In January of 2002 I had just found a place to live, having been homeless up until December. Because of my lifestyle nobody could really put up with me – no money, no job – and I had burned all my bridges. In my heart I was a time bomb, easily frustrated, angry and violent. I tried to numb my pain with partying, drugs and girls.
That night, all of our friends had gotten together which was rare, so we decided to all go out drinking and to try to find any party we could get into. We ended up at this party and immediately started trouble, which started a massive brawl. Fifteen people were fighting in the house. I ended up in a rage with this kid in a choke hold but when the police were called I finally let him go.
Hours later, I was out making a drug deal. While I was gone from the apartment, the men from the party came looking for me at the place I had been earlier, broke down the door, and fueled by cocaine, began attacking the man inside. Spencer, who had stayed home from the party and was upstairs sleeping, came down and tried to intervene, to stop the attack and help his friend.
I returned to find my two dear friends wounded – Spencer already on a stretcher. He had been stabbed three times and beaten, with a fatal stab wound to the heart.
It was in that moment my life stopped. I was the one who started the fight, I was the one who had gotten this man in a chokehold, and I should have been the one to take the knife. Instead my friend Spencer was killed. Somebody totally innocent died in my place.
After that I was severely suicidal. But before I went over the edge with drugs and alcohol, I wanted to call Spencer’s mom and tell her the truth and that I was sorry. She forgave me and told me about God’s forgiveness, something Spencer had always wanted for me. She asked me to come to the memorial service.
It was at Spencer’s funeral that I accepted Christ as my Savior. And I tell you, I felt the weight of my past lifted off of me when I was forgiven.