I am once again rewriting my memoir, Hope for Misfits: A Prodigal Rides the Cycles of Addiction. Many of the chapters posted have been changed in newer versions. This blog, therefore, is undergoing re-construction.
I hope to finish soon and find an agent/publisher. I want the book to (1) be acceptable to God, (2) inspire hope, and (3) be a good read.
Here is the revised prologue:
I got drunk almost every day for twenty-five years. I got sober and became a Methodist minister. Drunk or sober, I have often felt like a misfit.
People who knew me in the bad days said, “If DeVere can become a preacher, there’s hope for anybody.” They were right. There is hope for everybody through Christ.
The dark, sordid recollections of my alcohol-induced insanity may offend the prudish, but my recovery, redemption and chronicle of the challenges of pastoral ministry may inspire hope in the hopeless. What I write is true in spirit and true historically as far as memory permits. I have taken literary license in places to fill gaps lost to time and alcoholic blackouts. All persons are real, but a few names have been changed.
My journey through the booze-fueled pits of hell to a pulpit has similarities to the Prodigal Son in the Gospel of Luke: I left home, squandered a sound spiritual and moral upbringing on wild living, almost perished in abject degeneracy, awakened to my lost condition, and struggled back into the waiting arms of God the Father.
Come inside my head and heart as I start fights, wreck cars, ride a motorcycle into a concrete wall, get divorced, get fired, awaken bewildered in a distant state, hurt those who love me, repossess cars, work as managing editor of a Pulitzer-Prize winning daily newspaper, sell vacuum cleaners door-to-door, clean feces off of grown men, and eventually preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ and minister to my flock.