Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Back to my saga, picking up after my first confession in 30 years :

I knew that my only hope of getting sober and starting a new life was to get out of New Orleans; I was too well known to the police to be able to walk freely about the city, even stone-cold sober. I knew several guys who had gone on the wagon for extended periods who had still been arrested, and lost their jobs and housing as a result. I also knew that the party atmosphere and ready availability of drink in the Crescent City was just too much temptation. So I tried to sober up and get to Baton Rouge, where there was a very good homeless shelter run by the St. Vincent De Paul Society. Unfortunately, I could not stay dry long enough to accomplish the task, and 2004 brought more jail time.

Around the 1st of August I had finally had enough. 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", as I had been practicing it, 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. And He did so through a group of godly Protestants.

I had started going to some early morning homeless breakfasts at First United Methodist Church, and to "Church Under the Bridge", a worship service led by an organization called "Mission Possible", 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 Community Church 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.

One person I met in particular grabbed my attention-- a beautiful 30 year old woman named Tanya. The way she interacted with the homeless was truly remarkable to see. You could tell that this diminutive young lady really loved us for the lost children of God that we were, no strings attached. She wanted us to know Jesus and the transforming power of His love, and she had no other agenda than that. That kind of selfless love was something I had never seen so up-close and personal, and I began to believe that if she could experience the forgiveness of Christ and become a "new creation", then so could I.

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 that part of the Body of Christ. Never before had I been exposed to such a large number of people who were so serious and joyful about their walk with Jesus. I felt that despite the fact that theologically I was 95 % Catholic, I had to join this body of believers. The Holy Spirit tugged at me mightily, and I became a "partner" at The Stone in February of '05, and I remain one to this day. I will be resigning at the end of the year with great sadness, but I will never regret having been a member. And as long as I live in Austin TX, I'll be there on Sunday nights with my Evangelical brethren.

More to come ...

Our Lady of Guadalupe, patroness of the Americas and the unborn : Pray for us !