O Come Thou (Chlorine) Fount
“I’m an atheist,” I proudly declared to my crush as we were driving home from a movie. He looked at me with disappointment and then asked if I wanted to go to church with him this weekend. I had such a crush. So I said ok.
A lot of people think it was because of him that I decided to become a Christian. A lot of people were upset with my decision, most of my friends were self-prescribed atheists and I had betrayed them in the worst way. But truthfully, it wasn’t because of my crush. For the longest time I had felt a void inside of me. It felt like this whirling black pool and I wasn’t exactly sure how to fill it. I tried a lot of things that were toxic and all of them failed only landing a temporary fill. When I went to church I felt a peace and a desire I had never felt before. I decided to let all of my prejudices about religion fade from my ears and I listened to what the Pastor had to say as he talked about the life of Jesus. One week later I become a Christian.
Becoming a Christian wasn’t hard for me- it felt entirely natural. I just wasn’t sure what type of Christian I was going to be. For a long time I had been a part of the secular world and I wasn’t entirely ready to let it go. I enjoyed listening to music with explicit words and reading books about romance, I thought it was cool to smoke cigarettes before school and to sneak out of my friend’s house to meet boys. I didn’t know if I could devote myself fully to this when so much of who I was had to be put aside. Somehow I managed a nice middle between my Christianity and my secular self. I was completely devoted to my religion but I allowed myself the luxury of books and songs that weren’t found in Christian bookstores. I was worldly and therefore I was popular amongst my youth congregation. Many of my new acquaintances were excited about my transformation and told me that I “just had to go to summer camp, it’s like a total God high, you’ll be on fire for like ever.”
I wasn’t really a summer camp type of person but the fact that I would learn so about God in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas intrigued me. I was really passionate about learning about my new life and summer camp seemed like a great opportunity to be fully emerged into it. I agreed to go.
The cabins were small with about eleven bunk beds to each cabin. I decided to take the top bunk in the far corner, next to air conditioning and the bathrooms. I was older than most of the girls in my cabin and our counselors were two years older than me. The girls immediately formed their own cliques even within the intimate area of Cabin 5. Even though I had made many friends by now, I was still felt like an outsider. Next to my Bible sat a book titled “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs.” It was definitely not found at Christian bookstore.
The girls seemed more into how they looked at camp than the actual camp experience. They each came equipped with hair straightners, curling irons, five different hair products, perfume, make up kits, clothes for the day-time, and clothes for the night-time service. During the day the girls would prance around in short shirts and tight t-shirts and at night they would put on nice jeans and polo shirts, they would do each other’s hair and share lip-gloss. I was not aware of this and had only packed basketball shorts and old jeans. I thought that camp was camp and that Church camp was camp but with the presence of God.
I think I was wrong.
The services were like rock shows, the Church had found a way to reach the youth of America and that was through fog machines, screaming vocalists, strobe lights, and scripture-tattooed guitarists. There were over a hundred of us packed into the camp auditorium and I found myself pressed up against sweaty bodies all thrashing to the lyrics of “Our God is an Awesome God.” Amongst the bodies I found myself looking around for such an Awesome God but was disappointed as someone’s hair swung into my face.
So this was Church camp. I was not impressed. But many people were. Many acted with the devoutness of a martyr as they exclaimed about the Pastor’s luke-warm, teen friendly message. Many waved their hands in exhaustion after rocking to the worship music. Many huddled together in prayer as they expertly applied mascara that would only streak later- when they cried during the altar call.
I didn’t know what to think about all of this. I had spent most of my life proudly defying God and now that I had accepted Him, it seemed that He was defying me. I had purposely left the secular world for one week to become fully engulfed in His presence. But instead I felt like I just left where I had started. I wanted truth and I suppose I got it, but it was glossy and veneered. You are supposed to leave church camp feeling enriched and ready to spread the Word, but I felt like I had just lost my identity. These thoughts streamed through my head as my bunkmate offered me her pale pink lip-gloss.
I accepted.
It was the last night of Church camp and the worship service was going to be cut short because they were doing baptisms. I decided to sign up to be baptized. Baptism is an outward sign of an inward change, I was drowning my sin-life and I was going to be reborn, from the holy waters as a true believer. Perhaps this is what I was looking for this whole time? This seemed like it would be a truly Holy experience, I mean even Jesus was baptized.
I stood in line as I waited for my name to be called. We were all wrapped around the swimming pool. I was wearing male swim trunks and an “All-American Reject” t-shirt. I waited and I prayed. I walked down the swimming pool steps and the water was cold. Despite my modest apparel, the water spread everywhere. I felt exposed. People were watching me. People watched as I walked towards the Pastor, they watched as my clothes, now wet, clung to my body and my hair went inch by inch into the depths of the swimming pool. I was received into the arms of the Pastor and I stared at the faces around me- all shadowed by the night and the fluorescent lighting. The Pastor asked me if I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior. I said yes, as confidently as I could. He asked me some other questions that I don’t remember, I just remember thinking the water looked different in this lighting and that I too must look different. He then told me to hold my nose, I complied. Almost instantly I was dunked into the water. I opened my eyes and I stared up at the blurry shape of the Pastor, I stared at the bright fluorescent lighting- now distorted by the waves. It looked like the lights of Heaven. I felt the water swirl in my hair and my eyes started to burn from the chlorine. When I was released, the Pastor hugged me. I think he said, “congratulations.” I stumbled out of the water and rubbed my eyes. They were now stinging.
“How do you feel now?” A friend asked me.
“Good,” I replied. I walked back to my cabin and the red dust of Texas swirled around my feet. My skin was white from the water but was now turning pink from the dust. I sat on the steps in front of my cabin and watched as water streamed down my ankles, mixed in with all that red dust. It looked like blood.
I sat there for a few more minutes; in the darkness I listened for what I hoped was a Holy sign. I listened and I could hear voices singing- the truly devout were at worship. There voices, likes Angels, echoed amongst the cedar trees and I swatted at a fly. Am I any different now than I was an hour before?
Yes. I decided.
I now smelled like chlorine.
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