testimony.

"Declare the truth. I will testify."
- Robbie Robertson, "Testimony"

After my parents got divorced, my mother underwent a dramatic change. She went from the depths of despair and depression to a newfound purpose and happiness, along with a strong devotion to her new religion: that of a “born-again” Christian. I didn’t understand much of what she had experienced, nor did I particularly care or sense a need in my own life to become what she was, so I just let her be her weird self.

Unfortunately, she felt responsible for my brother's and my religious well-being, and as a result, we were forced to attend church every Sunday, youth camps, prayer meetings, and so on in every effort to make us see the light she was seeing. None of it mattered to us, and I thought that it would just go in one ear and go out the other, and that was OK with me. However, I still felt all along that I was a “saved” person, in that I believed in Jesus and his death and resurrection; and I figured that was enough. I just didn't need him running my life, except maybe occasionally when I got in just a little over my head.

Such a time came during my senior year of high school, when a friend's parents left town, and we threw a massive party, as we often did. On this occasion, as with most, I drank like a wild-man; but this time I was pounding hard liquor, which was somewhat unusual for me. I know I was conscious for an hour or two after I blacked out, but the only thing I remember from the rest of the next 12 hours was waking up in a bathroom, perfectly lucid, and feeling incredibly awful. I began vomiting and then dry-heaving in the toilet and felt that I must have been experiencing alcohol poisoning. I thought I would probably die there in the bathroom.

Naturally not wanting this to happen, I petitioned God, telling Him that if He would save my life that night, I would serve Him. I don't remember anything else until I woke up the next morning in a pool of vomit on the floor. I had a hangover for 5 days. Unfortunately, it wasn't long after that I had forgotten my near-death and my vow to God, and I was back drinking, in a manner I felt I could handle and that wouldn't kill me.

I drank all through college, not as hard as some, but much harder and more frequently than most. I still managed to graduate with honors, which confirmed to my prideful self that I could handle it. In college, I had learned that anytime was a great time to just go insane and get tanked, so I carried that attitude with me out into the world after graduation. Unfortunately for me, that kind of mentality is very foreign outside of college, so I resorted to totally bingeing on weekends with friends, where the college atmosphere could be easily recreated. And then occasionally just wanting to experience a nice buzz, I would pop a few tops during a weeknight or two. Of course, for me, a good buzz took quite a lot of alcohol...

Gradually, my friends moved away with new jobs, spouses, and other commitments. My only remaining companions by then were one friend from college, Chris, and my girlfriend from college, who meant everything to me. Our relationship was my life. My alcoholism never affected our relationship, strangely enough, but after being out of school for about a year, while she was still in school, she decided that she needed to move on. This was a very crushing blow for me, and what made it even more crushing was the fact that our relationship was still quite strong. So she decided after four months to get back together with me, of which I was very wary, and then after only a month more, she decided again that I was not the one for her, and our relationship was over for good. (I wrote a song after our breakup, which I later named "The Last Straw.")

This sent me into severe depression. I got an ulcer from being upset about it. I tried to find happiness in other girls, either through a relationship or through pure sexual gratification. I went on trips, even out of the country, but nothing could get me out of my dark world. My drinking was getting more frequent during the week, and I would still cut loose on any given weekend. But the problem was, those “fun” weekends were getting farther and farther apart because people were busy.

I finally decided I had to leave the city, to move away from the town where I had gone to college, loved my girlfriend, and done everything else for the past five and a half years. To top things off, my one remaining friend was moving away, and this really concerned me because then I would have no one. As it was already, I often preferred to stay home by myself in order to get drunk while watching a bad movie on the VCR, and then crash out on the couch with the TV on.

I knew I had problems, but I just couldn't figure out how to solve them, and I figured they would eventually just work themselves out, like in some new scenery in another city. But in the midst of this, I talked to my friend Chris one day. His girlfriend had broken up with him just prior to mine doing the same, and yet he seemed to be doing remarkably well. So I asked him one day at his apartment just how he was making it. He reached over, picked up his Bible from the table, patted it and gave me a knowing look, and put it down. He then told me he had prayed and asked for peace from God, and that God had given it to him. I could see that He had.

The realization, the thought, that God was there all along, should I ever care to acknowledge Him, hit me very suddenly. Chris gave me a page with some scriptures he had been reading. I went home, read them, and then prayed that night to experience the same peace that Chris had. I did. It washed over me that night, and I slept more soundly than I ever had. After about 24 hours of blissful peace, it left me, and I was back in my world of pain. But I had renewed focus on what I needed to do, and I had one goal: to try to draw closer to God in some way, to live right and experience His peace again, permanently.

I moved to Dallas, Texas a few months later and moved in with my Mom because I needed to look for a job. I was excited about living in Dallas with her because I had several friends there, including Chris. Furthermore, I knew that Mom would be around so that I could converse with her about Christianity. At the same time, I was also afraid that she would, again, be overly forceful as far as if, when, and where I went to church. Fortunately, her attitude was one of letting me decide for myself. She simply encouraged me when I did want to go. Also, I was set on finding a church for myself. I was still committed to finding out more about God, and from all my past experience, I already knew how to at least recognize a church in which God was present.

I found my church about a year later, and not too surprising I suppose is the fact that my Mom ended up at the same church. But during the time I was searching, I went through some very difficult and also some very exciting experiences. I began to read my Bible and pray on a daily basis. This practice led to my hearing God speak to me for the very first time, which I wrote down. I also began to make some great friends at my church, who loved and accepted me unconditionally. However, I also continued to look for a relationship with a girl who could fill the vacuum left in my life by my ex-girlfriend. I tried in vain. Furthermore, I continued, despite my desire to clean up my life, to go crazy on special get-togethers with my college or high school friends.

This situation led to two significant incidents which forever changed my life. The first occurred over Super Bowl weekend (late January), 1995. I went back with Chris to visit our college town, and we basically drank all weekend and even ran around in the damp cold naked for a couple hours on Saturday night. Streaking had been a favorite drunken activity of mine for many years. Once we got back to Dallas, we both got sick with the same virus, only Chris had a less serious case than I did. My whole body ached, my throat and stomach were killing me, and I had a fever of 104 for three days. In that condition, I was having serious difficulty sleeping or even composing a thought. Cold showers weren't bringing my fever down any either. Finally, I went to see a doctor, who prescribed me some medication, which also did absolutely nothing, except cost me about $100.

It was in this state of anguish and desperation that I was again hit, as if by a two-by-four, with the realization that God was there; He was ready, willing, and able; and I could humble myself and take my problems to Him anytime I was ready. I asked my Mom to get someone to pray for me (because in my pride I didn't want her to do it), so she called our neighbor over. I got on my knees in the dining room, and they prayed over me, and I was healed. My fever broke instantly; all my pain left, and I just felt one thing: God's tender love for His broken child. This incident helped to draw me significantly closer to God, but I was not yet finished battling this part of my old life.

The second incident which forever changed me occurred around four months later, in May of 1995, shortly after I returned from the wedding of a college friend in New Orleans. I had gone, knowing very well that I would be tempted, and while my sincere desire was to abstain from getting drunk, I lacked the strength and the willpower to resist. The weekend was a nonstop boozing session, after which I even threw up on the plane back to Dallas. I had a blast with my friends, but I was deeply convinced that this was a lifestyle which was wrong and which I wanted to escape from. Shortly thereafter, I had a dream in which I was in a kind of formless, cave-like place talking to various people. I couldn't figure out where I was, so I kept talking to more people, until finally I spoke with a tall angel, from whom I learned that I had died and that I was waiting with all the others for the last day, when we and all humanity would pass before Almighty God for final judgment. The bottom line of this revelation was that I had died in sin, and that I was awaiting my sentence to be apart from God for eternity. The one thought that kept resonating in my panicked mind was that it was now too late to make the simple choice again. Every dead person that didn't give their life to Jesus would love the opportunity to make that choice again, I am sure. (My song, "The Barren Orchard," describes these events.)

It was with great fear, then relief, and then thankfulness that I awoke. I decided then and there that that very moment was the best time to decide my eternal fate. I gave my whole life to Jesus at that point, seven years after my selfish bargain in the bathroom, and my eternal destiny was secured. I still struggled for a while with drinking with my old friends on the weekends, but this problem essentially ceased after I went to a camp in July of 1995 as a counselor, at which God told me to have someone pray for me for deliverance from alcoholism, which I did. God also revealed a part of His plan for my life, which gave me new hope and excitement.

In the time since I gave my life to Jesus, I have never known such peace and happiness in my life. Many of the things I was so afraid that God would take away from me, I have freely and gladly given up over the years, as He gently makes me aware of them. Now my life has new purpose and new freedom, and I can grow every day in getting to know Him and His plans for my life, if I make the ongoing choice to do so. My road has by no means been paved with ease, but God has been with me every step of the way, offering His unwavering love, incomprehensible compassion, and unequalled care. I think the following verse sums things up well.

At one time we were too foolish, disobedient, deceived, and enslaved by all kinds of passions and pleasures. We lived in malice and envy, being hated and hating one another. But when the kindness and love of God our Savior appeared, he saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. He saved us through the washing of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he poured out on us generously through Jesus Christ our Savior, so that, having been justified by his grace, we might become heirs having the hope of eternal life. Titus 3:3-7