“If you want to break up with me, I will understand,” I said, watching her face for any sign that she wanted out.
Kim didn’t deserve to have to deal with my problems. She’d already been through a difficult marriage and divorce. Now, here I was, adding to her pain.
“I crashed my car last night after I had too much to drink.” Surprisingly, she didn’t yell at me or run. Instead, she leaned in to listen, extending grace instead of abandoning me.
Grace has been defined as getting something good that you don’t deserve. It’s a complex concept to understand and a difficult gift to receive at times. I will forever be grateful to Kim for offering me that undeserved gift of love, forgiveness, and acceptance after I failed.
It wasn’t the first or even the second time I’d escaped the consequences of drunk driving. Thankfully, it would be the last.
The first accident happened during my senior year of high school after I’d partied with some older guys. The second crash, in my mid-20s, followed a day of drinking at a company picnic. And this latest rollover occurred after an evening of drinks with a friend.
If you knew me, you would never have guessed I struggled with alcohol. None of the above incidents had ever led to an arrest or a DUI, so no one was the wiser. I played well the part of a churchgoing, hardworking, good guy who was a responsible, capable, firstborn son.
I knew what I should do because I’d witnessed it growing up. I had loving parents who took my brothers and me to church every week. They also modeled an excellent work ethic. Mom was busy at home, caring for us kids, while Dad worked long, hard hours, providing financially for his family.
After church, however, we often visited our many aunts and uncles. There, I saw something else modeled as the men gathered to drink beer and get drunk. To my little mind, I understood that drinking and getting drunk must be what a man does.
Things changed for my brother, Mike, and me when our brother, Brian, was born with Down syndrome. Now, don’t get me wrong. I loved my brother and learned from him the value of every life. But at the same time, it felt like we’d lost our mom. I was ten.
Mom had her hands full, so I learned to deny my emotions. As a teen, I discovered that drinking helped me escape my negative feelings. It also made me feel like I belonged. My parents had no idea.
After I was confirmed in the church at the age of 14, I stopped attending regularly. And when I got my license, I took a job working on Sundays to avoid church altogether.
What did it matter? To me, I’d already checked the faith boxes required for me to get to heaven. I had no idea what the Bible said about being a Christian—a follower of Jesus—or how to have eternal life. I didn’t understand God’s gift of grace, what it meant to have a relationship with Jesus, or why I should want or need one.
Years later, in college, I met and married my first wife. She was studying to become a physician. We wanted kids but knew her job would make that difficult. When our son came, I agreed to stay home to care for him. When we had our daughter, our family seemed complete.
I loved being a hands-on father, but I was oblivious to some important issues in my life. For starters, even after two car crashes, it hadn’t occurred to me that I had a drinking problem. I didn’t realize I had a marriage problem either.
In 1988, a couple years after our daughter was born, my wife and I divorced. I was in my late 30s, starting over, and navigating a shared custody settlement. Our new situation took a toll on our family. But through the difficulties, I began to realize the sacredness of marriage and my need for God and a Christian partner.
When the kids were seven and five, they attended a Vacation Bible School (VBS). They loved VBS—playing games, creating crafts, and learning about God. They came home wanting to be baptized.
I hadn’t been to church in years, and only then for a wedding or funeral, but I agreed to their request. The following week, the kids were baptized at the church where my daughter attended preschool. We began attending church together.
At a Christmas party in 1991, mutual friends introduced me to a lady named Kim. We connected over shared experiences and helped each other recover from our respective divorces, parent our four kids, and pursue our shared faith. Not long after, we were married.
We raised our kids in church and served in various capacities there. But neither of us had a personal relationship with God. Sure, we had both professed Jesus to be our Savior, but we didn’t know Him as Lord of our lives. To me, faith still meant obeying rules and being a good person. God had not yet changed my heart.
A second marriage is complicated, even with all the love in the world. Parenting a blended family, working dual careers, and dealing with the unfinished business of former marriages create tension that can threaten even the strongest of bonds.
We’d been married around eight years when Kim and I were invited to a retreat at our church. During the weekend, our faith suddenly became real and personal.
We finally understood that our right standing with God wasn’t dependent on our good works, service, or church attendance. It was only possible because of what Jesus had done for us (Ephesians 2:8–9). Through the Holy Spirit, God helped us discover the truth of His grace and freed us from various emotions that were preventing us from moving forward with Him.
For me, it was pride and anger. Kim found freedom from the guilt of an abortion she’d had before we met. (You can read her story on page 23.)
Not long after, we were invited to serve with Kairos Prison Ministry. The leaders asked me to share with the incarcerated what it meant to be a Christian. I told of my prodigal past and my check-the-box approach to faith. I also shared my three rollover crashes due to drinking, careful to point out how I’m not an alcoholic or anything.
A team member pulled me aside quietly and said, “Bruce, you have a problem. Even one alcohol-related crash is a huge red flag. Please don’t risk that happening again.”
God used his words to convict me and convince me to stop drinking. But it wasn’t easy. My corporate job offered copious amounts of alcohol, cigars, and strip clubs. Didn’t some of my success in my career rest on my ability to hold my own with the boys?
I remembered a boss, years earlier, pointing out a coworker and telling me he was a Christian. And I remembered that fellow didn’t drink or participate in the extracurricular activities. I determined if that man could withstand the pressure, I could at least try.
I started studying the Bible more intently. Instead of reading a short devotion, closing the book, and going on my way, I dove into the scriptures, seeking, with God’s help, their meaning.
When I read the wisdom of Ephesians 5:18, I took it to heart. It says, “Don’t be drunk with wine, because that will ruin your life. Instead, be filled with the Holy Spirit” (NLT). I quit drinking altogether.
I also quit going to strip clubs for work gatherings and avoided R-rated movies after reading Matthew 6:22–23. It revealed how the eye is the lamp of the body, meaning that what I gaze upon impacts my life.
Setting those new boundaries kept me in the light of God’s love and out of the darkness. I moved closer to God and further away from my old self as I aligned my life with His Word. Kim was experiencing the same growth, and our marriage soon changed for the better.
The Holy Spirit brought us both into a place of freedom. (See John 8:36; 2 Corinthians 3:17.) For example, God removed my lifelong anxiety over money as I trusted Him to supply my daily bread (Matthew 6:11).
He also freed me from my guilt as I asked for forgiveness over my part in two abortions in previous relationships. God revealed, through fasting and prayer, that those precious children are with Him. I named them to give honor and dignity to their memory.
It’s been 32 years since I confessed that car crash to Kim. Today, our marriage is stronger than ever. We are both passionate about serving the Lord and His people, as well as loving our nine grandchildren.
For the last 20 years, prison ministry has been my primary purpose, after faith and family. As the State Chair of Kairos Prison Ministry of Arizona, I am blessed to serve God’s treasured possessions behind bars and to help other people do the same.
I am no different from the people serving time for serious offenses—I just didn’t get caught. I don’t go to prison to preach; I’m there to listen and love.
One of the pillars of Kairos ministry is that Christ is counting on us. He’s the only One who can change a heart, and when He does, we owe it to Him to show our love as we serve others. We are to sacrifice for the sake of others and God (Romans 12:1). That means we put away the lust of flesh and eyes and the pride of life (1 John 2:15–16). God will help us put away even the hardest of things.
With time, God even gave me a servant’s heart toward my father. I became his caregiver after he overdosed on cocaine and alcohol. He suffered from alcohol dementia and early Alzheimer’s. I realized that without God I could have ended up there as well.
I had to draw firm boundaries with Dad, and doing so taught me that grace requires truth too. With God’s help, we had several good years of sobriety together before his passing.
God’s grace is amazing. It gives us so many wonderful things we don’t deserve—eternal life and a full life on earth. God’s grace for the prodigal, the box-checker, the addict, and the saint runs deep. And He calls us to share that grace with the world.
Bruce Ketola serves as State Chair of Kairos Prison Ministry of Arizona. Bruce and his wife Kim have four children and nine grandchildren. His greatest joy and deepest prayer is for others to have a personal relationship with Jesus. Learn more at kairosofaz.org.
