I went the altar when I was twelve years old. At the time, I did it simply because my mother had done the same thing at the earlier service that day. After the pastor of that church left later that year, however, our attendance fell off.
Fast-forward eight years. I believed in a "feel good" God that I didn't really worship. I didn't realize that there were basically rules that I needed to follow. Luckily, my mother and father (the former of which was "back-slidden" by this time and the latter of which had never been saved) were still good people who had taught me good qualities as I was growing up. As a result, I didn't take my first alcoholic drink until I was twenty years old. I had always heard that alcoholism could be genetic and I didn't want to follow the path of my maternal grandfather or several of my uncles.
Then, along came Jason C., a friend that we met at an RPG tournament in Poplar Bluff, MO. Up to this point, I had a close circle of friends. We were immature, but we had morals. Jason brought with him alot of baggage that we hadn't been exposed to before. He was an alcoholic atheist who, at least while sober, claimed to be homosexual.
Over the course of the summer of 1995, that circle of friends underwent a metamorphosis. Jason expressed an attraction for one friend who was fifteen years of age. This friend left the circle, rather than being scared of Jason. One of our friends, an older guy by the name of James, simply wasn't liked by Jason. To my everlasting shame, I allowed myself to be manipulated into believing a horrible thing about James that had been concocted by Jason. I wasn't the only one who believed this, and James found himself basically kicked out of the circle. During this time, Jason did have sexual relations with another male member of the circle and actually offered to do so with me. While, at the time, I didn't feel that there was anything wrong with homosexuality, something in my very soul told me to not give in to him. So I didn't.
Then, Linda came home. A friend of ours for years, Linda had been put into foster care when her guardians were having marital troubles. While in that care, she went to church with her foster-parents and gave her life to Christ. She came home with a flame in her heart that I envied.
But, being away from church, along with her growing attraction to Jason (he was quite manipulative), started making her slide away from her faith. While intoxicated, Jason would shower Linda with affection and he seemed to take a pleasure in seeing her move away from the faith that she had professed to him.
Thankfully, those of us in the circle came to resent Jason for the way that he was manipulating us and told him to take the proverbial hike. I was desperate to see Linda stay with her faith, so I volunteered to drive her the fourteen miles to her church regularly. While I was doing this, I rededicated my life to the Lord.
We started to put the pieces of our lives back together after this. The young friend who had feared Jason came back and we begged for, and received, forgiveness from James.
On the night of March 16, 1996, Linda convinced me to take her to see Jason. I know that she still had feelings for him, but I also felt that she knew that a relationship wasn't possible. While we were there, Jason was drinking and, in a stupor, held us at gunpoint for three and a half-hours. I felt the presence of the Lord more that night than I have since, as I was spared from being shot point blank by a gun that, miraculously, was unloaded. Out of the many guns that Jason's father collected, Jason's first had been fully armed. After shooting a flashing clock and the VCR, along with shadows on the ceiling, he made Linda and his mother (did I mention her presence as a hostage?) bring him more guns while holding me at gunpoint. When he realized that Linda was unloading the guns before she brought them in, he made her stop. In the chaos, I don't think that any of us realized which guns were loaded, and which ones weren't.
He eventually lost interest in us. I can't explain why, but he did. His mother told us to leave and we did without thought. Half an hour later, he shot himself. He died the next day in a hospital in Cape Girardeau, MO.
I look back and realize that this was my last chance to be a good witness for Christ to Jason. I'll always regret his death under these circumstances. I know now how important it is to share our faith with others. Because Hell is hot, and forever is a LONG time.