Sermon Tone Analysis
Overall tone of the sermon
This automated analysis scores the text on the likely presence of emotional, language, and social tones. There are no right or wrong scores; this is just an indication of tones readers or listeners may pick up from the text.
A score of 0.5 or higher indicates the tone is likely present.
Emotion Tone
Anger
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Disgust
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Fear
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Joy
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Sadness
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Language Tone
Analytical
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Confident
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Tentative
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Social Tone
Openness
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Conscientiousness
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Extraversion
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Agreeableness
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Emotional Range
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Tone of specific sentences
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Anger
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Pray
Dear Father, for Christ’s sake, speak to us.
In Jesus name, Amen.
Introduction:
I am a grateful believer, that celebrates recovery over drugs, alcohol, pornography, and sexual immorality.
I still wrestle with control, pride, and anger.
My name is Clay.
Everyone has a story to tell.
Some of us spend a little more time writing our story than others.
Though our stories may be different, they all must end with Jesus.
Jesus is the only happy ever after.
I was born in 1979 in Albany, GA.
My parents divorced before I was one.
Later my dad would tell me that he was in the process of divorcing my mom when she found out she was pregnant.
My conception forced him to stay with my mom for another year.
You see, before I was even born, I was messing things up for my dad.
This would be a theme for much of my life.
To say I have daddy issues is an understatement.
I was constantly told I was a failure by my father, although he preferred the term F-up.
Being a failure became my identity, so I eventually embraced it and became the best failure I could be.
I lived with my mom until the ninth grade.
We never stayed in one place longer than a year.
In kindergarten, while living in Albany, an older neighborhood bully would frequently take advantage of me.
Later in fifth grade, while living in Jacksonville, an older man at a baseball card shop did the same.
I held onto this and buried it deep.
When your told that you’re a failure so much that you believe it, you assume that this is par for the course.
Until recently, I never told anyone what happened when I was a child, because I thought I deserved it.
I could hear my dad’s voice, “Clay you’re an F-up, you deserve what you get, you only have yourself to blame!”
This would also lead to confusion that I was not equipped to deal with.
I would become so determined to disprove my confusion, that I would spend the rest of my life going from one female to the next, not having a clue what it meant to be faithful.
I would tell girl’s whatever lies they needed to hear to get what I wanted.
I was headed down a path of destruction.
In ninth grade I moved to Cordele, GA to live with my dad and my stepmom.
I had an older brother, Mark, who was perfect in the eyes of my dad.
I also had a younger sister, Autumn, that was perfect in the eyes of my stepmom.
My dad was a functioning alcoholic as far as owning a small business and providing for his family.
However, he was not a very nice drunk when it came to his home-life.
He was physically and verbally abusive.
My dad did teach us the importance of working hard and being responsible.
This was a life lesson that my older brother was naturally gifted at.
I was not.
Dad was extremely big on rules and chores.
This was something new to me.
My mom had been the exact opposite.
My mother was a pothead and let me do what I wanted.
I was not raised in church.
I did go off and on during high school.
Not for the right reasons though.
You see, the prettiest girl in the school lived down the road and her parents went to church every time the doors were open.
So, what did I do?
What any young man would do, I started going to church with them.
In tenth grade I started going to Crisp Academy, a Christian-school.
I got a scholarship to play sports.
Life took a turn for the better, so I thought.
I quickly became the star of the football and basketball team.
I was THE MAN!
For the first time in my life, my dad was proud of me.
Or was he proud of my success in sports?
Either way life was grand.
I loved being the center of attention.
Remember earlier when I said I had a problem with confusion, and how I dealt with that confusion?
Popularity only made things worse.
I became a father’s worst nightmare.
It was at Crisp Academy that I was introduced to alcohol and drugs.
In tenth grade I started smoking pot and drinking alcohol.
In twelve grade I was did my first line of cocaine in the school bathroom.
“WOW!” Getting drunk and high covered up the confusion and pain better than women.
In 1998 I graduated high school and went off to college.
I moved in with some friends on the lake and started partying even harder.
I started doing harder drugs and even started selling drugs to help pay for my habit.
I had it all figured out.
That was until one of my close friends got in wreck and died leaving our house on mushrooms one night.
My dad caught wind of this and I dropped out of my classes and moved back home.
After one more failed attempt at college, I started working for a living at Johnson Electronics.
I had a golden opportunity in front of me working for the family business.
I was more interested in making money the fast way.
Looking back, there is no such thing as a good drug dealer.
We suck at what we do.
It never fails.
We use more than we sale.
It’s hard to win like that.
It was during this time that I had I would ‘get back’ at my dad for all the pain he caused me.
I forged a $30,000 loan in his name and spent it all before he got the paperwork.
It took a while, but he forgave me.
After a few years I started stealing copper wire from the company and selling it for scrap.
He found out, fired me, forgave me, hired me back.
Then I started using the gas card to fill the dope man’s car up with gas in exchange for a sack.
My dad found out, he fired me, he forgave me, and hired me back.
This twisted, unhealthy, relationship, would continue like this for years.
After several failed engagements due to unfaithfulness, I met my first wife.
We had a beautiful daughter.
We moved to Perry where I would get introduced to Oxycodone.
“GOODNIGHT!”
This was a miracle drug.
I spent the next eight years married to a pill.
My wife tried everything she could to salvage our marriage.
She tried to get me to go to rehab.
She even took me to a local Celebrate Recovery, in which I pitched a fit until we left.
She finally kicked me out and divorced me.
My drug use and unhealthy relationships would continue to spiral out of control.
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