By: Shane James O’Neill
A Rough Night
As a college student, I would sometimes drive Uber — I was able to work my own hours and work on my own time. There were plenty of cool experiences, as well. I’d get to talk politics, learn new music, learn different cities, meet people from all over the world, pray for people, and talk about Jesus.
Not a bad gig, right?
Well, this particular night I was in the city of Philadelphia. For whatever reason, I already felt fragile going into the evening. Driving around I picked up two younger women. They were (very beautiful) students at Temple University who were headed home for the night. I heard one of them start singing, “deep and wide, deep and wide…” it was an old Christian song I used to sing when I was real little at church. I jumped in “… there’s a fountain flowing deep and wide.” We both laughed as we realized we were connecting over our Baptist Christian roots. My spirit got happy for a moment as I thought a sister was sent my way for encouragement and fellowship.
“Same lame upbringing, huh?” She asked.
Nope, no fellowship here.
She and her friend spent the rest of the time trying to convince me to stop taking rides for the night and come over to their apartment.
Play games.
Eat pizza.
“Screw around.”
Stay the night.
I hated that drive. I hated the war inside my chest. Wanting to go in. Hating myself for wanting to go in. Not wanting to go in. Hating myself for not wanting to go in. Loving myself for not wanting to go in. A hurricane mess of mixed emotions, impulses, and values, using my soul as a battleground for the mêlée.
They got out, pointing to their apartment, stating the address, and reciting their telephone numbers. Just in case I changed my mind.
To state it plainly: the entire thing sucked.
I drive off, just trying to focus on my breath. Feeling empty inside.
In comes another pickup. Saved by distraction!
Two new women. Only one of them do I find uncomfortably attractive — Shew!
As they move to get into the car the attractive one goes to my open window, bends down and says, “Wow, you’re cute.” They get in. I start driving, attempting to let that go.
Before long they’re telling me about their work — strippers. Of course they are.
The attractive one keeps inviting me to warm her up for the night … “get a private show” … to stop driving for the evening and hang with them.
I get them to their stop. She tips me with her tip money. They let me know when they’ll be done at that bar in case I want to be there to pick them up.
I turn off my Uber driving app and drive aimlessly.
Some people are resistant to those kinds of interactions, as though the act of driving away makes all the emotions in those moments go away as well.
Not me. A panic attack hits autobahn speeds inside of me as I hit Broad Street traffic.
I call my dad, a remarkable father turned remarkable brother in Christ. He lets me tell my broken story, hurting with me along the way.
Eventually, I turn the app back on to take rides and ferry people from one party to another, one bar to another, as I conclude the night burned out.
That strand of burnout would hang with me for a month before my soul started to heal.
Learning lessons
This experience wasn’t a one-time freak event. It ended up being a regular cycle whenever I would drive in major cities. And over time I started to face the horrible truth that careless sex and loose morals are a foundational value of our current culture.
I had to face another horrible truth: my church culture wasn’t equipping me with the weapons to interact with people in this kind of darkness. I’ve since stopped driving for Uber, but what does it say about the fortitude of our Christianity if driving Uber brings us into an experience that we don’t know how to combat? I was never prepped for this. No mentor showed me how to love rightly in these moments. No theology was given to me so that I could retain a healthy worldview around such broken people.
My church culture had not given me the tools to love the people in the world’s culture.
And in a real way, the world’s culture was shone to be more potent and alive than the church’s culture. Which is to say, the sexual culture of the world is more developed and advanced than the churches culture of mature love and grace.
It was the grace of God that kept me safe. But how do we get trained in the ways of grace? How do we get empowered by grace for a culture that needs truth? I didn’t have the tools of grace for myself, much less for those I interacted with.
Gaining Tools of Grace
Here’s the plug and here’s the help. We can’t be Christians who don’t know how to walk maturely in the face of darkness. And we can’t be Christians who don’t have weapons to love with force and intentionality.
Proven Men is hosting a conference called This is War where we’ll be giving aid to the global Bride of Christ. It’s an event where culture, darkness, sexuality, and hope will be explored for a generation that is faced with a powerful culture bent toward sex.
Fathers, bring your sons. Men, bring your friends. Pastors, bring your church. Wives, exhort your husbands to come. Sisters, exhort your brothers. Come with your youth group, come with your Bible study, come with your friends, come by yourself.
Come!
As Jesus was moving toward His death, He said:
“Here on earth you will face many trials and sorrows. But take heart, I have overcome the world.”
Let’s learn the ways of grace and victory that Jesus died to give us.
Click here and the first 100 to sign up will get 30% off the “This is War” Conference!
Shane James O’Neill is the Editorial Director for ProvenMen Ministries. He is currently working on a graduate degree in apologetics at Liberty University’s Rawling School of Divinity.