My Roommate Kevin Took Me to a Snake-Handling Church—And I Barely Escaped With My Sanity (and Life)
College is supposed to be a time for finding yourself—maybe getting a little wild, trying out a new style, or, if you’re my old roommate Kevin, joining the most unhinged church you can find within a 50-mile radius. I wish I could say this is an exaggeration. But no, friends, this is the true—and extremely snaky—story of how my freshman year at New England Christian College took a turn for the Appalachian bizarre, thanks to one very enthusiastic and very misguided Kevin.
You know those stories where you look back and wonder how on earth you survived? This is one of those. So grab your popcorn, keep your shoes on (just in case you need to run), and let me take you inside the wild world of snake-handling churches, fire-and-brimstone sermons, and, of course, the legendary Kevin.
Meet Kevin: Christian in Name, Chaos in Practice
Every college has at least one Kevin. If you’re lucky, your Kevin just microwaves fish in the dorm kitchen or leaves cryptic notes on the fridge. My Kevin? He wanted to “find Jesus” in the most literal, venomous sense possible.
Kevin didn’t grow up in the church, but he liked the idea of being “Christian” without, you know, actually being Christian. While I was looking for a welcoming, Bible-believing church, Kevin was on the hunt for the most extreme, reality-TV-worthy congregation he could find. Enter: the snake-handlers.
Snake Handling: Faith or Fatal?
Now, if you’re unfamiliar with snake-handling churches—good. Stay that way. But for the sake of this story, here’s a quick primer: Some charismatic congregations (mostly in rural Appalachia) believe that handling venomous snakes is the ultimate act of faith. If you can let a pit viper slither across your arm without getting bitten, congratulations! You’re a true believer. If you get bitten… well, hope your faith is strong enough to survive the ER bill.
Let’s be clear: This is not standard Christian practice. In fact, it’s considered heretical and dangerous by pretty much every mainstream denomination. So, imagine my surprise when Kevin excitedly announced he’d found a local church that “does the snake thing.” In New England, no less! I guess every region has its oddballs.
Sunday Service: Babies, Rants, and Blatant Misogyny
We show up, and right away, I know this is not your average Sunday service. The pastor, who looked like he’d been mad since the Carter administration, opened with a two-hour (!) tirade about babies. Not the cute, “bless the children” kind. No, this guy launched into, “All babies go to hell!” with the kind of gusto usually reserved for infomercials and stadium rock concerts.
I grew up in church, and let me tell you, even the strictest fundamentalists would’ve noped out at this point. For the record: Christian doctrine generally says babies are innocent. Apparently, this church missed the memo.
If that wasn’t enough, the sermon took a hard detour into “women’s rights are evil” territory, blaming women for, well, everything. (Women, snakes… see a theme?) At this point, I was ready to sneak out and never look back. But Kevin? He was loving it. He called it “real Christianity” and mumbled something about “making America faithful again.” MAGA hats off to him, I guess.
The Main Event: Venomous Snakes, Questionable Decisions
Just when I thought things couldn’t get weirder, the pastor announced it was time for the “test of faith.” Out came the snakes—venomous pit vipers, or at least something with enough fangs to make my life flash before my eyes. The rules were simple: Hold the snake, don’t get bitten, and you’re blessed.
Kevin’s eyes lit up like he’d just been handed front-row tickets to WrestleMania. I, on the other hand, was plotting my escape. There was no way I was going to risk my life for a church service and a roommate’s approval. After some heated whispering (and threats to leave him stranded), I managed to drag Kevin out before he could volunteer as Tribute.
He never forgave me for “ruining a perfect church opportunity.” I never forgave him for almost feeding me to literal snakes.
Life After Kevin: Lessons Learned
Nine long months later, I got a new roommate and never looked back. Kevin kept complaining about his missed “faith test,” but I enjoyed the blissful peace of a snake-free dorm room. Moral of the story? Don’t let anyone—especially a Kevin—talk you into anything involving venomous reptiles and angry, baby-hating pastors.
Final Thoughts: Share Your Own "Kevin" Stories!
Ever had a roommate or friend drag you into a wild situation? Drop your stories in the comments below! And remember: The only snakes you should deal with in college are the metaphorical ones.
Stay safe, stay snake-free, and beware of Kevins everywhere!
Original Reddit Post: Roommate kevin attends the snake handlers church