Testimony of Bob Colquhoun


My name is Bob Colquhoun. I graduated in 1980 from Washington High School in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I grew up in a Christian home. I sang in the church choir and performed in plays. I was even a member of Fellowship of Christian Athletes, a varsity swimmer offered two collegiate scholarships in swimming, and a collegeiate scholarship in music.

But I fled from all that, motivated by forces I did not yet understand. I moved to Florida where within two years I’d become the lead singer in a rock-n-roll band, and I lived every bit of the life style. We called ourselves Hurricane, aptly named before the havoc our lives would soon suffer. 

But, as far as bands go, we were good. Really good. We opened up for bands like Steppen Wolf, Foghat, Molly Hatchet, Pat Travers, The Outlaws, and Blue Oyster Cult to name a few. We were running with the personalities who’d created Jimmie Hendrix and Bon Jovi. We signed a record deal with CBS Records, and they had plans to make us famous. But God had other plans.
Waist deep in Florida’s criminal drug world, for fear of my life I fled the region in 1989 and moved to Arizona. But I did not flee my sins. My life in Arizona sank even deeper into despair. I started a new band. And drugs, alcohol, women—and even magic—were what we lived for. I became an addict not only of the narcotics but of the life style and I ceased caring for who I hurt. My life was in need of much more than rehab. There were suicide attempts. Overdoses. I even tried one night to sell my soul to satan if he’d only just aid my music career.

Then in September of 1995 I was arrested as a passenger in a stolen car and later charged with its theft. I took my case to trial and lost. I was innocent of the charge but I was guilty of so many other crimes. My time had come and I was sentenced to 7 ½ years in prison. There I began my journey toward Life.

Society would have you believe I am a prison success story. I am here to tell you that this is not true. Drugs and crime abound even within the walls of our prisons. Prison is no healer.  But removed from the autonomy that was dragging me into a very literal hell I discovered the truth of my dependency and the One who does bring healing. Not until I’d nearly arrived to Hell’s gates was this Prodigal Son ready to return home. And no man or woman could have helped me. I was helpless and far from hope. The prayers of my family were answered only when one day the quiet words of God reached my ears from the mouth of a humble servant. Countless times God spared my body, He even cured me of Hepatitis C. Finally at long last God reached my heart. My life would never be the same.

There is so much more I’d love to share. I hope I might do so in person. I believe God has called me to tell my story, which I do in both word and song. What else can I do but praise Him for the extraordinary graces I’ve received? Perhaps some might be spared the hell I endured. Perhaps some might come to realize how great a gift it is to love the One who is Love Itself.