Christian Living

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NoisUfNoC (Noise of No Christ)


There was a sound that I beheld, a predominantly dazzling sound to listen to and admire at the present time. The present time was living in sin. Marveled by my growing expectations to “hit it big” in the secular atmosphere, I strove to perfect my idea of glory. I was going to be a rock star, one with no boundaries of any kind on my life. I would be free and simply pleased with my life. That is what fueled me to do whatever it took to get to the top, but a real surrounding of church was never a driving force in my life. And I had never taken into consideration the idea of even recognizing that there existed a “God” of the universe. I mean, really, I was the one with all of the glory; I was the one who would have the fame and power. What would God have to offer me?

It was my twisted outlook on life that, I believe, drove this to happen. I had been performing at a bar some years back, and our band was just getting into the fourth or fifth song in the set. We began to play, and my guitar strings rattled and sang with anticipation as the drunken fools in the audience jaunted and cheered us on. Just before we were heading into the bridge portion of our song, everything stopped suddenly. Every sound in the whole tavern was muted as if someone had pressed the mute button on their remote control. I was stunned, I yelled as loud as I could; I was able to hear myself. I found everyone doing the same exact thing they would normally do, but no audio was emitted from anywhere. Just as everyone had began to stare only at me, my guitar dropped from my strap and hit the floor, but no sound was made on impact. And that’s when I heard it.

The noise that I beheld was indescribable to say the least. It was so wretched and painful, almost as if they were screams of men and women being tortured relentlessly. I covered my ears and screamed, but the noise was not blocked out and only seemed to make the sound louder. I wrestled with myself on the floor of the stage, unable to bare it any longer. Then a vision appeared in my eyes, but the only thing that I can remember from it is fire. Never-ending fire is all I saw, and the fear was drenched on top of me like a wave of water. And an inkling fragment of a thought came to mind, God. I cried as loud as I could, “God, help me!” As soon as I shouted those words, all was normal and everyone was staring at the poor, almost lifeless fool kneeling on stage. They laughed and hackled as they spilled their drinks everywhere. My partner on stage attempted to help me up, but I shrugged him off and ran out of the bar at top speed.

My idea of how to perceive things in life was perplexed and made no sense in the least bit. I sat in my car, and I thought about my mother. Her admonishing conversations with me sitting in her living room became almost clear and visual. Her coaxing for me to join her at church someday, all of it was put aside and left to collect dust. “It must be God,” I told myself. He could take all of that away from me at that point. I drove to my mother’s house and banged on the front door. My heart was racing, and my eyes were bloodshot from tears. Sweat was dripping from my brow, my fist pounded on her wooden door like hammer on nail, and my mind dazed and confused of how this may, indeed, turn out. My mother opened the door. She looked at peace, something that I wanted so badly. I didn’t even bother to step inside; I asked her straight on the spot. “Mom, what is this hell that you talk about?” She replied in almost a whisper as if not willing to say it, “The place of the Lake of Fire.” I broke down in her doorway, and the confusion swept from my mind. She led me to the living room and I received Christ. I wouldn’t have to listen to that noise, that horrible noise of no Christ, any more.

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