Sometime ago, a friend of mine was putting together a book of testimonies and asked if I could contribute. I wrote this overview of my young life and thought that it might be helpful to some of you. It’s about that indispensible thing called hope.

Hope is one of those things that I didn’t have much of as a kid growing up in the suburbs of Los Angeles. My parents broke up when I was around five or six years old, and I was the only boy with three younger sisters. A few years later my mom remarried. That was the beginning of a long road of frustration as I tried to adjust to a stepfather that I had absolutely nothing in common with, wishing all the while that somehow my parents would get back together. Looking back, those seemed like pretty hopeless times. When I reached my early teen years, I fell in love with surfing. Finally, I found something that I loved doing. It wasn’t too long before I was fairly good at it, at least good enough to get some local recognition.

Surfing now has become a popular sport, but back in the late 60s and early 70s, surfing was more a way of life, a subculture where you connected with other surfers, the sea, and nature itself. A big part of connecting with nature was enjoying the herbs that nature provided, particularly cannabis! So at the ripe old age of 13 I began to smoke dope and eventually experiment with many other not so natural chemicals.

For about the next 10 years I lived in the world of surf, which was also the world of sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll. My friends and I thought we were “the people.” We were hip, we were cool, and (in our little world) we were the trendsetters having the time of our lives. So we believed.

Reality was a bit different. We were frustrated, empty, lonely, angry, and above all, hopeless. At least this was my experience. I would later find that this was also the case with many of my friends. However, at the time, no one dared to let the “cat out of the bag.” The longer I traveled that road, the more depressing it became.

Not only was I well accepted in the surf crowd, I was also the lead singer for one of the better rock bands in town. In fact, our first gig was to open for a well-known artist whose song had recently hit number one on the charts! We appeared to be on the fast track to rock stardom. With Hollywood just up the road, we could see ourselves playing the Roxy or the Whiskey in no time at all. With all of the excitement of that first gig, I was completely shocked when the night had ended and I was left standing there alone with the emptiest feeling I’d ever had. What went wrong? Why had such a sense of futility seized my mind? I needed to find out!

I had never really been religious. However, I did have an admiration for Jesus Christ and a vague belief that He might, in some way, hold the answers to the meaning of life. So in all my emptiness, frustration, and hopelessness I decided I’d pick up the family Bible and see what it had to say. When I read through the gospel of Matthew I was absolutely astounded. I felt that this Man Jesus was speaking directly to me. These are the words I remember reading: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (11:28-30 NIV). Rest for my soul … that’s what I had been searching for but didn’t know it until that moment. A short while later I surrendered my life to the living Jesus Christ.

The emptiness, the frustration, and the hopelessness vanished that day, never to return. I have peace and hope. My hope is in Christ: in His plan for my life and in His promise to give me a place in His kingdom for all eternity. I hope you’ll receive that hope by reaching out to the One who loves you and died in your place to prove it.