A lot of people ask freshman Omar Abdrabboh questions about being Muslim. He'll explain that, no, he can't eat pork, and he can't just pick the pepperoni off his pizza, because the knife that cut the pepperoni also cut the pizza. And he'll also explain that, yes, in many ways Islam is similar to Christianity, although Muslims do not believe Jesus is the son of God.

Questions like this don't bother him. He understands people who don't know a lot about his religion are curious. At his high school on the west side of Dearborn, Arab Americans were by far the minority, and it's the same way at Adrian College, so interacting with non-Muslims is normal to him. But occasionally someone will ask a question so ignorant,  it's hard for him to believe. He recalls one such instance.

"He asked if it was true that if I presented Islam to a non-Muslim, and they declined it, that I was allowed to kill them," Omar said. "I was like, 'Are you kidding me?' And he was dead serious. This was an educated person, on the road to his degree, very educated. I'm talking three or four years older than me, a good grade point average, the whole nine yards, and he asked me that sort of question. It was insulting."

When it comes to the challenges of faith, Omar is not alone. Young adults, faced with a newfound independence, must begin to forge their spiritual identities apart from their parents, a process which is not made any easier by the confusing barrage of messages from the dominant culture and their peers.

The struggle can be very personal, since what we decide not only affects who we are, but how we are perceived. In spite of this, a few students at Adrian College were willing to talk with Contact about their experiences. If their stories say anything about young people and spirituality, it's that the issues involved can vary as much as the individuals themselves.

Woman of God

Growing up in the small town of Conneaut, Ohio, senior Laura Kennedy attended a United Methodist church. When she was in high school, she believes God called her to serve.

"Since my sophomore year of high school, I have felt called to ministry. I was on a retreat, and I took a walk with one of my ministers. All of a sudden I asked, 'What's it like to be a minister?' That's not something I'd ever thought of before, or thought would come out of my mouth. And ever since then I've felt called."

Not every student comes to Adrian because of its United Methodist affiliation, but for Laura it was key.

"I was looking at Methodist schools in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia. On my way to visit Albion College, I stopped by Adrian, and I loved it," Laura said.

At Adrian, Laura has met a lot of students from other church backgrounds. In many ways she's grateful for this, but early on it created a big challenge for her: Not everyone believed in women as church leaders like they did back in Conneaut.

"That shocked me. Back home, people just support me," she said. "But it made me search deeper for my call. It was a good experience, because I could show people why I believe I'm called."

One of these people was Mike Jaissle, a senior from St. Clair Shores who is now her fiancé. Raised in a devout Catholic family, Mike started attending a nondenominational church while in high school. He says he was really zealous for God as a freshman, which is an attitude he values, but some of his actions he now sees as judgmental.

"I realize now that my approach was wrong," Mike said. "We're all human, and rather than judge, it's better to be supportive."

After talking with Laura, he also rethought his view on female leadership.

"I sat down with Mike and explained about my calling, and he's changed now," Laura said. "He said, 'How can I tell another person what their calling is?'"

Laura has been accepted to two seminaries for next year, one in Ohio, and one in Georgia. Mike, who is earning a teaching certificate, plans to teach near wherever Laura ends up one day.

Hard Knocks

"Kelly"* grew up in the San Diego area. She says that her mom, who was a migrant worker for 15 years and was educated through the 10^th grade, did her best to raise her right. However, when life-including issues with Kelly's father-became too much to handle, she decided to make a change. Very suddenly, she and Kelly packed a couple of bags, left the apartment over the bar where they lived, and got on a train. For more than three days, Kelly remembers living on crackers and cheese out of her mother's purse. When Kelly finally got too tired to go on, her mother decided to get off at whichever stop was next. That happened to be a town in Michigan.

Life didn't get a lot easier. They moved into a small trailer. Kelly learned to drive illegally at age 14 so she could drive her mom to work. She didn't understand why everything was so difficult, and it made her wonder about God.

"I've had a pretty rough life. There have been a lot of deaths, for one thing. And when I was 16, I got heavily into drugs-I mean heavily into drugs-and I lost all faith. It was like to me there was no God. And I was angry at God, as strange as that sounds."

Now, at age 20, Kelly has come a long way. Life is better since her mother remarried. She has things now that weren't possible before-a house to live in, her own car, a college education. Through all the hardships, she has lost some of the connection to her religious upbringing. Raised Catholic, she says she now doesn't follow any specific type of religion.

One thing she does have more faith in now is herself. She says she now takes responsibility for her own compulsive habits. And while she still has doubts about God and religion, she feels better when she goes to some type of church service (which is around half a dozen times a year). She also does something akin to praying.

"I'll pray that God will help make me a better person. Wait, do I pray? Maybe what I do is hope. When I struggle, I hope, because if there isn't something you can look forward to tomorrow, you're lost.

"And I definitely believe in a higher power, something that's watching my back. Is it God, or an angel? Or maybe it's someone close to me who died. But if someone asked me if I have a one-on-one relationship with God, I'd have to say no."

Fast Break

For all appearances, today is the same for Omar as it is for the non-Muslim players on the AC basketball team. He gets out of bed at 9 a.m., takes a shower, goes to class until noon. He stops at the library to try to knock out some homework, then goes to a couple more classes. Basketball practice lasts from 4 to 6:30 p.m., and after a quick shower he heads to Ritchie Dining Hall.

There's a lot more to Omar's day, however, that goes on behind the scenes. For one, he prays in his room five times a day. And during the month of Ramadan, which starts in November, he does not eat or drink from sunrise to sunset. His alarm goes off at 5 a.m., and after kneeling at his prayer rug (equipped with a compass so he can face east), he has a quick snack: a piece of fruit, a glass of water, maybe a sandwich. He resets his alarm for 9 a.m. and goes back to bed. In between classes and practice, he treks back to his dorm room for the rest of his prayers. When he gets to the dining hall, it's his first meal in more than 12 hours. The lack of food and water can make basketball practice difficult.

"Not having water is the hardest part. And I get tired and feel light-headed," he said. "But it's nothing I can't handle, or that I haven't done before. I had to do it for football, too."

As a Muslim, Omar is used to it. Along with everything else in his life, he seems to take it pretty much in stride, and it's rare in his life that someone asks him if he can kill non-Muslims. When he encounters that type of attitude, he aims to overlook it and move on. And there are others who are much more open. His friends often ask him legitimate questions just because they're curious. "My religion doesn't say you have to dislike people just because they're not Muslim," Omar said.

One such friend is Erin Vanhala, an AC freshman from Allen Park who lives in his residence hall, and who is Lutheran. Erin says her talks with Omar have helped strengthen her Christian faith.

"It kind of makes you examine your own religion, and it's a lot harder to say, 'Well, I just believe this because this is what I'm told.' You kind of reexamine what you believe and why you believe it," Erin said.

And quite possibly, by learning to understand each other better, they will also come to a better understanding of God.