Dylan Robinson - Never Going Back: This Is My Story

Note From Author

God began to lay it on my heart to write a book telling my story several years ago, but because of the busyness of life and also the lies of Satan discouraging me from writing, I put it off. After finally obeying Gods Spirit and ignoring the lies of the enemy, Im excited to now be able to share my story with you about the transformation that Jesus made in my life. Ive mentioned bits and pieces of my story all over the country, but Ive decided to put it all together and dive deeper in the stories that Ive shared over the years. My reason for writing this is not to bring glory to my name in any way, but to offer a source of hope and inspiration by telling you about the life-giving power of Jesus. I struggled writing this because I didnt want people to get the wrong impression of why I chose to write this. I did not write this to explain how hard I had it as a kid, nor was it an attempt to make my family look bad. I love my family very much, regardless of everything that has taken place, and the last thing I would want is to cause more conflict within our relationship and for others to look down upon them. It is my hope that, by writing this, they are inspired to surrender everything to God and know that they, too, can be used by Him in great ways. I pray that each book that is read will be a great encouragement to both the individuals that feel like they are too broken for God to love them and use them, and also the person that feels like there is nothing else they can do to help out the broken people in their lives. I also know that there will be many that can relate to me and share some of the same experiences that Ive had, and some that I cannot relate with. Im aware that every person experiences things differently, and there are some things that Ive never had to go through, so please understand my purpose is to share my own experiences in life. I also pray that as you read this you will be open to what God is laying on your heart, whether that be to help out troubled kids, answer the call to ministry, or try and reconcile with your family. Im a firm believer that God is always speaking, but we have to learn to listen to His whisper. If this book speaks to you, then please put it in the hands of someone else that you think would benefit from it, because I know that in one moment God can change a persons life from the inside out, and He will use anyone and everything to bring about that change.

Thanks for reading!

Introduction

Ill never forget walking down those hallways as a junior in High School reading the first book I had read ever since I was a little kid. Im sure it caught people off guard as I walked past them with my head down and my eyes glued to the pages. At that point of my life, everyone knew that I wasnt a good student, let alone a reader on my own time, but I couldnt put it down. One of my friends knew about a speaker that was coming into town to preach at a youth rally soon, and he just so happened to have a copy of his book, and God encouraged him to lend it to me to read. The name of the book was If You Only Knew by Chad Varga. The title alone pierced my heart because that was the very phrase that I had often thought to myself when my teachers, administrators, and others would ask me why I was acting the way I was growing up as a kid, which carried over all the way until I got saved my junior year (just a couple of months before reading Chads book). They had no idea what was taking place in my life outside those school doors and behind the four walls of my home. As I would often come to school after witnessing terrible things at home the night before, I would eventually blow up in anger or act out disrespectfully to the administration because I was boiling inside from the sounds and images in my head from the previous night. How was I supposed to focus on the subjects in class that day with all of these things going on inside my head? I hated getting into trouble, but it was as though it was inevitable. Im not suggesting that I had the right to talk and behave the way I did, but I do know now, looking back, that my impulsive reactions (that would eventually lead to almost daily discipline) was the only way I knew how to deal with the pain. I often wondered if there would ever be a change in my life and if there was anyone out there that could help me, but little did I know that there was a God in Heaven watching over me and protecting me the entire time.

By the end of the day, I had completed the entire book, and it was as though I felt something inside me telling me that I would one day be writing my story to help others know that there are truly people out there who love you and want to help you, and, most importantly, that there is a God in Heaven who loves you and adores you. The amazing thing about this story is the fact that I got to personally meet and talk to Chad Varga at my youth pastors home after the conference, and I was able to tell him how much I could relate to some of the family aspects of his story. I thanked him for sharing his story because it gave me the hope that maybe one day God could move in my family as He did for his, and that his story gave me the encouragement to one day share mine.

So, this is my story.

Chapter

Hes a miracle baby. Those were the first few words the doctors and nurses told my family when I was born. I was born with a defect called Gastroschisis, in which the babys intestines are found outside the babys body, exiting through a hole beside the belly button. If the medical description wasnt gross enough, seeing pictures of me as a baby with my intestines on the outside was enough to make me gag! Though more common now, Gastroschisis was something that wasnt too common in the early 90s, so the doctors werent too sure what the outcome would be. This birth defect typically occurs with younger mothers, and my mother was 18 years old when she had me. It wasnt until recently that I saw pictures and videos of myself shortly after I was born, and honestly speaking, I was overwhelmed by the idea that Gods hand of protection was upon me right from the start. As I looked through some of the pictures and saw the many IVs attached to my body (even to the top of my head), making me look like some type of alien, it dawned on me how close our God is to us even from the start. The first part of the famous verse found in Jeremiah 1:5 says, I knew you before I formed you in your mothers womb. Wow: though I have read and recited that verse at least a hundred times since becoming a Christian, it never became so real and personal than right there. Though the doctors and my family members were shocked that I pulled through as well as I did, God knew His protection upon my life was just getting started. Until now, Ive always hated the scar on my wrist from the IV and also the way my belly button looks, but rather than seeing them as physical imperfections, I now see them as Gods protective mark upon my life.

Right from the start, life was a fight, and that was pretty fitting since fighting was something that I became very accustomed to within my own family. Growing up, my life on the outside seemed perfect to others. My Mom was a young, beautiful woman, and many of my friends and older men were in awe of her; my Dad was one of the most popular men in the state of Missouri at the time because he was a professional boxer that had a couple of fights on ESPN. It was textbook: the young and pretty wife with the dynamic, tough-guy husband. Honestly, I was pretty proud of it early on. Some of my favorite memories as a kid are going to the boxing gym with my Dad as he prepared for his next fight. He would be with his trainer going through their typical pre-fight ritual, and there I would be off in the distance shadowboxing in front of the mirror because my Dad told me to (which I hated). I remember watching and being so proud of my Dad as all of the other local boxers in the gym would watch him workout. Every boxing gym has their main fighters that the trainer works with the most, and that was my Dad. Everywhere you looked on the wall you would see newspaper articles of him with the name in big, bold letters: Rockin Shawn Robinson. He was my hero. After his long training session would finally end, he would always take me through a mini workout even though he was completely worn out. Though he was very hard on me, I secretly loved it because I wanted to prove to him that I, too, could grow up and be tough like him one day. Perhaps my greatest moment as a kid was the day my Dad brought me into the local radio station in Springfield, MO, to do an interview with the sports reporter to promote my Dads next main event fight in town. As I was sitting there listening to my Dad answer questions from the broadcaster, Ill never forget when the attention was shifted to me. The man asked me, Young man, are you going to be the next Rockin Robinson? I hesitated and stumbled over my words. Uhh, ye-yes sir. I was only around 10 or 11 at the time, but I truly believed that I was going to be just like my Dad, if not even better! As I returned to school that day, I was so proud because my classroom had tuned into the station to listen to the interview, and I felt like I was the coolest kid in the entire world. As great as that was, nothing compared to the day of my Dads fights. I never got to travel with him when he had to go far away for the fights, so when he fought at home, I couldnt wait to see the fight in person. My Dad was always the main event when he fought in town, so everyone there was just as excited as I was to watch him. As the nights would carry on, the time would finally arrive. It was fight time! My Dad was always the last one to walk out to the ring, and you couldnt hear anything but the incredibly loud music they played as his walkout song, followed by the entire building yelling my Dads name. Wow, I was so lucky, I thought to myself. As the fight would begin by touching gloves and ringing the bell, I would stand with my family shouting, Come on, Dad! Knock him out! Lets go! Grown men would look at me and smile with approval once they realized that was my Dad up there. As soon as the fight would end, it never failed: my Dad would get someone to pass me up through the crowd into the ring and he would raise me above his head as the entire arena would cheer for him after he defeated his opponent. My Dad has a tattoo of my name on his chest: Dylan Jagger Robinson. (Im named after Bob Dylan and Mick Jagger, and that alone summarizes my story!) When he held me high, I was so proud to be his son! In those moments, watching thousands of people yell and cheer for my Dad with me on his shoulders, I was the luckiest kid around, so it looked.