A note on this post: I was encouraged to bring this recollection to light by:
Michelle Woodman, who did a blog carnival on Wednesday of this week about “first music purchases.” (Click the link to read her confession). And also by Knox McCoy’s newly unveiled The My Bad Project, where we who are believers can let our hair down, and cop to the douchey things we’ve done in the name of the Lord. (I may have a confession of my own on that sight).
I’ve written before of 1988. It was in many ways a banner year for me: I met the wonderful woman who was to become my wife, started attending church, and Jesus found me. Or I found Him. Regardless, we found each other, built a relationship. (Call me a “Cal-Minian”).
Those first few months were bliss. I just wanted to please Jesus, make Him happy. Things would come up, I’d make changes. Let things go.
Except maybe for the monsters in my closet. I was quite the heavy metal fan, and had an extensive cassette (remember those?) collection in my closet. AC/DC, Motörhead, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Accept, etc.