#028 - Missing Chapters - pt. 2

JUNE 2020

Let the good times roll.

When I was touring, I had tons of money for a 21-year-old and could afford things that others my age could not. I also expected to hop on another tour after I wrapped up my current one, but I could not find work past Christmas. Instead of calling around to everyone I knew, I decided to wait patiently for my phone to ring. It never rang. Never do this. If you can learn one thing from me. Instead of saving my money, I spent it on extracurricular activities and clothing. All these things to make it seem and look like I was important, but more so to prop and inflate my insatiable 21-year-old ego.  

My parents had retired and sold their house in Atlanta in late 2011, and I argued relentlessly with them around the same time. So, I had also cut them out of my life for the same reason- I thought I didn’t need them. I cut my friends out because I didn’t think I needed them either. I ended 2011 in a slow spiral that worsened into the new year. Mainly because I had cut off everyone who cared about me. Not to mention, I was still working at churches on Sundays but was not making enough to replenish the money I had spent.

March of 2012 rolled around, and I was out of money and out of time on my 22nd birthday, I moved out of my apartment downtown and moved all my stuff into storage because I didn't have money to pay my rent anymore. The shame I felt in that moment is something I will never forget and I had just enough money left over after moving to pay for a week at an extended stay place. I had seven days to figure out what to do with my life. At the end of that week, I would be out of time and out of options and would officially be homeless. 

While I was at the extended-stay place, the room next to mine was broken into by a local gang. I spent my whole first night with the desk pushed against the door, lying in bed fully clothed, waiting for them to break into my room. All the while, I heard them talk through paper-thin walls about how they like to make people bleed just for fun. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep much that night and the next morning I phoned my lifelong friend Phillip and asked if I could crash at his parent’s house for a few days. I’m pretty sure I made a Star Wars joke and sent a message like this: 

“Help me, Chandlers, you’re my only hope.”

 I will never forget his dad’s reply:

“You can move in with us as long as you move out by the time you turn 30.” 

Again, I had just turned 22.

Dragging myself back to my childhood home of Snellville, I moved in with a family with the same last name as me, whom I had known since I was a small child. They had a son the same age as me, who was the same one who helped me move my stuff into storage. Phillip and I went way back, and I had not been the best of friends to him, but he and his family did what good Christians do best and took me in when I needed them and began restoring me like antiquities professionals.  

A year on the farm.

Jonathan, my gay mentor and boss from Starbucks, was fired shortly after I returned from tour. He lost his job around the same time that I lost my apartment. I needed a job, and as it would happen, Jonathan had taken a food service position for Atlanta’s minor league soccer team. The organization was a massive, multifaceted, and multimillion-dollar company that actually lost money on the team but made money on park recreational leagues. Jonathan was hired as the concession manager and reached out to me to see if I would be interested in helping him turn a concession stand into a gastropub. True story.

Having nothing going on, I said yes and began to work at the concession stand during the week to make extra money.  This was in addition to working for the megachurch with whom I was in my third year.  My relationship with the church was rocky, and I would constantly bail on work because I hated some of the projects and leaders they would put me on. Once again, proving how my ego and stubbornness would get the best of me. This all continued after moving in with the Chandlers while I was still trying to figure out how to make a living with my main profession lights.

Mrs. Chandler, the clan's matriarch, is still, to this day, one of the reasons that I am on the right path. My mom deserves a lot of the credit, too. Throughout my stay, she would always ask me why I was doing what I was doing and if God was at the center of my decision. I would walk up to her and ask her what she thought about the opportunity. It was beginning to shape me and drew me closer to a God I’ve always known but from whom I had been far from. A God from whom I had run away. I’m sure she and my parents prayed relentlessly for me. Even when my stubborn nature would get the best of me, time and time again, they did the Christian thing and picked me up, dusted me off, and sent me out into the world to try again.

The word tenacity always pops into my head when thinking about these moments. 

After a few weeks of working at the concession stand, I was offered a front-office job as the accounting clerk for the head accountant—another God-given opportunity. I had only been living with the Chandlers for a few weeks and hadn’t done any laundry. I was so hellbent on making it look like my situation was temporary that I wore the same outfit to work for a week before I broke down and asked to use the washer. I remember Mrs. Chandler looking at me like I was crazy. At this point, it confirmed what I always knew- I was family, and I always had been.  But that’s Christian tenacity for you. That’s Christian fellowship. That year on the farm was a year of restoration for me.

That August, I was replaced at my accounting job by an intern, and Jonathan quit his job at the same company, so I had no reason to be there anyway. He had been asking me to work at a new club he and some of his old friends were starting downtown, and soon, I found myself thrown into the club scene. My August was filled with late nights and so much partying. The daytime was for sleep and recovery. There were times I would get drunk and fall asleep in a booth at work. Ashley, one of the bartenders, would always put a trash can next to me because I would wake up and puke shortly thereafter. The deal was I had to take the trash out afterward. This lasted a few weeks before I couldn’t take it anymore, and I finally had a real talk between God and me. This time, I was serious.

My Own Personal Come to Jesus meeting. 

One day and night, I stayed up for 24 hours straight, and I remember coming back to the farm early the next morning. The following night was Jonathan’s last night at the club, and we had an all-night party for him. I stayed up talking to one of his friends named Kitty until the sun rose, and it was a life-changing conversation, to say the least. I was thinking about my life after years of turning away from God and where I found myself. I had no job, no place to myself, and no real direction in life. When I find myself in such a state, which has happened a couple of times, I always turn to God because I know that is where my salvation and, furthermore, my restoration lives. How foolish I am to forget these experiences in these moments!

When I woke up later that afternoon, I called my parents, which I do when I’m out of options, and unloaded everything on them. In our conversation, I told them what they needed to know about my life without making them worry and, most importantly, told them that I was going to throw myself completely into whatever God’s plan was for my life. I had been living for myself, and it was killing me. After finishing the conversation with my parents, I immediately talked to Mrs. Chandler, and she confirmed everything that she had been seeing and feeling. 

The external perspective placed on internal struggles reveals the truth in any situation—bottom line.

By asking for others' opinions and perspectives about your progress, you begin the process of introspection. And if you can truly give weight to the constructive opinions of those who matter most to you, then you can unlock the blocked potential of selfish actions.  Self-living turns into self-sacrifice when the unpleasant things about yourself can be tossed aside to help others. There are a million reasons to start living for others, and as a Christ-follower, I am bound by a different rule, not the golden one, but the rule of love. I loved myself too much, preventing me from moving forward in God’s story. Is that not what happens when we stagnate in our own story? Our story can pause; God’s is neverending.

At this point, I had found success in multiple avenues. I had toured with a large Christian act and was doing lighting everywhere I could. I was making money but not spending it on what would move me forward in my life. If every time I looked at something, I was about to buy and asked, “How will this move me forward in my career, life, and relationships?” Would I still purchase it?

Will an Xbox or Switch get me more work or allow me to do my job more efficiently? Will drugs cure my boredom only to create financial insecurity? That’s when I started asking myself real questions about how to put down the Xbox and invest in a new set of tires for my truck, pay my bills instead of buying some new jeans, and so on. This is the epiphany of the twenty-year-old.

I tell the students I mentor I don’t want to tell them what to do; I want to help them shape their thoughts. The decisions you make and the consequences of those decisions are what leave scars or create life-changing memories. In the end, the one who controls all of this is yourself, and trust me, I have very little natural self-control but am trained to put this aside to help others. It's another cathartic life moment of growth. But it’s gotten better when I apply these external perspectives to my life and allow hindsight to change my actions for the future. It isn’t enough to think about the path, but to walk it daily lest you forget how to walk.

I learned all this at 22, but the rest will have to wait another time.