

“Let’s look at it through the eyes of a first-century Christian, shall we? Open to Acts 3:17.” He turned the pages of his well-worn leather Bible and began reading:

“Now, brothers, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did your leaders. But this is how God fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, saying that his Christ would suffer. Repent, then, and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out, that times of refreshing may come from the Lord, and that he may send the Christ, who has been appointed for you — even Jesus. He must remain in heaven until the time comes for God to restore everything, as he promised long ago through his holy prophets. For Moses said, ‘The Lord your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own people; you must listen to everything he tells you. Anyone who does not listen to him will be completely cut off from among his people.’ “Indeed, all the prophets from Samuel on, as many as have spoken, have foretold these days. And you are heirs of the prophets and of the covenant God made with your fathers. He said to Abraham, ‘Through your offspring all peoples on earth will be blessed.’ When God raised up his servant, he sent him first to you to bless you by turning each of you from your wicked ways.”

“Do you notice,” the Professor peered over his reading glasses directly into the face of a front row student, “how Peter used the Old Testament to reason about Jesus? And notice, also, that he declares that Abraham, Moses, Samuel and all the prophets were pointing to the Kingdom that would come through God’s Son, Jesus.”

Out of the corner of his eye, the professor saw a hand go up. “Is there a question?”

“Yes, Professor Archer,” Rick answered. “This may be off the subject, but I’m very perplexed about something in verse 21 of the passage you just read.”

“No, please, go ahead. If you have questions, that means you’re awake. That’s good!”

“It says Jesus —must — stay in heaven until the time comes for God to restore everything. ‘Must’ sounds like a strong word. What needs to be restored? I always thought the second coming was an arbitrary time that only God knew, and that Jesus might come back at any minute. But verses 19 and 20 make it almost sound like it’s something we actually have a part in. See…Peter encourages them to repent so that God could send Jesus back.”

The professor was caught off guard by Rick’s question. This one certainly had no pat answer. “Boy, trying to throw me a tough one, huh? That sounds like a topic for a research paper,” he responded playfully.

“I honestly don’t know. That’s a very good question.” Professor Archer glanced at his watch, closed his Bible and walked out among his students as they prepared to leave. “Oh, remember your term papers, guys. I know it seems far off, but the semester will be over in only eight weeks. Don’t let it sneak up on you.”

RICK SPOTTED AMY across the campus lawn. Gathering his things, he ran to catch up with her.

“Hey, Ames, wait up.”

She stopped just short of the forty-step ascent to the entrance of the Welton Memorial Library.

“Whew! I’m glad I didn’t have to sprint up those,” Rick gasped, out of breath.

“Hi, Rick,” Amy smiled. “Where did you come from?”

Rick motioned across the lawn. “I thought you’d be heading to the mail room after History. So, how was the dreaded exam?”

Amy laughed as she pulled her hair to one side to maneuver it in the late afternoon breeze. Rick reached over to relieve Amy of her backpack.

“Thanks, Rick. The ‘dreaded’ exam was tough but I think it went okay.”

She smiled again as she rolled her eyes a little. “I can’t believe I was so uptight about the whole thing last night. It seems so ridiculous after the fact! Thanks again for praying with me about it. I’m glad I called you. I appreciate you pointing me back to sanity and reminding me to trust God, even with the small details of a history test.”

“LET’S GO BIG BLUE, LET’S GO! Whew-whew! C’mon, Rick, score a three pointer for Amy! Let’s go! Whew!” A large-boned young woman with long, blond hair spilling onto her thick, fire-engine red sweater yelled at the top of her lungs. She stood in the middle of an old set of bleachers peppered with a handful of intramural basketball fans.

“Diane, sit down! He’s not even in!” Amy’s cheeks were painted with embarrassment as she tugged on her roommate’s sweater. Her comrade acknowledged her request but insisted on bellowing one more encouragement before relenting, not satisfied yet that she’d accomplished her motivational mission. “No excuses, Rick Adams! Go for it!”

Rick heard his name and looked up from his rest on the sidelines. His squinting eyes relaxed as he spotted the source of the outbursts. Amy saw a broad smile breach Rick’s face as he marvelled at her animated friend. He then looked at Amy and appreciated her quiet spirit.

“Time out!” bellowed the balding man in the black and white stripes.

“Adams!” the coach barked as Rick snapped to attention. “Keep your head in the game. She’ll be there when it’s over.”

Rick shook his head and chuckled at his coach.

A whistle blew and the coach slapped Rick on the back. “You gotta get back out there, man! You’re in at point guard. Dobrekowski can’t handle the full-court press.”

“Full blast, Rick. Full blast.” Rick could hear the encouragements from the bench as he ran onto the floor.

“Full blast,” Rick answered to himself. He found his opponent and caught Amy’s eye for an instant before the whistle blew, then focused on the game.

“Rick’s back in, Amy! Aren’t you excited?” Diane wiggled on the bench, longing for permission to cheer. It seemed to Amy that perhaps some people were born to cheer and get excited. The gift of excitedness?

“Yeah, I’m excited.” Amy smiled, her dimples sinking deep into her rosy cheeks. “But it’s in here.” She bit her bottom lip and tapped on her heart with her finger.

“Well you’ve gotta let it come out, Amy. You’ll go crazy,” Diane implored.

Amy smiled and tried to think of something kind to say. “Maybe I like being crazy.”

“Well, if you don’t let Rick know you love him and start cheering for him, I’d say you’re already crazy.”

“Diane!” Amy turned red again and looked around, relieved no one she knew was in earshot. “Who said anything about loving Rick?”

“So??” Diane said playfully. “Are you telling me you’ve never practiced signing your name as ‘Amy Adams?’”

Now Amy’s face became serious. “No, I haven’t.”

Diane recognized Amy was not enjoying her teasing and became sober. “I’m sorry, Amy.”

“No. That’s okay. I know you were just playing. I guess you just took me a little bit off guard.” Amy rubbed her hands together as she composed her next sentence. “I’ll tell you, Diane. I really do like Rick a lot. He’s kind. He’s gentle. He loves Jesus.”

“He’s cute!” Diane volunteered with a smile.

Amy conceded with a nod. “Yes, he’s cute. And that’s nice, but cute can be ugly if the inside is rotten. And not-so-cute can be beautiful, if the inside is right.” Diane took particular comfort in these words. Amy continued, “I guess I’m hoping that if Rick is the one God wants me to go through life with, I will see that, and so will Rick. And if it isn’t God’s will, I hope I’m not so blind with emotion that I miss it.”

“Whoa, that sounds deep!” Diane said in a deep tone, mocking playfully.

Amy hid her disappointment with Diane’s immaturity. It was a pretty serious statement, more serious, perhaps, than most people were used to. Amy hoped she could live it out at the time of testing.

She answered with a gentle smile. “It’s the truth.”

THE GENTLE BREEZE sent red and brown leaves dancing across the sidewalk under the students’ feet. Clinging tightly to their jackets, they responded to the 9:15 bell in a rush to make their compulsory devotional attendance timely. Caught in the crowd, Professor Archer and Rick talked casually while they made their way across campus. The professor, clad in a tweed jacket and hat, appeared oblivious to the cold air and the occasional bump from a student. He turned to Rick and surprised him by saying, “You and Amy seem to be hitting it off well.”

“I…” Rick’s stomach tightened as his guilty conscience twinged. “I suppose so.”

“Good, good. She seems to be a sweet girl.”

They joined the converging crowd ascending the steps into the large auditorium.

“You ought to really enjoy chapel today.” The professor spoke above the chattering crowd.

“Oh? How so?”

“There’s a missionary from Irian Jaya who’s speaking. Who knows, you might even know him.”

Rick laughed politely at the professor’s humor. “Not likely.”

They followed the crowd into the carpeted foyer and went their separate ways.