In the beginning...

Before I was born, my parents wanted my gender to be a surprise. God had other plans, apparently. It was prophecied to my mother, when she was pregnant with me, that "this man will lead many to the Lord". Obviously God had already stacked the deck. He knew what was gonna go down, and was trying to warn my folks about it. So my parents knew from the beginning that my life would be surrounded by warfare, and it has been.

My parents both tried very hard to bring us up (my sisters and I) in a proper Christian way. We went to a Southern Baptist church when I was very young, and later to a non-denominational Spirit-filled church. I was involved with the things that boys do as strong Christians, but I never strengthened my faith; I didn't know how important it was to be rooted deeply in Jesus, and it was slated that I would find out the hard way.

At the same time, several things began to happen that guaranteed I would have an extremely different life from anyone else I would ever know. First, I was born with an allergic reaction to wheat, which is used to make flour. Now, if you've never noticed, flour or wheat is in just about everything, especially the things that little kids like. This had a severe impact on me, as the effects of this allergic reaction were quite obvious, and very embarrassing. I had one friend until I was about 12. Can you imagine having only one person to turn to in times of trouble? I don't have to, my childhood was impossible.

Everyday I got into fights with other kids, and everyday I threatened those around me with suicide. I needed to be loved, but noone understood me, or what it felt like to be me, and that just made everything worse. Noone understood what pain it was to be hated by everyone around you; I was "different" in every sense of the word. My parents told me that they loved me, of course, and I know that they weren't lying, but they both had full time jobs, and couldn't support me all the time. They had to make enough money to support us as children, which was pretty tough because we were poor on top of everything else.

As a result, I dove into the books in our house, and the computers that Dad kept around. Because I found no love in those around me, I vowed never to have to worry about love. I decided that the dog and the computer would be my best friends forever, and that worked out fine until the dog died. *grin* To put it mildly, I learned to program in BASIC by the time I was seven years old. I threw everything I had into the computers, learning about them, playing games on them, anything I could pick up, without having to ask anyone else.

I was still active in church, but the kids there knew I was different. I grew up with next to no social interaction, and was a hardcore bookworm. I was smarter than most of the people I knew, both young and old. I was beginning to understand the basic principles that control most of the people on the planet, even though many won't acknowledge them (such as this one: 95% of the population of the earth -likes- to be told what to do; the earth is made of sheep). Most don't understand all the ramifications of these truths, and so many won't even listen because they make most of the world look bad, which so many people are. We have a hard time just following the Ten Commandments, it's no wonder the planet is so screwy. But I digress. What I'm getting at here, is that before I was a teenager I was smarter than most people I had ever met, and I knew it, and I think a lot of them knew it, too, and so I was already different from everyone around me.

About the time that I was 11 or 12 (I forget), God healed me of that allergic reaction to wheat. My body had changed, but those around me hadn't, and that's when I knew that no matter what I did, I couldn't live to please those around me. I'd lived all my life to that point just trying to get some positive attention, or a hug once in a while, and I couldn't do it anymore. I'd threatened to kill myself, I'd been in fights, and I'd done extremely well in school, as good as I wanted to do. Nothing worked, and I realized that I was living for the people around me. Not too bad for a pre-teen, huh? *g*

By the time I was 15 years of age, I had heard several times in several different prophecies that I was to be a "great warrior of the Lord" and a "great man of God". I think God was trying to prepare me for my own harsh future, which I still haven't fully walked into yet, as it hasn't all happened. His destiny for me is still to happen, and I welcome it. At any rate, it was obvious from the beginning that He had a plan for my life, and that I would be a man on fire for Jesus. As a child, this excited me, but as I began to get older I had an independent spirit, and I began to rebel. By that time, I had realized that the only one in my life who really cared what happened to me was me. It seemed to me that the people around me just wanted me to perform like a circus animal, and that God Himself wanted only to use me in His game, which I felt was a pretty perverted thing for a God to do... Regardless, I trudged on.

At the time, my hair was long, tho well kept. Earrings for men had just been thought of as a wonderful idea, and I was toying with the thought myself. Wanting to know more, I asked around. One very good friend advised me that in Old Testament times, men wore an earring as a symbol of being a slave, and if I decided to get one, I should consider myself a servant of Jesus. I agreed, but I wasn't ready to get a piercing yet. So I typically wore a magnetic earring, or a clip-on. A bit goofy, but It gave me the opportunity to try it out. Remember, I was only 15.

The elders of my church were aghast. They had tolerated my long hair (why I don't know), and had never said anything to anyone, to my knowledge, that they felt anything at all was wrong with the way I preferred to look and dress. This was a Spirit-filled church, by the way, and most of the congregation was obviously in love with the Lord. On more than one occaision, however, the elders began to take me aside, and tell me in defferent ways that I was not in God's will because I had long hair and an earring (which was still fake anyway). They told my father once or twice that I needed help, and would he please make me change the way that I dress. This was done without the consent of the pastor at the time (who is a great guy, he's a member of the church I'm at now), and I don't know if he ever found out how even the elders of the church he ran persecuted me for wearing a clipon earring, and just basically trying to express the fact that I was different, in my clothing. I mean, I didn't cuss, or fight with anyone who didn't beg me to (I didn't fight at church), I didn't gamble or smoke, I was still doing well in school... I was generally a good kid, I just knew that I was different, and I tried to express that quietly in the way that I dressed. Ripped jeans were way in (what can I say, it was the 80s...), and the elders at one point told me that I was possessed, and tried to "free me" in the parking lot of the church one day. I had had enough. I verbally renounced God, and told Him to stay out of my way. I'd had enough of what the church had to offer (which seemed to be persecution and prejudice), and decided that Christianity was just a crutch for the weak. I knew God still existed, I just didn't want anything to do with Him, and I told Him so.

I had never really familiarized myself with emotion; as a child I decided to turn off emotion as much as I could, because that only made me hurt. About this time, I realized that there was something I could do to make myself feel better. If the rest of the world just wanted to use me and accuse me for this reason or that one, why not just do the same to them? I began to study the fine art of manipulation. I played games with others' emotions. I learned about humiliation, the art of sarcasm, the insult, and later, I began to understand word curses. It was about this time that I understood one emotion that I could safely handle, because It would never allow me to be hurt: hatred. I could loose my rage upon the world safely, and never have to worry about what others thought, because everyone always answers rage with more rage. As much as humans love to think that they are nice people, the opposite is quite true; violence begets violence, and so I preyed on others to release their anger. Life was suddenly interesting, as I realized that all of the kids around me were below me in every way. I poked and prodded them emotionlessly, prodding them to fight with each other, or evoke rage where there was only a slight dislike. Hatred was the only thing that hadn't failed me, I felt, and so I literally welcomed it into my life. Many times, I spoke aloud that I welcomed hatred into my life, and that rage was to be used as a tool. I felt a power growing within me that I didn't understand, and I mistakenly thought I controlled.

This was about the same time I met who would later become my first wife, and my life took a nosedive. I decided that school had never really done anything for me, and that I didn't need it for much. I realized that when you finish school, they just give you a piece of paper, it doesn't say if you were there or not, just that you did it. I also began to rebel at home, and that was horrible for everyone involved. When my father tried to ground me, I ignored him. I just did what I wanted to, because I had figured another of life's great truths: when you take away everything that someone has to live for, they have nothing to lose. He grounded me (and I deserved it, no doubt), but it got to the point that I realized there was nothing he could do but ground me more. and what good would that do if I just did what I wanted to anyway?

I started staying away from home for days, without telling anyone where I was. the only shower I got was in gym, when I went to school. I lived with friends, and sometimes in empty houses that were waiting to be rented out. I sometimes just hung out at fast food places, and slept behind dumpsters.

School wasn't much better. Every day there was some fight about something. More than once I saw guys getting beat with bicycle chains or pipes or bats. I remember watching a gang initiation one day... The new guy had to fight the gang. Basically, the whole gang jumped this kid (about 20 guys in all), and if he lived, he was in the gang. Ya know what I remember most about that day? That everyone else talked about that fight, and I just kinda blew it off. By that time, I had seen enough that it was no big deal. Life went on...

I had always had a beard, since I was about 14, so it was easy enough for me to go to the liquor store for my own whiskey. I was 17 when I started really drinking, and 15 when started smoking cigarettes. My senior year in high school was the most fun. For 3 long weeks, I was drunk, and stoned. When I went to class, I was just there to sleep. The teachers knew I was hung over, but so many of my classmates had done jailtime, and they'd seen the same things I had, the teachers were smart enough not to bother me. I got kicked out after a few weeks, tho, for buying pot on campus. I wanted to surprise my girlfriend at the time, but I got the boot from school instead. That just gave me more time to be drunk, I thought...

I did want to graduate, so I enrolled in a school for delinquents. I was allowed inside the schoool building for about an hour a week, when I got my homework, turned in the last week's wrk, and took any tests. I was in a classroom of one, so there was noone for me to fight. At school anyway. Since I didn't go to school, I began hanging out in parks and at malls hoping someone would try to start a fight with me. I fostered the hatred inside of me to a climax; my ultimate goal was to murder someone. That was a catch-22 tho; I had to provoke someone else into starting a fight with me, and when they saw the bloodlust in my eyes, noone wanted to fight.

Bloodlust isn't too strong a word, by the way. I began to play with the idea that blood is life. I became a cutter; I cut myself with razor blades and knives, because the physical pain dulled my emotional pain. I began to drink my own blood, and when my girlfriend saw me, we cut each other's wrists, and poured our blood into glasses, and drank. I wanted nothing more than death, and I didn't really care whose it was. I just enjoyed being perverted, and scaring the people around me. I never actively became involved with the occult, or satan worshipping, or witchcraft, though I can now see that what I was doing was literally inviting spirits of fear, hatred, depression, and addiction into my life, verbally.

I became involved with a girl who felt the same things I did; she liked me, and that made me like her. I was hungry for love, though I couldn't admit it to anyone, even myself. She was involved with me, and at times, with a few other guys. That hurt me a bit, but it seemed worth what little pain I went thru to be loved, or what I thought was love at the time. We were young.

A few months after I was kicked out of my regular school, we found out she was pregnant. We got married, had the baby (Victoria Ashley, now 6), and split up a few months later. I was working 40-50 hours a week, as well as going to school full time, and obviously my wife wasn't getting the support she needed, and we'd just gotten married for all the wrong reasons anyway. She left me, and at that time, I made a serious attempt at suicide. Obviously it didn't work, and I only have God to thank. I remember being naked in the bathtub, covered in my own blood. I could actually watch the blood spurting out of my vein, just like they show in the movies... There's no reason for me to have lived, except that God decided it wasn't my time yet.

Somehow I survived. I decided that I was done being poor and insignificant, and I was gonna do what I wanted to do. I got a job in Dallas, and met another girl. She was unhappy with her relationship at the time with her man, and I was the crying shoulder for her. She left him for me, and I helped her to have confidence in herself. About a month after I got my first position in the technology field, she came to work at the same place. Life was suddenly good again...

Basically, we began to live the good life. She and I moved to the north side of Dallas, and soon moved into another place with a friend of ours. We lived high on the hog, as we were all three working at the same place, and made a decent salary for the kids that we still were. It became normal for us to go to the computer store after we got paid and drop a few hundred bucks on books or hardware, without thinking too much about it. Later, we moved into a nice four bedroom house in one of the richer neighborhoods, with the same mindset. Spend, spend, spend.

At this point, I should have had everything I wanted. This girl and I had gotten married, and that seemed to be going well. She became an engineer, and made about three times what I was worth. We decided that it would be worth it for me to stay home and care for the house and our cats while she worked. So I should have had everything I wanted. If I hadn't I felt I could go out and buy some more happiness.

I began to notice the empty feeling inside of me. My wife told me she was unhappy, and began talking of divorce only a few months after we had gotten married. I realized then that nothing I had been doing had really made me happy. We partied when we wanted to, went to Vegas, went on a cruise... We bought things whenever we wanted, and lived life the way we thought it should be.

I began to reflect on my past; where I'd come from, and where I was going. I considered my own goals, and what others might think of them (as my roommate was happy to point out, more than once, that I wasn't living up to his standards because I worked in the home, instead of for money). I thought back on all the things I'd seen and been through, and what had made me happy, and what hadn't. Really, all I've ever wanted was to be happy inside, whether it was with money, or power, or freedom, or a family; just whatever made me happy is what I wanted. I just couldn't figure out what that might be...

I've tried fighting for fun, and manipulation, drugs, sex, music, more drugs, independence, love, marraige, family, motorcycles and cars, and speed, and the slow life, and money, and cultural stuf (but i liked that one the least...). *grin*

It was then (this was about last November), that I realized that I could never find happiness. I knew that in all the stuff I'd been in and around, nothing really made me happy, it just seemed to take away the pain of living for a while. I knew that I would end up spending the rest of my life trying to convince myself not to commit suicide every single day. I won't live a melancholy lifestyle, and I certainly won't be a slave to my own emotions.

So I decided to end my depression and boredom the only way I knew how. This time, I wouldn't fail. I was determined. Basically, I cut my wrists once (almost no blood came out, less than a teaspoonful). I knew then that He wouldn't let me die. I refused to let Him operate in my life, but apparently He had His own plans...

Since I apparently wasn't going to bleed, I decided to overdose. I checked online for fatality information on the prescription drugs that were already in the house. I found out what was the right amount for a fatal OD for my size and weight of a particular drug that would get me high, then kill me. Over a few weeks, I kept trying to take the pills, except that things kept happening to stop me. I knew when these "odd coincidences" happened that it wasn't chance. At one point, I'd been fighting depression for over a day. straight. I was at the point that I wouldn't get out of bed during the day, because the light made me feel cheery. My wife didn't come home for days at a time; she was with my roommate at a friend's house. At that time, I had no car either, since I was staying home, I had no need of one.

So here I was, no car, no job, no place to go to, noone to talk to. I stayed up nights wishing I could get high, but there was nothing in the house. I stopped eating, and though I've always hated television, I began to watch it with the volume turned down, and pretend that I had someone to talk to. I began to despise the thought of beinng around other people at all, and then, one night, the word Murder popped into my mind. I knew that I could kill, and that people would come and put me in company with other people. This was truly my darkest hour. I knew that the very thought was wrong, but I couldn't help but want to see others. I was truly alone.

Finally one night, I decided that I would end it all, no matter what happened, no matter who tried to stop me. I took the pills I'd already set aside. Just as I knew I would, my pupils dialated, and vision blurred, and my balance was thrown off. The symptoms I'd studied about were happening, and I knew that this ride was finally over. I passed out happily.

I woke up angry, and sick. I ran to the bathroom, and started vomiting. I realized that I'd been out for almost 8 hours; I was dehydrated, and extremely mad. After puking for a few minutes, I went into the living room (where I did most of my brooding), and started yelling at God. I hadn't spoken to Him in years, and now I was just mad at Him, because I knew that He wouldn't let me die. I began to curse at Him, and scream. "Why won't You let me die?!" "Let me go, I'm of no use to anyone!!" Finally I calmed down, but I was still at square one, with no happiness, and no hope of ever having any. Finally I just said to God, "If You won't let me die, You d@mn well better make me happy..."

Apparently that was all the release He needed. I was flooded with peace that I would live, and that my life would mean something. I knew then that I couldn't die, because it wasn't His will. At that moment, I was a broken man. My wife still wanted a divorce, so I had no car, no job, no place to live, and no way to get somewhere else. I had no money, and no way to get any. But I had God, and that was all that mattered. I knew then that God is all that matters, and I don't need anything else at all.

In the meantime...

That was in November of '98, just a few short months ago. Since then, I've grown stronger in the Lord, and come to know Him more personally, but I know I've got a long walk ahead of me. No matter how tough life seems , though, I know that the Lord will take care of me, because He did when I cursed Him. He is truly the ultimate in grace and love and forgiveness, and He can do the same for you, every day, if you let Him.

If you want to know Jesus personally, or you're having a tough time in life like I did, and maybe you just need a hand sometimes, or a shoulder, you can; Jesus can help. In fact, Jesus is the only one who can really help, everything else is just window dressing. If you want to know Him personally, and if you want Him in your life, it's real easy. Just pray this prayer to Him now, just say these words out loud to God. He'll hear you, I promise.

Dear Lord, thank you for dying on the cross. I know that I'm full of sin, and that I need you. Jesus, please come into my life, cause I need your help. Lord, please guide me, and love me. In Jesus' name, amen.

w0O-H0o!!

Ta-daa! That's all there is to it, to begin with. Now a lot of times, we don't -feel- any different, and that makes us think that we weren't saved, or that we should try again, or whatever. Don't listen to that voice! If you prayed, you're saved. If you're uncomfortable about it, you can pray that prayer as many times as you want, cause it won't make Him unhappy, but you don't have to worry about whether or not God heard you. He did. At this point, I suggest you get in contact with a church near you for more guidance. They can help you figure out more about what this all means, as well as answer any questions you might have. Just so you know, I prefer a Spirit-filled, nondenominational Christian church, but that's really just a bunch of words that mean that they really love God.  *grin*  Any true Christian church will work, but every different denomination, or "brand", believes slightly different things about the small stuff, like tattoos and earrings, hair length, etc. To be safe, read the Bible, and find out what it has to say, but definitely get involved with a church.