Rock'n'Roll Kid

"No one knew the song the way I did

All I thought I was, was a Rock'n'Roll Kid...

I was a Rock'n'Roll Kid with nothin' to lose

Except one thing baby, and that was you...

But there was always somethin' there on my mind..."

That was the honest way I felt in September 1974. In many ways I had "done it all." And I was in my Senior year in high school.

Since I was ten, when I first started playing guitar, I wanted to be a rock star. I remember watching "The Monkees" on T.V., and later "The Archies," and dreaming I was in their place. I once daydreamed I played on the Ed Sullivan Show.

But reality was much different. My brother played in a band, and other musicians knew me, but I could never seem to start a band on my own. I was too busy dreaming.

In the seventh grade at a school dance I got my first taste of performing. I was given the bass guitar, because I was the only one who knew how to play it. We jammed on the song "Midnight Hour" by Wilson Pickett, and the crowd seemed to like it. For the next couple of days we were the heroes of the school. We played pretty well, considering we were all 12 to 13 years old.

Years went by, and my dream kept getting larger. While all the other kids my age drank beer, or took drugs, or played with sex, I was obsessed with rock and roll. It took up my every waking hour, and sometimes I would stay awake at night dreaming I was important, dreaming of becoming a star.

But there was one part of my life I couldn't run away from, and rock music couldn't hide. My parents raised me as a Roman Catholic. I even went to parochial school. Deeply ingrained into my system was the singleness of belief - that there was a God who created me, and who loves me. I never really tried to think about it, but I could never forget it, either. As a result, I looked into every religious cult that my latest rock hero was into. And there were a lot of them.

My last year of high school would be the one to most influence my life.

During the summer vacation prior to returning to school, my father offered to take me with him on a business trip to Boston to visit my sister. This was an opportunity I didn't want to miss, so I gladly agreed.

But while I was there, I did things I normally would have never done. On New Year's Eve 1973 I had promised God I would never take drugs again. But in Boston I smoked pot twice with some friends. Due to my Catholic upbringing, I had a daily habit of prayer, which I totally forgot about during the two weeks I was there. Then, two days before I was to leave, while spending the night alone with my sister's roommate, I developed the idea of seducing her, although I didn't.

All of these actions and thoughts were totally against my moral upbringing. As I boarded the plane to return to California, the reality hit me: I had turned my back on God, and as a result, He had turned His back on me. This was the first time that I realized I was in sin.

I arrived home with troubled thoughts. I asked my parents if they could take me to see a priest for confession, and they readily agreed. But the priest couldn't help me - I could still feel the sin, and feel separated from God.

During this time I also learned the reality of the devil. One weekend my cousin Tim came to visit from L.A., and we took a tour of San Francisco. We jokingly decided to visit "Dr. Gardner's Witch Museum." But once inside, it was no joke. I remember one thing very clearly about the place: at the entrance to the museum was a portrait of Jesus Christ. For protection? I thought.

I became very ill after coming back from San Francisco. I could feel the hands of demons crawling over me, waiting to take me to hell. The priest couldn't help me - what could I do? Then one night later, when I was awake because I was ill, I took a prayer book with me into the bathroom so I could pray while I was sick. For the first time in my life, I sat down and prayed the stations of the cross, in faith. When I reached the crucifixion, and Jesus' death, the demonic oppression stopped. I sincerely believed that Jesus Christ had died on the cross to forgive my sins. And by faith, God had forgiven me.

Later, in school on a field trip, I met a guy named Don who had just as big of rock and roll fantasies as I did. We became fast friends, and he invited me to join him in a rock and roll band.

This was to be the "dream band" that both of us were looking for. I went with Don the next weekend to meet John, the drummer. And the chemistry was just right. We were going to be the Premier rock band in San Jose, we told ourselves. We'd go on to be big stars. For Don and me, this seemed like the fulfillment of a dream. We had two guitars and drums. All we needed now was a bass player.

Don came through again - he found a bass player, Eric. He had only been playing for a little while, but we didn't mind. We had a band! and that was all that mattered. After a few weeks of practice, John announced he got us our first gig. We were to be the opening act for a well-known California band he had once worked for.

We practiced five songs to perfection for that concert. We had thirty minutes to play, and we thought we had all the bases covered. But still, on the way to the concert I was worried. I was the singer. I had to be good. I prayed to God all the way there, and dedicated the concert to him.

We decided to dress fairly "glitter," and we had clothes made for the occasion. I had on my usual tight jeans, a black shirt, and a floor length silver glitter cape my mother made for me. I was nervous to be seen in public like that. As we walked out to the stage I was struck with a purple spotlight. "The cape! The cape!" the kids yelled after me. I swung the cape creating a Bela Lugosi-type effect in the shadows. I grabbed the microphone and shouted "You paid your cash, now you get some flash! That's how we TAKE CARE OF BUSINESS!"

We broke into the song, and the crowd went wild. For us, it was a dream come true. We felt we had made it, with only our first concert. The next month, we were to play again and fail miserably. At that one I forgot to pray.

After the second concert Eric came up to me in school, very troubled. "Jon," he said, "I have to quit the band. God told me in a dream that if I don't stop playing rock and roll He's going to take my hands." I was really stunned by his statement. We let him go, but I couldn't get it out of my head. God was still active in the lives of men? Even though God had consistently helped me, I never gave Him credit for it. Sometime later an evangelist came to our school, and I dedicated my life to Jesus Christ.

Now I sing a new song, one God has given me. I no longer desire to be famous, but a servant. The music I play now is for Jesus. I no longer have to chase dreams, because I know the truth (John 14:6). Don't base your life on records, books, or things - they will never work out. But Jesus is the one sure thing you can base your life on.