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I made sure to stay on the "pink" sidewalks (girls only) and avoided the "blue" sidewalks as if they were strewn with land mines.
It wasn't like I wanted to have sex or listen to rock and roll, but my mind was drifting.
Everyone we heard of who went to Bob Jones ended up living a happy, Christian life. Some backsliding rabble-rousers groused because Bob Jones was surrounded by black wrought-iron fences and you couldn't leave campus without permission.
But our orientation leader assured us that those gates were there to keep evildoers out.
We believed in the literal hell, a place down there for bad people to suffer and scream forever in a nonconsuming fire.
I knew the word nonconsuming and what it meant when I was four, but hell didn't scare me; I knew Christians didn't go there.
Today, when I wake up screaming, it's because I'm dreaming of my years at Bob Jones, the worst years of my life, the years I came to life.
FUNDAMENTALISTS ASK the Lord many questions, and he answers them all.I received my first spanking when I was seven days old. Many people say that I am the nicest woman they know. I was raised a fundamentalist Baptist in rural Michigan. I joke with colleagues, drink martinis, listen to Elvis Costello.I smiled all the time, I was sweet to everyone, and I believed.I was just the kind of perfect young lady Bob Jones University covets. To my family and friends, Bob Jones was Harvard, and I was a local celebrity for getting accepted. Back home, unsaved people lurked around every corner, taking the Lord's name in vain, lying, cheating, having sex, staring. Everyone at Bob Jones knew Christ, and they all wanted what I wanted--to serve the Lord and meet him someday in heaven.The Lord told my mother that I needed to win souls--to convince strangers that they should pray with me and accept Jesus--and I did this when I was six, I won my first soul, and it was a very big day in my house.