Recently, I read a daily devotion by Oswald Chambers that struck me hard. In My Utmost for His Highest, the last sentence of the March 24 entry, entitled Decreasing into His Purpose, says “You may often see Jesus Christ wreck a life before He saves it.” I laid the book on my lap, mouth agape, my thoughts immediately flooding back to these last four years of my life—the transitions, the upheavals, the monumental “rock-bottoms” that took me right to the edge of myself, and then beyond. It’s been an incredible journey, filled with exuberant highs and devastating lows. Sitting there in my room, surrounded by vivid memories of days long past, I said out loud to no one, “Oswald, you’re not kidding.”

I moved to Boston from my longtime home, Orange County, in 2007. Armed with little else save naked ambition and blind entitlement, I stormed the East Coast with a vengeance,  setting out to prove I was strong enough to move cross-country on my own, while simultaneously pretending to shed all my dark addictions and habits with one simple plane ride. On paper, I was a Christian school frequenter and a Sunday morning tourist. I had perfected the art of living two lives, mostly thanks to the deluge of alcohol in my twenties. My fundamental faith never wavered during this time, yet it was the dalliance with temptation and weakness that allowed me to straddle all those secret fences. But because sin is crazy-making, I found myself mostly empty, used, alone, and hurting. Instead of confessing and begging to be washed clean, I was sure a change of scenery was all that was needed. Upon moving, I had no real plans for my life, except to be frivolous and wild on a whole new coast, with hopes to reinvent myself as the “It” girl of the East Coast.

I had a very specific plan laid out for myself from childhood, and on that checklist included moving to the East Coast, where I wholeheartedly believed I would become a decorated magazine writer, a fabulous socialite, and the inevitable toast of the town. Stepping off the plane, I was gleefully convinced that I was officially free to pursue the kind of life I was always meant to live—glamorous and exciting. Soon important job interviews were lined up, and I was off and running. And then something weird started to happen.

The tap dance I’d so skillfully honed for 28 years was not working anymore. Employers started asking me for specific details and evidence for how I was going to become this “star” of New England. I didn’t have answers. I got no callbacks and no job offers. I was confused and devastated. Top Ramen noodles, anger, and my unemployed self staged a silent rebellion on my couch against God for ten months for allowing this to happen to me. I mean, hello? I was super awesome, right?! He was messing up the plans I had for my life; couldn’t He see that?!

“For I know the thoughts I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future filled with hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

Read “A Wrecked Life, Part 2” »