Lived Through This
Confessions of a Former Christian Gangster
We knew a lot about hell. Not as much about heaven.
I was in a small Christian gang at my elementary school. At first glance, you might not have believed we were gang members, but if you looked closely at the twinkle in our eyes, you would have read the message, “We can die at any time. Jesus will catch us. How about you? Do you know who’s catching you?”
That’s a lot to read in a set of eyes. But you could, because we were looking at you for a very long time, staring, willing your salvation. We stared because Christian culture never taught us the rules of eye contact, the laws of social interaction. We were above the law, people united by our defiance of death, and our sense that there isn’t time for social niceties, not when you’re in the game of saving souls.
Now do you believe we were a gang? Of course you do. Only people in a gang would be tough enough to shout with their eyes at strangers, saying, “Do you know where you’re going when you die?”
We were training to ask this question with our mouths too, and in the meantime, we were wearing jean jackets and owning off-brand Trapper Keepers like bad asses. We didn’t need brand names. Our names were branded in the Book of Life.
