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"But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall
give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall
be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life."
- St. John 4:14
"My name is James, and I am an alcoholic." If this were a 12 Step program, that is how I would start this account. I would be advised to explain "what it used to be like, what happened, and what it's like now"-- and that seems like as pretty good a formula for telling this as any. But I thank Almighty God that this is not just a story about how I used to be a drunk. Our Lord has given me a gift far greater than mere sobriety, although that was the first of His blessings. He has given me, and in a daily process continues to give (as I am willing to accept), His Light, His Life, His Living Water-- in short, Himself. And I am beginning to know that Eternity will not be long enough to enjoy and discover the depths of that Gift.
So, here is the story of a man who went to a variety of churches "religiously" for 25 years, and was a drunk for 20 of those, and who finally stopped running from God long enough for the Hound of Heaven to catch up with him.
I cannot remember a time when I did not believe in God, and in His goodness. I was baptized and raised Roman Catholic. My family then switched to the United Methodist Church, in which I was confirmed, when I was about 11. When I went away to college I investigated the Episcopal Church, and was confirmed there in 1984. I thought that I would remain there for life, but the total disintegration of Anglican theology forced me to leave. While in the city of New Orleans I gravitated back to Catholicism-- though I had doctrinal difficulties with the Church of Rome, I truly felt that there was nowhere else to go to worship the God I thought I knew. Knew? I knew about Him, and precious little at that-- but I was so spiritually dead that I could not grasp the profundity of my ignorance. I did believe in Him, and love Him-- intellectually. I had a great fondness for Him, in theory. I just didn't want to commit fully to living the way I knew, deep down, that He wanted me to.
The whole time I was playing at this blind-man's bluff of religiosity, I was becoming a habitual drunkard. I didn't start drinking until college, at age 18-- but within 2 years I was an alcoholic. I dropped out of school and joined the Army, hoping the change of lifestyle would somehow focus me. I did my four years and served my country well, but I was no better off than when I went in. And my drinking was worse.
Let me interject here that I am aware of no particular "reason" that I became an alcoholic. My early childhood was marked by the trauma of divorce, but it was not by most standards an especially ugly one. My early life was no worse than that of most children, and better than that of many. I have a very real genetic predisposition to drunkenness, which I inherited from my full-blooded Irish grandfather though a finer man you would never meet. It is not for nothing that it is called "the Irish disease." This is no excuse for my alcoholism. Ultimately, it happened because I found life difficult and unpleasant and unfulfilling, and rather than look to The Solution, I took the "easy", chemically soothing route. To put it another way, I tried to fill with alcohol the place in my soul that God had designed to fill with Himself.
At this point, in 1988, I started a slow but inexorable slide into the gutter-- one that did not stop until late last year. I drifted from job to job, from city to city, from one broken relationship to another. I went through structured detox from alcohol about 40 times, and full treatment 5 or 6 times. Frankly, I don't remember them all. In 1994 I was convicted of drunk driving for the third time and had to do 7 months in jail. There is no way in this space to fully convey the misery and depravity of those 17 years, but my experience as a homeless drunk in New Orleans sums it up nicely-- the last leg of a truly sordid journey.
I had gone there in 1998 at the invitation of a woman I had become involved with in Virginia. We were two alcoholics who were going to be together in N.O., the North American capital of alcoholism, and live happily ever after. The insanity of that proposition was evident to me even then, but I attempted it anyway. Needless to say, it was a disastrous undertaking, and I found myself on the street pretty quickly. For the first time in my life I was truly "out there"-- no program, no long-term shelter, no nothing. Just me and Bourbon Street, the Disneyland of booze.
Every night found me on the Rue Bourbon, walking the 1/2 mile between Canal and St. Anne Streets and back again, drinking as much as I could get-- or if I was lucky, as much as I could hold. A police officer once called me the "town drunk"-- no small "accomplishment" in the Big Easy. Passing out in the streets of the French Quarter was something I became familiar with; I was taken to one of three hospitals about a dozen times. My best conservative estimate is that I walked at least 6000 miles on Bourbon St., including four consecutive Mardi Gras. Don't ever let anyone tell you that alcoholics are lazy. It is the hardest work in the world.
That whole 5 ½ year period was one long binge, one that I am certain would have resulted in my death were it not for God's grace and providential care. One thing that helped to keep me alive was jail and God did not hesitate to use that tool in my life. The city of New Orleans has without a doubt the most corrupt police department and local government in the nation. Their "answer" to the large homeless problem is to put all the homeless in jail--as often as possible, for as long as possible, and for any reason possible. Of the nearly 70 months I was in the city, I calculate that I spent roughly 35 of them in jail—2 ½ to 3 years, 10 or 20 or 30 days at a time. "Life on the installment plan," we used to call it. My experience was by no means unique; I knew probably 100 men and a number of women who lived exactly the same way. What is miraculous is that I managed to escape it. Our God is truly the One Who "plucks my feet out of the net" (Ps. 25:15).
The last year and a half of my time in New Orleans, life became insufferably miserable. In 2003, the police went on a rampage that made them look as if they had been tolerant in the past. The cycle of jail and drunkenness took me to a level of desperation I had never sunk to before. I went to church frequently to appease a God that I thought was punishing me for my sinfulness. In retrospect, I was not too far off the mark. God was trying diligently to get my attention; the Faithful One was pursuing me doggedly, and was not about to make my life any easier until I surrendered to Him. Around the 1st of August of 2004, I finally started to do that. A drinking buddy of mine who had escaped to Austin several years before had been hounding me to come, and having no better place to go, I relented. I emailed my long-suffering, sainted mother and begged her to send me a bus ticket so I could escape the lure of the French Quarter, get sober, and get a life. She knew pretty well what I had been going through and she sent the ticket. I have no doubt that in doing so she saved my life.
I was very impressed with Austin-- the weather, the city, the people. Lacking a clear plan to get sober, though, my drinking continued. My circumstances did improve somewhat, but I was just as miserable. I knew that God was the only way out of this private hell I had constructed for myself, but I had no idea of how I could approach Him. Religion had failed me. But, all praise be to Him, God had a plan. In due time, in His perfect timing, he drew me to Himself.
I had started going to the Tuesday and Thursday homeless breakfasts at First United Methodist Church on 13 th and Lavaca and to Church Under the Bridge on Sundays. After a few months I was meeting people of a sort I had never known before. They had been around all my life, in every city and every church I had ever been to, but I was so blind, and so lost, that I could not see them. I had always thought of Christianity as something one believed in one’s head, not as something that "regular" people could live out. I believed, in a cerebral way, in God's power, but I despaired of His intervention in my own life. But the people I met were different. Nearly all of them were from The Austin Stone and they were pretty much average folks except in one respect: they had deep, meaningful relationships with Christ. Their relationships with Him had changed them all, some in dramatic ways. Through their friendship with the Savior of the world, and their friendships with each other, they had become new people. Until I met them, I believed the whole idea of a personal relationship with the Creator of the universe was a silly concept. Through them, I saw that it was not only possible, it was essential.
God had shown me enough of Himself through their love and examples for the spark to kindle in my heart. On December 3, 2004, I had what I pray was my last drink, and finally let down my paper-thin armor. I surrendered to the King. St. Paul says, "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the Living God” (Hebrews10:13) but in this context, for me, it was also a wonderful thing. I fell into His hands not as His enemy, but as His child--at last.
I started going to The Stone immediately, and was even more astounded by the God I heard preached, and saw in action, through the partners of this Body. Never before had I been exposed to such a large number of people who were so serious and joyful about their walk with Christ. In two months I was a partner, and my own walk was underway. The rest of 2004 has been fantastically blessed. I have been employed virtually without interruption since I got sober. I have an apartment through Caritas of Austin and I'm in line for more permanent housing. I have money in the bank. God willing, I will be driving by Easter. Life is better than I honestly believed it would ever be.
Anyone who knows me even a little can tell you that I am far from perfect. As a friend pointed out to me recently, surgery is much harder and more painful for the patient if they refuse to sit still. The more willing I am for God to work His Will in me, the easier it goes. I am by no means "cured" of alcoholism, or sinfulness in general; as the 12-step program says, what I have is a daily reprieve, based on the maintenance of my spiritual condition. For me, that means the maintenance of my relationship with Jesus Christ the Righteous. If that is good, everything else is taken care of.
“Late have I loved Thee, Thou Beauty ever old and ever new! Too late have I loved Thee. Thou has burst my bonds asunder; unto thee will I offer up an offering of praise." St. Augustine wrote that over 1600 years ago, and it is so painfully true of me. I have wasted so much of my life, and I grieve for the decades I have lost, and the things I may never have-- a wife and children, in particular. But I also know that everything ultimately happens according to His Will, and that His timing in all things is impeccable. As He says that”… so whoever is in Christ is a new creation" (II Corinthians 5:17), so He also says, " …and I will repay you for the years which the locust has eaten " (Joel 2:25). He is nothing if not faithful. My job is to let Him make me faithful. I know that He has awesome things in store for me if I am obedient and wait on Him to show me my path. Our God knows what He is about. He will show me what He wants me to do when I am able to bear the lesson and the task.
To all of you, my sisters and brothers at the Austin Stone, those I know and love, and those I have not yet met: Thank you for being for me, and the rest of the world, a bright light in the darkness. God used your collective Walk, and your love, to show me Christ, and He is using you to change me. I will never cease to be grateful to Him, and to you, for that.
"Bless the LORD, O my soul:
and all that is within me, bless His Holy Name.
Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits:
Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; Who healeth all thy diseases;
Who redeemeth thy life from destruction;
Who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies;
Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things;
so that thy youth is renewed like the eagles."
~Psalm 103:1-5