The year was 1994. I dropped out of art school to better serve my wife. She was into witchcraft and I was a Christian. A luke warm Christian. I respected her religion, she hated mine. My heart was broken when she cheated on me and took her ex-husband back. Out the door I went with my backpack, a few clothes and my Bible. I knew I would need that. Denver can be a hot and barren place. In the heart of the city are tall buildings, but on the outskirts it is a flat concrete desert. And a small town boy like me should have never survived with all the twisted people around who were broken users. I started to walk, feeling so lost. My relationship with friends and family were broken to make a woman happy... a woman I lost to another. As my stomach growled, I thought about diving into a dumpster behind a Pizza Hut. That night, in a park next to a swing set, it rained on me. The next day, I walked for hours until I came upon the art school that I had quit.
I went inside, with my backpack, clothes and Bible. I made my way to the library, were I used to work as student help. My former boss saw me and started running towards me. "John, where have you been? The financial aid office has been looking for you". It turned out that the school had started a new program for students who dropped out before their final quarter, months before they graduated. I received housing, my job at the library and my last quarter tuition paid in full. Just for walking in the door. Was that not Jesus? That was not by my power. I received a huge gift of grace. I was lifted off of the streets, a broken man, and gently placed back into my dreams. I was an artist again. This gift I did not deserve. And not too shortly after, I drifted into the world again... and away from the Lord. This gift that I look back at and thought it was so large, was just a taste of what God wants for me. How much he wants to give. Decades later, when I came to Christ, was born again and baptized, I realized what a small gift that was that I did not deserve. Small because my salvation was greater. Jesus was spit on and yelled at. For me. He was beaten and made fun of. For me. He bled and was broken. For me. Nails through His feet and hands. For Me.
Then He died. And he saved me. This small gift of grace in Denver, Colorado, I did not deserve. Yet he did so much more than that. He didn't stop at saving me in a moment. He saved my eternity.
Working on Character sheets, plot and story.