even be immersed in video games, fire trucks, and bicycles. They should catch frogs, watch a trail of ants, and collect every bug they can find with wonder. But when a little boy gets immersed in alcohol and drugs instead of hanging out with other little boys, he finds himself isolated because he doesn�t fit in. And if that same little boy becomes angry and frustrated, despairing of life itself - all before turning age twelve - well, what happens? You would probably think this little boy came from a broken family, lived in an impoverished neighborhood, had a horrific home life, or struggled with a learning disability. Not true. I defied all these stereotypes. In fact, my parents are still together. I grew up in a fairly affluent environment, lacking nothing. My IQ was so high that I was put into gifted classes. I was good looking, and I had a strong and muscular build. However, by the age of seven, I was smoking cigarettes, drinking hard liquor, and getting high on pot. I hung around my older sisters and their friends because they were popular. I wanted to fit in, but I never felt like I did, and I was willing to do anything to be popular. My father was a schoolteacher, my mother a businesswoman, the chief of police a family friend, and both my sisters homecoming queens. I was pretty active in school and even performed on a local weekly television program call Treasure Chest, but deep down something was wrong. When I was seven and in the second grade, my mother pulled me out of public school and put me in a private Catholic school. I hated leaving my friends and hated my new school. Fear and anger festered, and soon my only relief came from alcohol and drugs. Along with being a child alcoholic and drug user, I also became a good liar. By the time I was eleven or twelve, I had overdosed twice. My father exhausted a million-dollar insurance policy on me with psychologists and psychiatrists. He was always trying to find out what was wrong with me, but it never worked because I would just lie to all the counselors. In the catholic school, I was turned off by religion. The whole experience really pushed me away from God and religion. That�s not to blame the Catholic system; it�s just that I saw so much hypocrisy. I actually got in trouble once when I brought my Bible to school! It was a very ugly time for me. I hated the school and felt disdain for God as well. Whenever I drank, smoked pot, or did drugs, I fit in. Then all the partying started to backfire and take its toll on me. By the time I was twelve, I had tried to commit suicide twice. I remember one time actually drinking gasoline to wash down some pills. I also had thoughts of killing my parents. I was raging inside, and it dominated my life. When I was in the sixth grade, my parents enrolled me in a special drug program. I stuck with the program for about eight months and then called my mom one night and asked to come home. I stood in a phone booth on a street corner in Miami, Florida, and heard my mother tell me that I could not come home. I walked across the street, determined I would not go back to the clinic. As I walked, a man in a truck motioned to me. Distraught, I went over to the truck and got in. The man raped me. When he was done, he kicked me out of the truck. I just started walking and didn�t tell a soul. Eventually, I went back home. However, after blowing myself up with gunpowder (I was drunk at the time) and seriously burning my face, my parents once again sought out a drug program for me. On the advice of the local police, at age thirteen, I started going to Narcotics Anonymous. I actually liked the program, and I stayed clean and sober for eight years, but I was still the same person - filled with anger, frustration, and lies. On the outside, I looked okay because I was sober. Deep down, I still didn�t care. I did, however, become motivated to earn money. I started my own tile business in the tenth grade. After high school, I got a job as a bouncer in a bar. It was then that I began drinking again and got back into substance abuse. Also, I discovered girls, sleeping with as many as I could. Before long, I was selling drugs. I lost my job and ended up homeless. My life consisted of doing odd jobs so I could survive and buy drugs. Then, instead of looking for odd jobs, I turned to robbery. I robbed everyone I knew, so much so that when I picked up a local phone book, I could not find a home I had not robbed! I again moved back home but again got kicked out. I even spent time at the Salvation Army and got kicked out of there too. I went to jail on several occasions and liked it because it was warm and safe. I was always battling demons inside me and suffering emotionally under the guilt and self-hatred that was eating away at me. I was angry at the world, God, and myself. Suicide for me was still a viable option. As I continued to walk my wayward path, I got involved with a friend who ran a prostitution ring out of his home. He would drive the girls to their tricks and then rob homes while he was waiting. I remember feeling horrible every time I dropped a girl off to do her trick. One night I was standing on the porch of a crack house and asked God to let me die or help me because I didn�t want to live this way anymore. Two days later, I was arrested. I was relieved and called my mom and told her I was in jail but that I did not want to be bailed out. I finally felt safe. I received a one-year sentence and was sent to the third worst maximum- security prison in Florida. While I was there, I met regularly with a counselor. One day when I was in her office, I noticed a book on her desk entitled, The Search for Significance Through Jesus Christ. I asked her if she was a Christian. She said yes. I then asked her why Christianity hadn�t worked for me. I had gone forward to accept Christ at a Billy Graham Crusade as well as at the Salvation Army, but nothing had happened, nothing had changed. She told me that I didn�t believe. I started arguing with her, but she insisted. Finally, she told me that I had to believe 100 percent. As she continued to talk, I felt something stirring in my heart. I knew that I had never really believed. Once I understood that I had to believe it all in order to be a Christian, it made sense; it made a difference. I walked out of her office and got down on my knees and asked God to come into my life - this time fully understanding what I was doing. When I asked God to forgive me of my sins, I clearly heard Him say to me, �I can forgive you of your sins, but why can�t you forgive yourself?� I knew at that point that I had just met God. I did not sleep for four days. My life had changed. I started reading the Bible every day. My recovery began. A Christian guard at the prison befriended me. He was a great influence on me and not only helped me with my Christian faith, but also did a lot to protect me. We became prayer buddies. I began to see just how God was working in my life through this prison experience even though it was never easy. As I neared the end of my sentence, I called my father. It was the first conversation we had had in years. I told him about the Lord and what God was doing in my life, and I discovered that my dad was reading the Bible as well. God had come to me while I was in prison. When I was released, I knew I was a changed man. I got involved in a Bible-teaching church and invited my parents who, in time, gave their hearts to the Lord. Today, I am married with two children, and I am serving God by leading prayer meetings in the local jail. Just as God came to me in prison and began to heal my addictions and emotional scars, I am now trying to bring that same hope to others who are at the end of their rope. �I was naked and you clothed Me; I was sick and you visited Me; I was in prison and you came to Me.� (Matthew 25:36 NKJV) by Grady My God Story The Active Word |
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