March 6, 1996, 7:00 a.m. I had just rolled into bed a few hours before—drunk. A couple hours later I was calling in sick at work, telling myself I quit drinking. I finally hit rock bottom. I’d like to say I was finally thoroughly disgusted enough with myself—and ashamed enough of myself—that I quit drinking. And I was. But in truth, Jesus Christ is the One Who delivered me from this stronghold on my life.