Thirty years ago this month I repented in sackcloth and ashes. No, it was not my conversion -- that was four years before. It was turning from a life in the holy huddle -- the deliberate avoidance of prolonged association with unbelievers.
As an undergraduate at Princeton University our college fellowship had made a culture of total isolation from the "world" as we called it -- that meant Christian roommates, attendance at all events for our fellowship plus church Sunday AM and PM. We looked askance on Christians who were part of sports teams or made other compromising commitments. We did not measure godliness by biblical standards, but by our man-made standards. Even when the Christians in sports or choir or drama were vocal in their witness for Jesus, we were suspicious of their sincerity and waiting for their fall.
Our evangelism included occasional forays into the dormitories -- a few hours at a time. But I did not even know all the guys on my hall.
Granted, there were some sad examples of students who immersed themselves in the life of the campus and renounced their profession of faith. But there were also people like my friend Greg -- he remained a part of the football and baseball teams, stayed with his original roommates, lived a godly life among them, and has consistently kept in touch with them for the Gospel and for friendship for thirty years. He goes to reunions all the time and continues to share the Gospel. If I go, I know no one.
It was just before graduation that God convicted me of the selfishness of having Christian roommates, Christian meal companions, Christian companions in class or between classes, and Christian neighbors for study in the library. As an expression of repentance, I began to sit with non-believers at lunches and dinners. In my last four weeks of school I had more thoughtful conversations about the Gospel than I had the previous three years and 7 months. Sadly, the fruit of this way of thinking was my witnessing a procession of 1100 classmates in the graduation line -- one of whom I knew at all, just a handful I knew by name. Here I had been placed with the most intensive evangelistic opportunities I would experience in life, and I had done next to nothing.
May God have mercy on my soul. It was time for change.
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