Ten Years Ago

Tomorrow marks the 10th anniversary from the day where God miraculously snatched me out of a worldly, hopeless, and--contrary to my perception at the time--Godless state of spiritual death. For those of you who don't know, in the months leading up to this point in my life, I was 20, looking forward to being of legal drinking age. I had always had that tendency to think that my life would be complete if this or that happened. 21 was going to be what completed me. So I thought; I was dead-in-my-sins wrong. God had been graciously showing me, in the days leading up to my 21st birthday, that the way of the world was futile. No matter how hard I would party, no matter how drunk or how high I could get, and no matter how many "friends" I had around me, I was never content; there was a part of me telling me that there had to be more to life than this. I would hear my friends boast about how many girls they were sleeping with as they went out to different bars and parties. It seemed like a vicious and empty cycle to me, fully devoid of any true companionship--and true love. Honestly, it seemed shameful and depraved. I now realize more than ever that God was exceedingly merciful in revealing that to me before I ever truly knew Him. Scripture talks of God giving people over to a sinful and depraved mind. My mind was certainly depraved, but the Spirit was obviously at work. So, my 21st birthday hit. I got out of work, went to my parents house for dinner, and watched the Gonzaga Bulldogs beat the Florida Gators in the Sweet 16 on a last second tip-in. I do get teary-eyed when I remember that game, but not nearly as much as I do when I ponder God's amazing grace toward me ten days later.

My parents bought some kind of hard cider to celebrate my birthday. They raised a toast. I don't remember the exact words, but I remember sensing deeply that my parents understood that I was now a man and that they were letting me go, trusting in the God to whom they had prayed regarding my soul for countless days, even years. As they let me go, my mind was on hitting the bar scene for the first time. All of my drinking buddies took me out over the next three nights. I don't even want to describe how ridiculously intoxicated I was. It didn't seem to wear off during the day. So, I had my initiation into the bar scene. I was apparently a very happy and entertaining drunk, but I don't remember any happiness or entertainment, just intense discontentment when I woke up and regret for the immense stupidity on my drunken behalf.

My bar scene days lasted ten days, by God's grace. It was a Saturday night, March 27th, and I was out with one of those friends who always showed up when he didn't have any money, alcohol, or drugs of his own--a mooch! I saw so clearly how I was this guy's launching pad to a great Saturday night. I had a full-time job and a lot of money for a single guy. That night, it became so clear to me how I was looking for a love that I could not find. I have always cherished loyal friends and companionship, and the party scene didn't offer any of it. There were plenty of people, but they didn't care about me; they just appreciated the shared thrills or whatever you want to call it. My friend and I headed back to his apartment after a good three to four hours of drinking (all on my tab) to meet up with a friend who had some weed. We smoked for a good hour. My head started to spin and the people in the room were like ghosts to me. I got up, said a quick goodbye, and, out of stupidity, got into my car and drove the two blocks from his apartment to my own which I shared with a Christian friend. I always made a point of getting home late at night so he wouldn't see me so drunk and stoned.

As I got out of the car, I vomitted everything that I drank that night into the parking space next to mine. I knew that I was one of the most pathetic sights on the face of the earth. When the vomitting ended, I walked toward my apartment, disillusioned with life and wanting to die. Little did I know that I was going to "die" the next day.

Sunday morning, March 28th, 1999, arrived, and I wanted to go to church. I had been going to church more regularly since I had moved in with my roommate. (I have recently talked to this now brother-in-Christ, and he told me that one of the young leaders at our church told him it would be a mistake for him to room with me. It was not! Praise God for believers who will go after those whom other believers label as hopeless tax collectors. This roommate also encouraged me to attend a college-aged small group. At this group, I was compelled to start studying the Bible so that I would understand what was going on when I attended. The leader of the group, who is now my brother-in-law, was the man whom God used to give me a desire to read the Word.) Let me get back to that wonderful Sunday morning almost ten years ago. I cleaned myself up, got into my car, and drove to church. I never prayed a prayer, but I definitely felt the Lord speaking to me. He told me that my life was going to be empty and even deadly as long as I kept running from Him and not surrending to His will and the Holy Spirit. Finally, I just said, "God, take me; I want to be yours. I can't do this on my own. Please help me! Please send me someone to show me the way." That was the pivotal moment in my life. Life had actually begun. Faith came by hearing and hearing from the word of God. This might sound corny to some people, but God really did send me a sign that morning at church. A godly man approached me that day and asked if I would like to start meeting with him on a weekly basis starting that afternoon. I was thrilled and said yes. God had heard my prayer and immediately sent someone to help show me the way. We went through some kind of book that dealt with confronting yourself for your sin, and it exposed me to lots of different jewels in Scripture. Finally, God was bringing to my redeemed memory verses that I had heard many times but never understood due to the lack of the Holy Spirit's illumination. God quickly helped me to understand a lot of Scripture and graciously caused those verses to bear fruit in my life. I am iron-clad proof of 2 Corinthians 5:17.

Almost ten years later--becoming a youth leader, going on two short-term mission trips to share the gospel in Europe, falling in love and marrying my soul mate, graduating from college, having our first son, moving to Arizona, becoming a teacher, buying and losing a home, having our daughter, living without my wife for eight weeks while she was stuck in the hospital, and seeing our beautiful second son born about three months early--I see so clearly that God is faithful to work in, through, and around us. He uses "all things" for our good and for His glory. He saved me. He chose me. He clothes me in His glory. I deserve none of this. All of these words are a testimony of God's grace in my life. I am a drunken, girl-chasing, self-pitying nobobody. He opened my eyes to the futility of this world. By Christ's wounds I am healed, and I am sealed by His Spirit.

Tomorrow, I hope to record a new rap song about the first ten years of my life in Christ. Please check out my music page and let me know what you think. Just to let you know, it is rap! I will try to have it up by tomorrow afternoon. God bless.

http://myspace.com/joshuagilchrist