Life changing moments are hardly ever expected or planned.
October of 1999 found me in a comfortable groove as a college freshman at USC. I’d finally emerged from the I-know-nothing stage of college life, to crafting a place for myself in the dorms, and with the campus theatre community. I was alive to all the possibilities of being a young adult with freedom to choose my own path.
One Thursday night, my group of dorm friends decided to venture out to the Row. Along 28th Street next to campus was a stretch of fraternity and sorority houses, each branded with their own Greek symbols. Thursday night was party night on the Row, when every house blared bass-heavy music that spilled onto the street, and kegs were flowing with cold mystery beer. Some parties were open to anyone, others had VIP lists. But a group of well-dressed females could pretty much gain entry anywhere.
We stepped into one of the houses, and were enveloped into a crowd of people. As we surveyed the party, someone handed us plastic red cups sloshing with Jungle Juice, some sort of potent concoction created to decrease inhibitions. Guys in polo shirts flirted with mini-skirted girls. Groups and couples danced in the doorways to music that drowned out any meaningful conversation. Every room was filled with people consumed with having fun. I finished off my drink, and grabbed another.
My friend Laurel and I made our way upstairs, where the noise level was less deafening. There was a balcony overlooking the street, which was the perfect vantage point to observe the masses of college students hopping from party to party. Laurel left to use the restroom, leaving me standing alone on the balcony.
It was at that moment, surrounded by sounds of laughter and music, that I experienced an inward rush of despair. It was sudden and unexpected. Nothing around me changed, but my soul felt like it was awakening to a deep desperation and loneliness and longing. My body grew heavy under the burden of these emotions, and I had to hold to the balcony rail to keep from falling to my knees. And then from deep within, my soul cried out, “There must be more than this!” After a beat of pregnant silence, I heard a voice. It wasn’t an audible voice, but a voice that resonated through me. This voice said to me, “It’s me. I am the More that you need and want. Come to me.” I knew instantly that this voice belonged to God. I had never heard him speak to me in this way, but still I was absolutely certain. God was speaking to me, communicating with my soul.
It was a moment that completely changed me and changed the trajectory of my life.
October of 1999 found me in a comfortable groove as a college freshman at USC. I’d finally emerged from the I-know-nothing stage of college life, to crafting a place for myself in the dorms, and with the campus theatre community. I was alive to all the possibilities of being a young adult with freedom to choose my own path.
One Thursday night, my group of dorm friends decided to venture out to the Row. Along 28th Street next to campus was a stretch of fraternity and sorority houses, each branded with their own Greek symbols. Thursday night was party night on the Row, when every house blared bass-heavy music that spilled onto the street, and kegs were flowing with cold mystery beer. Some parties were open to anyone, others had VIP lists. But a group of well-dressed females could pretty much gain entry anywhere.
We stepped into one of the houses, and were enveloped into a crowd of people. As we surveyed the party, someone handed us plastic red cups sloshing with Jungle Juice, some sort of potent concoction created to decrease inhibitions. Guys in polo shirts flirted with mini-skirted girls. Groups and couples danced in the doorways to music that drowned out any meaningful conversation. Every room was filled with people consumed with having fun. I finished off my drink, and grabbed another.
My friend Laurel and I made our way upstairs, where the noise level was less deafening. There was a balcony overlooking the street, which was the perfect vantage point to observe the masses of college students hopping from party to party. Laurel left to use the restroom, leaving me standing alone on the balcony.
It was at that moment, surrounded by sounds of laughter and music, that I experienced an inward rush of despair. It was sudden and unexpected. Nothing around me changed, but my soul felt like it was awakening to a deep desperation and loneliness and longing. My body grew heavy under the burden of these emotions, and I had to hold to the balcony rail to keep from falling to my knees. And then from deep within, my soul cried out, “There must be more than this!” After a beat of pregnant silence, I heard a voice. It wasn’t an audible voice, but a voice that resonated through me. This voice said to me, “It’s me. I am the More that you need and want. Come to me.” I knew instantly that this voice belonged to God. I had never heard him speak to me in this way, but still I was absolutely certain. God was speaking to me, communicating with my soul.
It was a moment that completely changed me and changed the trajectory of my life.
RSS Feed
