Journeys Home (29 page)

Finally, with the assistance of a family friend, I packed all my troubles into my car and moved west to begin a career in the hospitality industry. I felt free, because I felt I was leaving my problems behind. It would be just my best friend and I, off to start anew, to forget what had been and to find rebirth.

My new life, however, was short-lived. Within a few weeks, my
ego unpacked itself and things turned out to be much the same
as they had been before. Even so, I fooled myself into believing
that the change of location had somehow altered who I was. I convinced
myself to continue on this new road because I was a different
person.

I felt somehow refreshed. My new friends thought I was a man of
the world and open to the energies of life. I developed a drug-induced
sensation of spirituality, a false kind of religion that many
of our youth today embrace. For those who adopt this perspective,
religion is whatever you make it; God is whatever you perceive
Him to be; and salvation is not something to worry about.

Through what at the time seemed to be no more than a random roll
of the dice, I was offered a great job at a hotel in London, which
included supervising all in-room bars and private functions. This
opportunity was like a dream come true: further travel, work at
a top hotel, the exciting adventure of living in London, and full
access to more alcohol than I had ever seen. I didn't hesitate
to accept the offer. Full of even more pride than before, my ego
was once again running the show. As I boarded the plane for England,
I imagined how proud my family would be as they talked about me.

Leaving everything behind, I headed over the "great pond." Little
did I know that this journey would change everything. It would
stop me from running from the truth. It would shatter seventeen
years of ignorance, seventeen years of lies. London would prove
to be my hell, though in my blindness, I thought it was heaven.

Once there, I entered a new circle of colleagues and other acquaintances
where morals were deeply in decay. The hospitality industry there
was corrupt from top to bottom, seeming to center itself on my
two addictions. Alcohol and drugs found their way into everything
and everyone I knew. In a strange way, I felt at home, and in
this home, I was king -- or so I thought.

My time at this hotel soon ended; corrupt business practices have
a way of taking their revenge on you. Yet despite my deceit, despite
my theft,
Someone
was there helping me struggle through the mud
of my own doing. A management position at another well-known hotel
became available, and my life shifted into high gear.

I promised myself a new start. No more shifty handshakes, no more
questionable transactions to speed that climb up the ladder, no
more lies. But I soon fell on my face; the burden I was carrying
was just too much. My addictions to alcohol and drugs were creeping
into my professional life, and I was holding desperately onto
a life that was founded on lie after lie. My weakness was beginning
to show.

I still remember vividly the night -- May 10, 1998 -- when, sprawled
out on my back in misery, I had what was nearly a "Damascus Road"
experience. I was utterly broken. I had traded all sense of morality
and values for nights of female company; substance addictions
were often my only nourishment; hatred governed my heart and left
me helpless.

Yet evil has one great self-destructive fault: ignorance. That
night, a crack appeared in the wall Satan had helped me to erect
around myself. Through that crack, I curiously peered out into
a light, a light so bright it dazzled my heart: the light of the
Holy Spirit.

In one night, all the ignorance that had ruled my life began to
dissolve. In its place was the truth that it had hidden from me -- the life God could give me. He began to reveal to me the possibility
of a life I had only dreamed of in the shadows of my mind.

I felt as though someone were taking a thirty-pound sledgehammer
to my body. I was riddled with pain. My heart ached as the guilt
of years now seized and broke its hardened shell.

My eyes saw and my being felt the pain that all my lies had caused
me. My body felt as if it were being broken piece by piece. Yet
as I was lying there shattered, confused, alone, and scared, the
love of Jesus Christ -- though I didn't know it was His love -- raised me up in a way I had never before known. Warmth embraced
me and comforted me. Hatred was swallowed up by grace. My ignorance
gave way to curiosity, and my eyes were opened to the glory of
life from God.

The next morning, I felt terribly confused about what had transpired.
Had I lost my mind? Suffered a nervous breakdown? Experienced
an acid flashback? Whatever had happened, when I looked into the
mirror, I saw someone I hadn't seen for years, and I was frightened.
I saw a young boy I thought I had left behind many years before.

Nothing made any sense. Everything, I felt, had changed. It was
as if I had awakened in one of my dreams, yet this was reality.

Strangely enough, I wouldn't accept that Christ had come to me
in the night. There was no way I was becoming Christian, I told
myself -- no way. Yet my heart cried for this change, and a desire
to search out the truth was engulfing me.

My mind became a sponge, soaking up everything I could learn that
I thought might help me understand this new reality. I took a
vow of chastity, gave up the bottle, and somehow rationalized
that drugs would be my route to spiritual salvation. (Thus one
of Satan's claws remained in my side). I began to read everything
spiritual I could get my hands on, starting with Eastern mysticism
and yoga. At one point, I almost entered a Buddhist monastery
in southern England.

Next I found myself exploring Judaism, especially the mystical
strain known as Kabbalism. Finally, however, I went back to my
scientific roots and there sought a logical explanation for what
had happened in my life. In this way of thinking, there was no
such thing as sin; my drug abuse was no hindrance to any kind
of salvation; and I was relieved, since I could no longer count
on alcohol to lean on.

I convinced myself that I had found what I was looking for. Everything
made sense, I said, and with that I stopped, no more questioning
the experience of that night. In fact, I began to explain it away -- and that mistake allowed Satan to slip slowly back into my
life. In time, I went back to alcohol and everything began to
spin downward, though all the while I thought I was enjoying a
wonderful life.

What I had experienced that memorable night transcended the logic
of the mind, though I had tried to fit it into logical categories.
What had taken place had been a miracle, but I now shrugged it
off as an ordinary occurrence, a random chance. All the impact
of that night seemed lost.

Meanwhile, while managing at the Ritz Hotel in London, I befriended
Barry, the security manager. He would later be my Confirmation
sponsor and is even now my mentor. Our luncheon talks became God's
way of entering my life without my realizing it.

Slowly I began to reach out for the spiritual food Jesus Christ
was offering me through Barry. Then, after several months, he
invited me to attend a course at his parish. My heart jumped at
the invitation, and a song came from my soul. I answered, "Without
a doubt!"

I still remember that night as clearly as if it were just this
morning. As I walked from the hotel to the Holy Apostles parish,
it seemed as if I were going crazy, as if I were on fire. My addictions
had taught me to crave, but this was a kind of desire I had never
known.

As soon as I stepped into the hall that night,
bam!
I felt inside
the same sledgehammer that I had felt that night a year before.
I cried like a baby separated from its mother. Then I met Miren,
a woman who to this day is my spiritual mom.

Hers was a rare kind of love. She greeted me with the words "You're
home!" It was a welcoming I shall never forget.

Though she didn't know me from a stranger on the subway, yet she
gave me the love I had always wished to find. I knew then that
I was home, in my real home. The home I had run from in ignorance
I now ran to in love.

Thirteen weeks went by as the course progressed, and each week
I hounded Barry: "I want to be Catholic. I want to be Catholic!"
But each time I pressed him, he replied simply, "Patience, Rob."

Finally I was brought to the priest. He gave me a catechism and
some writings by Thomas Merton, and we set a date for my first
confession.

In the meantime, I was catechized one-on-one by an amazing son
of God. Twice a week I met with Edward, a Jewish convert who was
very orthodox in his teaching. A couple who became my spiritual
parents, also very orthodox and deeply involved in the charismatic
renewal, opened their arms to me as well. I was nurtured by them
all, raised as a spiritual infant with the desire to praise the
Lord with all my heart.

The date of my Confirmation was set for December 9, 2000. Two
days later, I was to return to Canada for my first Christmas as
a Catholic. It would also be the first Christmas with my family
in four years. My family eagerly waited. They loved the change
in my life. I was clean and sober and once again living the moral
life that my parents had modeled for me as a young boy.

That Christmas was the greatest day of my life. In a river of
tears, I received Holy Communion. I walked out into the world
without the void in my heart that I had carried for so long.

The next day I completed an application to work with the National
Evangelization Teams (NET). I had become involved with the Franciscan
Friars of the Renewal while in London, and I immediately fell
in love with their simplicity of life and devotion to serve others
through Christ. When I told my family that I was leaving the hotel
business and planning to do a year of missionary work in the United
States with NET, my decision was met with some speculation and
concern. But their hearts began to change as they saw the joy
that now filled my life.

For nine months I traveled across the United States, being fed
daily with the gifts of the Spirit. My experience with NET peeled
away layer by layer whatever film of my old life still remained,
and I was refined by the fire of love that burned in my heart.
To all I met, I witnessed to the healing grace that had saved
my life.

After my life on the road with NET, I returned to Zanesville,
Ohio, with a woman who had stolen my heart. We needed to discern
our course of life. Very happily, we were engaged on July 5, 2002.
As we sought God about our future and learned to rest in Him,
His grace presented an opportunity for me to work with the Coming
Home Network International and to be spiritually fed as never
before.

Today I recognize that so many different hands have formed my
life, yet each has been guided by the one hand of God. He lifted
me from the gutter, healed me of my addictions, and put life back
into my spirit. He even touched my liver, damaged by alcohol abuse,
and restored it to health. In all these ways, He gave me a will
to live in a way I had never known.

In the mirror, I still see Robert Rodgers, once an alcoholic,
a drug addict, a thief, a pathological liar, an abuser of every
good thing that came into his life. But now I also see a sinner
who has been forgiven, a son of God who has come home to the arms
of his eternal Father, a man who receives such remarkable life
and love that it often seems like a dream.

The refrain of Psalm 118 is now the song of my heart each morning:
"His steadfast love endures forever!" The first words from my
mouth each day are spoken to the Lord: "Jesus, I love you." I
am deeply grateful for the beauty of another chance, a chance
to help others find the life I found through Christ our Lord.
No day is a bad day, for Jesus Christ willingly went to the cross
to die for me so that I could find true happiness. God bless and
amen!

Rob Rodgers and his wife, Bernadette, reside in Zanesville, Ohio
where they are raising their growing family.

former Reformed Calvinist

EARLY YEARS

L'ABRI FELLOWSHIP

FURTHER STUDIES

EVERYTHING CONVERGING ON ROME

I FOUND MY WAY HOME

"You made us for Yourself, and our hearts find no peace until
they rest in You." In this statement, the philosopher-theologian
St. Augustine of Hippo (a.d. 354 - 430) claimed that nothing
less than God can completely satisfy the restless quest of man
for peace -- for the truth, for the good, for happiness. In other
words, God is our ultimate fulfillment.

This is also the sentiment of the opening question and answer
of the Baltimore Catechism:

"Why did God make you?"

"God made me to know Him, love Him, and serve Him in this world
and to be happy with Him for ever in the next."

I did not, however, always know the answer to that question.

In 1950, I was born in Merida, the capital city of Yucatan, Mexico,
the second of five children. When I was almost two years old,
we left our Mexican roots and immigrated to the eastern part of
the United States. For a short time, we lived in Manhattan but
then moved up north to the Bronx. My Catholic parents were firm
believers in the importance of Catholic education. So I spent
my formative years at Our Lady of Lourdes grammar school and Immaculate
Conception School, and then on to Mount St. Michael Academy, an
all-boys high school run by Marist Brothers. I graduated in 1969.

I had been baptized, confirmed, and catechized a Catholic, yet
I do not remember ever thinking seriously about personally turning
toward God and away from sin by making a heartfelt commitment
to Christ. I was like many teenagers: The Church's proclamation
of the gospel of Jesus Christ just did not seem relevant to my
life. I never made a conscious choice to be an atheist; rather,
I just assumed that the Church had nothing to say to me.