In the first half of the 90s I found myself immersed in the study and practice of the metaphysical. I dabbled with tarot cards, palm reading, astrology, and I practiced vampirism. Blood. Sugar. Sex. Magic. It’s not just a Red Hot Chili Peppers album, it was my life style.
I was in a relationship and living with my beautiful girlfriend and we lived a life untethered to conventional social norms. We even had a Ouija board, but found it useless except as home decor. We tried to learn astral travel and become knowledgeable about things regarding inter-dimensional realms. We were open to all these things, but not once did we experience power.
The birth of our daughter brought change to our household. We still wanted to be edgy, but we also wanted to be responsible parents. We adored our little girl.
I took a job at the local casino, dealing cards and roulette while the lady worked evenings as a waitress at a Chinese restaurant. And then one day it happened.
My daughter was an her grandparents for the evening in the same town where the girlfriend worked, while I stayed at home alone. I surveyed the home around me, pretty pleased with most aspects of my life. I had a great job, a lovely girlfriend, a beautiful baby girl, and a new car. Life was good. So why did I feel empty?
Immediately, I became aware that my emptiness came from somewhere within me. I recognized right away that the issue was spiritual. I felt the need to be connected to something much bigger than myself. I wanted to know GOD. Given how me and the little lady were staunch anti-christians, it seemed logical to me to re-examine a time in my past when I was involved in the Baha’i faith. but as soon as the idea came to my mind, another thought came to remind me that I never found God in the Baha’i faith either. It’s why I left it. So, if not the Baha’i faith, what then?
The small voice was as clear as a bell. “Why don’t you try ME?” My eyes turned to the direction of the voice, and I stood in front of our library looking at the plethora of books on cults, mysticism, eastern religions, and…. a small NIV bible. How the heck did an bible find its way into our house? It was nestled in between the satanic bible and a book on practical witchcraft.
“You can’t be serious…” I thought.
But the voice appealed to my sense of reason and said, “To be fair, the only logical way to dismiss Christianity outright is to study its precepts and pick apart its fallacies.” Sounded fair to me. At the very worst, I will have read the bible… something that most Christians don’t even do. And even if I cannot find truth within its pages, I might be pointed in the right direction. So I read. And read.
And READ. Truth was leaping out at me faster than my eyes could rove across the pages. I felt a spark ignite within me and it quickly burst into flame. I knew that the emptiness I was feeling could be perfectly filled by Jesus Christ! I wanted Him so desperately. I felt like I had discovered a hidden truth that even the hypocrite church hadn’t discovered.
For years I had been drinking the blood of another and finding neither eternal life nor satisfaction for my soul. Now here, the True Blood was before me, and one drink would quench me, and I will live forever. That day, in an epic ceremony my mind does not recall, my name was written in the Book of Life. I could have died right then and that would have suited me just fine, but the enemy, who had long been silent in my life preceding this event, came roaring in to claim what had once been his. I didn’t get to live happily ever after. The battle was ON. War had been declared.
More later
