Part III - My How Things Have Changed - Reckoning

“Hi.  My name is Marc, and I am an addict.”  I spoke those words for the very first time at about 9AM on Saturday, November 23, 1985.

If you’ve read Parts I & II, you might be thinking, “WHAT??!??  You’re a church dude.  You play music for God and you’ve……you’ve……preached!!  WHAT??!??”  Yeah, that’s right- I did do those things, and the whole time, I was an addict.  And, a drug addict at that.

When I was 12 years old, I started smoking cigarettes.  My mom was a 2-3 pack a day smoker, and had smoked while she was pregnant with me as well.  Part of the reason I was a smoker that early was because it was behavior I knew, but most of it was because I wanted to rebel.  My home life was absolutely miserable- my mom and dad had divorced when I was 7, and I went to live with my mom- a prescription drug abuser and addict.  In true addict form, she then married a man who was also extremely angry, and together they would spend a lot of time beating the living shit out of me for anything resembling a transgression.  We’re not talking spanking here- I was regularly hit with things like a ruler with a nail driven through it; spent several minutes on my back with my stepdad on my chest punching me with a closed fist in the face on more than once occasion; had my arms bent behind my back to where my shoulders would almost dislocate- yeah.  Stuff like that.  My dad tried many, many times through repeated trips to court to get custody of me – always to no avail – and only when I successfully ran away from home (after bailing out of a moving car while my mom was driving it and hitting me) and refused to go back did the court take notice – and they put me in a mental hospital for a month for observation, and then finally placed me with my dad.

So, you might say that I had some anger issues.

In junior high, I got turned on to marijuana.  Then speed.  The tranquilizers – stolen from my mom.  Then PCP.  I’d try anything.  There were more than a few times I went to church stoned out of my gourd- and I would play for God.  I considered myself a Christian this entire time, and while some of my friends knew my true nature, for whatever reason, they never made it known to their parents or mine or any authority figures.  I was able to very easily compartmentalize my drug use and my relationship with God.  It was easy to do. 

While I was away at college, I tried heroin.  I was hooked instantly.  I managed to get a job working on an ambulance crew where I could trade needles to keep my habit running.

I was really good at hiding it, too.  I was one of those rare individuals who could actually dose and still function.  I could play stoned, too- it really wasn’t a problem.  I never OD’d; I never lost a job; I always had money- I actually had a good time while doing drugs.  As long as I was high, that is.  I met the love of my life in 1983.  I knew the day I met her I wanted to marry her.  She knew, too.  We were married in October, 1985, and I was still an addict.  And, she didn’t know it.  Until it came out.

(Now, here’s where I have to curtail part of the story, because I have agreements with several people about the actual mechanism that changed 2 weeks before I made this part’s lead-off statement, but suffice it to say that it almost cost me dearly.  That is all I can say about that.)

 When the secret was out, I was faced with a decision to make, and I made the right one, but all of the sudden, my friends who had kept their silence for years and years became the most self-righteous jackasses you’ve ever seen.  I was literally “ratted out” by many of them, and there was a mass exodus from my inner circles who thought that I was going to drag them down- even while I was trying my best to come to grips with what had happened.  I already was very attached to a new church and involved in the music ministry there, but now it was time for new friends.  And, to boot, there were more than a few folks who found this whole news a little hard to bear, and left this new church of mine as a result- but the leadership did not abandon me in the least, and allowed me to continue on.

The inevitable question: "How can you be doing the things you do in church and be an addict?  How does that work?  How can you be saved and call yourself a Christian with that hanging over your head?

The simple answer is this- I didn't.  I wasn't.  I was a hypocrite of the highest order- or, to use a "Christian-ese" statement, I was a sinner.  Now, I know/knew what a sinner was- or, I thought I did, but one of the things that I didn't really get or accept that in order to fully receive redemption and salvation one must learn to forgive oneself.  Honestly, I hadn't done that.  And yet, despite my best efforts (to the contrary), God was using me.  I mentioned that friends disowned me when I made my addiction known- a good many of them were Christians who were hurt by my actions, but many were not.  It floored me to think that God- whom I clearly did not really know- could use someone as broken as I was in such a broken state, but clearly He did.   And, God was glorified.

Why am I telling you this?  Here is why: back in these days, churches really weren't as afraid as they are now to "push the envelope" and take a chance- musically or more importantly, personnel wise.  Even in the face of some people walking away- or running away- the people in the church were empowered to think for themselves and act accordingly.  Some people did not share the same viewpoints, but never once did I hear "if he stays, I'm gonna go"- they just either stayed or they left.  Simple as that.  And, most important of all, the people who did stay got along side of me and "pushed" with me in a spirit of atonement and accountability.  Many, many times, people would tell me "There but for the grace of God go I", all the while earnestly seeking to better not just me, but themselves, too.  This extended to all areas in the church- preaching, teaching, music, etc.  (I honestly don't want to indict the church today and make a comparison here, but one is probably inevitable.  I'll leave that to you, gentle reader.)

With the help of some good friends (who never waivered), my church, my church leadership and Jesus Christ, I was able to overcome and adapt to this situation, and the relationship(s) that I jeopardized, I eventually got back.  (The important ones, anyway)  Even though I made my start back that Saturday morning in 1985, I have had only 2 full-fledged stumbles and 1 near-stumble along the way.  None of these "bumps" lasted more than a day, and all of them were identified and dealt with - by me and some very close friends - immediately and completely.  I still regularly attend meetings, too, btw.  The point here is that God - and the unafraid, deliberate people around me- were able to rebuild me, although there were two more very difficult things ahead of me some 6 years later - the death of my child in 1991 and being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2001 - through all of those things, God has manifested Himself to me time and time again, in real and very tangible ways, and has allowed me to either share the experience or show Him to people as a result.  I will show you one of those tangibles in Part IV.