After the
eight-hour drive to Atlanta, I stepped out of my car at The Varsity, a world
famous hot dog diner opened in the 1920s. I was here. This was the place where
my friends and I would convene. Coming from Florida, Arkansas, Kansas, and
Texas, the five of us would gather together in Atlanta, Passion City, for
Passion 2012. All I had heard about Passion were great things, but it left me
with no idea what to expect.
I
walked inside to see the friendly face of Jared Lax and got in line to order.
We would have to wait for Will Peters’ cab to get to the restaurant before
would could head to the hotel.
“What’ll ya have,
what’ll ya have?” the man behind the counter chanted at me.
“Two chili cheese
dogs and an orange dream slush, please,” I said.
I waited for my
food and watched Will come inside. Jared left to go watch football at a
fraternity brother’s house that lived in Atlanta. Will and I sat down and ate,
attentively watching the bowl games on television. We sat for a while, talking
about our Christmas Breaks and waiting for allotted time that we could check in
to our hotel.
After about an
hour of sitting, talking, eating, Will and I headed to the W Hotel in Atlanta.
We pulled in to the parking garage and waited for Jared to arrive, because he
had made the reservation.
The three of us
waltzed into the hotel. I was fully equipped with bag, backpack, camera, case
of water bottles, and most importantly, Red Bull. I sat and waited for Jared to
check-in.
“We’re up on the 7th
floor. Let’s head up there and wait for Jim and Tom,” he said. He was talking
about the Reed brothers, who were flying in from Kansas.
We made our way up
to our room and I was relieved to remove the weight of my bags from my
shoulders. I got on the Internet and checked Facebook. Jim and Tom were on
their way. No new notifications. As soon as they arrived, we would need to head
over to the Georgia World Congress Center to get our Passion passes.
I was excited. I
was nervous. I was ready to go. The wait for Jim and Tom to show up seemed
endless. Fifteen minutes felt like fifteen hours. I saw Tom’s flaming red hair
walk through the door and knew it was finally time. They dropped their stuff
and we headed to our cars to join the still secret number of college students
at Passion.
Our hotel was
about 3 miles from the Georgia Dome complex, just outside of walking distance
in sub-freezing weather. So we had to drive.
As we pulled up to
the Dome, our college student “Free Parking” radar went on. Everywhere seemed
to cost $10 to park. We crossed a small bridge and found a sketchy lot where we
could park for free.
“God’s on our
side. Nothing will happen,” reasoned Jim. He turned out to be right.
I was in awe that
the five of us could come from different parts of the country and meet in this
one spot for this adventure. We maneuvered our way through traffic and walked
up to the Georgia World Congress Center, situated a sidewalk away from the
Georgia Dome.
I expected a lot
of people to be at Passion, but not this many. Everywhere I looked, fellow
college students from everywhere I could imagine looked back. We got in line to
register, a line that appeared to never end. We wound our way inside the
Congress Center, then outside, then around the corner, and then up an
escalator, down another, up a flight of stairs, through random hallways, turned
a corner, and below us, we could finally see people everywhere exchanging
registration for wristbands and lanyards with access passes.
I felt my phone
vibrating and looked to see an incoming call from Leon Jackson. Leon is
essentially part of the family of my mom’s best friend since elementary school,
the Kennards. I spent a week with them at the beginning of Christmas Break,
which is where Leon and I connected. He’s black. Mr. Kennard met him one day at
church and brought him home for dinner. Now, he’s just as much a part of the
family as any of their three children. His skin color means nothing. He loves
Jesus.
“Yo, Jimmy,” Leon
said. “Where you at? I’m waitin’ in line to register.”
During the week I
spent at the Kennards, Leon and I figured out we would both be at Passion.
“I just got done
registering. Where are you in line?” I asked.
“Outside about to
turn the corner by the street.”
“I’ll come find
you.”
I had spent a
total of a week with Leon, but he was like family to me. It was great to see
him, even if only for a couple minutes. We could spend time together later in
the week. It was time for me to head inside the Georgia Dome.
Our clan of five
waded our way through crowds of people to get inside. We had made it. Jared
spotted a row of empty seats in the corner of the lower level. It was about 40
minutes until the action began.
About 10 minutes
after we sat down, a guy walked on stage. He had a microphone, and began
reading a chapter of the Bible. Then a girl appeared and did the same. Then
another guy. Then the first guy again. They were preparing us for the worship
to come. For 30 minutes, chapter after chapter would be read.
“I can’t believe
we’re here,” I said to Jim.
“This is only the
beginning,” he responded.
All of a sudden,
the Dome went black, and on stage appeared Chris Tomlin, Christy Nockells,
Kristian Stanfill, and the rest of the Passion Band.
“Our God is
greater,” they sang.
The entire arena
had erupted. People all around me were opening up to the love and power that
was being felt through God.
“Our God is
stronger…”
I could do nothing
but lift my hands in the air in total awe of everything around me. I was truly
amazed at what God was doing.
“God, you are
higher than any other…”
I looked around to
see the guys I was with immersing themselves in the Holy Spirit surrounding all
of us.
“Our God is
healer…”
I had come with so
much on my mind and heart and everything was being put to rest in these few
moments.
“Awesome in power,
our God, our God.”
This worship
lasted for somewhere around an hour. It felt like nothing close to that amount
of time, though.
The band left the
stage and Louie Giglio, a prominent Christian speaker, head of the Passion
Movement, and Pastor at Passion City Church, came on stage.
“After all of this
hype and anticipation, all this talk about ‘Heading to the Dome,’ we are
finally here,” he said, “Forty-five thousand college students have poured out
from the entire country and converged on Atlanta.”
There was the
elusive number. A total of 45,000 college students and college group leaders
were present. He progressed with his message for the night.
“A lot of you come
here tonight followed by a funeral procession. You aren’t lost and in search of
Christ. You’re dead.”
He called his
message “No Funeral Today” and used Luke 7 as his reference. Christ comes at
exactly the right time to raise us from the dead.
Louie ended his message
by asking us for a confession. He wanted to know how many people were
participating in their own funerals. Ten thousand people stood up.
“Well, guess what?
There will be no funerals today!”
The words
reverberated around the Dome and were followed by a roar of applause. Prayer.
Amen.
Louie began to
instruct the crowd for our next activity. We would be getting in to our
community groups, based on the color of our wristband.
Yellow community
group.
It was time to go.
Forty-five thousand people stood up and tried to move. Tried. And failed, for
the most part. Wading through a sea of people as thick as smog, I gradually got
closer and closer to the doors. I could feel the icy cold wind on my face, and
I knew that I was outside, headed in the right direction.
I was towards the
back of the pack, so I was one of the last people to walk into the room where
the Yellow Community Group was residing. I walked around the side of the room
and sat about 10 feet from the side of the stage, alone. I knew nobody.
Almost
immediately, Matt Metzger, a college minister at the University of Wisconsin at
Madison and our Yellow Group leader, got up on stage.
“Before we do
anything else, we need to divide into family groups. Find somebody around you
that you don’t know.”
“Well, that won’t
be too hard,” I thought.
I just started
wandering around, looking for somebody else who looked partially lost.
I
caught the eyes of somebody and put out my hand.
“Hey, I’m Jimmy.”
The
response I got was completely unexpected.
“NO WAY, MY NAME’S
JIMMY, TOO!” Family member number one: Jimmy Funchess.
Jimmy
is a junior at the University of Central Florida, only an hour and a half from
my house.
“Okay
guys, now find another pair where somebody has the same birthday month as you,”
announced Matt.
With
no luck, Team Jimmy grabbed another couple that was struggling. Family group
members three and four: Brock Fiedler, from Montana, and Charity Fischer, from
Michigan.
“Okay
everybody, now find a random set of four people to finish off your family group.”
We
circled around looking for a group to join with, and I caught eyes with a girl
across the room. Family group members
five through eight: Amy Clark from Texas A&M, Megan Berndt from UCF, Hailey
Patrick from Tennessee, and Stephanie Danielle from Georgia Tech. Eight people,
hailing from Florida, Texas, Michigan, Tennessee, Georgia, and Montana; all of
us brought together by the grace of God.
We
sat in a circle and got to know each other. Name? Age? School? What brought you
to Passion? What are your expectations for Passion?
It
was about midnight. We held hands and prayed and parted ways for the night. We
would see each other again in the morning.
“Hey
Jared, where are you guys? Where are we meeting?”
I
called Jared to try and find where we would reconvene. I thought the night was
over. I had forgotten that David Crowder Band was preparing to play their final
concert.
I
headed into the Dome and walked down to the ground level. I pushed and
maneuvered my way to the front of the standing crowd. I was now in the front
row for the final concert of one of the best Christian bands of all time.
The
buzz in the crowd was amazing. People could not wait for David Crowder, from
Waco, to come on stage. I looked over and spotted the lead singer and namesake
standing off to the side of the stage.
The
lights dimmed and out walked the band. Everyone around me went insane. They
weren’t even close to my energy and excitement. An hour and a half set seemed
to go by like a couple minutes.
The
last song played. The lights went up. The band members looked at each other. It
was over for them. All they could do was thank God for their success and the
fans for their support. They walked off the stage. It took a couple minutes for
the crowd to realize that the end of David Crowder Band had just been
witnessed.
Jared,
Will, Jim, Tom, and I met up and left the Georgia Dome. The first night of
Passion had just ended at 2 a.m.
“I
can’t wait for the rest of this week. This was moving,” I said.
