The perspiration soaked through every layer of the costume as wave after wave of applause flowed from the balcony of the theater down to me on the stage below. I stood there drinking it all in. Every fiber of my being was spent. I had poured all remaining stores of energy on the last number.

Every hour of arduous practice for more than 14 years was drawn upon for this role. All the high notes that seem humanly impossible were flowing out in succession as I used every emotion I could muster to touch the hearts of the audience. Months of rehearsals and years of intense anticipation had paid off. I was now center stage, flanked by long rows of performers on each side, the last one to come out for the curtain call.

As I looked up to the balcony to receive the accolades from the crowd, the roar of applause washed over me. I could feel the people's adoration and the sweat dripping from my face. Within me was a flurry of thoughts and feelings, racing and vying for attention—"You did it! You made it!" At the age of 24, I had arrived at the moment I had dreamed of since the first time I stepped onto a professional stage at the age of 10. I was a star on Broadway.

Thinking that my dressing room, now filled with flowers and telegrams from well-wishers, would be a haven from all the attention, I collapsed onto the couch and tried to catch my breath. But congratulations were pouring in from the director, my agent, the managers, performers, dressers, and groupies. Was all of this really happening? I tried to escape to the shower, but in the theater there is no privacy.

As I reached the stage door I was met with screams from teenage fans and mobs of people wanting autographs. I signed as many as possible and smiled as much as I could, wondering why things were so different from yesterday. Then I remembered: yesterday I was the understudy.

The four flights of stairs to my apartment in Hell's Kitchen seemed longer than usual that night. As I closed the door a feeling began to well up. There, all alone with myself, with my dream come true, with the longed-for fame, with more money than I'd ever possessed in my life, I felt empty. It was then that I began to question, "So, this is it? I worked so hard, so long to be here, and I feel empty?" For several months I would play out this same experience with the same questions night after night. I tried to fill my life with new friends, dinners, parties, and a meaningful relationship. And those things did a good job of masking the feelings. But nothing could take away the emptiness that I had always thought would be filled by my success on Broadway.

I knew this emptiness—I had experienced it many times before. When I wanted something, I pursued it. But when I got it and found that it did not satisfy me, I would go after something else. As a kid it was toys. Now it was becoming careers. So when my Broadway experience did not fill me, I decided to become a singer/songwriter.

Spending my days writing songs about the emptiness that was within me, I built a recording studio and started to record. Tapes went out, producers called, and soon I had a contract with Warner Brothers starring in my own TV pilot as a singer/songwriter.

I was flown to Los Angeles, resided at the Beverly Hills Hilton, and had my own parking space at NBC Studios right next to Johnny Carson's. When I called the NBC office, they answered with the name of my pilot: "Say, Uncle." I was eating up all the attention and hype, thinking that this was what I had been seeking.

The pilot was shot in five days. When we had finished the final taping, I went to my dressing room to take off my make-up and get ready to go. But when I went to say goodbye to the director, the booth was locked and the lights were out. I went down to the stage—the set was gone. Confused, I went to my car—the name tag on my parking space had been pulled. I called the office. They answered, "A New Day."

All the success was like smoke, I couldn't get a handle on it, like cotton candy, once it was in my mouth it was gone. All throughout this episode of my life the feeling of vanity became stronger and stronger. Deep inside me I knew I needed something real. Maybe it was from hearing the Bible read to me as a child, maybe it was because someone was praying for me. But wherever it was from, I felt that I needed God. So I began to search for Him.

I went home for a break to see my family. When I saw my sister she was different. The last time I had seen her, she was in a condition very similar to mine. This time, however, she was beaming, full of joy and peace—the very things I was seeking. Surprised, I asked what had happened. She told me of her experience of seeking the Lord Jesus and eventually finding Him and His believers, whom she called the church. Practically bubbling over with joy, she brought me to one of their gatherings. There, in the basement of a bank on a Sunday morning, I found something so pure, so precious—I found God in the midst of a group of seeking young people. Whatever those young people had was what I wanted. It was not worldly success, or fame, or religion—it was the reality of the life of God. That meeting changed my life forever.

I still fought with myself for a while. But in the end, I gave up. I didn't care whether I ever acted again. All I wanted is what my sister had—real peace and joy. I wanted it so badly I was willing to pay any price to have it, even my career. One day while driving all alone in New York, I began to call out to the Lord. I called out to Him, saying, "O Lord Jesus" so many times that I lost count. And when I called, I was filled with Him, and the emptiness which I could never fill was filled with the joy of God.

That week I gave my life to the Lord Jesus. Since then my life has been full of real joy, fulfillment, and meaning. The applause is gone and with it the emptiness. But I have never stopped singing, for now I sing with my whole heart to Him.

The author has requested that he remain anonymous

When we see all that the Lord Jesus has done for us, we cannot help but desire to receive Him and know Him. If you would like to receive Him right now and begin a life of knowing and loving this precious One, please pray:

"O Lord Jesus, You are so precious! I love You. Thank You for dying for me. Thank You for taking my place on the cross and forgiving me of my sins. Lord Jesus, nothing can compare to You. Come into me, Lord Jesus. I give my life and my all to You. Lord Jesus, I love You."