Encountering the Divine – VII – The Return of the Prophecies

Happy Easter! Here we go readers, the last installment of “Encountering the Divine”!  I’m definitely going to channel my inner, fantasy adventure nerd a little on this one — as you can ascertain by the featured pic of this post. It’ll be Lord of the Rings style. (Albeit just a tad bit, non LOTR fans, don’t fret, you’ll hardly notice 😁) Humorously enough, it happens to be April Fool’s day today also. Make no bones about it though, there’s nothing foolish or fictional about this story. Nor the previous six episodes in case you missed them: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6. ( Newcomers, you wouldn’t walk into a movie theatre and just catch the last ten minutes of a film right?😉 I recommend starting from the beginning to get the full Hollywood effect🎞) Wow, I’ve spent two and a half years working on this series. Returning readers, I’m honored you’ve accompanied me this far. Let’s get this farewell show on the road…

Era: 2008-2009. Location: Ciudad Juarez, México —aka “ World’s Murder Capital” at that time. Hey, you want notoriety for your city, there you go. Oh wait, that’s probably not so good for tourism huh. However, I do believe they no longer hold that dubious honor. Those years were just the peak of the crime wave; it’s been violent since the early 2000s. Women, predominantly workers from factories on the outskirts of the city, were murdered way before the drug cartel war escalated  which consisted of rival gangs duking it out for control all over the city, including public places. The bloodshed between battling cartels paralyzed the masses with fear: bodies were hung on bridges for all too see, sometimes even decapitated. The police couldn’t even control them; many officers themselves were bought out by the drug gangs. So civilians couldn’t even trust law enforcement… Eventually the national military was sent out by the government to patrol the streets in jeeps, with soldiers wielding AK-47s in broad daylight. They would conduct raids on random homes throughout the city looking for drugs and weapons. Mass graves in the desert outside of the city were constantly found. You name it, violence ran amuck. In my ” I took a pill in Ibiza” series, I recollect how I was just a few minutes from being an innocent bystander & possible victim in a car chase/shooting on my neighborhood street. Even if you avoided the “dangerous” areas of town, sometimes you could just be at the right place at the wrong time. (And I was just visiting at that point; I didn’t live in Mexico anymore for the most part in the 2000s) Thankfully, that’s the only cartel-related situation that I encountered closely. I have friends and family who have unfortunately experienced crime directly or indirectly there: robberies, extortions, kidnappings, etc. That being said, you can’t spend your day to day hiding or living in fear, you have to go about your business and entrust yourself to God for protection. So here I am, it’s approximately Nov/Dec 2008, and it hadn’t been long since my dad passed. I’m reading the newspaper or watching the news one day (you really couldn’t avoid the sensationalism of the media outlets on the seemingly daily bloodshed)— and a prophecy from 10, 11 months earlier floated into my cognizance :

“For a brief period of time you will live in a land where you will see all the evil of mankind.”

A second prophetic recollection also dipped its toes in and decided to plunge into my stream of consciousness.

“You will return to the land were you were born and live there for a period of time.”

Oh yea, turns out, those two were tied together. Do you recall in Part 2 of the series where I described how almost a year earlier, I had left the Hialeah church laughing about the latter prophecy and refuting it by stating that I’d never go back to live in my hometown? It was so surreal, all of a sudden I was living it — it seemed like I had blinked and I was back at my parent’s home, feeling stuck in my hometown and surrounded by all this chaos. Well, those prophets didn’t lie. My foot was in my big mouth. It happened. And it was foretold many months earlier. (Despite everything, I still needed reminders from time to time that I hadn’t daydreamed all of the events from earlier that year) God would awaken the promises back to my cerebral cortex as they became fulfilled. (Or wherever one remembers things😏)

An elusive but good buddy from college— we’ll call him Juan; called me one day from Austin. He had been living in Colorado and moved to Texas about 6 months earlier because he had landed a job at Apple. Mind you, I knew very little about Austin, other than it was the capital of Texas and that it hosted this “little” festival called Austin City Limits. (It’s a behemoth now in comparison.) The city was nowhere on the national map like it is now. Heck, it may now be considered a global destination with SXSW and Formula One here also. (Not so good for those of us with skyrocketing rental prices each year. Yikes, please people, stop moving here! Anyhow, that’s a whole other topic, hehe, I was a transplant once myself, who am I to shun others. Our traffic though…). Juan told me the job market in Austin was relatively stable compared to the rest of the nation’s faltering economy. He offered me to come and stay at his apartment while I attempted to find a job in town. He lived there with his partner Herman. I didn’t think much of it at the time but I thanked him for the offer. I hastily concluded, I don’t know anything about Austin, nor do I know anyone there, besides Juan & Herman. Not feeling it. Conversely, I was growing increasingly resistant to the idea of staying in the border area, especially because I was living back in my parent’s house with my mom. Not to mention I didn’t like the area anymore (If ever).Nonetheless, I sought job opportunities in El Paso.

I had to surrender a life insurance policy I owned in order to receive the $5,000-ish cash value in it to have something to live off of. Luckily my mom also received some insurance money from my father that would help keep her afloat for a while. After 3 months though, I started feeling the crunch and the uneasiness of oh shit, I really need to find a job.  I also desperately longed for my own place again. My mother and I were driving each other a bit bonkers under the same roof. Understandably, we were each used to having our own space, even though the house was large. I was not accustomed to having a curfew or rules anymore; I had already been gone from home for 7 years at that point. My mom’s philosophy:  no matter how old I was, “you live under my roof, you abide by my rules.” I’m sure we’ve all heard that at some point. Fair enough — however, being 27 years old at the time, I was not going to last there for long. Honestly, it was a weird period.  We were both mourning in our own ways, I was somewhat busy handling my father’s pending affairs for a couple of months after he died; mainly settling accounts with creditors: which included returning the Dodge Nitro he had just started leasing earlier in the year. It was an awesome vehicle but the fact was that we couldn’t afford the monthly payments. Additionally, during that crime wave time, the last thing I wanted was for my mom to drive a flashy vehicle in Juarez that drew attention to her and give off the impression that we were affluent. So not the case.
I felt really guilty though for wanting to leave. My mom wanted me to stay. Despite having a troubled marriage with my father and basically living like two quarreling roommates in the same home for years; I think she still loved him. Although instead of leaving him behind, she swallowed her pride and kept her vow to look after him in the good and bad times. She was his caretaker for the last few years of his life. I can only imagine that was extremely difficult for her; especially with a man that showed her no affection. She was now about to begin a new life stage & her own strenuous journey with a similar theme to mine: finding out who she was.

For so long her role was being a mother and then a caretaker. Now she found herself still relatively young and not knowing anymore what her purpose in life was. There was no longer anyone to take care of. Part of me wanted to oblige her and stay. I figured we could keep one another company until knowing the next step. After all, I had nothing to go back to Florida for. The other part of me knew it would be very unhealthy for the both of us to live together under the same roof. Our relationship was too dysfunctional. I went through a lot of brainstorming: one idea that I kept trying to convince my mom of was to sell the house so that we could move across the border and start over. With that money, she could purchase a smaller home, be closer to her siblings, and get a job in El Paso. (She expressed the desire to work again)She kept agreeing with my idea but it took me a while to finally realize that deep down she had no intent or willingness of doing so. (At least in that moment of her life) Due to my life experience, I’ve come to discover that wanting and willing something are two different things. Perhaps she no longer had the drive or energy. She was just leading me on (although I think she did it unconsciously). As the weeks went by after my father’s death, it was easy to stay comfortable at home and remain passive to life. She would keep asking me to wait longer, not to worry and “we’ll see what happens”; which sure, for a while that worked as we processed my father’s death and took care of estate matters. What would we do when our money ran out though? One of us had to work and snap out of the depression that beseeched us. I earnestly sought employment online for jobs in El Paso; even spoke to a couple of recruiters. The more I looked the more discouraged I became. There were hardly jobs and the available ones paid very little and wouldn’t even allow me to afford my own apartment. Luckily, I still had some close friends from high school in the area and some Miami ones that came to visit that helped keep my spirits up.

Some  winter shenigans with friends at the end of 08…

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In those last two months of 2008, an inner whisper grew visibly louder that kept repeating:  Austin, Austin. I kept brushing it off. That is, until January of 2009 when I finally got some clarity. I had been in prayer over the issue for weeks already, asking God for direction on what to do. El Paso didn’t seem to be opening any doors of job opportunity, my savings were gradually dipping and I slowly but surely started feeling that it was time to take a leap of faith and move to Austin to look for a job.

Whenever I would get that inkling to move,  fear would also kick in and I would ask God “what about my mom? What will be of her if I left her behind? Especially in this city? ” She had never lived alone in her life; well, at least not since before I was born. One day, while reading my Bible before bed, a verse clearly jumped out of the pages and smacked me in the face (you know, the gentle but firm backhanded British slap type to get my attention); it served as the confirmation I sought. In it, Jesus talks about the cost of following him:

“If people come to me and are not ready to abandon their fathers, mothers, wives, children, brothers, and sisters, as well as their own lives, they cannot be my disciples. So those who do not carry their crosses and follow me cannot be my disciples.” Luke 14:26

Ouch, harsh, but succinct. I’m sure there are various interpretations and translations of this text and we could probably debate this or dig deeper into it for hours but this isn’t a Bible study. This is my life story. Ha. Within the context of what was happening in my life, I felt it confirmed the nudging I had been feeling in my heart for a while. God was telling me to leave my mother behind and follow him to where he was calling me —to trust him and place her life in his hands. Ah yes, that unrelenting life lesson: to let go. After all, I couldn’t force her to make life changes that she wasn’t ready for. She had to make those decisions for herself in her right timing. It took a while for me to get past the fear of the unknown and the guilt of leaving my mother alone, but at some point in the new year of 2009 I finally made up my mind & contacted my friend Juan. I decided I would be moving to Austin, Texas! I ended up arriving on Sunday, February 1st. How do I recall with such precision you ask? I actually still have an email exchange with my friend confirming my arrival date. Apparently l already had an interview set up for the next day. It was probably with an employment agency.

A month later, I found myself staying in the living room of Juan & Herman’s 1 bedroom apartment in Austin. (Along with their massive black Labrador, Brutus) He and I became fast friends. In Miami, rarely did I stay over at friend’s homes, even after a night out drinking in which driving afterwards wasn’t the best idea. (Unless I was obliterated of course, luckily some friends lived right on the beach were the clubs were.)That being said, if that was the case for one night, then it was very much outside of my comfort zone to stay in someone else’s home for an indefinite period of time. I felt like an intrusion on their lives – they treated me to the contrary, they were very hospitable and placed no timeline on me. They welcomed me like a third roommate and tapped me into their social circle. I was going to have to get over the anxiety of feeling like a third wheel and accept their help with humility. Sure, like most couples, they had their minor quarrels from time to time, so it was awkward not having anywhere to hide on certain instances. But overall, the big struggle was, and still is to some extent present day: learning to receive help from others. I know, I’ve beaten the dead horse talking about that message throughout my writing. (Who came up with that idiom btw? So not PETA-approved) I also grew up with a saying in the Latin culture that basically says “Houseguests–much like fish–begin to stink after a few days”. In fact, it’s probably a phrase used elsewhere as well.  I had to get over it.

I had a laptop that was super sloooow and old – consequently, deserving of being body slammed. I refrained from performing the latter and instead spend most days going to the library to use its less frustrating computers. There was literally a library next door to their apartment, how fortuitous was that??
I recall having one job interview with a company whose position I wasn’t really digging, plus also with a couple of employment agencies. I think one of them was just a phone interview. Speaking with recruiters was predictable, I basically went through the motions: I sold myself the best I could, they gave me their spiel and their customary promises of delivering the moon and the stars and fitting me with one of their best clients. Although there was that awkwardness of explaining why I hadn’t worked in over a year…hmm… I may have stretched the truth a bit by saying I was laid off due to company restructuring and the poor economy. Although both you and I know it didn’t precisely go down like that. But hey, that’s not neither here nor there, that’s just between you & me. 😉

I submitted many job applications but besides the two, three interviews I had there wasn’t much of a response… Each day was a mental struggle and I spent my weekdays alone since Juan and Herman where off at work and school respectively. I didn’t venture too far in order to not get lost (I’m pretty sure I still didn’t have a smart phone with GPS), but bounced around between the apartment, grocery store, and the library. I would also take walks around the neighborhood. Besides job searching, I did my best to not spend my entire days in anticipation looking at my cell phone for a potential interview call. The lack of incoming calls only grew my frustration and anxiety as the days went by.

Dirty Vegas (Days Go By)

It felt like a lifetime but after 10 days of not much activity I was running out of hope & patience. I felt the time ticking, not to mention my bank account. 11 days after being in Austin (I know that precisely by looking through my old emails,) I was called in to an employment agency for a standard interview. I was expecting the usual go through the motions to get into their system and then see what happens. I was given typewriting tests and a whole other assortment of aptitude tests for at least TWO hours. TWO hours. That had never happened before. Usually the testing was quick, sweet & simple. I was slightly annoyed, but ok, I finished that and was ready to meet with my recruiter to convince him/her why I was the precise unemployed asset that their clients needed. Just for kicks, I was left to wait some additional time after my testing; eventually the front office clerk proceeded to inform me that the recruiter had left the office for an appointment elsewhere and that we would have to reschedule for another day. Umm…ok. The recruiter knew I was there, that’s part of the process. You take your tests and then you meet with the recruiter. That’s the protocol I was used to. “What do you mean the recruiter left? And for an appointment? I thought I was his/her appointment?” How the receptionist described it seemed like it wasn’t for anything earth shattering or spontaneous that required sacrificing proper etiquette & professionalism.

True to my old self, I’m sure I didn’t nearly outwardly express how annoyed I really was. I was basically stood up! It’s not like I took longer on my tests than expected. They were all timed. The staffing agency knew the exact amount of time I would be spending on my testing before moving on to the next phase, which was the interview. In all my previous experiences both in Austin and Florida with recruiters, all that occurred sequentially, on the same day. Testing, recruiter, in & out, bada bing, bada boom. Ok, you get the gist by now. Point is, I felt justified for my indignation. I was bitching out loud to God in my car on the way back to my friend’s home: “Really? I could have been in the library applying to actual real jobs! I just wasted most of my day. The nerve of these people. Ok Lord, why did you lead me on knowing I’m already at the breaking point? (As usual it was God’s fault. I always made him the customary scapegoat)

Damn it, I’m done with Austin. It was a mistake coming. I’m wasting unnecessary money that I could be saving by staying at home. It was all in my head that the signs were pointing me towards moving here. Ugh, I’m such a fool. I’m leaving back to Mexico. I could care less about all this burnt orange /Texas Longhorn football talk and this folksy/country music running rampant everywhere.

(That’s right; I threw everybody under the bus in my tantrum). Although I’m still sticking to the last bit too, sorry UT fans. Ya’ll do your thing though, that’s alright, alright, alright by me.  *Shudders with revelation of present day ingrained Matthew McConaughey-ism.

I get to Juan’s apartment and I’m sure I informed Brutus of my woes. He’s a surprisingly good listener. 😉🐶 Two hours later I get a call and I immediately recognized the number being from the employment agency. Um great, what do these people want? Screw them if they want me to come back in again to meet with the recruiter. Unprofessional bastards. I reluctantly picked up the phone. Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?  (Adele hadn’t released her version quiet yet.) Ok, I didn’t break out into song, much less was I in a romantic Lionel Richie mood, but the following conversation crossed my wires a bit.

 “MR. RICARDO (although they probably actually used my last name), this is Jenny from Kelly Services, you came in earlier for your job interview."

  Yes, I know, I’ll never get those three plus hours of my life back. “Oh hey, how’s it going?"

 “I was calling to inform you that we have a position available with one of our clients. It would be working front office administration for a medical clinic. They would like for you to start tomorrow.”

“Come again? Umm, ya’ll didn’t even interview me...”

"That’s ok, you came out great in your tests and we loved your resume."

“Your client hasn’t even met me.”

"That’s fine; they go off our recommendation and need someone bilingual to begin tomorrow. Would you like to accept the offer?"

I had run out of excuses. I was still in shock. Admittingly, there was a slight moment of pride as the thought sprung up that the job was beneath me. I mean, how could I go from an account executive to a front office receptionist? That insane thought quickly bolted out though when an opposing & sensical reflection reminded me that I had been unemployed for over a year. Yea, that’ll humble you a bit. Not to mention everything else that had been happening to me, plus the small detail that the nation was in the middle of a recession. Really Ricardo, you’re going to be picky right now? So luckily I regained some sanity and begrudgingly feigned an excited “yes”. But no seriously, once I hung up the phone, I became genuinely animated after it all started seeping in a few minutes later and I was overcome with relief and gratitude. What really sent God bumps (it’s like getting chills, but for a good reason) all over my body was the epiphany that another prophecy had come to pass.

“I will provide a new job for you, and it will show up like magic.”

Hot dang, yet another prophecy from a year earlier was just now being fulfilled. I mean, truth be told, I was expecting it to happen weeks after I heard it, you know —while I still lived in Miami. Never did I expect it to come to pass anymore. Truth is, I had forgotten about it. But sure enough, it happened like magic. A few weeks later I moved out of Juan & Herman’s place and settled into my own apartment officially becoming an Austin resident.

“I will send you to a new place where you will start a new life.”

I’ve been in Austin since. Sure enough, this prophecy is still in motion 9 years later as my life continues to evolve for the better.

The prophecies that have not yet come to pass:

“I will give you the car of your dreams”

Well, I haven’t dreamt of a particular one that I want quite yet. I better hurry up because my 14 year old Tiburon is aging and requires a lot of upkeep. 🤩

“As mercy towards you, your whole family will bow before me and serve me one by one”

Wow. Did he mean just immediate, extended, or future family? I don’t know; I ain’t touching that one. Lot of stubbornness runs in my family, myself included. That is a task for him indeed. Only God can change hearts.

“You will be a light to many.”

” Your journey will be long and arduous. But I will be with you every step of the way.”

Damn, he wasn’t kidding at ALL. Long and arduous is an understatement. True to his word, he hasn’t abandoned me either.

“You will serve me from the pulpit.”

Oh, this one would become the bane of my existence. God, Really? Does that mean what I think that means? Really? Ah c’mon…This isn’t funny. I still remember being told that on more than one occasion by more than one prophet and even somewhat still can visualize one lady’s face. (She had big hair) After she finished laying hands on me and delivering her ill-received message into my ear, she looked up at me ecstatically & somewhat in disbelief. It’s as if she even couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her own mouth. Needless to say I countered her positive reaction and her “any questions?” comment with a feigned smile and a shaking of my head, and quickly scurried away feeling nauseous.

“You will have a job that you’ll enjoy where you will be receiving people from foreign lands”

I’m definitely open to a career change.

“You will be an important person in the world. Your story will be spread to the four winds. When you are on the summit (peak of your life) remember to give me the glory, for it will be I who puts you there.”

 

Yeah, not going to lie, some of those prophecies sent my mind into a tailspin. For a long time. There it’s finished though, I finally confessed them and put them in writing. Those last three have scared the living daylights out of me for the past 10 years. Besides maybe Lolita or Helen, I’ve never shared these entirely with anyone — until now. No pressure right? If you’ve read this entire series, perhaps you can now understand why it’s taken me so long to tell this story. They’ve been sealed for the most part in a vault in the cellar of my mind for 10 years, I desired to forget the combination and never open it again… Alas, hidden they were not meant to be… Like embers left to the mercy of the winds, what started many years ago as a slight, unseen spark in my heart has evolved into a raging wildfire within me that I can’t contain any longer…

Unconscious to me initially, I’ve ill-fatedly attempted to snuff out the restlessness stirring within for the past decade through my addictions. In more recent years, deep down,  I discerned the only way left of how to purge myself of this inner torment was the last method I wanted to implement: exposing it by writing my story down and sharing it with others. I wasn’t meant to keep it for myself…

I bid thee farewell with this quote by Gandalf the White …

“Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the sea comes the end of our fellowship in middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep for not all tears are an evil.”

Wait, hold up —time out, some of you may be wondering: well, what the heck happened afterwards? Did something go awfully awry? Why are you dressed like a ridiculous wizard? You can’t end the story there! Valid questions. If you personally know me, you’re well aware that my life hasn’t exactly turned out the way that the prophecies predicted—at least not yet. Well, take a break and go grab some coffee or tea if you’d like during the interlude. Or sleep on the first section until another day. I know I’m emotionally spent already… 😴😁

📽🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎥

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In this second half, I’m going to give you a “quick” rundown of what’s happened since 2009 and bring you up to speed to 2018, as I attempt to leave the past behind and flash forward to the present. (Truth be told, nothing has been quite as riveting since that “burning bush” time of my life either way) If I was as detailed about every year since then this series would have 30 installments. Umm…No. I’m going to do a hard stop at 7 for my own sanity. I didn’t even initially plan it out that way, I’ve just been writing for almost two and a half years to catch up to the present. It finally winded down to the last prophecies and I happen to have 7 posts. (It’s kind of cool given the Biblical significance of the number 7. In many instances God used it to signify divine completeness or wholeness. But that’s a whole other topic) This written series is a testament or dedication if you will, to what God has done in my life.

2009: Hence began my journey from the shire through middle earth in search of Mordor. (Or more like leaving Mordor, navigating middle earth in search of the shire in my allegory) So I bounced around different churches when I moved to Austin, trying to find this still new to me concept of community. I was never fully able to integrate myself or feel at home in the church in Miami. I mean, I wasn’t there enough time. I felt the same way about Austin churches that first year. Nothing was quite the right fit. I couldn’t find my niche of people to connect with. Either singles groups at the churches I went to were over 40 and divorced, or the others were in the college phase of life; I found myself much like Dave Matthews — in the space between(In the late 20s bracket). Nobody my age group seemed to go to church. I guess everyone was busy getting married and popping babies. A congregation was either too white for me or the Latin/minority diverse ones were too conservative for my tastes. So I mainly hung out with co-workers that were also new transplants to Austin as we occasionally went out to drink and sing karaoke. The partying was definitely not at the Miami pace but what I can say, old habits are hard to break. I also intermingled with Juan & Herman’s social circle from time to time but I didn’t want to fall into the party or gay scene again. I longed for something different. I’d switch it up by convening for a few months with a fellowship I found of mainly older Christian men & women that struggled with same sex attractions (similar to the one I went to briefly in Fort Lauderdale). It was pretty tame, we usually met on Friday nights at a church and then we went to dinner afterwards. It was something somewhat familiar but didn’t satiate my need for speed(aka excitement) —except that one time that the group leader pulled me aside and asked me of all people if I wanted to speak and be interviewed about homosexuality at a random church 30 miles north of Austin in their evening service for young adults. (So yeaaa… careful if you tell God you’re bored or need a challenge. I did accept and survived the 10 minute interview on stage, which really didn’t go that deep based on the pastor’s questions. Although I knew it would be a surface level discussion beforehand. Which was fine, it was a new topic for that church to address and that’s probably all I could handle speaking about in public at the time. Three friends from work accompanied me. Luckily it was a small audience & I never had to see anyone there again)

Anyhow, one day one of the Friday night group members, Max, shared that he was also invited to be interviewed on the subject of homosexuality at his church, and he issued an open invitation to anyone who wanted to come to the service to provide moral support. This church was much larger than the one I spoke at and it was in Austin. I decided what the heck, I’ll go. As per usual, I wanted to determine what their approach to the topic was. The previous churches I had attended in town throughout the year never mentioned it and the one that did – did so in a condemning way. (That was my clue to get out of dodge) So I showed up that Sunday morning to this place called Gateway church: circa September 2009. The pastor interviewed Max, much like Michael’s story in Miami; it was very personal and real. I also realized that this pastor had love for the LGBT community and misfits in general, that his church’s message was focused on God’s love and not on condemning the “sinners”. Yet he didn’t compromise Biblical truth either. Just to be in a space where the topics of sex, homosexuality, drugs, etc could be talked about candidly — I knew I had found the right place.

Seemingly, here was a church where I could let my guard down and wouldn’t have to wear a mask. (Figuratively speaking of course. Although who doesn’t love wearing a cool Venetian carnival mask on the indicated occasion? I digress, Eyes Wide Shut ruined masquerades for me) I could possibly be myself. Not that I even knew how to do that at the time. Nor did it happen overnight. A big plus for me was that they had a contemporary rock band that also sung secular music which would be tied in with their messages. They incorporated relevant pop culture into their services. They kept it real, it helped that the pastor John was relatively young. I mean don’t get me wrong, I thought 40 something was old at the time, but now that I’m creeping closer to that age myself it really isn’t. Haha. (Now, anyone under 30 is a baby in my eyes. 😉)

When I attended this goliath of a church (it was in a large auditorium), I was comfortable with being anonymous by sitting in the top back rows. Eventually, I realized that I would have to make an effort to check out some of the bible study or extracurricular activity groups that the church offered throughout the week if I was to be more than a Sunday spectator. If I actually wanted to have real connections with human beings, as opposed to just half-heartily smiling and waving at greeters before & after service and peacing back out to the solitary confines of my apartment or Costco. (Yep I was a little extra, single & with a Costco membership) Since it was a large church, I saw there were plenty of people around my age! What a novelty. I often arrived a little hung over or just tired after some late Saturday night shenanigans. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. Luckily there were three services: like 9:30am, 11am and 12:30 for the late night owls like me. 🦉🌜Some of the first people I met at the church were a couple of wonderful women named Catherine and Rose (The former was my mother’s age and the latter closer to mine). They volunteered at the 1-to-1 ministry, which as the name implies; offered one on one lay counseling, just someone to talk to about one’s issues. It was helpful for me to meet ordinary people with an open minded mentality (and own versions of a sordid past) that didn’t judge me but just lent their time to help me feel welcomed.  Meeting with them eventually gave me the impetus to reach out to a men’s group and connect with the group leader Brandon. (It’s funny, many of the people I met in Austin the ensuing years have similar names: Brandon, Bob, Bobby, Brian, Ben, Billy, you get the gist. Ok, maybe not Billy. But a lot of B’s. It’s actually true; not only do they have similar names but a lot of white people look the same too. LOL. Oh lighten up; I joke and say the same about Latin people & other ethnic groups too #equalopportunityoffender)

So one fall evening, Brandon and I met up at a bar to have a beer and I unloaded my story on him. (The bit about my dad and the fulfilled prophecies at least) It was surprising to him but I didn’t scare him off nor did he write me off as insane. (At least not openly) I don’t think I mentioned anything about my sexuality though; I left out that significant chunk somehow. It was still a weight of shame that I carried and couldn’t open up to many people about. (Especially with a group of straight guys in a Christian men’s bible study group…I still had way too many walls up and assumptions of their reactions and judgments towards me. Once again, I can’t stress enough; you can’t really love someone or feel loved by others unless you allow people in to who you are entirely. Which involves risk, yes, and pushing past fear. That for me was a long process of course; I still need to be reminded constantly).

I eventually accepted Brandon’s invitation to come to group, it was held at his home which he shared with a roommate. The group was aptly named the William Wallace Society. (From Braveheart) I was super out of my comfort zone every time I went, but I enjoyed the group enough to stick around. Besides discussing a section from the bible or a study that was tied in to Sunday’s message at church: we also checked in on our week, life, work, our relationships, etc. (I mean they did, I barely spoke initially) Besides merely congregating in a home, the men would earnestly seek ways to serve others in their daily lives, and sometimes also as a group we would look for serving opportunities in the community. After approximately 4 months of attending, I just couldn’t feign conversations about love or just continue to nod my head at others and sit quietly when they told stories of their past or current relationships with women. One day during group I finally told my truth, that I struggled with same – sex attractions and I had previously lived my life as a gay man. That I felt God had called me to leave that behind and that I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant either. I was just seeking to know the Lord more and grow in my faith. As per usual, the build up and suspense in my head was scarier than the reality— I was met open heartily and with love. By and by, God would place specific people to help me along in my journey…

Several months later, in 2010, I swear it was God’s doing but somehow I was convinced to attend a men’s outdoor retreat (aptly named Dudefest) with the church which involved flag football, tug of war, camping, fire pit stories, shooting sporting clays and a bunch of other recreational outdoor activities that are a bro’s dream come true. For me? A smorgasbord of gut wrenching emotions & reactions: fear, anxiety, annoyance, nausea, etc. ( Basically, I was punted outside of my comfort zone. I couldn’t even see where it was that weekend) Again, most hobbies not involving drinking proved uncomfortable. The first night, our camp got heavily rained on and everyone was fast asleep or attempting to do so in the tent I was appointed to; when one dude showed up super late and managed to get most of us wet since we had to open it up to let him in. His abrupt arrival and water splashing added to my aggravation of having to sleep side by side with a bunch of strangers, on a less than level spot in the tent that was replete with rocks on the ground right underneath the thin  layer of canvas. Ok, I may be dramatizing a bit, they weren’t boulders either—  but I don’t have a lot of meat on my bones to begin with, one sleeping bag isn’t cushiony enough for my  low bone density apparently. Sheeeeit. It was chilly too and everyone was wrapped up like tamales. Additionally, the downpour was so relentless that I had to hold it for several hours before I could go outside and pee. (Most people in the camp didn’t get much sleep that night. I had camped before but it had been a long while since I had roughed it up outdoors. Yea yea I can be a whiner) The latecomer even had an obnoxiously loud, orange UT longhorn jacket to boot and squeezed in next to me. The audacity! All that being said — that person is now one of my best friends; Andrew, a white brother from another mother. Ha. Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think? A little too ironic… (He’s kind of like Samwise Gamgee to Frodo. He’s been there many times to help me up when I’ve run out of strength to carry on)Turns out, I found out later he happened to be Catherine’s son too.(The 1 on 1 lady) Yep, God hooked me up with that family, haven’t been able to get rid of them since. 😂 (Frodo couldn’t shake Samwise either even when he wanted to)

With the sands of the hourglass, changes came. Here’s me, a guy that barely spoke in a Bible study group setting at the beginning — I eventually started asking questions about scripture, giving feedback at times, and praying out loud for other people when someone asked for prayer. ( I participated!) All these things terrified me at the beginning. Over time, the William Wallace society grew big enough to the point that Brandon asked a couple of committed men from the group to split off and host offshoots of it at their own homes to accommodate new guys checking out faith in different parts of town. I eventually was one of the men who was challenged to start a small group. I took another leap of faith and did it. It only lasted for about a year. My apartment was small; it usually consisted of the same 2 to 3 steady guys with the occasional newcomer drop in. We got to know each other relatively well. I even became fast friends with one dude in the group who crashed in my living room for a bit while he was going through marital issues; through that tumultuous time I saw him grow in his faith and start to see God working in his life.  Amazingly, he eventually ended up getting back together with his wife. I had also become friends with an upstairs neighbor who came to group from time to time & even checked out church. Besides being involved in  men’s fellowship groups, I also took part in the recovery ministry at church in a few programs throughout 2010-2012. The term “recovery” was  new to me; little did I know that it would be a way of life for the rest of my days. 😮 I started as a participant, but then also served as one of the co-leaders in some programs. It was basically  a ministry that supported men & women dealing with life issues ranging from divorce, addiction, grief, hurts, or any other emotional hang-up. Many people were struggling with sexual issues. “Sexual brokenness” was a new term for me. I was right at home in there amongst broken, messed up people; aka “the misfits”.  Although, I felt like I was the most screwed up person out of all the recovery meetings I walked into. Looking back, that wasn’t necessarily the case. The fact is — my mess just looked different. I wasn’t more damaged in God’s eyes. We are all worthy of love and of God’s redemption, no matter what you’ve been through or what you’ve done in your life. Life isn’t a competition either way to assess who’s more or less of a hot mess than you. ha. God definitely started back up what he began in Miami: bringing awareness to some of my wounds and a lot of more digging into my childhood in an upward climb towards healing. After years of leading a dysfunctional life you’re bound to carry some baggage (or plenty). Everybody everywhere is dealing with something. Some of us just know how to mask it better. Many walk around unaware or dealing with it on their own as best as they can. Emotional and spiritual healing is like an onion, once you deal with something and peel it off there’s always a deeper layer underneath to work on that God reveals. Gosh darn it. Grrrrrr…

I met all sorts of interesting characters those first few years in Austin, both in and out of church. Ah yes, the motto for Gateway was “no perfect people allowed”. Isn’t that the truth? There’s no such thing as a perfect person. (If someone pretends to be, run the other way😆)Majority of folks I met at church were from an atheist or agnostic background like me. They had been burned by religion and now where trying to develop faith and grow in their spirituality and get to discover God in a new, real, and meaningful way. People can be complicated periodically (or often )though. Again, everybody is dealing with something underneath the surface level but I also believe that we’re  intrinsically selfish just by being human. (Yours truly included) However,  with God’s help and our willingness,  we can become more selfless over the course of our lives. I noticed not everyone had the best intentions either; some people had their own underlying agenda besides helping others like achieving recognition, status, power, or a holy roller image. Even at Gateway, sometimes I ran into the type that knew all the right bible verses to quote or were very knowledgeable in scripture but that really didn’t seem to be very loving at all once you interacted with them for a while. Those people exist in all types of denominations in churches everywhere. I had to painfully learn over time to not let bad apples affect my relationship with God or use as an excuse to veer from my path. Evil uses people with dishonest hearts or that are just in vulnerable stages in their spiritual path to cause divisions within a church community. What a better way to cast doubt on God’s existence if an outsider is looking in at a community that is not unified or not carrying out Jesus’ teachings in their daily life? (The main two being love God and love people). Luckily those folks were the exception rather than the rule at Gateway. It also took me several years for me to comprehend that loving others didn’t mean I had to continually hang out with people that were still in phases of life that I wanted to move away from. The paradox is that in order to grow as a human being, you have to help others that are going through what you’ve been through. Which means getting your toes a bit wet again. The key is not getting sucked back into the tar pit completely though. That requires having a solid spiritual foundation and support network. In retrospect, mine were still quite shaky at the time.

Being a people pleaser started getting me into trouble. Well it always did, I just started becoming more aware. Like everything else, that’s been a continual learning process. I’ll give you one example. Remember that neighbor that I mentioned that came to my small group? His name was Toby. Initially, hanging out with him got me dragged into peculiar situations: One being a time where a neighbor & acquaintance of his was drunk, high, and distraught; perhaps the reason she was also locked out of her apartment by her partner. She sought refuge at his pad. He flagged me down in the parking lot as I arrived from work so I proceeded to try helping him calm her down — until she pulled out a big ole kitchen knife on us. I was like, oh hell no. I’ve seen this Good Samaritan thing backfire. Both of us could have gotten stabbed, we had to slowly back away and run out of the apartment. She followed but super sluggishly luckily. Then she drifted back over to her apartment building yelling at her partner to grant her entry before the cops came and arrested her. Toby and I would go bar hopping or clubbing on occasion as well. He was usually on the hunt for a female conquest while I just laid back & mingled with others in our group. I had to intervene and pull him out of more than one bar skirmish that he usually found himself caught up in when drinking. He just seemed to be a magnet for trouble.(Kind of like younger me, you can’t make this stuff up!) Around that time I realized I was getting too old for babysitting people who couldn’t handle their alcohol. I also began to comprehend what my friends felt like when they had to put up with me playing the drunken fool in my earlier days. Hmm… ok ok, not that it didn’t happen to me again a handful more times in the following decade… Don’t judge, they were flukes. (No seriously) Being a drunken mess is definitely over for me now. Knock on wood.haha. (I reminisce and know that God was clearly watching over me)  At that point life was starting to show me I had to face conflict; not run from it. I also had to integrate another interesting word into my life: boundaries. I had to actually cut some relationships off from my life that I realized were simply toxic: some had dramatic endings, other people moved out of town, while others I simply just fell out of touch with. Oddly enough, all of those relationship purges occurred within the same one to two year time frame. It was meant to be.

While all of this was happening, I found myself working for the first time in the medical field. The miracle job I described earlier that I obtained through a recruiter involved working at a pediatric speech, occupational, and physical therapy clinic. I was there for two years. In 2011, I landed another job that only God could have led me too. I ended up employed with a pediatric cancer center with a good pay raise and a flexible administrative role. (I’m still there present day). Of course, that’s been filled with life lessons.  I had felt like Shrek, an ogre when I was around kids growing up. They annoyed me, never thought I’d want one. Due to my life circumstances,  my heart had become calloused over time and filled with bitterness. The innocence of childhood was  a distant memory. Well, God placed me in that field for a reason. As the months went by, in addition to what God was doing through church; spending time with families and kids at both the Austin jobs helped melt some of the ice that had kept my heart frozen. Turns out, kids aren’t so bad, they’re kind of fun to be around. They didn’t see me with all the scales that had grown on me. They just wanted to play and have fun! Children are also a reflection of God’s love; most have no pretense, bias or fear when they are very young. I’ve had the privilege of interacting with many inspiring special needs kids and children/teens with cancer. Many have been the days when I’ve moped about my life, but sometimes just seeing them at my workplace, at such a young age fighting for their lives — has helped me flip the perspective switch from self-pity to gratitude for the health and blessings I do have. They’re the real heroes. The providers that care for them, single moms, and veterans are some of the other heroes I’ve encountered…

Up to this point, 2012ish, my life looked significantly much different than it did in Miami. For the first few years in Austin, I had been growing and taking on challenges outside of my comfort zone, both spiritually and career wise. In addition to my full time job, I got involved with a financial planning firm for a couple of years and even went as far as obtaining my life and health insurance license with the state of TX on a path to become a financial advisor. (I learned plenty, but building that into a career didn’t pan out. My heart just wasn’t in it) I also started tithing. (Reluctantly when I first felt the conviction mind you, nobody forced me though. And boy, do I have a story for another occasion of how God proved to me that that’s what he wanted me to do. Malachi 3:10) I even took up mixed martial arts for about a year until my body started presenting signs of aging and chronic aches/pains throughout my back, neck, and shoulders (Years of stress and bad posture caught up also. Don’t get me started on my at times decrepit body👴 ).

Overall, I had experienced authentic glimpses of peace and contentment. Eventually though — I hit a wall and started feeling burnt out with church. It seemed like a big washing machine that kept sucking me in little by little into a perpetual spin cycle. Besides bible study groups, attending and serving in recovery groups, I also volunteered for a period of time on Sundays in the prayer team and even for a month in the kid’s ministry. (Yea the latter one didn’t last, my patience with kids was still limited at the time.) I kept getting pulled into different activities and obviously didn’t know how to say no. I became busy doing good things but those very endeavors were distracting since I couldn’t really discern if they were things that God wanted me to be necessarily participating in or that even aligned with my giftings. Over time I also recognized that I couldn’t possibly help everyone I encountered or that I tried befriending. I found myself too emotionally perturbed when helping others, especially within the recovery ministries I volunteered in. My heart deeply felt and cared for people, but it was too much of a burden for me to try to fix others.(As if I could) It wasn’t my job to make myself available for every person that I met with issues. Sometimes a prayer is all one could do. On the flip side, now and again God does want me or you to play an active role in someone’s life and invest time to love on them. (Like many have done for me) I had to pray for discernment and learn my boundaries. Whether they did it consciously or not, people would take advantage of my heart. What would happen? The enemy used that weakness to overload me over time and then eventually stress me out. My pattern was to burn out from people and then wanting to isolate. Isolating led to acting out sexually, then that turned into shame and disconnecting from God.

Besides Andrew, most of the friends I had made at church were no longer actively in my life or were just “friends” that I saw when I went to service on Sundays or “Christian” soirees. If I didn’t go, I wouldn’t hear from them. (Around that time is when I was going through the friend purge in my non-Christian social circles too). I came about the slow realization that I just wasn’t growing spiritually anymore. Throughout those first few years in Austin, I still struggled with pornography, sexting, flirting with men online, or even the occasional hookups. It would be less when I was involved in a group of some kind but those issues would flare back up during the transitional gaps. It didn’t entirely consume my being nor did I consider it enough of a problem that I could still lead a somewhat functional life and follow God. I think I compartmentalized and kind of just saw that as the other side of me as “it is what it is”. ( My dark or shadow side if you will) It weighed heavier on me as time progressed, I longed for freedom. No matter how much I prayed or worked on digging into my past and banishing my inner demons, I never seemed to be able to shake off those familiar chains. God didn’t appear too eager to remove them either despite my pleading. The duality in me was real though, the moments when I found myself immersed in a haze of lust I would eventually berate God and tell him to piss off, to leave me to my vices. In my instances of darkness my inner Gollum would take over and demand “my precious”.

 

 

So I hit this spiritual wall, stopped attending church, got bored of the suburbs, and moved just south of downtown Austin. (A location upgrade for sure, loved it!) Despite this change, I had already entered into what I call the “dark ages” era of my life. As if I hadn’t had any before right? Ha. Besides the notion of plateauing spiritually,  I was also just depressed because I was now in my early 30s and well life hadn’t quite turned out as I had bargained.  It’s like yes, I had undergone these spiritual experiences with God initially, did the whole church thing, felt some personal growth by interacting with a more diverse group of people than ever before and hence; perceived possibilities for other ways of living my life other than just riding the rest of it out as a tragic, fairly celibate, lonely homosexual. But underneath the surface, there was still fear and that pervasive  sentiment of always feeling  like the odd man out, the misfit. Eventually, the job novelty wore off and I also became discontented about where my career was going… Sigh. Moving to central Austin felt like I was in a whole other city. Everything had changed except my job. I hardly had friends anymore. I felt alone and like I was starting from zero again. Try to understand that I…  tried to make a move to stay in the game… I tried to stay awake and remember my name, but everybody was changing and I didn’t feel the same. Or “everything was changing” in my case. 😉🎤Sing it Keane…

 

Over time, God’s promises had drifted into the cobwebs of my mind. They just weren’t happening. I was still attracted to men and the nagging doubt still echoed in my head “What if?” “What if the right guy just still hasn’t come along? You can’t entirely close the door to that possibility.” Despite everything I had been through and learned from my past relationship failures, deep down there was still a seed of rebellion and unwillingness  to surrender my sexuality completely to the Lord.

The rationalization in my mind around that time was like: God, you’re everywhere, I don’t need to go to church. I’ll still talk to you daily. After all, I connect with you through the people I meet and I can just spend more time in nature. Which is where I feel your presence mostly nowadays either way. I was blessed to find a studio apartment near downtown which had a scenic greenbelt behind it — a forest within the city basically. (My own little Narnia or Fanghorn forest for me to retreat to — there are no talking trees though.) I would go and spend hours outside on the weekends and have one way conversations with the universe. I’d also try to meditate and empty the thoughts in my mind in order to sit in silence and perhaps hear back (Common meditation myth: that was excruciating and didn’t work. Only now am I learning that there is no right way to meditate and that it’s okay to let your thoughts flow; patience young grasshopper)

The irony is that despite my best efforts to remain connected to the source of life, I eventually started drifting further from God. Adversely, a void started slowly developing and being filled with old, familiar detrimental thoughts and habits. Like watchful hyenas, they crept back in uninvited from the periphery of my mind and encroached into my reality…I became increasingly more isolated. Never really one to drink alone at home, I found myself imbibing wine from time to time on weekends while I attempted to teach myself how to DJ on a rented 2 deck Serato controller. (That was short-lived ) With a nearly extinct local friend circle and no accountability from fellowship groups anymore; naturally, I started spending more time on my smartphone social apps. My flirtatious chatting with strangers started turning back into more frequent, physical encounters. I started smoking weed from time to time again with the strangers I’d meet. It became a downward spiral of shame. I was stuck in depression and no longer cognizant of my identity in God. I started to believe the lie in my head that being a mal-adjusted, tortured homosexual was my lot in life.

As explicitly described earlier in the series, my sexual encounters weren’t even that gratifying when it came down to it. Romantic relationships with males never worked in the past, especially now knowing that God would never bless one. Something had changed within me in the last several years though. I was still physically attracted to males but the desire and need to be in a relationship with one was gone. I no longer had transgender feelings, I felt more secure in my masculinity but obviously still in touch with my feminine side too. I knew I wasn’t the same person from 5, 6 years earlier both spiritually and on the sexual spectrum — no matter how much I tried going back in my moments of insanity. It was only in instances of loneliness that I desired a male’s companionship. Even though I kept telling myself I just wanted friends, the situation usually turned sexual if I went to someone’s home or vice versa. Once I got physical release I wanted nothing to do with the guys I would meet.  The torment I had experienced before having Christ in my life paled in comparison to the excruciating anguish I now felt on the dark nights of my soul during my “dark ages” era. Once you submit your life and soul to God, no matter how bleak or dark you feel your situation may be, you still belong to him. Therefore, the angst of your spirit feeling separated from your maker is just something that can’t be comprehended intellectually: it’s beyond words. In my lucid moments I kept wondering why I persisted to seemingly stay in masochistic sin patterns and reject God’s intervention. Then I’d regret it and swear it off only to eventually repeat the madness again. Paradoxically, no matter how much despair I fell into there was seemingly now an invisible stopping point. Allow me to explain.

I repeatedly found myself  in a dark box, the thoughts of no longer wanting to be in the world swarmed around me and taunted me incessantly — despite that, it’s as if there was always a small little crack in that box letting in a beam of light, a glimmer of hope. That was Jesus, sitting with me in the darkness, invisible but his quiet presence just comforting me there in the valley of my pain. It was something that had never existed in my life before. Or maybe it did, but I was never aware. Despite the shadows that suffocated me in those moments, a still whisper cut through and reminded me that I was still loved and that I had a purpose. Hope was not completely gone. No matter what  I did. That I must still fight and move forward. That I was stronger than I thought and that I wasn’t alone. Ultimately I would snap out of these darkness spells, reminding myself that I couldn’t be a coward, that suicide was just not an option. I was experiencing the pain of feeling separated from God here on earth; I couldn’t imagine bearing that for an eternity in hell if I took my own life. ( At least that was my ingrained belief at the time. I’m not sure what I think of suicide and the eternal implications now. As far as I know the Bible doesn’t say it’s an unforgiveable sin. Only God knows for sure and can judge. I still rather not consider that as an option for myself or anyone currently living. But I digress …) When I would gradually start feeling better, I would thank God for his mercy and loyalty to me, despite my repeated failed attempts to run away from life and my seemingly bleak reality. I felt I had failed God, that I couldn’t measure up to the man he had called me to be. Surely he had picked the wrong guy. I felt worse off than when I had started my spiritual journey.

Again, I knew I couldn’t continue in this rut; besides the effect on my relationships, I would eventually lose my job if I kept missing work or if my performance started declining. (Which it has at times) I wouldn’t have money to pay my bills and my rent. It could still get worse. Around that time I finally accepted that maybe my problem was a form of sexual compulsion that I couldn’t control: that my malady wasn’t merely spiritual, but physiological as well. Addiction is an illness of the mind, body, & spirit. I had been in denial for so long since I rarely had sex. However, my patterns were indicative of sex addiction: seeking out the high & chemical release that an orgasm provided, the adrenaline of the chase of online conquests, of feeling desired and affirmed, of living in a fantasy world,  and the disinterest once I ” had my fix”;  those very thoughts and behaviors had been stealing my life away. I had been oblivious to the fact that everything around me had slowly shut down as a result of these unhealthy coping mechanisms: friendships, stalled career, spiritual growth etc. I had blinked and was now in my mid 30s, I recall saying at 29 that I would start taking it seriously soon. That I just needed a little more time. I argued with God that I had tried as hard as I could those first few years of my faith to get myself fixed up and aid others. I listed my grievances against people and why they were difficult to contend with.  

“People are stubborn, they don’t want to change. It’s too emotionally exhausting. I tried to help but failed. Nobody wants to hear my story. I have no credibility because I’m young or if I’m still struggling with all my sexual crap. I barely have friends anymore. Nobody understands me. Most of the people in church have never encountered what I did nor do they even believe half of what the Bible says. Why the hell did you even let me go through that so I could wind up like this? A total failure. I can’t go back to my past no matter how much I try and I have no signs of a future. I’m just stuck in between phases of my life in this abyss forever now.”

YES, there have been many moments of whining to God, of self-pity (which got me nowhere btw), of blaming & judging others, and questioning whether or not I had single-handedly obliterated God’s plans for my life. Oh silly me…

Philippians 1:6 “Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus”

Despite my inner turmoil, I kept praying for direction on how to turn the beat around. (I’m also grateful to the people who’ve prayed for me when I haven’t had the strength or desire to. Maybe you’re one of them🙂)One day while watching an animated movie at home called Epic: God spoke loud & clear to me during one particular scene. (I had to go back to IMDB.com to refresh my memory on the synopsis of the film) The main character was an independent, leaf man warrior who liked working on his own and who happened to live in trees. (Of course)During the story he falls in love and learns the importance of teamwork to make a difference. The quote that spoke to me said something to the effect “All you need to do is just stick with your pod. You can’t go at it alone.”

Message sound familiar? God finally got this thought into my brain: “Instead of complaining about everything that is wrong with the church, why don’t you be the change you want to see? You can’t do that isolated from the world in your apartment. If you want to help others, which in turn will help you along your path, you need community.” Ah crap, you’d think I would have learned that by now.

I eventually ended up going back to church after almost a year hiatus. I wasn’t really prompted to go somewhere new nor could I think of anywhere else that appealed to me at the moment— so I decided to return to Gateway. Only this time I checked out their south campus. It was day and night compared to the main one in North Austin that I had attended off and on for almost 4 years. This campus didn’t have it’s own building; the people met in a rented high school cafeteria space and there were maybe 150-200 attendees. Rather intimate, it was difficult to hide there. In an effort to meet others quickly, I decided to volunteer and wound up in the greeter team. Me? A greeter? God, surely you have a sick sense of humor. I did it though, and somehow managed to not entirely scare people off with my awkward postures, facial expressions, or at times clammy hands while standing by the door. (Yea, another confession) I made two good friends during my year there. A bubbly, blonde Cali mom and a Mexican bachelor who didn’t speak Spanish named Robert. He happened to be a break dancer, successful entrepreneur and one of the most social people I ever met: a total extrovert, the complete opposite of me. Truth be told, he was rather overwhelming for me to get used to at first. But we clicked somehow and bonded on tacos, he was the only other Mexican there seemingly. Besides going to church on Sunday, I really never got integrated much into that south community like I did up north. I was selective this time about what I committed myself to. I started using the word “No”. Despite that, somehow God kept me going & slowly breaking me out of my isolating routine —mainly due to Robert’s constant invitations via annoying group texts to go salsa dancing on random nights, happy hours, or to group lunches after church. Dancing I rarely went; I was too self conscious to attempt to fluidly move without alcohol around real dancers. Not to mention he and his friends rarely drank. They had natural dancing ability, what gives. I will say, if it weren’t for him constantly reaching out, I wouldn’t have stayed in that church for long. He helped me learn to be social again with other people and to rediscover my extrovert attributes. (I’ve realized I’m an ambivert now, a true divergent 😎). Side note, he is now married to an awesome girl named Anne. (She looks like Lady Galadriel) As for Andrew? I didn’t see him as often since he lived in Timbuktu but he never left the picture. (He’s also married now to a grand gal too) I still attend church at a new central campus that opened in 2016 and help out with greeting and breaking down the setup since it’s also at a rented space. I’ve sort of just been on the sidelines there. Everything has taken the backburner to the biggest battle I’ve had to face my whole life: yes you guessed it, sex addiction. Lucky me! (Such a relevant topic in today’s day & age given the #Metoo movement in Hollywood. Glad it’s finally being talked about)

Circa 2014-2015 I started seeing a therapist as well. I’m pretty sure it was through him I found out about Sex Addicts Anonymous. That’s when I finally really admitted to myself that I was a “sex addict”. I’ve now been in that program for almost 3 years, working on my twelve steps of recovery. (Just in case you didn’t get  your fill on the topic through this series, lol; I chronicled my addiction struggles in Learning to Leave Addiction Behind  and Leaving Peter Pan in Neverland). This past year has been hands down the most difficult and humbling part of my journey thus far. I’ve switched sponsors a few times, had to discover that I wasn’t even that willing to change when I first started the program, and that living the twelve steps becomes a daily part of life that never ends. You don’t just complete the steps and then voila, you’re cured from addiction! It can always manifest itself again if you don’t stay spiritually fit.  That being said, life has gotten better. It took me two years to complete the first 5 steps. I was basically going at my pace and trying to control my own recovery. No real surrender there. I guess my sexual struggles had been such a prevalent part of my life that I never fully believed deep-down that God could heal me from them. (The premise of step 2) It also feels like the death of an old friend that’s been with you for so long. (Much like Gollum to Sméagol) It took a plethora of relapses throughout those two years to realize that I had to switch up what I was doing and try something different. I started a much more rigorous 12 step “Primary Purpose” program that works off the big book of AA about 9 months ago. That book is the template for all 12 step recovery programs.

Remember the “what if the right guy comes along one day” bug that nagged at me all these years? God put that to rest at the end of 2015 when I met a guy online that was unlike anyone I had ever met. We’ll call him Craig since I met him off Craigslist. (Don’t judge🤨) He was several years younger than me; he was like 27 I think. He was looking for a friend that was open to the potential of a relationship; not just a mere hook-up. I relayed that I was on the same boat and truly wanted to believe that—but the active addict brain is disingenuous at best. He was everything that I had envisioned when younger as the ideal match: tall, attractive, (a blond Benedict Cumberbatch look-alike), intelligent, fit, driven (he was studying to be an MD), strong sense of self, good heart, and he seemed really into me. There was definitely sexual chemistry. Craig quickly noticed the  red flags though, detecting that I was a bit wishy washy once I told him a little about me. We only hung out two or three times at his apartment, but it was for several hours each time and we had some great conversations. As per usual, I didn’t “sleep” with the guy, but we did have some sexual contact the first time we chilled.  He quickly established a “no sexual play of any kind”  boundary once I shared I was struggling with sex addiction. He sincerely wanted to date me, and didn’t want to ruin it with sex early on, which I was not expecting to hear. Again, part of me wanted to attempt a relationship, prove to myself my addiction wasn’t a hindrance to that. He was my answer to my “what if…” question. I had to give it a shot.

One minute I was like yes, let’s just be friends and see where it goes— then the next minute I found myself hitting on him or trying to start something physical while we were watching a movie. He called me out on it right away and served as a mirror to see my addict madness emerge in real time. My normal self and addict self where battling it out, Sméagol & Gollum were both wide awake. (Or Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde if you prefer) It was puzzling and a bit frightening to be aware of the duality in my personality interchangeably manifesting itself in the same evening hanging out with Craig. For a while it would be Sméagol engaging in a deep, spiritual conversation with him; but as we drank some wine my inner Gollum would come out and intersperse the dialogue with sexual innuendos. In one instant I’d be treating him like a human being, and in the next as an object of lust. I saw how selfish my behaviors were with their mixed messages. In the more subdued moments we just snuggled and watched TV, I tried envisioning introducing him into my life, in a scenario outside of that apartment — like attempting to start to date him, bringing him to meet my friends and all that jazz. I couldn’t. I recognized he was an amazing human being and that we shared a mutual attraction towards one another, but I had nothing to offer him outside of that fleeting time in space. He had met all the requirements that I thought I needed in a man and had contended with God about for all those years, and yet; something still felt off, I wasn’t conformed. I also saw firsthand that my addict self was preventing me from engaging in the type of emotional intimacy he desired. The reality was that he did not fit in the scope of where my spiritual path was headed, I knew deep down that my time for that had long passed. Or that it was just never meant to be. Here again, one more confirmation of that.  The last time we hung out, he saw how conflicted I was so he just gently persuaded me to go home in the middle of the night. (This annoyed me because he lived far from me and I was tired) He told me I would feel better about myself the next day if I did, instead of staying and possibly doing something that I regretted. ( It wasn’t easy for him to turn down my intermittent advances either #justsaying) My ego was bruised temporarily;  although after the fact, I realized he had respected and loved ME in that moment more than I did myself by keeping healthy boundaries. He didn’t believe in God though and still had hope of finding what he was looking for despite failed relationships in the past. He wasn’t willing to compromise for less; I admired his determination. It wasn’t my place to tell him it would never work with a man long-term. That’s something he had to discover on his own, but God used those interactions for me to see that my disease was no excuse to toy with other people’s emotions and that no matter how I tried to frame it, a romantic relationship with a man was just something that no longer correlated with who I was becoming.

The biggest foe and driving force behind my addiction has been pride. I knew it was floating underneath the surface all these years, but not until I worked Steps 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 did I actually come to acknowledge how much it was blinding me. In a nutshell:

• Step 4 is making a fearless moral inventory of oneself,
• Step 5 is admitting these things to ourselves and at least one other human being,
• Step 6 is being ready to have God remove all of our character defects and Step 7 is actually asking him to do so.
• Step 8 is making a list of people we have harmed and become willing to make amends to them all.
• Step 9- to make direct amends wherever possible.

Needless to say, my ego/addict self resisted each one with a fury. It’s an undertaking to actually dedicate copious amounts of time to write down and acknowledge your biggest fears, resentments, and ways you’ve harmed others. You also have to be willing to allow other people to call you out or speak truth to you on some of your character defects. Cause let’s be honest, it’s easy to see them in others, but in ourselves that’s a whole other story. I never realized what a resentful person I was, those resentments mainly re-emerged back in the form of passive-aggressive behaviors towards others.  I had to call and apologize to people that I’ve held resentments against for many years. Several I wasn’t even conscious to until recently! But through this 12 Step process, you betcha God starts making you aware of your character flaws. Ask and you shall receive. I recall a newer female friend telling me directly “you know, even though your intent is to be funny, sometimes you say things that come off hurtful” Ouch, turns out; being sarcastic is not necessarily charming to everyone. Oh, being condescending wasn’t something I left entirely behind in my 20s either. She wasn’t the first person I had subtlety insulted once I started discussing that character defect with close friends. It was just so interwoven into my personality for so long that I thought that’s who I was. The worst part is that I can’t necessarily change it or promise I’ll never do it again. All I can do is ask for God to remove it and make me more aware of what’s about to come out of my mouth. (I don’t desire to hurt others, much less unintentionally) A lot of what comes out from our lips is a reflection of the state of what’s going on with our hearts. I have been restless, irritable, and discontent for the last few years needless to say. This dying to self/ego is not for the faint of heart.

The opposite of pride is humility. I definitely lacked it. I had what could be described as false humility. I thought I was meekly walking in God’s path and serving others but the truth is many times I was selfish. ( Still can be) Many moons ago when I attended my first men’s small group, a guy was praying for me and he laid his hands on my shoulders. He spoke out loud: “God has shown you glimpses of the man you could become, and that man terrifies you.” I shuddered. The dude barely knew me, much less my innermost fears. That was the Holy Spirit speaking to me through him, no doubt. He also stated during the prayer that I had “false humility”. To which I thought, please, you’re full of it. Haven’t I been through enough? How much humbler do you want me to be?” His comment stung, and I wasn’t sure why. Many years later: Ryan, if you’re reading this, you were right. I was so oblivious to it. Well somewhat, but I refused to admit it existed. All of these years, sure, I’ve struggled with my self-esteem, learning to love myself, others, God, etc. But then attached to my ego, that duality within, whatever you want to call it —there’s  also always been a subliminal sense of pride of thinking I knew God better than most. Dare I say, more enlightened than others. That God touched my life in a way that most people could never understand once I started realizing the events that I’ve chronicled in this series were out of the norm —even in religious circles. I was judgmental of most other Christians I met, not really giving credence to their beliefs which didn’t hold much substance in the way they lived their life (At least from my self-righteous perspective). In the back of my fantasy-laden mind, I kind of fancied myself as a modern day wizard. (Well, sans the magic part, so really a muggle or No-Maj 😄 ) This whimsical thinking was more driven by Hollywood movies than actually from God. I mean look at the featured pic of the post, that’s my weekend attire when hiking through the forest…Ok, kidding. That was one time, on Halloween. Relax. My mind hasn’t completely left to the land of the uncanny. Oh… well, there was this one other time at a friend’s house…

After only making it to through 5 steps in my first attempt, I restarted the Steps again last summer under the AA book based “Primary Purpose” program I mentioned earlier. Which had a reputation for being quite strict in the SAA community. It was affiliated with SAA but simultaneously a separate entity. (You’ll catch my drift) I asked an older gentleman to be my sponsor and he actually passed me along to his “apprentice”, someone he was mentoring and guiding through the steps. The guy was a couple of years younger than me, had only worked four steps, and he was still figuring out what God was truly all about and reprogramming his mind from his screwed up conservative “Christian” upbringing. Sound familiar? He really wasn’t sure if he entirely believed that Jesus was the son of God though. Fair enough, he was on his journey. But he was my new sponsor? Yeah, if I wasn’t aware of being prideful before, I definitely was now.

My ego was like: what is this kid going to teach me about God? I’ve been in recovery for years; this guy only has a handful of months, seriously? He’s married; he has no choice but to stay sober now since he was caught having affairs.

Regardless of what my ego had to say on it, he had longer sobriety and wasn’t chronically relapsing like me . (Plus he was willing to help and take time out of his busy work and family schedule. There was a scarcity of sponsors too) My best thinking is what got me in 12 step addiction meetings in the first place. Perhaps it was time I had yet some more humble pie. The truth was and still is — I don’t know everything about God. If I did, why can’t I beat this addiction? Or why hasn’t he just healed me? Just because someone isn’t from the same faith background or been along the exact same path I have doesn’t mean God can’t use him to guide me along at a certain juncture. (If that person is sincerely seeking God out in their own life of course) Steps 1 and 2 detail that the beginning of recovery is admitting that we are powerless over our addictive behavior and that we come to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. I deem, once you really start to pursue and desire to know God, he will reveal his true identity to you: father, spirit, and son. Doesn’t mean it’ll happen to you like it did to me. It was an adjustment at first, but I’ve actually enjoyed attending secular recovery groups were people prescribe to a higher power. God’s spirit is at hand there too. It’s seldom in a “Westernized Christianity” context. The key is inviting his spirit to be present and to be in  community with others.

I think attending 12 Step recovery meetings and being in therapy has helped me improve my vernacular to speak about spiritual matters with agnostics or atheists that don’t prescribe to Christian terminology. As referenced previously, for many people certain words are off-putting and deter them from them moving forward on their spiritual path if they’ve been burned by religion.  Looking back on my writing, it’s not as inclusive as I would have liked it to be as far as describing spiritual truths a bit more generically without a lot of “Christianese”. However, that’s the context I learned those truths in at those particular points in my journey. I can’t undo the past nor am I going to go back and rewrite all the first six installments. Perhaps, despite my attempt to the contrary, some of the subject matter in my story is too esoteric in nature. Not everyone is going to get it; or wants to. Especially when one gets to mentioning Jesus & God in the same sentence.  Faith in Christ is a choice and not a matter of the mind, but of the heart. Ironically, the very truths that I had been learning about God had produced the pride that was now standing in the way of me moving on to this next phase of my spiritual development. I had to put my ego aside and everything I thought I knew and attempt to surrender myself to the 12 step process. Yes, surrender is a daily task. I’ve come to find, the more you know about God , the less you know. And yet I know more than I did before. Alas, life and its paradoxes. There is no one way or one method that God could use to bring you along on this second half of life known as the spiritual awakening. As long as you continually ask for willingness to align your heart’s desires to his will, God will direct your path to a manner that will speak to you. You shouldn’t subscribe forever to just one particular methodology, organization, person or process  when it comes to your recovery (or spiritual path) because you can unwittingly  make those things in of themselves your focal point (idols) and lose sight of God. Something might work for a season; and then it won’t any longer. Then you have to ask God what’s next.

Which brings me to one of my last anecdotes as I almost catch up to the present. So last year, the younger guy who I described in the last paragraph only lasted about two months as my sponsor before pulling a Donald and firing me. I guess my pride and stubbornness made me difficult to work with needless to say. I’m quite thankful he did that though. Him dropping me as a sponsee humbled me and gave me the impetus to go back and ask for help from my initial sponsor choice: Jeff. I really worked my tail off through steps 6-9! Initially, in the spirit of trying to be meek, I did everything he told me to without question. But the 12 step promises of the Big Book of AA state you should start undergoing a spiritual awakening and connection to God after Step 9. I knew what that entailed before entering the program but I obviously needed some serious fine tuning. It’s a long story but my relationship with Jeff turned sour after a few months. Oddly enough, I started butting heads with him once I began experiencing longer stints of sobriety (3-4 weeks instead of 1, hey it was progress) and regaining the ability to listen to my gut as the noise of my active addict mind quieted a bit.  I felt miserable, since I had to allow myself to feel all my emotions—as is expected in the initial withdrawal periods. I did see signs of hope in large part due to the recovery tools he passed along to me. It only took two years but this time I actually had the willingness to make daily calls to other addicts to check in with my feelings (So foreign to me or most men for that matter) It’s dangerous to leave daily fears and resentments unchecked. He was supportive with my step work, but instead of a guide, he turned out to be more of a dictator. I started noticing that on a couple of occasions when I wanted to raise a concern with him regarding some of the group’s odd dynamics; he’d get defensive and rebuke me by calling me “dangerous” or saying I was “speaking out of delusion” since I didn’t’ have enough sobriety. Yes, the mind is foggy and trains of thought can be disjointed for a few days after a relapse, for sure… But that doesn’t last thirty days either; not if you’re earnestly back up on the saddle and recommitting to God on the daily. Besides, he didn’t know my heart and relationship with the Lord.  I wasn’t a newbie to recovery anymore but realized with even all the knowledge in the world that I had no credibility in his eyes unless I actually applied it and stopped acting out. (Which would not come from my own will power)

Through continual step work, daily reflection & prayer time, listening to Richard Rohr’s “Falling Upward”, “Immortal Diamond” and other spiritual books that Jeff actually recommended, conversations with other group members, (including some guys that were quietly dropping off from the fellowship as well)— I started piecing together various red flags. It wasn’t just me feeling something was awry.  God slowly revealed to me (and other fellows within the group)  the pattern of unhealthy, toxic, and almost cultish mindset/behaviors that permeated amongst the older members. (One of them being Jeff) They used subtle manipulation, shame, and control under the guise of service, wisdom, and sobriety to retain people in their walls and committing to positions of service within their intergroup. I guess they got a power trip off sponsoring so many newcomers (they churned through the influx like revolving doors;  the strict expectations of the program deterred many). The older members dismissed those that didn’t stay by saying “they didn’t have the willingness.” For some cases it was probably true. However, these select few “elders” would also subtly treat other younger members of the group as subordinates even if they  had worked all the 12 steps, had long periods of sobriety, and already were sponsoring others! They even discouraged newcomers from attending other sex addiction meetings that didn’t work off of the Big Book. ( Meaning,  any meetings outside of their scope. Let me clarify, I think applying the big book of AA for any type of addiction is fine; but they just picked and chose what they liked and ignored certain parts)

Their way of sobriety was the only way as per them. This is a big no no. They were hurting people long term rather than helping them, making them reliant on one specific group, and not on God. Especially affected were newcomers that hadn’t been to other types of meetings and didn’t know any better. Sadly, these “elders” and their ego were oblivious to it. (Despite the increasing exodus of people over time) Yea they were sober (again allegedly), but what good is being a dry addict if you’re still trying to control every aspect of your life and others? Ultimately, like the Big Book of AA states, once having worked the steps, the goal is to trust God and slowly reintegrate yourself back into society without fear.  Yes, you seek to serve and help other recovering addicts (12th step), but at the same time the point isn’t to only remain in fellowship with other addicts and not have a life. Temptation is everywhere; you can’t live in a cave. The steps are necessary to heal from the driving forces of addiction, which then in turn will allow you to make better choices when triggered or faced with temptation.  In December, I finally pushed past my fear of conflict and fired Jeff from being my sponsor. I prayed for God to send me a new sponsor outside of the toxic influence of that group and that wasn’t biased to thinking only one program of recovery works. I thought I’d find him in SAA, but less than a week later after my prayer request; through a casual conversation after a Sunday church service, someone I knew there offered to sponsor me and help me finish my last three steps. Turns out, he was a recovering sex addict too and worked the 12 steps through several programs himself. I was totally not expecting it. I eventually listened to God’s prompting to bail from the Big Book group completely once I found out I was being blacklisted for not having a sponsor within the group. A buddy told me he was told to not hang out with me anymore because “I was a bad influence”. That’s when it finally dawned on me that my time there was definitely up. Lol. Like anything one becomes accustomed to, the change was bittersweet because some of the guys had become my main source of phone support throughout the week. I didn’t have many incoming or returned calls anymore once I became “a deflector.” I would have to rebuild a support network again. (As we speak, I’ve come to find out that offshoot Primary Purpose group is about to be kicked out of the greater SAA community because everything comes to light sooner or later. There have been many grievances filed against them) I tell you, darkness can stir up drama anywhere.

It was a learning and eye-opening experience; I don’t regret the 7 months I was there)  I took a leap of faith and God quickly restored a network of support for me to stay on the path. What do you know, a few weeks after getting through the holidays, finding my new sponsor and jumping ship from the cult group— a new 12 step program helmed by the pastor commenced at the central campus of my church. (A former addict himself) I also combine that with an SAA meeting I like later in the week. I’m grateful that I retained a small group of recovery friendships that supported me during the season of transition. (As I well know now, I can’t be on my own without accountability for too long) Despite my fear of change, life didn’t end nor did I go off the deep end and spiral out of control just because I abandoned my security blanket. I knew I was stronger then when I had started. I jumped off the ledge and God caught me— proving faithful, once again.

Throughout my recovery journey, I’ve had to modify my life to alleviate triggers for my addiction.  I quit weights for a while, got rid of internet at home for six months, locked down my Smartphone App store limiting myself to the apps that I really need (no social/dating apps), and I even had to get rid of my social media accounts. It was a tough decision to eliminate Facebook, mainly because I used it to share my blog posts with my friends on there. Not going to lie, my writing is my art form, of course I want others to read it and give me feedback. Or approval. Scary as each post shared was. That too, however, I had to let go of as part of my recovery. Halfway through writing this series, an inner hope emerged that maybe my blog could jumpstart something in my life—that my story would perhaps lead to publishing or speaking opportunities. Once again, I was trying to control the ships of my destiny. Ultimately, I had to get rid of Facebook because it was a trigger and a hindrance to my recovery. (I did it before it got trendy this year though🤗) Overuse of social media creates false intimacy, comparison to other people’s lives, and stirs up feelings that frankly wouldn’t arise as frequently if we were constantly present in reality. It’s a burden on our spirits to be exposed to so much information, news and tragedies worldwide constantly. (Many ions ago before the dawn of the radio, TV, and the internet, people only knew what was going on around them initially. Flash forward present day, news exposure has become real time and has increased exponentially to a global level ) Social media/news excess side effects are apathy, heightened sense of anxiety, anger, fear, depression, and ironically; actually feeling even more disconnected from others. There’s now plenty of studies out there confirming this. (Here’s one example) As a recovering addict, I have to be striving to be constantly present in reality, I can’t afford to be lost in my mind nor have my emotions stirred up with people online that no longer form a part of my life or that are just acquaintances. We are not meant to be connected for the rest of our lives with every person we come in contact with. Some people are only intended to be there for a chapter and that’s it.  I’ll get off my soap box for now.

Honestly though, I don’t even miss social media. (Except Instagram sometimes when I have a narcissistic moment or have a cool pic I want to share with others, which I’m usually in. What can I say, I photograph well. I still have the account up but I’m not using it for now. Have to decide whether to axe it permanently or not). Now, I’m not trying to shame those of you that still have social media, you may know how to use it in moderation or see past its illusions.  Once I shut down my Facebook I came to terms with the fact that if God’s prophecies are meant to be and he wants my story to be known to help others, then he’ll have to find a way. He never asked me to market the blog on social media or attempt to become blogger of the year. (Or to grow out a manbun, true story😁)The only inkling that I started with 3 years ago was “write your story down”. So it’s back to basics now. I have no expectations anymore, from the blog, from the people that read it, or from the prophecies either. I just want to live my life at this very moment. It’s time to completely let go of the past! This is my method of doing so. Whatever happens, happens. I’m going to try my best to stop sabotaging things and let my destiny unfold as it must. The only thing that has been clear the last few years is to focus on my recovery so I won’t be doing the very things that hold me back. Oy vey.

For a long time, unconsciously I’ve been resisting my destiny and gripping tightly to my addictions & my past because I’ve been too scared of the foretold future. Which ultimately isn’t set in stone, unless I choose to believe in those promises and follow in God’s path. I’ve been slowly catching glimpses of the man God is molding me to be over the course of the last decade. And he’s a far cry from the scared soul I was the first 26 years of my life. Don’t get me wrong, I still have copious amounts of fear:

What if I fail when everything is on the line? Will I ever find a career path I enjoy? What if I’m alone the rest of my life?  What if I do fall in love with a woman? What’s that going to look like?Or with a man while in active ministry? Or while married to a woman? What if I get martyred for my beliefs? Will my family & loved ones suffer repercussions too ? etc, etc.

Fear can be crippling and such a liar. I can’t stop living my life due to hypothetical thoughts in my mind any longer. I finally possess  enough courage to trust God for the next chapter in my life. It took a long while to figure out I can never leave my past completely behind unless I truly believed God’s promises for my future. I never did, I thought he picked the wrong guy. I’ve had moments when I’ve tried to imagine that initial year and a half period as a bad dream; instances where I actually have gotten angry with God for even revealing himself to me through the prophecies. It screwed with my rational brain for a long time. The first couple of years after I left Miami I kept trying to figure out how to make the prophecies happen. I missed the point. I can’t control the journey. He gave them to me to give me hope. I have to live in the now, where God is present, the future will worry about itself. I’ve worried too long about a future I can’t control and simultaneously have tried living in a past that no longer fits my present. I wanted to end this series having an extended period of sobriety and announcing I had all my ducks in a row. That I no longer had any hangups from my past, And that I was now officially a total badass. (😉) Ha. If I waited for perfection, this story would have never been told.

That being said, I am in much better place that I’ve been in for a long time …39 days sober and counting! I don’t feel as anxious anymore, I’m truly living a day at a time entrusting each one to the Lord. My spirit senses a season of change coming; joy and gratitude are returning to my life. I have alot to be thankful for towards God for what he’s done in my life thus far. The truth is, this tale isn’t and wasn’t ever really about me. It’s about how my piece is going to fit into the bigger puzzle of God’s story. Guess what , your narrative is part of it too! I believe that one day our life stories  will coalesce into a beautiful, heavenly mosaic!

The last thing I’ll comment on the prophecies is that I sure as hell have been telling myself that I’m never going to be a pastor, at least that’s how I interpreted the pulpit one a decade ago. That’s lame or I have better things to do I’ve always thought to myself. I mean, I really don’t. Thinking about it now, what could be better than serving God? I guess we’ll see.

Through people he’s placed in my path the last decade, I‘ve been loved and affirmed and my giftings have been spoken to me by others who saw what I was never able to see in myself. It’s like I was a poorly built and collapsing Lego set and God smacked it; toppling it completely down into many parts. One by one, he has meticulously been piecing me back together the way he originally intended. That Lego set is still far from looking like something on exhibition at Legoland but I think it definitely has a form now.

Well friends, as the grand finale of this series draws to a close, I give you the option of leaving the audio clip below playing softly in the background as you read the remaining portion (Especially if you’re a geek like me and want to end on an epic note, the timing may or may not work🤣)

Howard Shore – Breaking of the Fellowship

Several years ago I wandered into one of Austin’s many nature trails seeking a new adventure. This particular woodland area wasn’t the most picturesque that I had encountered; but I had to make due. After sticking to the outlined path for a while, I became bored & proceeded to veer off into a thicket that had no visible passageway. As per usual, I wanted to explore & form my own path. This unconventional and clearly untraversed spot I stubbornly chose to march through was dense enough to shield it from most of the sunlight. As I struggled to maneuver through thorns and branches I was startled by the sudden rustling of leaves below me —I jumped back when a snake quickly slithered right by my feet! I couldn’t really identify the type as it happened in a split second.  The mini-scare dissuaded me from continuing on this ill conceived detour as I retreated back to the original trail. As soon as I stepped out of the darkness and back on the illuminated path, a butterfly swirled around me and then hovered at eye level a few feet ahead of me, while the setting sun radiated behind it. I begrudgingly proceeded forward as it lingered just ahead of me for quite a while, as if beckoning: ” Follow me, this is the way”. In that moment I felt God speaking to my heart  “Son, don’t pursue your own course, the adventure you seek is not in the darkness, only danger. Follow the clearly marked path in your life towards the light.” That wouldn’t be the last time God would send me a butterfly to remind me he’s there… 😊🦋

Or that I stumbled upon a reminder of Satan lurking around off-the-beaten path, 🐍 He doesn’t scare me anymore though.

Like Frodo, after a tumultuous voyage, I’ve finally arrived to Mount Doom and am inside the volcano —  overlooking the lava pit holding out “The One Ring.” I’ve been standing at the ledge for so long not wanting to throw the ring in the fire. Many a times, I’ve placed it back on, turned back and reclaimed “my precious.”

I’m finally hurling it in there now, with the rest of the old me included.

Frodo:
How do u pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on…when in your heart you begin to understand…there is no going back?

Still doubt God exists? Or if Jesus is who he claims to be? That’s ok. Only I’ve lived my particular experience. You have your own journey, don’t do it alone though. Seek God out, if you allow him and ask him to steer the wheel of your life he’ll reveal himself to you in a unique way that only you will fully comprehend, and it will blow your mind! He seeks a personal relationship with each of us. Don’t live vicariously through me. My hope is that my account is a mere beacon along your ship at sea. You’ll have many along the way. Just as I have. Stick around; this is merely the end, of the beginning…

Of course, I have to leave you all with some more music. These are some of the songs God has used to speak to me throughout my journey…even if it’s just one verse.  I do whatever it takes, cause I love how it feels when I break the chains…

Want to share feedback or maybe something from your own life story? Feel free to comment below or email me directly at [email protected]

 

P.S. To commemorate this personal landmark of concluding this series after nearly 3 years, I decided to symbolically let go of the past as well by clipping my hair this weekend! I started growing it out a few months after beginning this story back in 2015! 😮Good bye man bun!