“Joe I really think you need to know God,” Dale told me in between bites of his chicken flavored Ramen.

He was sitting at his desk in his plastic chair. His desk was already littered with scrap paper and stacks of unorganized sheet music.

“I have been a Christian for ten years now, and I have so much peace because of it. Man… I would really like it if you came to church with me tomorrow,” Dale slurped the last bit of his Ramen and sat forward in his chair, leaning towards me.

“Just come once. See what you think. You don’t have anything to lose,” He told me.

This was the fourth Saturday since the semester had begun, and Dale sensed that I wasn’t coming along as well as he was. He had overheard mine and Monica’s arguments and saw me pouting around the room on regular occasions.

I had thought the college days would get easier and the time spent worrying and stressing would grow less. It still hadn’t, and I had begun wondering if it ever would. That is the reason church was a good idea the following morning.

We showered and dressed, before climbing into Dale’s two-door Chevy pick-up.

Salem Baptist Church was only two miles down the road, so in seconds the truck was parked in a gravel lot outside of the large bricked building, with a jagged white steeple reaching from its roof.

“You won’t regret this, man!” Dale slapped me on the back with a wide grin, before leading the way inside the church.

Every few feet we had to stop because Dale knew an older lady or had taught a teenager in Sunday School, and they needed to know what was going on in Dale’s life.

He listened patiently to each person and made sure to touch them on the shoulder or give them a large hug before moving onto the next one.

Many of Dale’s friends also greeted me with large, and mostly unwanted, hugs. Its not that I disliked hugs but the smell of perfume and variety of bright colors overwhelmed me. I was also unfamiliar with anything church-like. Besides having gone a few times as a kid and visiting with Monica, I hadn’t really attended.

When we reached the third wooden pew from the front, we sat.

The pastor of Salem Baptist Church was noticeable in his bright orange tie and friendly demeanor. Pastor Tim, the congregation called him, made sure to shake every hand in the room before climbing the small set of steps that led to the ornate pulpit at the front of the stage.

He toted a leather bound bible with golden plated pages.

“Today, we will be talking about the issue of sexual sin,” Pastor Tim spoke, deeply and authoritatively, as to quiet the whole room.

“Turn to Genesis, in your bibles. We have all heard this passage before, I am sure. But it does us good to be reminded of the value of purity,” Pastor Tim explained.

An uncomfortable invisible weight began to press down on my chest.

“In the story of Adam and Eve, we see God create one woman for one man…” The pastor continued.

The weight grew heavier and heavier. The room began to grow smaller and my the pastor’s voice almost became inaudible.

My breathing quickened so much so that Dale’s eyes broke from the pastor’s wild gestures and he turned to me, questioningly. I know he tried to speak, but I couldn’t seem to hear him.

I felt as if I had been a sheep unknowingly led to a slaughter. Dale had promised encouragement, but it was everything I had feared. Another voice telling me what I needed to do with my life.

Teachers had their say. My parents had given their fair share of lectures. My friends knew I needed to be studying one way or talking to them so many times a week. Monica had expected the world. And now, a man I didn’t know, was telling me one more thing I had to change if I was to ever get this peace that Dale promised me.

“Sexual sin is the worst of all, Paul tells us. It somehow destroys the body inwardly,” I heard the Pastor say.

My face felt redder than the eye of a stove, and sweat was dripping down my back.

I stood up, all eyes turning to me, and I walked out as quickly as possible.

I barely made it outside before vomiting in the bushes by the red sanctuary door.

Dale had followed me out and stood behind me, with a puzzled but worried look.

“Dale, I don’t need that. I don’t need another hundred voices telling me what I need to do with my life. I can’t…” I couldn’t finish before the weight of the four weeks, the summer, moving out, and Monica crashed on me.

I don’t know what more I said, but I knew I cried the rest of the day.

Dale had helped me back to the room and brought me lunch before giving me space the rest of the evening.

Monica’s name flashed on my cell phone, it vibrating my pillow. I couldn’t bear to answer it. I didn’t know what I’d tell her. She’d ask me about Church, and I’d have to tell her I couldn’t make it because I caved. I caved because I couldn’t stand another voice telling me the way I needed to live my life. I couldn’t stand to tell her she was one of those voices.

“You bastard!” I yelled at the ceiling.

“I asked you to make it worth it, and you haven’t. God you promised that all of this would be worth it one day.” I wept.

“God… you can’t just be another voice. You have to be something real.”

“You can’t be…” I finally fell asleep.