Barb Wire

By Doug Giles

On December 7th, 1983, at twenty-one years of age, I became a Christian.  My conversion was similar to that of Saul of Taurus’ in that it was radical, dramatic and I didn’t come willingly.  No, I didn’t hear voices from heaven, I wasn’t on horseback, and no, I didn’t receive some apostolic anointing.  My point is that I sure as heck wasn’t on some spiritual quest looking for answers to life’s deepest questions when God collided with moi.

Rather, I was looking to get high, get laid and get by and that was it.  I didn’t want to be good, better my life, or follow Jesus.  I was a Judas Priest, Hell Bent For Leather-type who was one audition away from the lead role in Beavis and Butthead.  Yes, I was a Beavis.  But God had other plans for my life and dragged my sorry backside into his glorious kingdom on that fateful day, and I am forever grateful for that.

Being a hellion who’d never been to church until several months after I became a Christian, I wanted to share my new found faith and transformation with my unwashed buddies that I ran with and also with those whose lives I had greatly destroyed via me advocating they do the bad, oft times criminal crap that I did.

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Several of my running buddies were converted to Christ via my testimony.  Several of them were stunned by my tale and several of them told me to ‘blank off’ and decided to deride my conversion and decry the gospel, Jesus, and the existence of God.

A couple of my ‘friends’ actually attempted to get me back to the dark side by sending hot chicks to seduce me and tried to tempt me with some of the most potent skunkweed on the planet and some of the best Peruvian flake known to mankind.

Knowing my weakness towards the twain, I did what any weak believer would do and got the heck out of Dodge and away from those soul traps.  Of course, they called me a ‘pussy’  and mocked me as a ‘dumb-ass’ that was ‘missing the best partying years of my life.’

Once I started going to church, I would tell my older Christian bros about the brutal verbal dress down I was getting from guys and gals who weren’t too keen on me following Christ. My elder brethren would tell me that I was ‘Blessed when I got persecuted’ (Mt.5:10) for following the way of the Master.  They would tell me, ‘Let the morons mock, just stay your course and God’ll pay you back for your faithfulness to him amidst opposition’.  So, being the Texas Christian that I was, I cowboyed on not giving a crap about what folks thought as I sought to please God rather than men.

Fast-forward thirty-one years to 2014.

As a fifty-one year old Christian, who has had massive highs and deep abasing lows in the last three decades following God, I can tell you young squabs that are new in the faith, that God has blessed me indeed.

From the grace that sustains me, to the woman I married, to the amazing alpha daughters He’s given me, to a brilliant son-in-law, to making a living doing what I absolutely love, to world travel, to knowing some of the coolest and most powerful patriots on the planet; this former drug abusing redneck is stunned regarding how blessed he is. I cannot believe that for one second I could have cared what my naysaying ‘buddies’ thought about how I should live, versus living by God’s holy prescription, in light of what I know now.

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The opinions expressed by columnists are their own and do not necessarily represent the views of Barb Wire.

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