I am interrupted from my worrisome thoughts by a lonely, meager kid approaching the table. He looks even more distraught than I feel. He has bad tattoos and huge bags under his eyes, looking as if sleep has been avoiding him for weeks. And as he comes closer, I see that his eyes are red and watery, as if he has been shaken up by something severe. I am curious, and my attention is drawn away from my selfish wallowing, for the time being at least. I make eye contact with him as he speaks to me.
"Is there some way we can talk in private, man? I know this sounds kind of weird, and you guys are busy and all, but I have some important things I would like to talk to you about, Andrew," he says to me.
"Of course we can," I reply. "Follow me, and we can talk about anything you want."
I lead him back behind the merch table and into a back room at the club, away from would-be interruptions. I am a little overwhelmed at his candor, not knowing what to expect when he does decide to speak. I am also hoping that he is sincere in his desire to speak to me about something real, and that he isn't just someone who just wants to get near me because he likes my band. You would be amazed at the stories that people come up with to have an excuse to talk to someone they idolize.
"First of all, I want to tell you how much your music means to me, Andrew. I bought
Drawing Black Lines a couple of years ago, and it changed my life. I'm not some crazy fan or anything. I'm just someone whose life you have changed. Your lyrics are so passionate and filled with hope, though I can tell you have gone through real pain. It's just ... so ... real. And that's so rare. I actually feel your hurt when I listen to it, and it makes me long for something real in my own life."
I am currently feeling this guy's words, for some strange reason. I mean really
feeling them. You would think that would be obvious, but when you have the same conversation with so many people so many times, over and over again for days on end, it is impossible to feel a deep connection with every single person who approaches you. But this guy has my attention. I can sense he has deep pain and a very real need for something. And all of a sudden, my petty cares about disappointment and my music career seem very far away.
"Thanks a lot, man. Your words really encourage me. What's your name?" I ask.
"Jeremy," he responds.
"Nice to meet you. So, tell me-- what do you really want to talk to me about?"
His face drops, and tears begin to appear in his eyes. He looks embarrassed and tries to wipe them away before they stream down his face. My heart begins to open to hi even more as I see this happening, sensing his earnest desire to confess, or share, or something. I can just tell he has something very important to reveal.
"I have to tell you this, only because I have to tell
someone. I am sorry to put you on the spot like this, because you don't me. I feel a connection to you because of your music, but only because it speaks so closely to what I am going through right now. Please don't think I am just some weird fan because I'm not."
"It's okay. Don't worry about it. Just let it out, man. Sometimes just the act of speaking about something heavy on your heart frees you up enough to take steps in a new direction. Trust me, I am here to listen. This is why our band was started in the first place, to inspire those in a low place." I say all of this hoping that I can convey to him how much I truly want him to know that there will be no judgement on my end. God knows I have had my fair share of pain and hurt in my day. This conversation is going somewhere much needed. I can feel it. But who needs this talk more, him or me?
"Alright, here goes. I have been strung out on heroin for basically the last eighteen months. I am living on the streets right now, completely homeless. I stole money from my family, and they don't trust me anymore. I have nowhere to turn, nowhere to run. I slept in the park last night. I guess I am telling you all of this because I want you to know that the only thing that has kept me going throughout all of this is your music. If I didn't have it, I would have probably been dead by now." His eyes begin to well up at that last sentence.
Now track with me here. I have basically just been told that I saved someone's life that I don't even know, that I have never seen, that I have never met. I am sure guys like Trent Reznor get this bit all the time, and they are well accustomed to the story,, if not even a bit jaded to it. But for a guy in a mid-level band struggling for legitimacy and meaning during a time for us that seems absolutely devoid of anything hopeful or inspiring, this kid's words are a direct injection of life. I am beyond words. My entire world of misaligned priorities has just been completely obliterated. Here I am, so concerned about my album sales and future as a professional musician, while this guy is sleeping under newspapers on a bench.
"Have you tried going to rehab? I have a few friends back home who went through the sae thing, and they had great experiences with rehab. There are even some places that will take you in for free as long as you commit to the program. I know Teen Challenge has that type of program," I say.
"I just don't have any hope that it will help. I feel like there is nothing that will pull me out of this cycle. Have you ever done heroin? If you haven't, there's no way I can explain to you how much it takes a hold of you."
I shake my head. He pulls up his sleeves and shows me his track marks. The veins on both of his arms are black near the elbow joints. I cringe internally, but hide the reaction on my face. If I had any doubts as to whether or not he was the real deal, they just went out the window. I am thoroughly and completely ashamed of myself at this very moment. I have everything. He has nothing. I feel the weight of his spirit, knowing he is completely at the bottom and that I am the last buffer between him and giving up completely. But what can I do? I am in town for one night. I have no chance of playing any role in his life whatsoever because of my lifestyle. All I know is that I need to give him anything and everything I have. the burden is deep, his reality now weighs on me. I feel a strange responsibility for him in my conscience, knowing I do have something for him that he may not get anywhere else. I know immediately what I should say, what I should do, as if it is being decided for me, but not by me. I lead him to our RV, away from the club and distraction and invite him into our home on wheels. Though this is a right that few enjoy, if for no other reason than refuge and privacy, I know that opening up my house to him is the least I can do.
"Tell me what you need. Clothes? Blankets? Food? Drink? I can give you anything we have and more." I quickly put together a bag filled with granola bars, soup, a blanket, a sweater, and bottled waters.
"Thanks so much, man. You don't know what this means. This is the most kindness I have been shown in months. Everyone I know has cut me off, and for good reason. I don't deserve another chance."
That's what it all comes down to, doesn't it? Does anyone deserve it? Do I, right now, with all my poor attitudes? Does he, right now, with his dirty blue balloons and thieving? I think every single one of us knows the answer to that one deep down. The answer is no. No, we don't.
"Honestly, Jeremy. I don't have much to give you right now. I mean, I am leaving tonight, and I would take you with me if I could. But I can't. The fact is that our conversation will be a memory in a few hours, and you will be left with the same thing you are left with every day: a decision. The truth is that you already know the answer to your question. You don't deserve a second chance. Neither do I. But if you were given one, would you take it? If you had the chance to put it all behind you, would you?"
"Yes," he says, tears welling up again.
"You have to listen to me right now, because you are at the turning point. If you leave here tonight without hearing my words, continuing down your present course, it won't be long before you lose your life. It doesn't matter how you got where you are now. It doesn't matter the decisions you have made prior to this. What matters is the decision you make right now, and the ones you will make from this point forward. Look, I am going to be more vulnerable with you than I usually am with people who come up to me at shows. I haven't exactly been living the most fulfilling or peaceful existence lately. In fact, I have been depressed for the most part of this whole tour. I am just having a hard time finding meaning in anything I do right now. But you coming to me and talking to me has really smacked me in the face. What I am going to tell you may sound crazy, if not completely ridiculous, but I know a way out for you."
"No matter what it is, I want it. I just don't want to be who I have become."
"I want you to know I have tired so many things to try to find some sense of meaning in my life, but I've come up empty on all counts. I mean, I've tried everything. Girls, success, money, partying ... it's all the same thing. It's all a quick-fix, an escape mechanism, a temporary treatment of symptoms without acknowledging the actual sickness. And we are all wired the same when it comes down to it. We are all searching for some sense of fulfillment to appease our guilty consciences and make ourselves feel better, in the long run. When you boil t down, this is the essence of how we spend most of our time. It is all just basically a search to fill the hole, the void. Do you feel it? And the funny thing is, the harder we try to fill the hole, the more destructive we become. It's how humans are built. We have a natural propensity for self-destruction. The more well-adjusted of us can keep it together on the outside, but we still feel that empty spot when we finish our day and lie alone in our beds at night. I don't care who you are. And whether we want to admit it to ourselves or not, we are reaching, stretching toward some meaning in everything we do. Do you understand what I mean?"
"Yeah."
"And I know this sounds crazy, but I have to be honest here. There is only one place I have ever found any sense of truth or peace in my own searching. Maybe you have heard it thousands of times, and chances are you have. But there is something about hitting bottom that forces us to turn to things we wouldn't turn to normally. I am telling you, man, the only place you will find any fulfillment, in my experience, is in God."
At this, I reach in my drawer and hand him my Bible. I only have one, and I have had it for years, complete with notes and personal remarks. I feel so strange saying all of this because I have been so devoid of hope lately, but there is no denying the fact that it must be said right here, right now. It's amazing how these encounters become a wake-up call to the messenger as well as the receiver. i wouldn't rather be anywhere else in the entire would than here at this moment.
"Here. Take this. It has been a light to me, despite what so many in our culture say about the fact that Christianity is outdated and dead. I think the most amazing thing contained in these pages is the fact that forgiveness and cleansing is available for anyone and everyone, if they are willing to turn from their ways and admit that with ourselves at the helm, we will fail. If we are willing to humble ourselves and confess, then He is willing to forgive. Isn't that amazing, once you think about it? It does not matter what we have done."
He nods, silent. Intent and remorseful, his expression says all that needs to be said, adorned with a worn expression that concurs with my last statement. Forgiveness is hard to find. He knows, as do I. Forgiveness is hard to find. And I need it right now as badly as he does.
"Do you think I could be forgiven for what I have done?" he asks me.
"Yes. Without a doubt. We just have to believe in the Sone of God. We have to believe that we are forgiven and change our ways. He does not want to see us in the state that we are in. You know, in many ways I am in similar shape as you. Just tonight, onstage, it was almost impossible for me to get the words out because my heart was so heavy with remorse, regret, and hopelessness. This conversation is as needed for me as it is for you. I am truly amazed at how this night is turning out. Do you want to pray together right now, and let it all go?"
"Yes," he says.
And we do. And it is everything that both of us need. We confess together, before heaven, eyes shut, hearts open, not caring what the world around us thinks at that moment. I actually can feel his burden lifting, hope entering his mind, his thoughts. It is a beautiful thing, to say the least. He confesses all he stole, and he injected into his body, and all the ways he indulged in hopeless thinking. I confess all my disobedience, my cynical attitude, my desires to store up success as some sort of end-all-be-all fix to my own insecurities. But most of all , we both confess filling ourselves with utter poison when another answer was offered all along. Then we open our eyes together, and all the world seems to have changed while we were away.
"Do you sense the hope?" I ask him.
"I do," he responds.
"Listen man. You know I can't stay here with you, or else I would. We can stay in touch after tonight, though. I'll give you my email address. You have to promise me you will contact your family and enroll in a program. Do you have one in mind?
"Yeah. There's one not far from where I have been staying. I promise I will go there tomorrow. Andrew you have no idea how much you helped me tonight. I think you may have really saved my life all over again. I don't know how to thank you for talking to me."
"I should be the one thinking you. Your courage and honesty truly convicted me of how much of a coward have been lately. You have helped me just as much as I helped you. But the reality is that there was a definite reason why you came here tonight. I can see that so obviously it is scary. I have a couple of questions though. First, how did you get to the show tonight?"
"Oh, I snuck in the back when one of the bands were loading in between sets. I didn't have any money, of course."
A smile creeps over my face. I can't help but think about the kid and his dad before the show, and how people like them probably would have kicked this kid out of the show if they had caught him.
"That's pretty funny," I say. "It's amazing how ironic these situations can be. Okay, here's my second question: Did you have any ideas about the stereotype about our band before tonight?"
"Nope. I just liked the music and felt a real desperate search for hope in it. I guess I always just felt that there was something in it that pushed me towards staying alive. You guys don't seem at all to be like the lame Christian rock bands who are trying to make Jesus cool. You are a real band that plays real music. To be honest, If I had thought that you guys were a Christian rock band, I wouldn't have come tonight. Actually, I didn't even know you guys believed in God at all before tonight."
In the end, all of the risk and all of the failure and all of the sleepless nights and all of the empty promises will not matter. In the end, all of the thieving managers and we-came-so-closes and we-almost-were-huge-but-oh-my-dear-son-the-big-one-got-aways will not matter. It just will not matter.
Why?
Because one kid will walk up to you at some random show in Maine when you are at your lowest, and he will tell you with tears in his eyes that you saved his life. And he will mean it. And you will be cut to the heart. And all the complaints in the world that you had not a few minutes prior will disappear. Because you will write that one song, that one chorus, that one note that is magical. Because in the end, when it is all said and done, you will come back home, if you are true, if you are real, if you really have been gifted to do what you are doing and God is in heaven has set this task before you. Because in the end, when it is all over and you are lying on your deathbed with faded tattoos and a saggy yet supportive wife by your side, you will look back and know that you took the risk, you stepped out in faith. And you know what? You actually DID something that mattered, even if it was only to a few people.
And though it was never, ever, glamorous, nor anything like what they told you it would be, one thing stands true. One thing and one thing only matters, above all else in the end. Nothing else matters in the whole world besides this one thing:
You did it all for the love. You did it all for THE LOVE
-
Andrew Schwab, "It's All Downhill From Here" (excerpt)
