Last night, my church had a service devoted to worship. It was beyond words. I remember the first time I had worshiped. It was to the song Here I Am To Worship. When we got to the part that says I’ll never know how much it cost to see my sins upon that cross, I had tears in my eyes.
I had lived as an enemy of God. I had been living for my own selfish gain, and my sole purpose in my life was to find a way to self-destruct. I had thought at an early age, when I was 7, that God was gone. He didn’t care about me. I could remember going to church with my grandma every Sunday and asking myself, “Why am I here? Why am I even at church, God isn’t here? God doesn’t care. He doesn’t listen. He must be Deaf. Or maybe God is dead.”
In the years that followed, I became empty. I felt like a broken glass. Everyone says a glass is half full or half empty. I felt like I had been broken, and I was leaking. You could keep filling me up and I would still fall apart. I would leak, and then eventually I would be thrown away because who wants a broken glass.”
I became more angry. I yelled at God, “why weren’t you there for me? Why didn’t you do something?” Why did you allow all the crap in my life? Why did you not save me from that? Why was I broken that way?”
I was numb. I was beyond repair, or so I thought. I was empty. I was trying to fill a void in my heart. I turned to self-destruction. I turned to cutting, the occasional drunken night where I honestly cannot remember what I did. I do know that the first time I drank, at 15, I was trying to drink to oblivion, and I got alcohol poisoning. I was at a friends house, and they didn’t know what to do with me. Her Dad didn’t know we had drinking, but the only thing I remember is her Dad was stoned upstairs and that he probably wouldn’t ever find out. I remember thinking, I’m empty, and if this fills me up, then okay. I got smashed. I drank an entire bottle of vodka and then passed out. My friend says I puked everywhere and she was scared I was going to die. I woke up in the morning and her dad drove me home. My friend was a drug addict, and she was afraid that I was going to die. Later on, she told me, get your stuff together.
It should have been a sobering moment, when a drug addict tells you, get your life together, but I was upset that I hadn’t drank to oblivion.
Part of me wishes I could take that moment back. And moments like it. My parents had been through hell in the months before I got saved. And I think of all those times I yelled at God, why didn’t you do something? But I chose to go down that road. I chose to drink to oblivion. I chose to self-destruct. I was trying to fill that void. I was trying to know I was alive, and when you are living on the edge, you feel alive.
You know, unless you’ve been close to death, you can’t really see the adrenaline rush it all is. And self-destruction, death, falling apart, is all so entertaining, so time consuming, so wonderful, at first.
As the months passed through my freshman year of high school, I deteriorated, fast. I think a part of me had been trying to hold on for so long, and I couldn’t just do it anymore. Depression had sapped my energy and my strength. Depression is a battle. It’s a war. It wages war on your mind, and you believe that you will always be stuck. You will never win the war, it tells you all night long. Night was the worst for me. I couldn’t sleep from the insomnia, and it was too quiet. If I had good days, and I thought, okay I’m getting there, I’m going to be okay, something would come along and knock me down again and I thought, I’m never going to get out of this again. It became worse to hope that there would be a better day because if I thought I’m not going to ever get better, I couldn’t be disappointed when I didn’t.
I think one of the reasons I tried to die so many times that year was because I wasn’t sure if I had a heart. I remember May 8, 2006 (I can’t believe it’s 5 years since then this Sunday) very clearly. I remember saying, grey would be the color if I had a heart. I remember trying to hold on, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have a heart. I couldn’t feel my heart beat. I couldn’t see an ending to the darkness that I lived in.
I had lost 95% of my friends. Most of them were drug addicts and alcoholics and they told me I needed to get my stuff together. They couldn’t handle me. I was too far gone, for people smoking meth almost every day.
But when I finally hit rock bottom, and it couldn’t have gotten any darker, I screamed out, in my sleep, sleep so heavy, like the dead, Jesus, save me! He reached out and pulled me out. He was the Light in all of my darkness, and He saved me! When I finally opened my eyes, I could feel my heart beating. I believe that He took my heart and stitched up all the broken pieces.
I think it’s ironic that I was born with a hole in my heart. I had open heart surgery at NYU in 1991. I believe I had that hole in my heart because only God could fill it. And now, when I worship, I feel my heart beat. It’s like a drum. I want to laugh and cry. I have peace. I have hope. I don’t live in the dark. I have a pretty good life now. I don’t try to self-destruct.
Jesus gave me a new life. A new heart. And I love worshiping Him. I want to work with teens in the future. I want to tell them, hey, there is a better way. You don’t have to live in the dark. You’re looking to fill this hunger inside you, and only God can fill it. God can fill up the holes. Believe me, I looked like swiss cheese. I felt like swiss cheese. I lived in the shadows. I lived in the dark. And chasing after death might be fun for a while, but eventually, when you really fall, you’re going to wish you had gone down a different road.
But even if you get to that road, even if you get as close to being gone as I did, it’s not too late to turn around. You have never gone too far to make a change. When I hit the absolute darkness, the end of the road, I had two choices. 1. Lay down and die. 2. Get up, turn around, and go the other way.
I chose to turn around. But I didn’t do it alone. I had Jesus with me every step of the way. He makes my heart beat. And if I, one of the worst sinners, could turn around, then I absolutely believe that anyone could be saved. You have a heart, and it does beat.
There’s Light, even in the Darkest places.
I had lived as an enemy of God. I had been living for my own selfish gain, and my sole purpose in my life was to find a way to self-destruct. I had thought at an early age, when I was 7, that God was gone. He didn’t care about me. I could remember going to church with my grandma every Sunday and asking myself, “Why am I here? Why am I even at church, God isn’t here? God doesn’t care. He doesn’t listen. He must be Deaf. Or maybe God is dead.”
In the years that followed, I became empty. I felt like a broken glass. Everyone says a glass is half full or half empty. I felt like I had been broken, and I was leaking. You could keep filling me up and I would still fall apart. I would leak, and then eventually I would be thrown away because who wants a broken glass.”
I became more angry. I yelled at God, “why weren’t you there for me? Why didn’t you do something?” Why did you allow all the crap in my life? Why did you not save me from that? Why was I broken that way?”
I was numb. I was beyond repair, or so I thought. I was empty. I was trying to fill a void in my heart. I turned to self-destruction. I turned to cutting, the occasional drunken night where I honestly cannot remember what I did. I do know that the first time I drank, at 15, I was trying to drink to oblivion, and I got alcohol poisoning. I was at a friends house, and they didn’t know what to do with me. Her Dad didn’t know we had drinking, but the only thing I remember is her Dad was stoned upstairs and that he probably wouldn’t ever find out. I remember thinking, I’m empty, and if this fills me up, then okay. I got smashed. I drank an entire bottle of vodka and then passed out. My friend says I puked everywhere and she was scared I was going to die. I woke up in the morning and her dad drove me home. My friend was a drug addict, and she was afraid that I was going to die. Later on, she told me, get your stuff together.
It should have been a sobering moment, when a drug addict tells you, get your life together, but I was upset that I hadn’t drank to oblivion.
Part of me wishes I could take that moment back. And moments like it. My parents had been through hell in the months before I got saved. And I think of all those times I yelled at God, why didn’t you do something? But I chose to go down that road. I chose to drink to oblivion. I chose to self-destruct. I was trying to fill that void. I was trying to know I was alive, and when you are living on the edge, you feel alive.
You know, unless you’ve been close to death, you can’t really see the adrenaline rush it all is. And self-destruction, death, falling apart, is all so entertaining, so time consuming, so wonderful, at first.
As the months passed through my freshman year of high school, I deteriorated, fast. I think a part of me had been trying to hold on for so long, and I couldn’t just do it anymore. Depression had sapped my energy and my strength. Depression is a battle. It’s a war. It wages war on your mind, and you believe that you will always be stuck. You will never win the war, it tells you all night long. Night was the worst for me. I couldn’t sleep from the insomnia, and it was too quiet. If I had good days, and I thought, okay I’m getting there, I’m going to be okay, something would come along and knock me down again and I thought, I’m never going to get out of this again. It became worse to hope that there would be a better day because if I thought I’m not going to ever get better, I couldn’t be disappointed when I didn’t.
I think one of the reasons I tried to die so many times that year was because I wasn’t sure if I had a heart. I remember May 8, 2006 (I can’t believe it’s 5 years since then this Sunday) very clearly. I remember saying, grey would be the color if I had a heart. I remember trying to hold on, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have a heart. I couldn’t feel my heart beat. I couldn’t see an ending to the darkness that I lived in.
I had lost 95% of my friends. Most of them were drug addicts and alcoholics and they told me I needed to get my stuff together. They couldn’t handle me. I was too far gone, for people smoking meth almost every day.
But when I finally hit rock bottom, and it couldn’t have gotten any darker, I screamed out, in my sleep, sleep so heavy, like the dead, Jesus, save me! He reached out and pulled me out. He was the Light in all of my darkness, and He saved me! When I finally opened my eyes, I could feel my heart beating. I believe that He took my heart and stitched up all the broken pieces.
I think it’s ironic that I was born with a hole in my heart. I had open heart surgery at NYU in 1991. I believe I had that hole in my heart because only God could fill it. And now, when I worship, I feel my heart beat. It’s like a drum. I want to laugh and cry. I have peace. I have hope. I don’t live in the dark. I have a pretty good life now. I don’t try to self-destruct.
Jesus gave me a new life. A new heart. And I love worshiping Him. I want to work with teens in the future. I want to tell them, hey, there is a better way. You don’t have to live in the dark. You’re looking to fill this hunger inside you, and only God can fill it. God can fill up the holes. Believe me, I looked like swiss cheese. I felt like swiss cheese. I lived in the shadows. I lived in the dark. And chasing after death might be fun for a while, but eventually, when you really fall, you’re going to wish you had gone down a different road.
But even if you get to that road, even if you get as close to being gone as I did, it’s not too late to turn around. You have never gone too far to make a change. When I hit the absolute darkness, the end of the road, I had two choices. 1. Lay down and die. 2. Get up, turn around, and go the other way.
I chose to turn around. But I didn’t do it alone. I had Jesus with me every step of the way. He makes my heart beat. And if I, one of the worst sinners, could turn around, then I absolutely believe that anyone could be saved. You have a heart, and it does beat.
There’s Light, even in the Darkest places.
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