θαυμάζω

Eighteen years ago, as I was heading to the exit of my disgusting high school cafeteria, my friend Chris flags me down, catches up with me, and hands me a burned CD. “Have you heard of this guy before? You should listen to his sermons.”  Chris and I were on the ultimate frisbee team together, and because we also lived around the same area of the city we spent a lot of our long commutes home talking and arguing with each other about the things that high school students found deep and philosophical. He said, “I think you’ll really like the way that this guy thinks”.  I was in my final year of high school at the time, months away from graduating and going to a Christian college, ostensibly to get a head start on my training to become a Christian minister. But I was about to find out that I hadn’t even understood the most basic aspects of the faith that I aspired to teach.  The church that I grew up in had a rule about baptism: You could not choose to be baptized until you turned twelve. T