For about two weeks, I read my Bible the best I could, and now I knew what to pray for: “God, send me somebody. Give me a guide to help me walk this new path.” I knew I needed to be involved in a church, but it had to be the kind where believers were excited and alive. There were scores of churches around, so I had no idea where to go.
Then one day I got a call from Julie, right out of the blue. She was one of a group of four girls who were my close friends during our college days. We hadn’t talked since then.
“Hey, Robby!” she said. “Are you still alive?”
“Looks that way,” I laughed. “It’s great to hear from you, Julie. Any reason I shouldn’t be alive?”
“Yeah, based on the way you were going at Carey. We wondered how long you were going to last.”
“You were right. And it got worse.” I told her about the car wreck, my addiction, my trips to rehab. It was much worse than she knew, but all that craziness was behind me.
“I dug myself as deep a hole as you can dig. . . . Then I found Jesus, just in the last few weeks. And actually he’s calling me into the ministry.”
Julie shouted into the phone, “What?”
“I said I’ve—”
“I heard what you said! But, I mean—what? We’ve been praying for you. So I don’t know why I’m so surprised. It’s just—so awesome! And lately, I’ve just had this strong feeling I needed to call you.”
“And I’ve been praying you’d call me—you or somebody who could tell me what to do.”
“Well, come to our Bible study, Robby! That’s what you should do. You’ll love it! I’ll hook you up with a bunch of other people who really love God, especially T-Bone. He can answer all your questions.”
I knew a lot of T-Bones—none of them were guys I thought could teach me about Jesus. But God had more surprises around the corner for me.
I showed up on the campus of the University of New Orleans to study the Bible. Julie met me there and introduced me to this guy named Tony Merida, who was a little short of a T-bone in physical stature—more like a sirloin steak. But in every other way, this guy was a beast.
When we sat down to study the Bible, Tony began to teach those chapters and verses in a way I didn’t even know was possible. The pages of my Bible came to life.
This was nothing like the cut-and-dried religion I knew from childhood. It was all about real life, daily decisions, getting along with other people, handling the problem of sin, and how to connect with God in the midst of all this. I was spellbound for an hour.
After it was over, T-Bone said, “Hey, man, can I invite you to my church?” It took me about one second to accept. Like most new believers, I was ravenous for knowledge and guidance, and I knew he and I were going to become good friends.
His church was called Edgewater Baptist Church. I pulled into the parking lot on the following Sunday, dressed exactly the way I was used to walking into nightclubs: black pants, black shirt, hair slicked back with lots of hairspray and gel. So here came a six-six gangster into the sanctuary. I imagine some of the deacons were keeping an eye on me when the offering plate went around.
I began to grow through fellowship with other Christians and Bible study, but something else happened. Just about then our case was finally settled in court, and we won. I’d been receiving preliminary monthly payments, but now I was awarded a $150,000 check. Now I wasn’t only a Christian—I was a rich Christian. And the first thing I did was to hurry over to the Cadillac showroom and buy a brand-new Caddy, with cash. Black on black was my choice. I had the car fully customized.
I lowered my new CTS to the ground, installed 20-inch chrome Katana rims and tires, Borla exhaust, body kit, spoiler, wood grain trim, and a $9,000 custom stereo system. No one had seen anything like it, since it was hot off the assembly line. With my modifications, it looked like the Batmobile—at least that’s what people called it.
Baby Christians take baby steps. It’s been proven over and over. They’re excited, eager, and not quite as far along the path of maturity as they think. They tend to see everything that happens as a text message from heaven. For example, I figured that if I immediately received a huge sum of cash, right after becoming a Christian, it could only be a massive high-five from the Lord.
I was new at this thing. It would never have occurred to me that money isn’t always a blessing. It’s more likely to be a test. It certainly was in my case.
It was a lifelong dream to own a brand-new Cadillac, but the way I saw it, why couldn’t it be a four-wheel billboard for God? I could drive around town, attract a lot of eyeballs, and say, “Look what God has done in my life, folks!”
Me and God—together, there was nothing the two of us couldn’t do.
Did I mention I was new at this thing? And that I rush into new passions with excess enthusiasm?
With much sounder wisdom, I invested in five wrecked cars, carefully chosen. The idea was to fix them up at Dad’s shop and sell them for a profit. It was a nice way to turn some of the money into an investment. This left me with $28,000 that went into my bank account.
So I had a lot going on. But there was still wondering when I was going to start preaching. Others would have seen that as a goal to work toward; I saw it as an urgent task to rush into.
Every night I prayed, “Lord, you’ve called me to preach, but no one’s
