This story does not have a real beginning, nor does it have a legitimate end.

It was nearly a year ago, Dec. 9 to be exact, as I sat in the car at Starbucks in the middle of a heated conversation, that I was interrupted by multiple phone calls from my lifelong friend, Aaron Swor.

I finally answered to a somewhat dismayed and somber voice that asked me if anything interesting happened at school today — an odd question for a high school that holds nearly 2,400 students. I quickly gave him the recap of my 5th period economics class, where our teacher was pulled by administration and came back in tears and anger.

We all figured someone in her family had passed away; however, Aaron quickly cut me off and responded with three words I will never forget.

“Matt. Rachel died.”

As quickly as he said it, memories and tears flooded my brain as I started weeping in my car that afternoon.

Rachel Daggett was a wonderful but troubled 18-year-old senior at my high school. She sat next to me during economics and I found class periods more enjoyable when I would hear her sailor-like mouth and witty humor on a daily basis.

Rachel struggled with drug usage, and most of her classmates knew. Drugs and alcohol are rampant at most public high schools, but it was especially prevalent within my 2009 class.

This story runs much deeper though. In fact, the story of how Rachel and I are connected is the most humbling thing I’ve ever had to go through.

I started sending Bible verses out to all the contacts in my phone a few months before her death. Every day in class, she would turn and exclaim, “I love those Bible things you send me. I have no idea what they mean, but I know they make my days better.”

If I ever went an extended period of time without sending any verses or encouraging words, Rachel was always the first one to talk to me about it, always saying, “Hey, you haven’t sent any verses! Send them again I like them! Explain them in class next time!”

Rachel and I had built enough respect and trust for each other that she even agreed to go to church with me if I would remind her to come.

It was a month before her death that I sat in my friend’s house and began to talk to Aaron about Rachel over frozen burritos and Diet Coke.

“Aaron, you know that Rachel girl? I’m going to get her to come to church with me, and she’s been super interested in those verses. She’s going to come to Dunes with us, find Jesus and change our drug-culture at Barlow!”

I remember how inspired and excited we were for the upcoming Dunes Retreat in February and the idea that Rachel could truly change hundreds of kids at our high school.

However, as genuinely as I meant everything I promised her and Aaron, distractions came around.

Every time Friday rolled around, or I forgot to send a verse, I would always tell Rachel, “Promise another one is coming soon, promise I’ll text you about church tonight.”

And seemingly enough, more often than not, I forgot. This is where the confession comes in, where my flaws and faults come out.

The daily grind of school, being a church intern working 30 hours a week and being in a tedious and unhealthy relationship led me to a point where I put people like Rachel Daggett on the back burner of my priorities.

I would stand up in front of our youth group and preach the idea that we hold in our hands and hearts the precious gift of eternal life and then casually throw it in my back pocket like I had the right to hide it.

The day Rachel died will forever live as a day of infamy in my life. Every single conversation flooded my brain that day, and I wept for hours upon hours and days upon days.

Not a day goes by where I don’t think about her. Where I don’t wish I could take back just one single time I forgot about her and instead have shared the Gospel of Jesus Christ with her.

People always tell me not to blame myself, that she chose to do drugs and she has to face the consequence of her decisions.

I always nod my head in agreement, because I know most people will never understand.

I will always live with the regret that I made the choice not to share the idea of true hope and love with her. I will have to live with the knowledge that I do not know for sure if she is in heaven and that in all honesty, more than likely, I will not see my friend Rachel at the gates.

Yet, as awful as some days feel, I use it as an inspiration to remind myself there are plenty of Rachel Daggetts out there –- even at Biola University.

It is a reminder that I must carry myself in a way that honors Christ and presents his love to everyone, all the time.

This is myself at the core: a failure, a sinner and someone who choked in the moment of truth. Someone who held the gift of eternity in his hand, and instead of giving it out freely and at will, I hid it out of pure selfishness.

Already here at Biola, in the short four months I’ve lived in the wonderful and beautiful Southern California, God has rocked my world.

He has shown me that in my imperfections, he is made perfect (2 Corinthians) and that I have a lot of things to work on before I’m ready to take the multiple “next steps” in my life (see: careers, ministry, relationships, friendships).

So on that note, to the people at Biola University who I’ve already let down or let selfish motives and pure immaturity take reign in my life, I apologize.

I hope that as the “anniversary” of Rachel’s death comes around, it serves as a reminder of my true priority: to serve Christ.

It seems far too often that I feel like I have let down those who surround me, those who trust me and those that I love, including our great and awesome God.

I believe it’s time to change that.

This is for you, kid.