Jason Davis - Your Love Pursues

Copyright 2013 by Jason Davis

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

One One 7 Media

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If we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin. 1 John 1:7

Ordering Information:

Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address above.

ISBN: 978-0-9912090-4-0

eISBN: 9781483537474

Acknowledgements

I would like to foremost acknowledge my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for His redemptive work in my life.

I would also like to acknowledge the following people:

My wife Heather, you are the prettiest and most special treasure on this earth and I am committed to you until my last breath. I would die for you and love you to depths words could never explain! The Lord used Virginia Hass and Jess MacCallum to help bring my memoir to life. This book would not exist without the immense gift and vision of my friend and writing partner Karen Koczwara.

The Lord led me to write Your Love Pursues.

Only to His glory,

Jason

Foreword

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent.

Victor Hugo

Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl back to my loneliness.

Maya Angelou

Music is an agreeable harmony for the honor of God and the permissible delights of the soul.

John Sebastian Bach

A song, much like life, is a journey. It begins with a few notes or lyrics scrawled, perhaps, on a sheet of notebook paper or crumpled restaurant napkin. Sometimes the words come first and the melody later. Other times the notes make their debut before the words. Sometimes, oh so rarely, the two come together simultaneously in beautiful fashion. The process can be messy and wonderful at the same time. But once that song takes flight, it has the power to touch a human soul. As the music flows, the heart joins in. And what begins as a scribbled inspiration can later change a life. Or perhaps even change the world.

My life is a bit like a song. It had a pretty messy beginning. The process was not smooth. I felt the sting of my father's abuse long after he stopped hitting me. I spent years searching for the missing lyrics, trying to squeeze in the words that made sense, searching for that climactic ending note. But slowly, the words came, followed by a sweet melody. I found healing. I found grace. I found fulfillment. Best of all, I found forgiveness.

My hope is that you will find something too as you read this book. We are each writing our own song, the story unfolding one chapter at a time. This is my story. There are still notes to be sung, lyrics to be scribbled in. But for now, I enjoy the journey.

Prologue - The Balcony

The devil took him up on an exceedingly high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. And he said to him, All these things I will give you if you will fall down and worship me. Then Jesus said to him, Away with you, Satan! For it is written, You shall worship the Lord your God, and him only shall you serve. Then the devil left him, and behold, angels came and ministered to him. (Matthew 4:8-11)

***

So this is where it all ends.

I sat on the balcony of my hotel room at the Ritz-Carlton, tears streaming down my cheeks as I watched the sailboats flit over the waters of Marina Del Rey. It was a gorgeous night, the sky perfectly clear. Yet I could scarcely breathe it in because the pain in my heart was too great.

Three bottles of sleeping pills sat on the plush king-sized bed inside my suite. The room where I intended to kill myself tonight because there was nothing worth living for anymore.

No one knows I am here. No one knows they will never speak to me again. The guy at the front desk had no idea when he handed me my key with his requisite smile that I would not make it out of this hotel alive.

The tears kept coming as the memories spun through my mind, one after another like fragments of a movie. My fathers hand flying across my body in anger as I struggled to keep my composure. The years Id spent locked up in my room, pouring my heart and soul out to a guitar. My once-happy family split in two, reeling from the abuse and the lies. The years of poverty and loneliness that followed, leading up to what I thought was the American dream. How had everything gone so wrong?

For a while, Id thought I had it all. Ten years ago Id had a dream to rise to the top of the music business, and that dream had soon been realized. The world promised the mountain top, where life would be perfect and everyone I encountered would adore me. I had accomplished everything I set out to do. I had everything a young man could wantmoney, possessions, accolades, triumphs, glory, prestige. A gorgeous ocean-view house, complete with the finest furniture and decor. Assistants and staff at my beck and call. A mile-long list of celebrity contacts in my phone. Yet none of it mattered now.

I have made it to the top of the mountain, yet there is nothing here but emptiness. The man who has it all, in fact, has nothing.

At home, my wife and I slept in separate bedrooms. As our hearts drifted apart, I turned to other women to fill the void. The celebrities Id once worshipped seemed only to be interested in a ride to the top. I had purchased everything I could possibly think of, down to the very last shiny fork and knife in my kitchen drawers. Even a $70,000 watch could not numb the pain.

At the end of the day, I felt unloved. At 32 years old, I had sought love in every possible corner of the earth, but my search had turned up empty. I was lost, living a double life, imprisoned by my lies and feelings of utter despair. Those on the outside saw a confident guy in expensive clothes and a fancy car, a guy who knew how to win deals like no one else. But the man I saw was a liar, a man without a single true friend, a man who did not know how to give or receive real love, a man out for himself. I saw the real me when I looked in the mirror. And the real me was hurting and ugly.

None of it is real. Its all fake. A sham. Ive tried it all, and there is nothing left.

I took one last glance at the marina, soaking up the serenity before me. Soon, I would drift away like those sailboats, checking out of this earth for good.

Im ready to say goodbye.

I took a deep breath and headed back into my suite, where the bottles still sat on the king-sized bed. Waiting for me, beckoning me to get it over with.

And then my cell phone rang.

Chapter One - The Plastic Guitar

It all began with a yellow plastic guitar my parents bought me when I was two years old. I plucked at the tiny nylon strings and toted it with me everywhere, often dragging it to the dinner table while I ate. A plastic drum set soon accompanied my favorite toy. I did not know that music would someday save my life; that even after befriending some of the most prestigious singers in the world, the very songs Id written would become the soundtrack for my pain.