I’d been reckless for years, rebelling against everything my parents taught me. I got away with it, too, because they believed every lie I told them.

My wild ways caught up with me in my senior year of high school when a teammate ratted on me and the rest of the team for smoking weed on school property after hours. Ultimately, my two best friends and I were kicked off the basketball team and expelled from school.

Overnight, I became like a modern-day leper. Friends deserted me, my girlfriend dumped me…well, her dad banned her from seeing me anymore and she complied. The Division 1 scholarships I’d been offered were withdrawn, crushing my dreams of playing in both college and the NBA.

It felt like my life was over.

My actions also impacted my family. My parents were godly people who always extended God’s love and grace, no matter how far I went. They didn’t deserve the embarrassment I caused them and the rejection of so-called friends, many of whom attended the church where Dad served as a worship leader.

They fought a very public battle for me, getting school board officials to let me back in after a 10-day suspension. But there’d be no more basketball.

Angry and hurt over what I considered unfair treatment, I refused to return to school. With my parents’ blessing, I took the necessary tests, received my GED, and went to work for my father at his construction business, hanging drywall.

I was given a second chance to play college basketball when a man saw me playing in a local adult league. He was impressed by my skills and said he would call a local junior college on my behalf if I thought I could keep myself out of trouble. I promised to be on my best behavior.

This man was true to his word and got me a tryout. A few weeks later, the school offered a full-ride scholarship. My family and I were thankful for the opportunity.

I settled quickly into college life, especially the party scene. With more time on my hands and living apart from the watchful eyes of my parents, I took my party game to a whole new level. My coach warned me to get myself under control, but I didn’t. And before long, I was sidelined.

It wasn’t something I did that ended my basketball career, however. It was something I didn’t do. It happened during a walk-through practice the day before our first game. Knowing we’d be slow-moving, I didn’t bother to lace my shoes. It wouldn’t have been a big deal except that I dunked the ball, came down on another guy’s foot, and tore all the ligaments in my ankle.

That careless choice sidelined me for the entire season. I felt so stupid. During this frustrating time, though, I discovered what eventually led me to my God-given purpose—the guitar.

I first picked up my roommate’s acoustic guitar out of sheer boredom. The team was away on a road trip, and I needed a distraction. The minute I held it, it felt like I’d met an old friend. I knew we’d always be together.

Eager to learn, I bought a beginner’s guitar manual at the local music store. My first song was Bob Dylan’s “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.”

The next time I visited home, I asked Dad if I could take his 12-string Epiphone guitar back to school with me. He said yes, but not before chuckling at my confidence. I guess most people don’t pick up a 12-string guitar and teach themselves to play. We were yet unaware of the gift God had given me.

I returned to the basketball court after I healed to maintain my scholarship. It seemed the right thing to do, but by then, my love for music overshadowed my love for basketball.

I practiced the guitar with the same intensity I had once played ball, and it paid off. Soon, invitations came to play in bars, garages, and parties. I quickly took on what I considered the persona of a rock star, and my drinking, drugging, and womanizing  moved to a whole new level.

Despite all my extracurricular activities, I managed to graduate with an associate’s degree in commercial art, then continued on to Arkansas State to study graphic design. I moved back in with my folks during that time and worked with Dad.

It wasn’t easy hiding my rock star lifestyle from my folks, especially on the worksite. I showed up to work high as a kite on a daily basis. I didn’t think anything of it, though. To me, if I could get up, go to work, and do my job, then my drug and alcohol use wasn’t a problem. It was one of many lies I told myself.

One night, I went to hear a band play at a local bar. During their break, I talked with the bass player and shared my love of music. To my surprise, he invited me on stage that night to sing. The other band members were so impressed with my performance that they asked me to join their band. They even changed their name to Zach Williams and the Reformations. That was in 2007; I was 29 years old.

Not only did my music career take off, but my personal life also improved significantly when I spotted a beautiful girl in the crowd. Crystal was in a relationship with a band photographer when I first introduced myself. But it wasn’t long before she gave way to my bold, persistent, and admittedly obnoxious advances.

I eventually moved in with her and her two kids. I wish I could say I cleaned up my act and supported them, but I didn’t. I exercised no regard for how my actions impacted anyone.

Crystal was about to kick me out of the house when we discovered she was pregnant with our little boy. This was just the news I needed to get my act together, and I promised her I’d change. I doubt she believed me, but she agreed to marry me anyway.

Like many who promise to change, I continued doing what I’d always done. If Crystal said something about my behavior, I reminded her that she knew what she was getting when she married me. My parents had no idea about the hell I was putting their daughter-in-law and grandchildren through. Crystal carried those burdens alone.

Our band grew in popularity, and we went on a month-long European tour where we were treated like real rock stars. Crystal knew all too well what was happening on the road. She could hear it in my slurred, often angry and abusive words when I’d call home. As always, I’d apologize when I sobered up and promise to improve.

Better behavior looked promising after one of the guitarists from our band invited me to attend church with him. Tired of the rock and roll life, Robby had recently started attending church and even joined the worship band.

I was shocked initially, but unlike other band members, I didn’t poke fun at it. I thought it was cool and surprised us both when I accepted his invitation to attend church with him.

To this day, I’m not sure what made me say yes. It must have been a God thing. Ever since my youth, I’d had such a bad taste in my mouth for churchgoers, always feeling judged and rejected. Crystal had never been a churchgoer, but she was ready to give anything a try. We went the very next Sunday.

I couldn’t believe how welcoming the people were to us. Not only that, but the pastor’s messages drew me in. I imagined I could experience a different life and felt an odd sense that I was finally home.

For the first time in our marriage, I abstained  from drugs and alcohol. Perfect timing too, as we’d recently discovered Crystal was pregnant with our daughter.

But then came another month-long European tour. Crystal begged me not to go, but I couldn’t let the band down. I promised her I’d go on tour, do my job, and come home—and there’d be no partying. I was sure I was strong enough to withstand any temptation. But I soon understood that even though my spirit was willing, my flesh was weak (Matthew 26:41).

I wasn’t in Europe long before I was guzzling the alcohol. I called home in an angry, drunken stupor one night and lit into Crystal. Devastated, she put me on speaker phone so that my mother, who just happened to be at our house for an in-home party selling beauty products, could hear her belligerent son. My mother finally saw the extent of my brokenness and the pain I was putting my family through.

I realized what I’d done when I woke up the next morning. I felt lower than low, especially after listening to Mom’s voice message. She made her disappointment in me and her alliance with Crystal quite clear. I could have drowned in my guilt and shame.

I’d blown it again. I’d let everyone down, including God. Fear and regret told me I wasn’t worthy of anyone’s love.

Later, in my hotel room, I cried out, “God, if You’re real…if You’re who You say You are…if You can show me that You’re there, then I’ll be done with this life. I’ll walk away from it all and never look back.”

The next day, I climbed on the tour bus and settled in for an 8-hour drive through Spain. A few hours in, I removed my headphones, put down the book I was reading, and looked out the window. Our bus driver started scanning the radio stations and stopped on a song that caught my attention.

The words were unlike the songs I listened to. They described my current condition—bound up, unworthy, full of shame and regret. But they also promised freedom and said that I didn’t have to be who I used to be. It was like the artist had written that song about me and for me.

That night, I looked up the song; it was Big Daddy Weave’s, “Redeemed.” I listened to it repeatedly, knowing without a doubt God was revealing Himself to me through the words of that song. I called my wife and told her I would quit the band and come home. The band didn’t share her excitement. From that moment forward, I didn’t look back.

The first thing I did when I returned home was ask my family for forgiveness. I’d hurt them in so many ways. A few days later, I knelt in my closet and surrendered my life to God.

I had no idea what words to pray, but I offered all I had, which was an honest cry for help. I was sick of who I was. I was tired of hurting and disappointing my family and myself. I wasn’t sure if there was anything usable in me, but if there was, God could have it.

As I prayed, a weight lifted, and I finally felt as though I could breathe. It was June 10, 2012. I was 33 years old.

For the next six months, I focused on my relationship with God and my family. My goal was to be a better husband, father, and son. I discovered a new passion for writing faith-based music, but I wasn’t performing my music for anyone.

Crystal encouraged me to go to a local prison with her to share my new songs and our story with incarcerated women. I declined, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. The next time she went, she signed me up and told me I was going. I dragged Robby, the guitarist who had led me back to church, to that prison with me.

Standing before those ladies, I was scared to death as I sang my song, “Washed Clean.” I felt as though I had nothing of value to offer them. But I quickly learned it wasn’t about what I had to offer, but what God would do through me. All He needed was my willingness to stand up and be used.

At the end of my song and testimony, I prayed for those ladies, and when I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see 35 of them on their knees, giving their lives to the Lord. Robby and I were in tears.

That was one incredibly redemptive moment for me. After all I’d done, I could have easily been serving time in prison myself.

While there, I heard God speak clearly for the first time, saying, “These are the songs, these are the people, these are the places, this is the music I have for you to write.”

Since then, I have embraced this calling, writing songs of God’s redemptive love. He has opened doors and used my life and music in ways I never could have dreamed (Ephesians 3:20).

As I sing for God and fulfill my calling, whatever that may be, I feel comfortable in my skin. I no longer feel like I must be that guy—a basketball star or rock legend. I can be who I was made to be, a voice for people to know about the goodness of God. There is nothing more freeing.

For a person like me who has made many mistakes and continues to make them, it is refreshing to know that God’s chances are never used up. For years, I beat myself up every time I made a mistake, wrongly believing that God expected me to be perfect.

The truth is that God and His Son, Jesus, are the only perfect ones. God knew we would all need help getting it right on this earth. That’s why He sent His Son to die for us (John 3:16). God isn’t seeking perfectionists; He desires people who will passionately pursue Him.

These days, I’m learning to be a little more gracious with myself. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t set out to mess up, but I inevitably do. The apostle Paul had this same problem. (See Romans 7:15–25.)

I used to stay down and berate myself for hours, sometimes days, when this happened. But that’s not what God desires. He paid too high a price for me to let me wallow in shame and pity. What He wants is for me to get up and run back home to Him where I can receive His gift of forgiveness and another chance.

People often delay receiving God’s gift of forgiveness because they think they are too far gone. Some believe they have to have it all together before He will accept them. But that’s not how God works. He welcomes us just as we are, messes and all. God will reveal Himself to anyone who dares to seek Him. (See Matthew 7:7–8; James 4:8.)

If you’re someone who repeatedly misses the mark, don’t lose hope. God isn’t sitting on His throne in heaven with His arms folded, totally disgusted with you. He doesn’t regret going to the cross for you. God pursues His children, no matter how far or how fast we run. He doesn’t give up on us. He never will.

I ran like the prodigal son for 15 years, wasting everything my family and God had given me. (See Luke 15:11–32.) But all along, God had a plan for this reckless rebel to be redeemed, and with His love, He chased me down.

From the very beginning, God saw something in me that I couldn’t see. Even when I didn’t know it, He was there leading and guiding me. Because of Him, I can now stand on the other side of all my mess and smile. God has taken all the broken pieces of my life and made something beautiful out of them for His glory.

He will do the same for you.

No matter what you’ve done, no matter how many chances you’ve blown, no matter how fast and far you’ve run…it’s not over. God isn’t through with you. He is the God of another chance, and right now, He’s extending His hand to you. Grab it. I am proof that God will welcome any rebel home.

Zach Williams is a husband, father, and one of contemporary Christian music’s leading artists, having won two Grammy Awards. Through his music, Zach helps people discover the love and grace of God. His book, Rescue Story, reveals his journey home to his heavenly Father and can be purchased wherever books are sold. Visit zachwilliamsmusic.com.