Having trouble finding the light at the end of the tunnel? Struggling with sin, addiction, or depression? I was. Maybe my story will help someone find hope - hope that troubles DO end, Addiction CAN be overcome, and sins ARE forgiven. So here it is - my story.
Perhaps I was too young to understand love and the responsibilities that came with it. Regardless, I was 19 and she was 16 when we met, and I was 20 when I realized I loved her. I was also 20 when I threw it all away.
Had she done anything to me except be a great girlfriend? Heck, no! She didn't deserve to be hurt. Yet I still hurt her. After a little over a year after becoming her boyfriend, I cheated on her with an ex of mine. Not just cheating by going out with another girl, or kissing another girl - no, I went all the way. Satan was around, and I wasn't strong enough to say no. As I was committing the sin, I thought, "She won't ever find out, it will be ok...". But, what do you know? I was caught in the act. I cursed everything I could think to curse, and initially was mad at the world because she caught me. However, as I later learned, it was a blessing that I got caught.
Fast forward a few years. I'm 22, she is 19. Somehow I had convinced her to stick with me, but she couldn't forget the pain I had caused. By this time I'm so madly in love with her all I want to do is marry the girl, but she's not quite ready, so I wait. Every waking second was spent thinking about her, wanting her, loving her. However, that initial sin had scarred her heart, and she left me. I wasn't strong enough to cope with the heartache alone, and I wasn't wise enough to turn to God. The day she told me it was over was the day I turned to the bottle. Sure, I had been drinking before that, but mostly just socially. Now I found myself buying a case of beer for the trip home from work every day. Once I got home I was continuing to drink, alone, with friends, with strangers - it didn't matter, I had to be drunk.
The alcohol didn't affect my work, and somehow I was able to show up every day to work, on time and sober (except what was still in my system from the night before). One day I left work and started the long, beer-soaked drive home and I got a text message from the woman I loved. "I've got a boyfriend now, so please leave me alone," it read.
I spent the next 14 hours calling her phone non-stop, wishing she would answer. I filled up her voicemail box. I drank whiskey until I ran out, then drank vodka, then on to tequilla - until I finally passed out, alone and drunk on my front porch.
The next few weeks were tough: everywhere I went I would see her and her new boyfriend. She wouldn't talk to me, and all her friends told me to leave her alone. Finally it became too much, and I moved away, 8 hours north. Surely, this will ease my mind and get me off the bottle!
Nay, I was wrong. The distance made the pain even worse, and within 2 weeks of moving, her painful memory found me and I plunged into that liquer grave, harder than ever. I began writing songs and performing them at the local honky-tonk, and soon I was a local favorite. My songs about pain, despair, and suicide were just what that sleepy little bar needed, and I was just what the other drunks needed. I was that guy that made their lives seem OK again.
Once my "stardom" hit, I found it harder and harder to cope with her memory. The songs I sang every night brought her memory back, again and again, and even the whiskey couldn't blot it out anymore. That was when I found Cocaine.
One night, about 11 or so, I was in between sets, snorting a line of coke off the tailgate of my truck, and my phone rang. Caller ID blocked - Well I sure wasn't answering THAT call. The voicemail that was left was short, simple, and a revelation - "I've been thinking about you lately," it said. I knew it was her, but the Cuervo and cocaine made me boil with hatred and anger. I don't remember it, but later that night I called her parents to tell them how good I was doing without her. They didn't beleive me.
I was arrested twice in the following month, and continued ignoring her calls. God did this to me. God is making her call just to mock me... "Screw the world". That was my thinking. God was the reason I kept waking up in the gutter.
Just like Johnny Cash, I found myself in "Nickajack Cave". Alone, lost, and ready to die. My Nickajack Cave was on the side of the road, Southbound I-35, somewhere near Guthrie, OK. I woke up, wondering why I was in my truck, wondering why I was parked at a truckstop, wondering where I was going. Something drew my attention to my cellphone, laying next to my 8 ball of coke on the dash. I picked it up, not knowing why. 1 new text message. I struggled to read the tiny text through the haze in my head. "I'm playing the doo....wait, no, I'm praying for a Jew.....wait, what's that say? I'M PRAYING FOR YOU!"
I broke down and cried as I dialed her number. Her voice was shaking when she said hello, and I could tell she had been crying. "I'm sorry," I stuttered.
"I had this awful dream, and I couldn't sleep all night!" she cried. "You were laying in a bathtub, your wrists were bleeding, and you kept mouthing my name".
It was then that I realized that my left wrist was bleeding. Apparantly I had started to end it all, changed my mind, and was heading south to her for help.
I completed the trip to see her. On her porch, I hit my knees and thanked God for sending His angels to protect me, especially her. I promised her I would stop my wicked, destructive ways, and I did. She helped me through it, answering the phone at 3AM when I had the shakes, comming to visit me when I thought I would slip up, and praying with me when I thought I wasn't good enough for His love.
Two years later, I married my High School Sweetheart. I sinned, she left, and came back just in time to save me. God sent her to be my Angel.
I was blessed - Not every story works out this way. But, God IS out there. He CAN help you through the addiction. Sometimes He may help you through you, sometimes he may help through someone else.
Two weeks before my wedding, I wrote my first song since my "dark days". "I'm Her Man in Black, and She's my Miss June", refering to the way June Carter was sent to rescue Johnny Cash when he was in Nickajack Cave.
There is hope. Sins are forgiven (I've had more than most people my age, and EVEN I'M forgiven!), Jesus DOES love the drunk, high, tired, lonely...it is up to you to answer the call and crawl out of the whiskey cell, break away from the chains of sexual immorality, take His hand and step down from that Heroin High.
God Bless you all!
Perhaps I was too young to understand love and the responsibilities that came with it. Regardless, I was 19 and she was 16 when we met, and I was 20 when I realized I loved her. I was also 20 when I threw it all away.
Had she done anything to me except be a great girlfriend? Heck, no! She didn't deserve to be hurt. Yet I still hurt her. After a little over a year after becoming her boyfriend, I cheated on her with an ex of mine. Not just cheating by going out with another girl, or kissing another girl - no, I went all the way. Satan was around, and I wasn't strong enough to say no. As I was committing the sin, I thought, "She won't ever find out, it will be ok...". But, what do you know? I was caught in the act. I cursed everything I could think to curse, and initially was mad at the world because she caught me. However, as I later learned, it was a blessing that I got caught.
Fast forward a few years. I'm 22, she is 19. Somehow I had convinced her to stick with me, but she couldn't forget the pain I had caused. By this time I'm so madly in love with her all I want to do is marry the girl, but she's not quite ready, so I wait. Every waking second was spent thinking about her, wanting her, loving her. However, that initial sin had scarred her heart, and she left me. I wasn't strong enough to cope with the heartache alone, and I wasn't wise enough to turn to God. The day she told me it was over was the day I turned to the bottle. Sure, I had been drinking before that, but mostly just socially. Now I found myself buying a case of beer for the trip home from work every day. Once I got home I was continuing to drink, alone, with friends, with strangers - it didn't matter, I had to be drunk.
The alcohol didn't affect my work, and somehow I was able to show up every day to work, on time and sober (except what was still in my system from the night before). One day I left work and started the long, beer-soaked drive home and I got a text message from the woman I loved. "I've got a boyfriend now, so please leave me alone," it read.
I spent the next 14 hours calling her phone non-stop, wishing she would answer. I filled up her voicemail box. I drank whiskey until I ran out, then drank vodka, then on to tequilla - until I finally passed out, alone and drunk on my front porch.
The next few weeks were tough: everywhere I went I would see her and her new boyfriend. She wouldn't talk to me, and all her friends told me to leave her alone. Finally it became too much, and I moved away, 8 hours north. Surely, this will ease my mind and get me off the bottle!
Nay, I was wrong. The distance made the pain even worse, and within 2 weeks of moving, her painful memory found me and I plunged into that liquer grave, harder than ever. I began writing songs and performing them at the local honky-tonk, and soon I was a local favorite. My songs about pain, despair, and suicide were just what that sleepy little bar needed, and I was just what the other drunks needed. I was that guy that made their lives seem OK again.
Once my "stardom" hit, I found it harder and harder to cope with her memory. The songs I sang every night brought her memory back, again and again, and even the whiskey couldn't blot it out anymore. That was when I found Cocaine.
One night, about 11 or so, I was in between sets, snorting a line of coke off the tailgate of my truck, and my phone rang. Caller ID blocked - Well I sure wasn't answering THAT call. The voicemail that was left was short, simple, and a revelation - "I've been thinking about you lately," it said. I knew it was her, but the Cuervo and cocaine made me boil with hatred and anger. I don't remember it, but later that night I called her parents to tell them how good I was doing without her. They didn't beleive me.
I was arrested twice in the following month, and continued ignoring her calls. God did this to me. God is making her call just to mock me... "Screw the world". That was my thinking. God was the reason I kept waking up in the gutter.
Just like Johnny Cash, I found myself in "Nickajack Cave". Alone, lost, and ready to die. My Nickajack Cave was on the side of the road, Southbound I-35, somewhere near Guthrie, OK. I woke up, wondering why I was in my truck, wondering why I was parked at a truckstop, wondering where I was going. Something drew my attention to my cellphone, laying next to my 8 ball of coke on the dash. I picked it up, not knowing why. 1 new text message. I struggled to read the tiny text through the haze in my head. "I'm playing the doo....wait, no, I'm praying for a Jew.....wait, what's that say? I'M PRAYING FOR YOU!"
I broke down and cried as I dialed her number. Her voice was shaking when she said hello, and I could tell she had been crying. "I'm sorry," I stuttered.
"I had this awful dream, and I couldn't sleep all night!" she cried. "You were laying in a bathtub, your wrists were bleeding, and you kept mouthing my name".
It was then that I realized that my left wrist was bleeding. Apparantly I had started to end it all, changed my mind, and was heading south to her for help.
I completed the trip to see her. On her porch, I hit my knees and thanked God for sending His angels to protect me, especially her. I promised her I would stop my wicked, destructive ways, and I did. She helped me through it, answering the phone at 3AM when I had the shakes, comming to visit me when I thought I would slip up, and praying with me when I thought I wasn't good enough for His love.
Two years later, I married my High School Sweetheart. I sinned, she left, and came back just in time to save me. God sent her to be my Angel.
I was blessed - Not every story works out this way. But, God IS out there. He CAN help you through the addiction. Sometimes He may help you through you, sometimes he may help through someone else.
Two weeks before my wedding, I wrote my first song since my "dark days". "I'm Her Man in Black, and She's my Miss June", refering to the way June Carter was sent to rescue Johnny Cash when he was in Nickajack Cave.
There is hope. Sins are forgiven (I've had more than most people my age, and EVEN I'M forgiven!), Jesus DOES love the drunk, high, tired, lonely...it is up to you to answer the call and crawl out of the whiskey cell, break away from the chains of sexual immorality, take His hand and step down from that Heroin High.
God Bless you all!
