It’s of the devil.
We got fewer bookings. When we did have one, the numbers were small. I felt ineffective. I stopped hearing from Jeremy—not until a year later, when he called to invite me to preach at his church, did we speak again.
I felt all alone again. I was also broke, the settlement money all gone. Hard heads need hard lessons, but I also know that if it had cost a million bucks, the price would have been cheap. I could stand to be broke; what I couldn’t handle was the wall that had risen between God and me.
On one of my routine morning daiquiri runs, Christy the bartender came to faith in Christ for the first time. After a month of sharing the gospel every morning, she finally prayed to receive Christ. I remember her handing me a Large 190 Octane daiquiri, the strongest they make, and saying to me, “For someone who knows so much about Jesus, you sure don’t act like it.” To her, my act must have seemed like a put-on.
Her words stopped me in my tracks.
In the process of using me to lead her to the Lord, God used her to bring me back to him.
Now I decided I was ready to walk away from drugs for the third time, but this time it had to be for good. Forever. I might stumble, I might make mistakes, but not this particular stumble. Not in this area of my life. Drugs and drunkenness were over. I chose Jesus, and my body was going to be a proper temple from here on out.
This time there would be no clinics. No rehab. I would depend totally on the power of God. I had a ceremonial ritual by my bedside, showing myself that I was sacrificing all my paraphernalia once and for all. I cried out once more to God, “Don’t take your presence from me!” Only by his sovereign grace could I succeed in being the person he wanted me to be. It was by his power and love that I made a personal covenant to no longer put myself in position for the devil to take me down. I prayed for a long time, wept, and repented to the depth of my soul.
This was a direct, miraculous transformation—not something that occurs for everyone. Since then, I’ve worked with thousands of people dealing with addictions, and I know this kind of deliverance is rare. Most of the time, someone struggling shouldn’t hesitate to seek professional help from doctors or a special clinic. God works through those means as well, just as he works through insulin if you’re a diabetic.
My situation was unique. All I know is that, when I rose from the bed, I was again a changed man. Jesus had calmed the storm, so that my system was quiet once more, and the presence of God had returned. From that day to this one, for more than a decade and a half, I’ve been sober. More important even than sober, I’ve been honest about my utter weakness. No more illusions of being bulletproof. Like Paul the apostle, who speaks to me so powerfully through the Scriptures, I know I’m the “chief of sinners,” and I have no option but to live in daily dependence upon him. Not annual. Not weekly. Daily.
Yes, Jesus saved me once and for always. Once that occurred, on November 11, 2002, it was a done deal. My eternal fate was sealed. But there’s eternal salvation, and then there’s the physical world, where I have to live. Every day, as long as I make my residence here, I have to get out of bed and put on Christ even as I put on the day’s clothing. The Bible commands me to “put on Christ like a garment” (Gal. 3:27 hcsb). In another verse, I’m told to “put on the new self, the one created according to God’s likeness” (Eph. 4:24). Later in Ephesians, I’m told to put on battle armor. Every day is spiritual conflict. The good news is that in God’s power, every single battle is winnable. And the war itself, ultimately, has already been won on the cross.
No one explained things like that to me when I first became a Christian, but I get it now. There’s a reason Paul used that word picture over and over, the idea of getting dressed. I have to start early in the day and take in his grace rather than the impulses of my flesh. If I want to live in his freedom and be liberated from servitude to sin, that’s what my life has to look like.
For several dangerous months, I lived two lives. Mercy was extended to me. I’m eternally grateful for his grace. Today and every day, from here onward, I plan to put on Christ and fight the good fight.
Chapter 16
Here I Am, Send Somebody
Life had become very quiet, a rarity for me. I’d gotten off drugs for the final time, with a new understanding of temptation’s power and my weakness.
Before the preaching opportunities dried up completely, God opened the door for one last message on Easter Sunday. I was invited to preach at a little church called Creedmoor Presbyterian, just down the road from Chalmette in Toca, Louisiana. There were usually about twelve people in attendance, but when my whole family showed up to support me, it almost doubled the average crowd.
There was something different about standing in a traditional pulpit to preach instead of talking to students and using magic tricks. I spoke way too rapidly, stumbled over my words a few times, and realized I was no master of the pulpit. Still, it was exciting to be preaching in a church on Easter Sunday—especially when the doors swung quietly open midway through the sermon,
