The following is an excerpt from my book, I Believe in God, Now What?
I was living a double life.
Everyone knew it except for me. God was my friend, but only on Sundays.
Other days, I preferred to live a life of secrecy. I enjoyed God, but only when I needed something.
And I was blind to my own faults, so I couldn’t understand why my life was in such disarray.
“Why me?” I would ask myself. “What am I doing wrong?” Little did I know, I was paving my own path to destruction.
Before I understood that believing wasn’t enough, you would see me in the club with a drink in one hand and weed in the other.
Sex was my main stress reliever, but even that wasn’t enough.
All along, I had no idea that what I was doing was “against God.” In my own eyes, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
After all, I knew other people in my church who were living that way too.
I didn’t know that I couldn’t listen to music that shouted “F**k bit***es, get money” while on Sunday listening to the sweet melodies of worship music without having an internal conflict.
I hardly even cracked open my Bible unless I had an emergency. I thought believing was enough. I didn’t know He wanted my life too.
My crazed habits only intensified as the stress in my life became greater, a stress that I soon realized I was only bringing down on myself.
In the middle of living this life that many would consider to be “wild,” just about the worst happened to me.
I was raped.
This was an event I didn’t want to look at in my mind, that I wanted to deny, but that brought me deep emotional turmoil in me, a turmoil I very nearly couldn’t deal with.
I certainly couldn’t deal with it as I was, undisciplined and immature, and without really accepting the solace and the peace that God can bring.
I was dealing with the pain the only way I knew how, through drinking alcohol and smoking weed.
Even when I would try to stop one or the other, or both, I couldn’t.
I had become addicted to the exhilaration that came with each of these substances.
Instead of taking my pains to God, I was releasing them in a joint.
Only, it wasn’t release, it was a vicious cycle of getting high and coming down and having to get high again—an addiction.
One particular night, after I got back to my apartment from the club, I came to my room and prayed on my knees, as I did almost every night before going to sleep.
Watching me, my friend asked, “How can you go from grinding at the club to praying on your knees?”
I said something like, “God knows my heart. Going to the club doesn’t mean I don’t love Him.”
Strangely enough, my friend was raped around the same time I was….
So, what happened with my friend? How did I learn to stop living a double life?
The rest of the story is in my book, I Believe in God, Now What?
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