RL

My parents were both believers. I was very fortunate in that regard. They weren’t perfect, but they loved the Lord and were committed to raising my sister and me with the Savior’s love as a basis for life.

I was saved early in life, around the age of 12. As I approached my teenage years, I gradually lost my focus on the Lord and began to satisfy my desire to be liked and admired by those who were popular. I quickly became comfortable drinking and trying drugs in my pursuit of popularity.

I was relatively attractive and intelligent, but I never felt good enough compared to those whom I admired. So, I took up the role of the fun-loving guy who would try anything to stand out from the crowd. During my high school years, I became too much for my parents to control, despite their best efforts. I was not mean-spirited, but I lived like a wild man.

I would still occasionally attend church and never totally turned my back on God despite my decadent lifestyle, because I knew I was saved. My prayer life was non-existent, outside of the times when I would beg for my life when I overindulged in alcohol or drugs.

I went on to attend a large state school that was also infamous as one of the biggest party schools in the country. I had all the drugs and beautiful women I could ever want. I made the most out of the environment where I excelled socially while failing academically and was only able to stay in school by the skin of my teeth. I continued to one-up my friends with my epic level of drug and alcohol use - I could have and should have died several times during this period, but God allowed me to survive.

I met my wife during the second half of my college years. She was a beautiful blonde sorority girl that I met at a fraternity house party. She was not raised in the church but came from a decent home. Not long after college we married and continued our party lifestyle as we built our careers.

My wife was an elementary school teacher and I was in finance. I had been raised to work hard, which paid off as I quickly became successful in my industry. At the time, I was in my mid-20s. I made tons of money, which allowed us to travel, throw huge parties, and pick up massive bar tabs, which all reinforced my desire to be liked by anyone and everyone.

I felt like I had it all. A massive home, nice cars, and lots of money to spread around to the large group of friends we had, all by the age of 27. The fast and loose life we were living came with many consequences that we thought were normal (fights, hangovers, etc). We were fortunate to avoid serious issues with the law or our marriage.

About the time we had our first child, the economy imploded, and I lost everything. I had been spending way too much and hadn’t saved enough to cover our lifestyle as my business came to a halt. We sold our home and most everything of value that we owned. It was a rapid and painful fall from being on top of the world.

Our closest friends remained, but there were many who delighted in our financial demise. At the age of 30, I was completely broke with a wife and a new baby to support. I became depressed and increased my alcohol and drug use. I went from drinking to enhance having a good time to drowning my sorrows in whatever I could find.

I restarted a career in another financial services industry. For over ten years I struggled to achieve the success I had in my early career, but never came close to more than average. My wife transitioned to a stay-at-home mom, as it made economic sense, given her income potential as a teacher. I made just enough to pay the rent, and bills, and buy bourbon, but not much else.

By my mid-thirties, we had another child. My credit was shot and we had been evicted multiple times from rental homes. We spent an entire year moving from hotels/motels and short-term rentals, as we couldn’t secure housing (due to my horrible credit rating). Our kids were 6 & 10 during this time.

We eventually found a slum lord who rented us a 2-bedroom home that was located in a gentrifying neighborhood near the downtown area of our mid-sized city. The house was a total dump and only had one bathroom, but was within walking distance to my downtown office, which was helpful, as we only had one car.

We remained in the rental home for 8 years, as the rent was cheap and we knew that it would be near impossible to find someone else who would rent to us (rightfully so). During this time, I had ups and downs but never really found normalcy or success. I made just enough to get by.

Almost no one knew how bad off we actually were. Anytime I made a little more money, it would be short-lived. We had multiple car repos and our utilities were cut off more times than I can remember. As bad as things were, I was thankful to have family that helped support us, and my children never went hungry.

All the while, I felt my life was worthless and that I was nothing more than a defective human being who would never again find success or happiness. I thought about suicide constantly - every day for over 15 years. On more than one occasion, I stuffed a loaded, cocked pistol in my mouth, but never had the courage to pull the trigger.

I had given up on life. The only bright spot during this time (age 30-45), was when we began attending church and my wife was saved. While I attended church with my family, I never truly gained a personal relationship with Christ. I continued feeling sorry for myself and drinking myself to sleep every night and somehow continued to keep my corporate job during all of these years.

Our friends and my work colleagues never knew how bad off we were and no one knew about the year we were effectively homeless. A good portion of my job included steak dinners and gallons of alcohol while we entertained clients and were wined and dined by industry vendors. My only goal was to get the kids raised and into college, after which I figured I would die due to health issues that had manifested as a result of my lifestyle.

I continued to drink as much as possible to numb the pain of my failure in life. I didn’t pray often, but when I did, I prayed for death, as my family would stand to benefit from a corporate life insurance policy if I died. My company reorganized, which led me to make a major decision in 2019.

I realized I was going nowhere with the company I had been with for over ten years and decided to quit and start my own firm (or at least that’s what I had told everyone, including my wife). In reality, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do and was ready to give up on life for good. I left my company 1 week before COVID-19 sent the country into lockdown in early 2020. I told my wife and anyone else that I was starting my own firm but in reality, I hadn’t done much to get the ball rolling.

Covid lockdown gave me some cover to show progress in my supposedly “new endeavor.” We were living off Covid checks at this point. I was able to buy cheap bourbon every two days, which sustained me as I continued to drink myself to numbness. I had no real plan or motivation - I lived day-to-day, and increased my drinking, including mornings.

I continued to say I was starting my own firm but took no steps to advance the project. I knew lockdown wouldn’t last forever and that I’d eventually have to do something work-wise, but I was at my lowest point, drinking constantly while thinking of how much I deserved to die for my failure and lifestyle. By this point, I had over a decade of suicidal thoughts under my belt and had thoroughly researched how to end my life.

A few months after lockdown started, I began to experience severe abdominal pain. I figured it was an ulcer or something similar, probably created by years of worry and drinking. I went to the ER and left with an inconclusive diagnosis.

I kept drinking despite knowing it was likely contributing to my health decline. Two weeks after my first ER visit, my condition rapidly declined and my wife took me back to the hospital - this is when my life began to change dramatically.

As it was peak COVID lockdown, my wife had to drop me off at the ER. Visitors were not allowed in. I don’t remember many details outside of horrible pain and vomiting while I sat in the ER floor waiting room for hours. When I was finally seen by a doctor, my condition had rapidly declined. My blood work and CT scan confirmed that I had a case of severe, necrotizing pancreatitis. I was admitted to the hospital and my wife was called.

My next memories are hazy - I just remember being in the worst pain of my life and vomiting every ten minutes. Within a day, I was moved to the ICU as my organs began to fail. I was on the brink of death, and I knew it. My wife was updated on my condition and given a grim prognosis. The official diagnosis concluded that high triglycerides had prompted my condition. Doctors told my wife that I was in critical condition with a high likelihood of death. They said there was little they could do, other than sedate me with pain meds and hope for the best.

My kidneys and lungs were in advanced failure at this point. Within 10 days, I had gone from 175lbs to 232lbs, due to fluid and pus collecting in and around my pancreas and eventually filling my abdominal cavity. The pain and pressure of the infected fluid made me feel like I would burst open. I couldn’t stand up, and even the smallest movements brought on excruciating pain. I was on max doses of IV pain meds, too high for even a pain pump to accommodate. There was nothing that stopped the pain, other than being sedated.

After three weeks in the ICU, doctors were forced to attempt to drain and debridement my pancreas, which thankfully, I survived. I stayed in the ICU for a total of six weeks. I had over two dozen procedures to drain the fluid and open pancreatic ducts as doctors worked to save me. I knew how close I was to death the entire time, but was never afraid, outside of worrying about how my wife, kids, and family would handle it.

I wasn’t brave, but I thought that God was possibly going to take me, as I had prayed so many times for over the past ten years. The only time I experienced true fear was the night I had a particularly bad set of night nurses, where I was convinced that a mean nurse was a demon. I had my family request that the demon nurse never be assigned to me again and the hospital thankfully granted my wish.

As horribly as I had lived, I knew that my fate was in God’s hands and I was at peace. I suppose I expected to die, and I was thankful. I was thankful that only one visitor was allowed (because of Covid rules) as I only wanted to see my wife. I had tubes coming out of all parts of my body and was green with jaundice - I didn’t want my kids to see it. I spoke to them when I could, barely summoning the energy to hold the phone.

I wrestled with how to feel, knowing that if I died, my family would mourn and my kids would grow up without a father. I eventually convinced myself that they would all be better off in my absence. However, I finally turned a corner seven weeks after being admitted to the hospital and was stable enough to transfer to a better hospital, with a renowned pancreatic surgical team.

About 12 weeks after being admitted to the second hospital, I was finally released. I had several other surgeries and procedures. At this point, I was fed minimally through feeding tubes and was down to 110lbs. After being confined to a bed for so long while my body was ravaged, I could only walk a few steps with a walker and was on an oxygen tank 24 hours a day. I had survived but had a multi-year recovery ahead.

Full-time future employment was unlikely due to deficits from the disease. I still didn’t have my head together, but I knew that God had saved me despite my decisions and desire to give up. I still didn’t understand why, but I figured he had a purpose for saving me. I spent the next two years getting additional surgeries and procedures as I recovered. I knew I never be the same physically or mentally, but I prayed that I would one day understand God’s purpose in my life.

During the entire ordeal, God used the generosity of family, friends, and people we didn’t even know to support us. It was more than humbling to experience God’s love and provision through these people. I still was unsure why he saved me and continued praying for answers.

Mid 2022, I was offered a job by one of my friends and bosses that I had worked with several years prior to both of us leaving in 2020. I was still sick and wasn’t sure I would be able to continue, but my friend and the company that hired me understood my health challenges and were willing to accommodate a lighter schedule and performance expectations for the first year. Thankfully, I was able to gain enough strength during that first year to work full-time.

At this point, I had grown closer to God and started to pray often. In early 2023, I was fortunate to have considerable success at work, and our financial situation began to change for the first time since 2009. We weren’t rich, but we were living without so much pressure. As I recovered, doctors told me that I should never have more than 1-2 drinks, and only rarely. In reality, the half of the pancreas that I had left didn’t tolerate any amount of alcohol. I tried a beer but only got a few sips down before I threw up.

God had taken alcohol away from me without any effort on my part. I had no cravings or problems abstaining, despite my wife and social circle continuing to drink casually. I realized that I had an edge at work by not being able to drink. No hangovers and more time to advance the ball allowed higher productivity, while nearly all of my peers and competitors spent time at happy hours, followed by late mornings. Things were going very well, but I still wasn’t focused on my walk with Christ.

I still didn’t understand why he chose to save me when I had fallen away for so many years. I felt inadequate due to all my imperfections and couldn’t imagine how God would use me for his good. After all, I had the advantage of being born into a God-loving family, and I knew Him but still chose to live for myself and for pleasure.

One evening in early 2023, after several more good months at work (but still feeling unworthy of anything good), I finally broke. I was in the shower after an argument with my wife and feeling awful about myself. I just couldn’t understand why God would save someone who was so weak and was such a failure. I felt like he wasted his miracle on me. I fell to my knees there in the shower and begged God to show me what he wanted in my life. I prayed for mercy for refusing to walk with him for my whole life and I asked for the opportunity to fulfill his will.

Shortly thereafter, I was reading the Bible, and everything I had prayed for was answered. I finally understood that I was accurate about being a failure when I was on my own. I realized that God’s perfect love, sending his Son as a sacrifice for our sins, was more than enough to make up for my sinfulness and failures. I am his, and everything I do is for his glory. I may be imperfect, but everything I do in life, work, family, and daily interactions should all be for his glory and his alone.

I am not enough on my own and never could be. He sent his son to cover my sinfulness. I still struggle and don’t have all the answers, but I know my life is his. I can only work every day to turn everything over to him and live to fulfill his will.

I still don’t know why he decided to save me, but I thank him every day, as many times as I can. The more I seek him, the more I am fulfilled. I see miracles multiple times a week and many answered prayers. I pray I’ll fully give him what’s left of my life in this world. His love satisfies and is always enough. I pray I reflect his love back to others in everything I do.

I’ll still fail due to my flesh, but need to always come running back to him as fast as I can, for I am his. I’ve never shared this full testimony with anyone, but I pray I can live in a way that speaks more than any words I can share.

All can have access to him if they just ask and seek. All glory and honor to him.