I cried when my parents said goodbye after unpacking my belongings in the dorm at the University of Florida, but I soon became enchanted by the wonders of college life. I was keen on becoming a writer and eager to sample the feast of courses I had selected as an English major.  

I knew the Good Shepherd had warned us about evil forces that would try to ravage the flock: “Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Mt 10:16). At another time Christ said, “Beware of false prophets who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves” (Mt 7:15). Sadly, I didn’t realize the wolves were on campus, waiting to rip out the heart of my faith.  

Catholicism had been the ocean in which I had swum since my earliest years, but college seemed like dry land. I had never encountered people who did not believe in God, and suddenly they were the stars of my courses. The English professors mentioned religion as we read world masterpieces, but they did so with a disdainful tone. Philosophy teachers treated God as a relic from the past. Science teachers saw the intricacies of nature as an accident. My professors had doctorates, and I was a naive 17-year-old who knew little about the world. Most textbooks also gave short shrift to God and religion, and many of my fellow students thought it was cool to make fun of believers. As I delved into the writings of Marx, Sartre and Freud, I started to doubt my childhood faith.  

There were many Catholic students who took the same courses I did and remained true to their beliefs, but I equated becoming an adult with giving up on God. I had brought my rosary beads with me, but now they looked like quaint relics from the past. And one day, like Judas, I turned my back on Christ and walked away from him.  

A college student wrote to Flannery O’Connor in 1962 because he feared he was losing his Christian faith. Her advice would have helped me tremendously had I only known about it. “If you want your faith, you have to work for it,” she wrote. “For every book you read that is anti-Christian, make it your business to read one that presents the other side of the picture.”  

After giving up on God, my friends and I tossed out the rules. We partied wildly, drank too much and suffered through crash-and-burn relationships. We were generally unhappy, although we didn’t equate our state of mind with our behavior. Christ said, “Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction and those who enter by it are many” (Mt 7:13).  We were definitely plowing headlong down the path to destruction. One friend couldn’t handle the wild lifestyle and committed suicide. Another was killed in a car wreck while driving home intoxicated from a bar. 

In my 40s I turned my life around, dusted off my rosary beads and returned to Mass. The Good Shepherd came after me and gently carried me back to the fold. He showered me with grace and forgave me for betrayals. Today I hope college students will learn from my mistakes by recognizing the dangers lurking on campus. All these years later, I’ve learned that the greatest joy of life is knowing that, despite attacks from the ravenous wolves, you have kept the heart of your faith.