My father left when I was four, leaving my mother with 10 of us to raise on her own. Leaving the nest early, I was quickly consumed in a lifestyle of constant partying. I drank every day of my life for over 20 years. The fallout of such a grave lifestyle cost me everything I loved, my wife, my two precious children, my dignity and nearly my very life. After my wife left me, I was so distraught, I went crazy using whatever drugs I could get my hands on. In May of 2003, I was laying in my backyard alone, dying of a drug overdose, after consuming a lethal amount of crystal methamphetamine. My heart was racing so fast, I knew that my end was speedily approaching, having pushed my pulse further than it could run. Speeding out of control, with the terrifying blackness of death, furiously racing toward me, a final and desperate wailing gripped me just before sliding into unconsciousness. Something cried out in me, “OH GOD, HELP ME! OH GOD, GIVE ME ONE MORE CHANCE TO SEE MY KIDS AGAIN!!”

Somehow in a miraculous suspension of time, I was able to dial 911. A lone police officer preceded the ambulance and I pleaded with him, “I want another chance to see my kids again, can you help me?!” “I want God to give me One More Chance!” This officer knew that if I survived the overdose, I would go to jail. In an act of unexplainable mercy, he let me dispose of the remaining drugs I had, before the arrival of others. I was then taken to the hospital and kept there just long enough to save me from the heart attack, but then prematurely released. Still very delusional and suffering from flash backs, I found myself wandering the streets in downtown Nashville. In my paranoid state, I saw what I believed to be the set up of a terrorist attack and began to panic. Still desperate to see my kids again, I felt I had to do something to warn others of the impending attack! I found myself running into the News Channel 5 station, and blurting out a frantic warning to them. Immediately I was detained by security and on my way to jail for making a false threat. On the way, I again pleaded with the police officer, begging him to help me see my kids one more time. Somehow, once again, with divine intercession, I ended up in a psych ward instead of a jail cell. When I woke up some days later in a catatonic state, I thought that I had died and was waiting in a horrible holding tank, to meet God. The terror of this realization goes beyond explanation! The depth of agonizing regret, remorse and fear is beyond comprehension. I realized that I had nothing for God and that I had wasted my life and thrown it away. Believing myself to be in purgatory, I saw a Bible lying on a table. I clutched on to it and begged some young man passing by, to read it to me. It pierced me when he replied, that he couldn't because he was blind from using too much crystal meth himself. I sobbed, desperate to know something of God, before He required me to face Him. I was too drugged to focus on the pages, but the young man comforted me saying, “God gave you that Bible.” Eventually the agony gave way to unconsciousness and when I awoke again, I realized that I had not died, but that I was ALIVE! God, had given me another chance! When I was finally coherent enough to be released from the hospital, I returned to my apartment finding that it was robbed and everything was stolen . Unmoved and delirious with the joy of being alive and having one more chance, I soon vowed to walk in the first church I saw. That happened to be Lighthouse. Being received there by believers with an unimaginable love and caring for me, I have met the Lord, been born again and baptized into His glorious Name! Now, being sober, and armed with another chance, I’m coming to know Him, and my children, day by precious day.

Gustavo Vazquez