June 5, 1998.  Sharing my story while wearing a funny shirt. (#176)

I drove to campus that night feeling a little bit nervous.  I had been to Jeromeville Christian Fellowship almost every Friday night of every school year since October of sophomore year, but tonight was different for two reasons.

First of all, I was going to be speaking in front of the entire group tonight.

Three weeks earlier, Tabitha Sasaki was reading the announcements at JCF, and she asked all of us seniors to meet briefly afterward to plan our senior night.  Courtney Kohl, Erica Foster, and Sasha Travis were sitting behind me; I remember this because anything involving Sasha stuck out in my mind those days.  It was also the first time I had ever seen Sasha at JCF.  She was not a student at the University of Jeromevillle, she was still in high school, but she would be starting at UJ next year.  She knew me, and the girls she sat with, from church, and she was going to share an apartment with those girls next year.

I was making small talk with the girls after the last worship song and prayer ended.  About five minutes later, I said, “I should go to that senior meeting now.  Hey, Sasha, you should come.  You’re a senior.”

“Not the right kind of senior,” Sasha replied.  The three of them laughed.

I walked out to the lobby next to the lecture hall where JCF met.  After most of the seniors had arrived, we began to discuss the events for the upcoming senior night.  Three people would be sharing testimonies.  I had occasionally shared my testimony with small group Bible studies, and in individual one-on-one conversations, but I had never shared all of that with a large group.

“Anyone else want to share?” Tabitha asked after one person had volunteered so far.  Apparently she was in charge of planning the senior night.  “I think it would be good to hear from some people who haven’t shared a lot before.”

I looked around.  No one was raising their hand.  Maybe this was my chance.  I always wanted to be more of a part of this group, and since I was not in the inner cliques, I rarely got to share.  All I had to do was tell my story, and storytelling was something I was good at.  And maybe I had things to say that others might want, or need, to hear.  “May I share?” I asked.

“Greg!” Tabitha replied.  “Sure!”

“I think you have a great testimony,” Eddie Baker added.  “Thanks for volunteering.”

Now, three weeks later, even though I had volunteered for this, I was a little bit nervous.  I still wanted to share, and I was sure that I would do fine; it was just an unfamiliar situation.  And I was also nervous because I was wearing a silly t-shirt with Brent Wang’s face on it.

A few months ago, Taylor Santiago told me about a late-night conversation he had with Brent.  The two of them were talking about how most of the advice given in Christian youth and college groups regarding dating was, essentially, “don’t.”  I had heard a lot of preaching about dating with purpose, with an end goal of marriage, and of course about not having sex outside of marriage and setting boundaries to avoid this kind of temptation.  But, as Taylor suggested to me, these groups fell short of actually offering suggestions for Christians to form healthy dating relationships.  Taylor and Brent had had lengthy discussions among themselves about what such a group would look like.  As their idea began to take shape, they jokingly began referring to  the group as the Brent Wang Fellowship.

The group still had yet to plan any meetings, but Taylor had made T-shirts for the group.  I thought Taylor was joking when he first started talking about the T-shirts, but then a couple weeks ago he asked if I was still interested, and that he needed money if I was.  I said sure and paid him, and now I was wearing the shirt for the first time.  The shirt was white, with a picture of Brent’s grinning face, and the dark blue letters “BWF” at the bottom.

Brent was in the lobby of 170 Evans when I arrived.  He saw me and pointed at my shirt.  “Nice shirt!” he said.

“Thanks,” I replied, laughing a little.  I entered the lecture hall and looked around, noticing two other people who were friends with Brent and Taylor wearing their own BWF shirts.  I chose to wear this tonight, but I still felt a little silly.

Xander Mackey saw me approaching.  “Hey, Greg,” he said.  “What’s with those shirts?  Is this the Brent Wang Fan Club or something?”

“Brent Wang Fellowship,” I corrected.  “Brent and Taylor Santiago have this idea to start a group to talk about healthy Christian dating.”

“Shouldn’t you name your group after someone who actually has a girlfriend, then?”

“Ouch,” I said, laughing.  “Harsh.”

“Hey, you’re giving your testimony tonight, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.  “I’ve never done this before, but I think I’ll be all right.”

“You will.  God wants us all to tell our stories.  And you know the story, because it happened to you.”

“That’s true.”

“Where are you sitting?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come sit with us,” Xander said.  I followed him to an empty seat next to where he was sitting; Raphael Stevens and John Harvey, also seniors, were sitting next to him.

When I heard music start to play, I looked to the front of the room, where Brent, Tabitha, and the rest of the worship team began playing.  “Welcome to Jeromeville Christian Fellowship!” Tabitha said into her microphone.  “It’s senior night!  You’re gonna hear some great testimonies from three of our graduating seniors.  But first, let’s worship the Lord.”  The band played three worship songs, all of which were familiar to me by now after having attended Jeromeville Christian Fellowship for a while.  “Lord Jesus,” Brent said into the microphone after the last song ended.  “I pray tonight that you will be with all of our seniors.  Give them the words that you want them to share, and open the ears and minds of those hearing their messages.  I pray that we will send off our graduating seniors with the knowledge that God is with them wherever they will go, and that they will be shining lights in the world.  Amen.”

Janet McAllen, who was on the paid staff team who ran JCF, along with her husband, came to the front next for announcements.  This was the last JCF meeting of the year, with final exams beginning in a week, so most of the announcements pertained to next year, signing up for Outreach Camp and small groups.  I already had a small group, and I would not be at Outreach Camp because I would be student teaching already by that time.  One announcement caught my attention: there would be a Bible study meeting this summer at the De Anza house, for anyone who would be in Jeromeville over the summer.  I would definitely be going to that.

“A few of our graduating seniors will be sharing their testimonies now,” Janet announced.  “First up, please welcome Greg Dennison.”  I walked up to the front of the room nervously as over a hundred students applauded, their eyes now all on me.  I pulled a note card out of my pocket, where I had outlined the major points of my talk, and placed it on a music stand that the worship team had been using.  I could refer back to this to make sure I did not forget any of the major points.  As soon as I turned to face the group, people began to giggle and chuckle.  “Is that Brent?” I heard someone nearby say.  They were not laughing at me; they were just laughing at the BWF shirt.

My shirt, I thought.  Suddenly I thought of a way to begin my talk that I had not thought of earlier.  “Hi,” I said.  “So I don’t really get up here in front of everyone very often.  I kind of think that maybe that’s from God.  Like, he knows that if I’m in the spotlight too often, it might, you know, go to my head, and I’d do something crazy, like put my face on a shirt.”  I paused as I heard laughter slowly rise from the crowd.  “I’m just kidding,” I said, laughing a little at my own joke.  “Brent is a great guy.  Anyway, I’m going to share my testimony now.

“I wasn’t involved in JCF at all my freshman year,” I explained.  “I grew up Catholic.  My mom’s family has been Catholic since before any of my great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents came to the US.  Growing up, my mom went to Mass every week, but she didn’t usually force me to go all the time.  I went maybe once a month.  My mom’s church doesn’t really have much for kids, and when I did do their stuff for kids, the other kids teased and bullied me, so I didn’t want to go.  As I got older, though, I started going more often.  I had an unrequited crush on a girl from school who also went to my church, and I have to admit, that was one of the things that got me going more often.”  A few people chuckled as I paused.  I gestured in Sarah Winters’ direction in the crowd and continued,  “I told the crush story once to Sarah Winters, and she told me that that was God knowing how to get my attention and bring me back to him.  I had never really thought of it that way at the time.

“So I got to Jeromeville, and Mom told me to look for the Newman Center, the Catholic student ministry.  I went to Mass there every week and got involved with singing in the church choir.  I lived in a dorm, and I didn’t drink or smoke or party or anything, so I hung out a lot with other people who didn’t do that stuff.  And most of those people were Christians.  Sarah.  Liz and Ramon and Jason.  Caroline.  Krista.  Charlie.”  Also Taylor and Pete, I thought, but neither of them appeared to be here tonight.  They had become more involved with Jeromeville Covenant Church and less involved with JCF over the years.  “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up, and it was nice to know that there were people who actually cared about me.

“One night, some of those people were sitting in the hall near my room, during quiet hours, and they woke me up at one in the morning.  I was really mad.  I picked up something to throw, it was a cardboard box, and I threw it into the hallway and almost hit Sarah.  Sorry, Sarah.”  I looked up at Sarah; she started laughing, and others in the room joined in.  “I had a lot of issues with outbursts like this when I was young, and I was so upset with myself that I had let my new friends see that side of me.  I ran outside and sat in my car for a while, contemplating quitting school and running away.  I finally decided I would just go back to my room, try to get some sleep, and apologize to everyone in the morning.  Just hope for the best, I guess.

“But I never got back to my room.  I walked into the lobby, and all of the people who saw me get upset, they had all been sitting in the lobby the whole time, praying for me.”  I paused for dramatic effect.  “This was the first time I can remember really having a meaningful experience of seeing Christians acting like Christians, and it blew me away.  I was so used to being scolded and corrected when I got upset like that, and it felt nice to know that some people were actually concerned for my well-being.

“The following year, sophomore year, I lived alone.  By the time I figured out that I had to hurry up and sign a lease for the next year, all my friends from the dorm already had plans.  So I was alone much of the time.  It wasn’t like in the dorm, where I could just wander around the halls if I felt like hanging out with someone.  I was depressed a lot.  My friends from freshman year had invited me to JCF before, so I took them up on their offer and started going to large group with them.  I wasn’t really looking for a deeper connection with Jesus yet; I just wanted to see my friends.  But the more I got to know people from JCF, I noticed something different about these people.  I kept hearing, and seeing, more and more that knowing Jesus meant something more than just going to church and not drinking and partying.

“A few months later, I had another experience with people caring for me on a bad day.  I was feeling down and lonely because all my friends were busy one night after large group, so I just sat there as everyone left.  Eddie and Xander found me while they were cleaning up, and we had a good talk about life and God and stuff.  They invited me to hang out with them afterward.  That was the weekend of the pro football championship, and two days later I was hanging out with them, watching the game.  The game was terrible, because the Texas Toros won.”  I heard a few laughs from the crowd, mixed with a few boos apparently coming from Toros fans.  “But I still had a lot of fun.

“The final piece of the puzzle came a few weeks after the football game.  It was a Thursday afternoon, February 15, 1996.  I was feeling discouraged again, and I ran into Janet while I was walking through the MU.  She asked how I was doing, I said I wasn’t having a good day, and then she asked the most important question anyone has ever asked me.” I paused.  “She asked, ‘Do you know Jesus?’  If she had said, ‘Are you a Christian,’ I would have said yes.  But, honestly, I really didn’t know Jesus, so I asked what she meant.  Janet explained to me about how we are all sinful, fallen human beings, and that sin separates us from God.  Jesus died on the cross for us, to bring us eternal life, and nothing we can do without Jesus can bring us back to God.  Jesus says that he is the way, the truth, and the life. Paul says that if you confess that Jesus is Lord, and believe that he rose from the dead, you will be saved.  Janet asked me if I believed this, and if I was ready to accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior.  I was ready.  I said yes, and we prayed.

“Since then, life certainly hasn’t been perfect.  The Bible never says that things will be perfect.  But life has felt more hopeful.  I know that God is with me, and that he has a plan for me, even when I can’t see it all.  Janet gave me a few verses to memorize, and that night, I memorized my first verse, Romans 5:5.  ‘And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.’

“So, all of you, please remember.  If you have a friend who doesn’t quite fit in, if you know someone who is feeling alone, reach out to that person.  There are a lot of people out there who just need a friend.  Your actions reaching out to those people just might plant a seed that will make a difference in eternity, just like how my friends planted that seed for me.”  I paused, then closed awkwardly with, “Thank you, and God bless.”

I nervously took a breath.  It was over.  I had told my story.  The entire room erupted into applause.  I smiled.  These people, some of whom I did not even know, were all being supportive of me.  But this was not about me.  I was just telling them how God had worked in my life, and hopefully someone heard something that God needed to tell them.

I walked back to my seat, where Xander patted me on the back.  Raphael stood up and squeezed past Xander and me; he was scheduled to speak next.  He told a story about having fallen in with a partying crowd in high school, but Eddie was his freshman roommate, and he started attending the Bible study that met in their room.  Kelly Graham, who was there that first night I hung out with Eddie and Xander, was the third speaker; she spoke about having grown up in a Christian family, and how her involvement with JCF, along with a year of studying abroad in Hungary, strengthened her desire to do missions overseas in the near future.

After Kelly’s testimony, all of the seniors were invited to the front of the room.  We stood in a line, and each of the staff members prayed for us, along with a few others.  We then sat back down and sang along with everyone else as the worship team played one more song.  After the song, I stood up and looked at the guys sitting next to me.

“That was good,” Xander said.  “You really shared your story well.”

“Thank you,” I replied.  “And thank you for being there that night.”

“We kind of had a common theme of friends inviting us to JCF,” Raphael commented.

“Yeah.  It’s so important to be in community with the people around you.”

“Hey, are you going to Man of Steel tomorrow?”

“Of course,” I replied.  “I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah!  I love Man of Steel.  It’s so much fun.”

Later that night, as I was mingling with others in the room, a freshman whom I did not know well, but had seen before, came up to me.  “Thanks so much for sharing your story, Greg,” he said.  “It was perfect, because I invited my roommate tonight.  He’s been curious to know more about Jesus, but this is the first time he actually came with me.”

“Nice,” I replied.  “God knew he needed to hear these testimonies.”

I had no plans that night, but unlike the night I met Eddie and Xander, I was okay with going home early this time.  Tomorrow was the Man of Steel competition, and I was going to be hanging out with a bunch of the guys from JCF all day.  I had to be at the De Anza house at ten in the morning, and I did not want to be too tired.  I went home after the room had mostly emptied, feeling like God really was using my story to help people, and as I walked to the car, I prayed for that freshman who had come for the first time.

I got to share this story at JCF one more time, at Alumni Night in the spring of 2016.  The head staff at the time were former students whose years on campus overlapped with mine, and I had recently gotten together with them to catch up.  At one point, I told some of the stories leading to how I became a Christian, and how my friendships in JCF played a key role. They said that my story would be a good one to share at that year’s Alumni Night.  The theme for that night was “God Working Through the Generations,” and as part of the multi-generational theme, they scheduled testimonies from an older alumnus, a younger alumnus, an upperclassman, and a freshman.  I was the older alumnus, 39 years old at the time. Students at UJ in 2016 lived in a completely different world than the world I knew as a student in the 1990s.  But the point of my message, about reaching out to friends when they go through tough times, was just as true. A few students afterward came up and told me that they had either invited friends to JCF or had been invited by friends, and that my words meant a lot to them.

I had many more adventures over the years involving the BWF shirt.  But those are stories for later.

Sometimes I wonder if anyone would remember me if I were to suddenly disappear.  Have I really made an impact?  Have I changed the world at all?  I may not have made the same kind of impact that others may have, I may not have my face on a T-shirt, but nights like that one, when I got to share my story, remind me that I have made an impact in some way to some people.  

---

If Don’t Let The Days Go By were a TV show, this would have been one of those episodes where the writers get lazy, and they just slap together a story using clips from previous episodes.

Readers: Has there ever been a time when you told someone about things you had been through, and it made an impact on them? Or have you ever been impacted by hearing someone else’s life story? Tell me about it in the comments.

If you like what you read, don’t forget to like this post and follow this blog. Also follow Don’t Let The Days Go By on Facebook and Instagram.

---