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J☮HN CALVIN GOES TO BERKELEY

First in the University

Christian Fellowship Series

JAMES G. MCCARTHY

City Christian Press San Jose, Cal i forn ia

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City Christian Press POB 53853 San Jose, California 95153-0853, USA citychristianpress.com email@citychristianpress.com John Calvin Goes to Berkeley Copyright © 2010 by James G. McCarthy ISBN-13: 978-0-9841681-0-1 ISBN-10: 0-9841681-0-9 Library of Congress Control Number: 2009908486

cover design by Suzanne Hodson This novel is a work of fiction. Names of people, places, businesses, organizations, and events are used in a fictitious manner. All characters are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Scripture quotations are primarily from The Holy Bible: New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. Some Scripture taken from the New American Standard Bible, © Copyright 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977 by The Lockman Foundation. Used by permission. Other Scripture is from the King James Version of the Bible. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations, no part of this book may be published, reproduced, stored, or transmitted without prior permission of the publisher.

Printed in the United States of America.

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Dedi ca t ed wi th Grat i tude

To Jean, my lifelong companion and friend, who read every revision and advised me daily, and to our daughters—Elizabeth, Faith, and Grace—for their constant encouragement and input, especially Elizabeth for her expert editorial assistance. To the Christians at Grace Bible Chapel and Hillview Bible Chapel, who have prayerfully supported us over so many years. To those who have helped me through the years to grow as a writer—William MacDonald, Gary and Virginia Caughell, Paul Covert—and to Svenja Tröps for her valuable insights into plotting and character development. To Elaine Schulte for her help with the preparation of the manuscript for publication, and to all my dear friends, too many to list, who read early drafts and advised me, with special thanks to Steve Caldwell, who read every major revision of the book. To the students of the real-life University Christian Fellowship and interns of the Discipleship Intern Training Program with whom I had the privilege of serving at the University of California, Berkeley. Their lives inspired this book.

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ONE Alex Kim unfolded the legs of the portable table and flipped it upright. Its aluminum tubing landed with a clack, scraping the pavement and putting his nerves on edge. It reminded him how much he hated doing evangelism in Sproul Plaza. Part of it was the bustle of thousands of students, the music from multiple sources, the protesters, hecklers, street-people, and drug addicts. Part of it was the spiritual tension he felt the moment he stepped into the plaza. Some said it was demonic. Alex thought that sounded paranoid but had to admit that there was something unusual about the place. He unfurled a blue satin banner and handed an end to Angela León, a recent transfer student to the University of California, Berkeley. They draped it across the table’s length, revealing the words University Christian Fellowship emblazoned in gold. It reminded Alex why he did evangelism in Sproul Plaza. This was God’s battleground. Here he would take his stand for Christ and tell his fellow students about the Savior of the world, despite how much he disliked the place. Alex stepped back and checked the alignment. “This is like sticking your tongue out at the enemy.” “It can’t be that bad,” she said. “Trust me. We’re going to get a response.” They unloaded boxes of Bibles and other Christian literature and arranged them on the table. “Ready?” he asked. “Sure.” Several hundred students passed in front of the table.

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Many looked. No one stopped. Angela peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Is there something else we should do?” “You can stick out your tongue if you like.” “You can’t be serious.” “It won’t be long.” Two girls stopped. “Why don’t you Christians do something productive,” one said, “like serving meals to the homeless or fighting global warming?” “Rather than standing around here trying to convert everyone,” the other added. Alex shrugged. “We’re not against those things.” “You really think that’s more important than knowing God?” Angela asked the girls. The first girl grabbed a Bible from the display and waved it in front of Angela’s face. “More important than a bunch of old myths? Are you kidding?” Angela took the Bible from her and returned it to the table. “I take it you’re not a history major,” Angela said. The second girl glared at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Alex suppressed a nervous laugh. “Have you considered the historical evidence for Jesus’ life?” Angela asked. “It’s fairly strong.” There’s something about her that I like, Alex thought as he listened to Angela speak to the girls. He had yet to put his finger on it, but it was more than that she was pretty. Anybody could see that. Something different. He had noticed it when they had first met earlier that day and she asked him if he would train her to tell students about Christ. She said it with such earnestness that at first he didn’t know how to respond. He told her yes, though he doubted that he knew any more about it than she did.

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Alex saw an opening in Angela’s conversation with the two girls. “There’s more evidence for the existence of God than most people think,” he said. “Don’t talk to me about God,” the first girl told him. “Religion is ruining the world.” She and her friend walked off. Alex straightened the display. “Those two were unreasonable.” “I wish we could’ve helped them,” Angela said, her eyes following the two girls as they passed through Sather Gate, the main entrance to the University of California, Berkeley. Alex noticed that she was fighting back tears. She’s different. Over the next hour they spoke to four students. Two were hostile; two were skeptical. The second hour, Alex had class, so Angela worked the table with Jamie Alfono, UCF’s treasurer. “Any good contacts?” Alex asked when he returned. “One,” Angela said. “Susan Dan, a girl from Singapore. She had a couple of interesting questions.” “Seemed kind of antagonistic to me,” Jamie said. Angela handed Alex a contact card. “I’m going to meet with her Saturday.” Alex and Angela worked the table together the next hour. They spoke to five more students. The first was interested; the rest were skeptical. “Had enough?” Alex asked her after the last student had left. Angela pushed back her hair with both hands. “This is exhausting.” “I never get used to it.” He checked the time on his phone. “Can you watch the table alone for a few minutes? I have a paper to turn in.” As he reached to pick up his backpack, he heard her scream. He looked up and saw Coleman, a vagrant druggie who regularly terrorized the

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campus, charging them. “Move!” He pushed Angela aside. Coleman leaped onto the table. He shrieked and rode it into the ground like a surfer on a cresting wave. It pancaked with a crash that echoed off the surrounding buildings and landed Coleman on top of Alex, knocking him down. “Get off me,” Alex protested. Joe Fiori, a UCF member, stepped over the flattened table, grabbed Coleman by the shoulders, and lifted him to his feet. “What do you think you’re doing?” Joe shoved him against the tree that shaded the table and blocked his escape with his muscular frame. Alex struggled to his feet and faced his attacker. When for an instant Coleman made eye contact with him, Alex felt strangely touched, as though he were seeing him for the first time. “We don’t want any trouble,” Alex said. He moved Joe back a step. Coleman swore at them with an insane look in his eyes, turned, and left. Alex found Angela in the crowd that had gathered. “You okay?” “I’m fine.” He turned his attention to the broken table, the torn UCF banner, and the scattered literature. He hated the frequent confrontations with hostile students and street people. This was the worst yet. His jaw quivered and he stilled it with a hand. Rod Sutherland, the group’s vice president, stepped from the crowd. “We ought to have him charged with assault. The guy is out of control.” “Think he’ll be back?” Alex asked. “Definitely.” While UCF students cleaned up the mess, Alex and Angela tossed damaged literature into a nearby dumpster. “I

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see what you mean,” she said. He dropped an armload of ruined materials over the dumpster’s rim. “It’s usually not this bad.” “Have you ever considered setting up the table somewhere else?” “Every time we have a problem, but where could we go?” He already knew the answer. Though Sproul Plaza was home turf to every radical and troublemaker in Berkeley, there was no better place to reach the student body. Telegraph Avenue, a street with a reputation for trouble of its own, fed some twenty thousand students into the plaza each day from the south. Two rows of London plane trees running its length directed them to the UCF table. Beyond it the plaza narrowed, funneling the flow of students through Sather Gate. There they scattered into hundreds of buildings to study under scholars, authors, and Nobel laureates, the faculty of one of the top universities in the world. Alex and Angela rejoined the others and helped box literature. “Let’s call it a day,” Alex said when they had finished. Rod took Alex aside. “We have a bigger problem than Coleman,” Rod told him. He motioned for Joe to join them. “You need to hear this, Alex.” “I was doing surveys with Jamie this morning up at the Campanile,” Joe said. “We spoke to a girl, a grad student from Peru. I went through the questions with her and was saying goodbye, when he butted in and took over.” “So talk to him,” Alex said. “You can’t tell him anything,” Rod said. “The guy’s a hardhead.” “Jamie? He’s the most popular guy in the group.” “Oh yeah, the surfer with the cool hair. The girls love him, but that doesn’t mean he knows the first thing about

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evangelism.” “He’s fine. I’ve got to go.” Alex walked off. Rod caught up with him. “We need to talk about this.” Joe came alongside them. “Jamie is really messing up.” “Tell him to be more sensitive,” Alex said. Rod kept pace with him. “What’s the hurry?” “I have a paper to turn in up the hill.” “Even better,” Joe said. “I can show you where it happened.” Alex could see that there was no escaping them. “Alright, come on.” Alex, Rod, and Joe went through Sather Gate, its ornate arch above them displaying the university’s motto, Fiat Lux, Latin for Let There Be Light, and headed up South Drive. At Cory Hall, Alex dropped off an engineering assignment. He then followed Joe and Rod to the Campanile Esplanade, a brick and granite plaza that overlooked the Berkeley campus. Joe stopped at a bench near the thirty-story bell tower at its south end. “She was sitting here,” he said. “When I completed the survey, Jamie asked her if she thought she was going to heaven.” “You brought me here to tell me that?” Alex asked. “She said she was living with her boyfriend”—Joe waited for a group of students passing by to get out of earshot—“some guy named Paco. When she told us that he had a wife and kid living in another state, Jamie practically commanded her to break it off with the guy and surrender her life to Christ.” “And?” “Come on, Alex,” Rod said, “the girl’s not even saved, and he’s reorganizing her life.” “So you would have done it differently. Give the guy some freedom.”

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Rod stepped closer. “He told her to get down on her knees and call out to Christ to save her.” That surprised Alex but he tried not to show it. “Here?” Joe pointed to a spot. “Right there. He told her God was offering her eternal life.” Rod drew his eyebrows together. “Now how on earth does he know that God’s offering her eternal life? Does he think he’s a prophet or something?” Alex didn’t understand his point and didn’t care to. “I’m sure he doesn’t think he’s a prophet, so let’s not make this into some big deal.” He turned to walk off. Joe stopped him with a hand to the shoulder. “She knelt down and started crying, wailing, you know like they do in the Middle East when their baby dies or something.” Alex swallowed hard. “People were looking at us like we were crazy,” Joe said. “She was crying, Jamie was praying, and I was looking around for the boyfriend to show up and punch him out.” “He was trying to help her,” Alex said. “You or I may have—” “Hold it right there,” Rod said. “It was wrong, beginning to end, a perfect example of emotional manipulation.” Alex didn’t understand why Rod was being so critical. Maybe it was his concern for the girl. “Why don’t you talk to her and see if something needs to be clarified?” “We never got her name,” Joe said. “She realized she was late for class and took off.” “So what do you want me to do?” “We need to sit down and discuss this,” Rod said. “You, Jamie, and I. What we have here is a doctrinal problem.” Alex studied him for a second. “Doctrinal problem?” “That’s right.” “What do you mean?”

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“The sovereignty of God,” Rod said. “What Jamie did was a total denial of it.” Alex looked at Joe; then back at Rod. “Predestination, that’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Alex was certain that it was. Rod and Jamie had argued about it before. “It’s about the gospel,” Rod said. “It’s about truth.” “We’re not Calvinists.” Just saying the word troubled Alex. “Then what are we?” “I don’t know and I don’t care to know.” “Like I told you,” Rod said to Joe. Alex tried to read Rod’s eyes. What did he mean by that? “I know where I stand,” Joe said. “I’m a Calvinist.” “A lot of us are,” Rod said to Alex. “That’s why we need to discuss predestination as a group. We can’t have some people doing evangelism one way and others doing something else.” Alex knew that as president he was responsible to resolve conflicts and to keep the ministry running smoothly. Some things, however, were best left alone. Calvinism topped the list. “It’ll only cause trouble.” He walked off. Rod followed him. “What we believe about predestination affects everything we do.” Alex quickened his pace. “Can’t we even talk about it?” Rod asked. “No.”

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TWO The next evening thirty-two students gathered for University Christian Fellowship’s Friday night Bible study. They met in a large apartment south of campus, the home of Jamie and Elliot, a doctoral candidate in mathematics. Alex led the group in a discussion of the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John. Fifty minutes into the study, he asked for a volunteer to read verse forty-four. Angela found the spot in her Bible and read aloud, “‘No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draws him, and I will raise him up at the last day.’” Alex surveyed the students seated around him on the carpeted living room floor, on odd pieces of garage-sale furniture pushed against the walls, and on chairs in the adjoining dining room. “What’s Jesus teaching in this verse?” “Only the elect can be saved,” Rod answered. “That’s not true,” Jamie said. “Anyone can be saved.” Rod turned and faced him. “You don’t like election; it doesn’t fit into your Arminianism.” “What I don’t like is your Calvinism.” Alex raised a hand toward each of them. “Okay, you guys, I know you disagree, but this isn’t—” “Anyone can be saved,” one of the girls said. “John 3:16 is enough to prove that.” “Wrong,” one of the guys answered. “John 3:16 applies only to the elect.” She turned away from him. “That’s not what it says.” “Let’s not argue about it,” Leesha, a religious studies

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major, said. Others joined the squabble and it quickly escalated. “Okay, everyone’s had their say,” Alex told the group. “Let’s move on.” So many people were talking that nobody heard him. “Enough,” he said louder, but to no avail. “I’ve had it with these debates about predestination,” Leesha said. She headed for the door. Sharon, her close friend, and three others followed her. Alex rushed and caught up with them on the second floor landing. “Sorry, I’ll tell them to stop.” “What’s this say about us?” Leesha asked. The sound of Rod, Jamie, and others arguing inside the apartment was all the answer she needed. She headed down the stairs. “We can’t even agree on salvation.” As Alex reentered the apartment, four more students passed him on their way out. “Don’t leave. I’ll stop them,” he told them. “Forget it,” the girl at the front of the pack said, not breaking her stride. Inside, Alex found Rod and Jamie standing in the middle of the room shouting at each other. Other students were quarrelling in two large groups, some arguing the merits of Calvinism, others the merits of Arminianism. “The study’s over,” Alex announced. The dispute continued. “Listen up,” Alex said louder. No one paid any attention. Alex approached a group of eight students. “Stop. It’s over.” He herded them out the front door. He went to the other group and did the same. Rod and Jamie continued to yell at each other. Alex considered stepping between them but decided against it. Go ahead. Fight it out. He sat down on a sofa near Angela and Elliot, the only others still remaining, who were watching in disbelief. “Satisfied?” Alex asked when Rod and Jamie finally

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stopped arguing several minutes later. Jamie approached Alex on the couch. “Sorry, that got out of hand. You want us to get the others?” Alex was too angry to tell him that the others were long gone. “We’d better pray,” Angela said. After several minutes in silent prayer, Jamie asked God to forgive him for disrupting the study and driving everyone away. Rod did the same. When they finished, they apologized to Alex and the others for their behavior. “They’re not going to come back unless the arguing stops,” Alex said. “It’s not that easy,” Rod said. “We have serious doctrinal differences.” Jamie nodded. “It’s not just us. The whole group’s divided.” Alex slouched back into the soft cushions of the couch. This was the very thing that he had feared when friends urged him to run for president. He told them at the time that UCF needed a leader with training and experience. He had been a Christian for less than three years. He knew nothing about running a group like UCF. Nick, his roommate and good friend, disagreed. He told Alex that he would make an excellent president and informed the group that Alex had been captain of his cross-country team his junior year in high school and student body president his senior year. He was more than ready. Others agreed and promised to help Alex if elected. Alex told them he wasn’t sure he could do the job, but didn’t tell them why. Only he knew that his term as student body president had ended in disaster. Two weeks before graduation, he and ten other guys took apart an old pickup truck. Late one night, they reassembled it at the center of campus around the base of the school’s flagpole, the pole

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going straight through the truck’s cab and out the roof. While one of the guys welded together the seam they had cut in the cab, Alex and the others packed the truck’s bed with potting soil and planted red and gold tulips, the school’s colors. The next morning the entire student body and faculty had a good laugh. Unfortunately, the school’s principal didn’t see the humor in it. He threatened to cancel the senior graduation ceremony unless the culprits came forward. Once he had the guilty parties in his office, he informed them that he was going to expel them. After much pleading from students and faculty, the principal lightened their sentences to a three-day suspension and the resignations of Alex and two other class officers involved in the prank. The principal hired an engineering company to remove the truck and divided the bill among the students’ parents. When Alex’s father learned about the incident, he scolded him in Korean for over an hour. Alex still felt stinging shame when he thought about it. Jamie joined Alex on the couch. “Maybe we should split into two groups,” Jamie said, “Calvinists and Arminians.” “Who’s going to come back just to split up?” Alex asked. “No one,” Elliot said. “It’d be the end of UCF.” “So what do we do?” Alex asked. “I don’t know,” Angela said. “I never heard of Calvinism or Armenianism until tonight.” “Not Armenianism,” Rod said in an annoyed tone. “Arminianism.” “I said I didn’t know anything about it.” “An Arminian is a follower of James Arminius,” Rod said, “a Dutch theologian who opposed John Calvin on the doctrine of predestination. An Armenian is a citizen of Armenia, near the Black Sea.” Angela smiled pleasantly. “So what do we do?” Alex asked again.

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“There’s nothing we can do,” Jamie said. “We disagree.” “There has to be something.” They discussed the problem for several minutes but resolved nothing. “I told you it was hopeless,” Jamie said. Elliot stood. He closed his eyes, covered his ears, and became perfectly still. He shuffled down the hallway, entered his bedroom, and closed the door. Angela turned to the others. “Did we offend him?” “He’s just thinking,” Jamie said. Rod peered down the hallway. “Kind of weird if you ask me.” “The guy’s a genius,” Jamie said. He kicked off his flip-flops and stretched out on the sofa. “Makes Einstein look like a moron.” Rod sat down in a large upholstered chair. “Reminds me of Harry Potter.” “Make yourselves comfortable,” Jamie said. “This may take a while.” Several minutes passed. Alex was grateful for the break but felt terrible. Why did I let them talk me into this? Alex held Nick partially to blame for his decision to run for president. His coaxing had been relentless. Others in the group had also urged him strongly. Nevertheless, Alex knew that he had to take responsibility for the decision. It’ll look good on my résumé, he had told himself at the time. It’ll be fun working on the leadership team. We could do something significant for God. Deep down, though, Alex knew that the main reason he had run for president of UCF was to prove to himself that he could lead, that the deplorable end to his year as student body president was not the final word on his character or ability. “Is Elliot coming back?” Angela asked. “Oh yeah, he’ll be back,” Jamie said. “After this much

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time it’s going to be good.” I’ve got to fix this thing quick, Alex thought as they waited. His mind kept going to the fact that he had been president for only three months and UCF’s long ministry on the UC campus was coming to an end. Elliot’s door opened. The others stood and he approached them. “We have a major problem,” Elliot said. Jamie snickered. “I think we had already established that.” “The reason Christians don’t agree on predestination,” Elliot said, “is because some parts of the Bible seem to teach that God decides a person’s eternal destiny, while other parts seem to teach that each person decides for himself. Since no one has been able to explain how the Bible can teach both, Christians are divided and predestination remains a mystery.” “More like ‘a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,’” Jamie said, “but go on.” “Which leaves one option.” “Oh good, I thought you were going to say it was hopeless.” “Solve the mystery.” Jamie chuckled. “Why didn’t I think of that? We’ll solve the mystery.” He laughed harder. “Thanks for trying, Elliot,” Alex said. “It’s not that it’s such a bad idea, it’s just that we’re not up to it.” “We’re not even going to try?” “People have been arguing about predestination for five hundred years. Nobody has been able to figure it out.” “Calvin did,” Rod said. “Not everyone agrees,” Elliot said. “That’s the problem.” Jamie returned to the sofa. “Calvin was wrong.” He put his feet up. “That’s the problem.” “Let’s not argue about it,” Alex said, sitting down. “Nobody understands it. We have to accept that.”

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“No, we don’t,” Elliot said, a disappointed look on his face. Alex studied his expression. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You really think we can solve it.” “Why not?” “Sure, why not?” Jamie said. He lay flat and closed his eyes. “We’ll drop out of school, enter a monastery, and study predestination until we figure it out. Should only take a thousand years or so.” “It’s beyond us, Elliot,” Alex said. “No, it’s not,” Elliot objected. “Calvinists say that God has determined each person’s destiny. Arminians say that each person decides for himself. Somebody needs to figure out who’s right.” “Maybe neither.” “All the more reason somebody needs to do something.” “Elliot has a point,” Angela said. “It can’t be that difficult.” “Theologians have been arguing about predestination since the dawn of time,” Jamie said, his eyes still closed. “It’s hopeless.” Rod raised one eyebrow. “You know, two or three sessions studying predestination together might do us some good.” “I thought you had your answer,” Jamie said. “I’m not saying that I don’t.” Jamie looked up at him from the sofa. “What are you up to?” “Afraid to take a serious look at it?” Rod asked him. “Not a bit.” “Good, when do we start?” All eyes turned to Alex. “There has to be another way,” he said.

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“Like what?” Rod asked. “The whole group is divided.” “Maybe we can find a middle ground that would be acceptable to everyone,” Angela said. “A compromise isn’t going to work,” Elliot said. “We need a solution. We need to know the truth about predestina-tion.” “I like that even better,” Angela said. “Jamie?” Alex asked. Jamie sat up. “Not a chance. I’ve got better things to do with my time.” “We can do it without him,” Rod said. “Everybody doesn’t have to be involved.” Jamie stood. “You think you’re going to turn them into Calvinists, don’t you?” “If that’s where the truth leads.” “The truth leads or you lead?” Jamie turned to Alex. “As an officer of UCF, I need to be part of this. Count me in.” “Good,” Rod said. “When do we start?” Alex sighed deeply, still seated on the couch. He knew that they had to do something. If they didn’t, there was no telling what would become of UCF. “You really think we can do it?” “I do,” Elliot said. “So do I,” Rod said. Alex looked at Angela and Jamie, polling them with his eyes. He stood. “Okay, we start next weekend.”