When
I Hit Rock Bottom
Heading
the wrong way down Taylor Avenue,
we
sped past the cemetery,
where
tombstones protruded from their plots
like
pale tongues that prophesied doom:
A
ghostly guardrail on the shoulder of Taylor,
positioned
as if in a three-point stance,
sacked
our four-wheeled quarterback
like
a Ray-Lewis-lead Ravens’ defense:
Impact
from the back of the front passenger’s seat
halted
my momentum and forced me to fumble
my pipe brimming with PCP.
On the wrong side of Taylor Avenue,
On the wrong side of Taylor Avenue,
beneath
a flickering Bic butane,
my
Timex still ticking read 2:10 a.m.
I was
stoned with a brain that crackled
like
a fire log swallowed up by wretched flame.
As
warnings to toss my dope sounded in my mind
like
those sirens approaching from afar,
I
loitered by the wreck, instead,
shackled
in the shadows of dependency,
PCP
and I had no grounds for divorce,
not even
a chance for separation,
such
were the bonds of my addiction.
I
huddled with the team, as Annapolis
dispatched
its team, adorned in badges and blue.
When
the jail door slammed shut that night,
I had
no idea how long
before
it might open again....
Fortunately, the jail door opened the next day; and several
months later, the judge threw out my drug charge on a technicality. But for
several years after that, as I battled addiction, I still lived in a jail cell:
a jail cell of sin and death; a jail cell I finally realized that only Jesus
had the key to release me from. This realization came to me from reading
Scripture, from people sharing the gospel with me, and from God, who answered
the prayers of people who were praying for my salvation. I knew then that I
needed God’s Son for the same reason we all do, and that’s because “…the wages
of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our LORD”
(Romans 6:23).
What death ultimately means is to be separated from God for
all of eternity in Hell because of our sin. Two thousand years ago, during His
earthly ministry, Jesus gave us a glimpse into this place of torment, when He
gave an eyewitness account of a man there; a man who begged for one drop of
water to cool his tongue; a man who cried out and said, “I am tormented in this
flame”; a man who is still there today and will be for all of eternity. That is
“the wages of sin,” the destination we all are headed toward without Christ.
matt@seeingthroughblindness.com