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One time in college, I took some acid. More than once actually. This particular trip however, gave me a newfound respect for those afflicted with Schizophrenia; I felt like I bought a mental disorder for the evening. At one point during the trip, I made the decision to walk through the woods back to my dorm to play video games. The woods by the way, are a great place to trip on acid. Until the acid turns on you. Then the woods come alive as a horrifying maze of panic-inducing, life-threatening terror. Stay out of the woods when tripping on acid. As a matter of fact, don't take acid. Scratch that. Do what you want. I'm not tripping again, in or out of the woods.
As my journey to the dorms began, every minute detail of every task required to satisfy my desire for video games flooded my consciousness at once. I became paralyzed. First, I'd have to put one foot in front of the other and swing my arms back and forth over and over and over again. I may get tired and have to sit down. Then my clothes might get damp. Then I'd be cold. Maybe someone would stop and talk to me and I'd have to try and appear "not crazy" (which would be virtually impossible anywhere else on Earth except a college campus).
The point is, overthinking delays action. I over thought my decision (largely due to the high-powered hallucinogen coursing through my bloodstream). After anticipating every potential challenge, obstacle, and speed bump, I decided the easier, softer way was to stay put. Even though I wasn't thrilled with the eerie atmosphere of the the woods, I decided it better to stay mildly dissatisfied with my present situation than walk through the fear of change to get where I really wanted to be.
If three birds are sitting on a fence and two decide to fly away, how many birds are left on the fence? Think long and hard. Give up? Okay, I'll tell you. Three. Three birds are left on the fence. Two decided to leave. They made a decision but failed to follow it up with an action and therefore, stayed put. How many times in my life have I decided to fly away only to stay stuck on the fence with the other birds?
If I had a dollar for every decision that I made but did not follow up with an action, I wouldn't have to write fake books and peddle them up and down the Fictional Speaker Circuit (see Delusions of Grandeur). I have two Bachelor's Degrees and am unemployed. I had two Bachelor's Degrees and was bagging groceries at Acme a few years ago. Granted, I was fresh out of rehab for a horrific case of alcoholism and drug addiction, but still. A person who has enough follow-through to graduate college (twice) shouldn't be bagging groceries at Acme. That's piss poor, friends. *Disclaimer: Brandon Stephens in no way meant to discredit the good name and reputation of Acme Supermarkets. Their superior produce, professional bakery, and personable staff make for an exquisite shopping experience. Please don't sue me, Acme. *
You may be saying, "Brandon, you have two degrees. It sounds to me like you walked through the fear of change, flapped your wings, and became the first person in your family to graduate from college. How can you say you stayed stuck on the fence?" The truth is, I never wanted to go to college in the first place. My plan was to take a year off and then join the Peace Corps.
I made the decision. I spoke to my guidance counselor and read some pamphlets. I even picked up a Peace Corps application. But when I told my parents about it, they said, "No. You're going to college. You're the first one in our family with the grades to go. You're going." Instead of flapping my wings to head in the direction I really wanted, I stayed on the fence and went to college.
Mom and Dad only wanted the best for me and I love them dearly for their efforts. During my youth, they were over-protective in my opinion (Ha! see Everyone Has One and They All Stink). They had the final say in who I hung out with, where I went, and what I listened to/watched. I rebelled in high school with sex, drugs, and alcohol every chance I could. I tested and pushed every boundary they put in place. I used to get mad and tell them they were too strict, that I couldn't wait to turn eighteen and become an "adult." Now, I see they were excellent parents and are the reason I didn't end up dead or jailed during high school. Because I had that FIRE in me.
The disease of addiction has reared its ugly head in my thoughts and actions for as long as I can remember; untreated sin that could not be arrested with a moral, loving upbringing. I needed Jesus. No amount of morals or values could replace this sinner's need for a savior. The fire burning inside me seeped out every chance it could. Throughout my adolescence, Mom and Dad suppressed it to the best of their ability. But once I went away to college and left the safety of the nest, that fire ignited and combusted into an unquenchable blaze fueled by promiscuity, drugs, alcohol, and ego. I skipped classes, had sex, and did drugs with whomever, whenever, and wherever I wanted. And I loved it. I had found Heaven on Earth. Or so I thought.
Then came the personality change, the arrest, the pregnancy, the abortion, the depression, the hopelessness, and the despair. As the drugs and sex lost their ability to produce satisfaction, I began to chase an illusion. With all my might, I attempted to regain the initial transcendence, well-being, confidence, and peace originally derived from these substances. Instead loneliness, despair, and depravity took over. My grades plummeted. I dropped classes and was put on academic probation. Unaware at the time, the ever-present God-shaped hole (see The God-Shaped Hole) in my heart had eroded into a gaping chasm.
Like Adam and Eve in the Garden after they disobeyed God and brought sin into the world, I felt naked. And when Adam and Eve found out they were naked, what did they try to cover themselves with? Leaves. They tried to cover their depravity and wickedness with leaves. And so did I (see The God-Shaped Hole). But I had rested on my laurels for too long. Sure, four years of manipulating the system, cutting corners, and cheating my way through high school had produced a stellar transcript and lengthy list of awards and accomplishments (see Mustard on the Hotdog). All of which were leaves. Shiny, beautiful, breathtaking leaves. In high school, I looked great on paper. But that was a thing of the past.
My grades in college were atrocious. I hadn't joined a single club or activity (except Crew which I quit after two weeks in order to stay out late and drink). The fines associated with my drug possession charge were astronomical in the eyes of this Ramen Noodle-eating college student and kept me in a constant state of anxiety. My Aborted-Baby-Momma left me when I made it clear that drugs were more important to me than our relationship. I had no real friends, only acquaintances I got loaded with or bought drugs from. My life was in shambles. All the leaves on my branches had withered and died. Little did I know at the time, but a sovereign God was simply pruning off the dead leaves to make room for fruitful growth in the future.
When Jesus fed the 5,000, He didn't have enough food for all those people. However, He was thankful for what He had. After thanking His Father for the five loaves and two fishes, something miraculous happened. Jesus broke the bread and fed 5,000 people with enough leftover to fill twelve baskets. Jesus broke the bread and the blessing came. The blessing came after the breaking. Sometimes, God has to break us before He can bless us. I was a loaf of bread that needed some serious breaking!
Through trials and tribulations, God lifted His sovereign hand and allowed exactly what I needed in order to grow. After years of allowing me to do it my way, God lead me to a place where I was able to recognize my will to be insufficient. He had to break me before I became willing to ask Him to bless me. Asking Jesus to come into my heart as Lord and Savior, turning my will and life over to Him, and a short stint in rehab have worked wonders in my life. A tree once bare, is starting to grow fruit. Real fruit that satisfies the Lord. And you know what? I think I even see some foliage coming in (see Mustard on the Hotdog).
Enjoy poetry? Check out these popular Bent Straight poems by Brandon Stephens:
The Treadmill Continues
Self-Created Prison
