The Death of Big Mike

I’ve craved attention for as long as I can re­member. Money, material things, sports, people—you name it, I’ve used it to make myself look important. I’ll be honest: my prideful desire to be the center of attention came with big price tags. Yet no matter the cost, I kept paying the price.

During the 1980s, my father hit it big financially. Suddenly, our family went from living on a teacher’s salary to having wealth. But all that money wasn’t cheap.

Before I go any further, I want to set the record straight. By telling my story, I don’t mean to disrespect anyone. I love my fa­ther, two sisters, and my mother, who is now deceased. I am grateful for their pres­ence in my life. My father has done so much for me. He’s never once turned his back on me, even when my actions made a mockery of our family name.

My parents sent me to military school when I was 10. I’d been challenging their authority since the day I could walk, and they were tired of dealing with my rebel­lious self. Instead of that being a solution, however, it made things worse. Kids were raising kids; how could that be anything but a recipe for disaster? The school was full of bullies and other rebellious youth like me who had money and the means to everything. I attended the school for several years.

I was so immature. I didn’t understand the importance of hard work or the val­ue of earning money. Instead of counting my blessings, I squandered them like the prodigal son (Luke 15:11–32).

That money was a game-changer for me. As I got older, I had lots of attention-grabbing items like a Mercedes, expensive jewelry, and top-of-the-line clothing. Mon­ey brought many “friends.” Too bad I didn’t realize then that most of them weren’t re­ally friends; they just wanted the money in my pockets. But even if I’d considered their motives, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Real friends or not, these people made me feel important and needed. Everywhere I went, I flashed those dollar bills, bragging about what my family owned and who we knew. I was the king of name-dropping.

On September 22, 1990, I went out drinking with a former cadet who had been expelled the year before. My coach begged me not to go, but I didn’t listen. Hours later, I was thrown from a vehicle going over 100 mph. My pelvis was shattered and my left leg detached from my body.

Miraculously, the doctors were able to piece me back together. They used muscles from my abdomen to reattach my left leg. My right leg was severely injured too. I re­mained in the hospital for three months, fighting serious infections and undergoing multiple surgeries.

During one of the surgeries, I am sure I saw a vision of hell. It reminded me of a Mario Bros. video game. I could see my­self running and then falling suddenly into utter darkness. Perhaps God was giving me a warning about where I was heading if I didn’t change my ways. You’d think this might make me take a good hard look at my life, but it didn’t. I was 17 years old and far too important for that.

I had survived the accident, but emo­tionally, I was a wreck. Several colleges had offered me soccer scholarships, but now, I was just this skinny, frail kid with a busted-up leg. I couldn’t play soccer if my life depended on it. And then there was the fact that I would be finishing my senior year at a local high school where I was not the Big Man on Campus. Instead, I shuffled through the halls, imagining ways to get back into the limelight.

I graduated in 1991 and began a 10-year college career. I worked the system and stayed in school, living off Dad’s money. A decade of nonstop partying led to countless bar brawls, two DUIs, and more car acci­dents. But no matter how bad the situation I put myself in, Dad was always there for me. Regardless of my bad choices, I could always count on a “get out of jail free” card at his expense.

At the clubs, I made sure everyone knew about my wealth. I’d tell anyone who’d listen about my limo companies, gyms, restau­rants, warehouses, construction compa­nies, and hotels. I bragged about the beach home and the penthouse I owned.

Lies. Lies. Lies. None of that was mine; it was all my father’s.

Around 1997, I got into weightlifting. It was a great way to satisfy my ego. That scrawny kid from high school was gone. The bigger and stronger I became, the more attention I got. Soon I turned to ste­roids to increase my size and strength, and Big Mike was born. People couldn’t help but notice me; I was huge—your typical meat­head. Everywhere I went, heads turned, and people called out my name, “Hey, Big Mike! What’s up, man?” I loved it!

In addition to the steroids, I began using ecstasy. Big Mike knew how to party. I lived it up, all for the sake of trying to be some­body because, inside, I was pretty sure I was a nobody.

Then, one night, the party ended, and I woke up in complete mental anguish, surrounded by darkness, and terrified to death. My heavy steroid use had led to suicidal depression. The darkness last­ed for days, and I couldn’t eat or function normally.

I felt like a guinea pig as doctors searched for a drug to bring my mind back into balance. Eventually, they found the right meds to help me. I knew by that point that alcohol triggered my depression, so I tried not to drink because the darkness terrified me. Occasionally, however, I’d lose control, go out and get drunk, and send myself right back into a living hell. The darkness that enveloped me in January of 2004 almost destroyed me.

This time, it was more intense than ever, and I was overwhelmed by suicidal thoughts. I couldn’t escape from the dark­ness that controlled my mind.

I kept calling my doctor, begging him to help me. “This stuff is not leaving me, doc! I’m going to die!” I’m thankful for the doctors and all the help the Lord sent my way. It’s only by God’s grace that I came out of that season alive.

I finally realized that if something didn’t change, I was going to die. It was only a matter of time. I ended up attending a local church service where I heard about Jesus and how He could help people like me. When the pastor presented an invitation for people to receive Jesus as their Savior, I went forward, grabbed the microphone, and told everyone I was giving Jesus a try.

That was the start of my journey with God, but it would take another 17 years before I placed Big Mike on the altar, took my eyes off myself, and quit trying to be somebody I wasn’t.

Life was better for a while, though, as I became involved in the church. That year, I met a beautiful girl named Liz. She’s God’s greatest gift to me. I invited her to come to church with me, and she did. Within two years, we were married. That was 2007.

From the very beginning, Liz was all-in with the Lord. But for some reason, the closer she got to God, the further I ran from Him. It wasn’t long before I started slipping into my miserable world again, and for the next 15 years, Liz lived a private hell. I’m so grateful she never gave up on me.

By 2008, my left leg was in excruciating pain, and I decided to amputate it. I had to have two amputation surgeries and en­dured a lot of pain before I achieved the desired result. Believe it or not, I was back in the gym a week after surgery in a wheel­chair. I even took up boxing! I wanted to inspire others not to give up. I wanted my journey to prove that anything is possible. My heart was in the right place, but the de­sire to be seen was still present.

Still miserable in myself, I’d plan trips to get away and drink. In 2010, after getting drunk, I had another episode of suicidal depression that lasted for days. I was away from my family at the time.

It was so dark and long, I was sure I’d die. Five days later, I finally came out of that pit, and I vowed I’d never get drunk again. That’s the one good thing that came out of that dark season—I’ve stayed sober now for over a decade.

When I wasn’t in the gym building my ego or home making life hard for my wife, I was working for my dad. He had created a position for me in his company, spending thousands of dollars on equipment so that his lost son could manage his vacant ware­houses. I mowed, shoveled rocks, washed walls, cleaned ditches, repaired insulation, and removed ant hills.

I knew I was wasting my life. Count­less times, I sat on my dad’s mowers and bulldozers and just cried. I’d look at those enormous, vacant warehouses and re­member how Dad always said an empty warehouse (one without tenants) was the largest casket in the world. I felt like those warehouses.

I was empty and waiting to be filled with life. And not just any life, but the everlast­ing, abundant life that Jesus alone can provide (John 3:16; John 10:10). I needed His Spirit to fill me and lead me. And I des­perately needed a purpose.

One day a lightbulb went off in my head, and I said to myself, “If Dad’s going to put me to work on these big empty buildings, then I’m going to get them in top shape and find tenants.” I’d never had a thought like that before. Suddenly, I wanted to make Dad proud of me. I’d been such a mess-up my whole life.

Working for my dad, I finally learned the value of work and money. I began learning the business and taking some initiative. Little by little, my hard work paid off. I soon found a small tenant, then a larger one, and then a long-term tenant, paying top dollar.

Looking back, I can see that when I start­ed honoring my dad instead of using him and stealing from him, my life began to change. When I started being faithful in the small things like cutting grass, my life became productive. It’s just like the Bible says in Luke 16:10, if we are faithful in the small things, God will open doors for great­er opportunity. Exodus 20:12 also says if we honor our parents, life will go well for us.

Although things were better at work, my relationship with my wife was still strained. We lived in the same house, but emotion­ally, I was miles away from her and our two children. That is, until God revealed Himself to me in a new way.

With God, there are no coincidences. There are, however, divine appointments. His timing is always perfect.

We had been attending a new church for over a year by then. I enjoyed the message every week, but I had not yet experienced a complete heart transformation. I was a hearer of the Word, but not a doer (James 1:22). God was about to change all that. He was about to take Big Mike down once and for all. And He used my young son to position me for the fall.

I had decided to stay home that Sun­day. But then, Asher ran up to me with his beautiful smile and said, “Come on, Daddy, we’re going to church.” He was so excited; I just didn’t have the heart to let him down.

There was a guest speaker that morning, preaching on the power of the Holy Spirit or, as he sometimes said, the Holy Ghost. This is the first time I remember hearing about the baptism of the Holy Spirit.

Spirit? Ghost? Come on, man! I had no problem believing in Jesus, being water baptized, or going to church. But all this talk about some Holy Spirit was making me uncomfortable. At the end, the pastor invited anyone who wanted to receive the Holy Spirit to come forward. People flooded the altar, and prayer lines formed.

Looking for distraction, I surveyed the room. I saw my buddy. Since it seemed everyone else was moving around, I left my seat and made my way to him. Liz stayed in our row, silently rejoicing that her stubborn, rebellious husband was sur­rendering to God. She had been praying I’d encounter the life-changing power of the Holy Spirit for years and was sure this was my moment. But that wasn’t my intention.

I weaved through the crowd and ap­proached my friend. “Hey, bud, what’s up?” But he didn’t respond. Then I realized he was praying. Not only that, but he was in line to receive the Holy Spirit’s power. What?!

I turned to go back to my seat and sud­denly found myself standing in front of Pastor Tyler, one of our campus pastors. At that moment, he had become available for prayer—a divine set-up if there ever was one.

I didn’t want prayer, but I found myself saying, “All right, let’s do this.” There was so much noise around us from people praying, that I couldn’t hear well. But I re­member Pastor laying his hands on me and calling me out to God by first and last name. After his prayer, I went back to my seat and stood by Liz; she had tears in her eyes.

We went home, and my mind shifted from the morning’s events to business decisions. Liz and I had been flipping houses for years, and I wondered if we should continue. I wrestled with options, and then, mentally exhausted, I plopped on the bed. A friend had been telling me that I needed to pray about my decisions. Maybe it was time.

From my bed, I started talking to God. It was raw and honest. “All right, God, here I am. I’m Yours. Do whatever You want. If Liz and I are supposed to keep flipping houses, just let me know. If not, show me what to do with the money we have.”

At 5:30 the following morning, I noticed texts from my broker, Kevin. He had sent me two potential house-flip listings. I dis­regarded the texts because the houses were priced too high. We wouldn’t make any profit. Plus, that’s not how I got deals or found house flips.

But Kevin persisted, and before I knew it, I was standing in the driveway of this po­tential house. I threw out a low offer, think­ing it would get shot down. But the owners were ripe to sell, and the deal closed within a week. God sent us excellent workers to do the work quickly. Seventeen weeks later, we sold the house. We still stand in awe of what God did with that project.

A few days into the deal, I remembered the message on the Holy Spirit, the prayer from Pastor Tyler, and that raw prayer on my bed. Shocked, I realized that Kevin’s text had come at the exact time I’d sur­rendered my business decisions and life to God. When I’d asked God to show me what to do, He had. Was this what the di­rection, guidance, and power of the Holy Spirit was all about? It had to be. This deal didn’t happen my way. It was God’s way, and it was better.

I realized, too, I was feeling differently about Liz. I was experiencing a love for my wife that I had never felt before. The pastor said the Holy Spirit would infuse me with God’s love for others. He had, and not only for Liz but for everybody. Suddenly, I was a hugger and lover of people too. What?! I loved them more than I loved myself. I wanted to use my resources to bless others.

Since Pastor Tyler prayed for me and I surrendered my life to God, the Holy Spirit has been at work, shining His holy spot­light into my heart and mind, revealing areas that need change. And He’s helping me change. He can help you too.

Many people wander through life, look­ing for a magic pill to make everything bet­ter. I was one of them. But I’m here to tell you, there’s only one way to bring about real-life change and find a life worth living. It’s through surrendering your life to God, building a relationship with His Son Jesus, and relying on His Holy Spirit’s power. The Holy Spirit of God is the change agent. He’s real, and He’s available to you.

Big Mike died the day I surrendered. Since then, I’ve quit shoving my way to the front for the world to see. Instead, I’ve tucked myself away in Christ, and I’ve be­come a new man. A man filled with peace and love and joy. I finally understand that I’m enough in God’s eyes. I’ve always been enough, and that’s all that matters.

And you know what? You’re enough too. Stop seeking man’s applause. You don’t have to fight to get ahead or be noticed. Take it from me—that’s a never-ending battle. Surrender your life to God and ex­change your ways for His. When you do, the same power that raised Jesus Christ from the grave will lift you out of your dead way of life (James 4:10; Romans 8:11).

MIKE WILSON is a commercial warehousing owner and home purchaser/renovator. An avid boxer and weightlifter, Mike is now in the good fight of faith, lifting Jesus everywhere he goes.

Surrender to Hope

We all have traumas and setbacks in our lives. We all encounter rejection and betrayal. But it’s what we do with those pain­ful moments that determines the outcome of our lives. Our pain can be a gateway to hope, the very thing that leads us into a new life, or it can be our end. The choice is ours.

In 2007, I found myself at this gateway. I was in a dark and lonely place where it seemed I had lost everything that mat­tered. When I shared my problems with a friend, I realized just how hopeless my life had become. We were out at sea when I asked for his advice on dealing with my situation. I’ll never forget his response: “Mike, if that were me, I’d jump.”

Well, I didn’t jump into the sea, but I did dive deeper into darkness and kept going down the track of destruction I’d been traveling for years. Thankfully, God didn’t abandon me, and He didn’t give up on the plans He had for me either. Instead, He pursued me relentlessly, intervening in my life in the most incredible ways.

I grew up in a Christian home. Even when I wasn’t living for Him, I knew God had a plan for me. I’d heard about His good plans in church, and people often remind­ed me that I was destined for something big. And then there were the dreams I’d had.

One dream in 2004 vividly showed me inventing a pillow. It was so clear, I knew it had to be from God. I woke up and went to work immediately—at 2 a.m. My daughter came downstairs for some water and found a room full of sticky notes and a business plan for MyPillow. I excitedly told her that I was making pillows, and they were going to change the world. “That’s so ran­dom, Dad,” she said, and went back to bed.

I had another dream later that showed me how MyPillow would provide me with a large platform to help others. Helping others made me feel good about myself, so this excited me. It wasn’t often that I felt good about myself.

For most of my life, I’d felt out of place and different. My parents divorced when I was seven years old, and I had to go to a new school. Back then, divorce was uncom­mon, and being from a one-parent home often made me feel less-than.

Because of how different I’d felt as a child, I often struggled with social inter­action. I would either clam up under the anxiety of speaking to someone or show off by doing crazy things. I didn’t know what to do with my hurt, so I escaped the pain however I could.

Eventually, I turned to the temporary escape of alcohol, gambling, and drugs. Under the influence of drugs, my social anxiety decreased. I felt more confident and relaxed, and I was able to talk to peo­ple. But it was false courage at best.

As I grew older, I tried launching my own business. I’d always had an entrepreneurial mind, but I didn’t have a lot of success. I was faced with the failures of my life in 1984 at my five-year class reunion.

Looking around at my classmates and listening to their stories, it seemed everyone had it all together but me. I was a college dropout and a compulsive gambler, the single guy who owed the mafia money for football bets. (Truth—they even broke both my arms for my debts.)

I lay in bed the night of that reunion, and sadness filled my heart. I felt so empty and alone and behind in life. I was angry with myself for not being where I thought I should be and for wasting time. I longed for the families my classmates had spoken of, and I prayed, “God, please give me a woman to love and a family.” I thought for sure if I had a family, I’d be happy, content, and fulfilled.

In 1987, I met a woman and got married. We had four beautiful children together. God had given me everything I had re­quested. I started a lunch wagon and then opened bars. (Not the best place for an ad­dict to spend his days.) I worked hard. Yet even with my family and successful busi­nesses, I remained discontent, and drugs continued to get me through my days.

There’s a big misconception about ad­diction. Many people imagine addicts are homeless people living on the streets. And some are. But addicts also have beautiful homes and families. It doesn’t matter how many forks a person uses—addiction can affect anyone.

For 15 years, I functioned as an addict. I drank and used cocaine daily yet continued to work hard. It seemed a normal thing to do—the people I hung out with did the same. These substances helped me feel more confident and secure. They enabled me to talk to my customers.

But when I came down from the drugs, unhappiness was always waiting for me. So I continued to combat it the only way I knew how. In the early 2000s, I turned to crack cocaine. With each passing day, I focused less on my business and more on finding my next hit.

It wasn’t long before I lost my bar. Everything I had worked so hard to gain was gone, and I was devastated. “What now?” I thought.

As crushing as it was, this disappoint­ment had to happen. It was the beginning of several events God used to bring me into the calling He had for my life. During this time, I had that first dream for MyPillow—a vision from God of something new.

Over the next year, I worked tirelessly, designing the MyPillow pillow. I bought a farm grinder and started chopping foam. My children were involved in every stage of the process, from making logos, devel­oping prototypes, and hiring their friends to help with production. When my neigh­bors found out what I was doing, they joked, “What? Mike’s making pillows now? Is he on crack?!” (Little did they know, I was.)

With the end product in hand, I pas­sionately set out to revolutionize the pillow industry. But my excitement was met with rejection as every retail store turned me down. A friend suggested I sell out of a kiosk at the local mall. I didn’t even know how to spell kiosk, but I gave it a try. I only worked a couple of days there, but that was all God needed to bring about His divine appointment.

One of the people passing by “just happened” to be the head of the Minnesota Home and Garden Show. He asked for my business card as he purchased his MyPillow. The pillow impacted his life so much that he then called and sug­gested I get a booth at the show. So I did.

I only sold about 12 pillows the first day of the show. I was so anxious—I just didn’t know how to talk to people without the help of drugs. (I was still using at this time but always made sure I was sober at the shows.) I stood behind a table to keep customers from invading my space.

After that first day, many of my custom­ers came back to the show just to tell me how the MyPillow had helped them. This boosted my confidence exponentially. To me, it wasn’t about making money as much as it was about helping people.

For the next six years, I sold at the Home and Gardens Show and at the Minnesota State Fair with great success. Our family could have lived well off the proceeds from these events alone, but I knew MyPillow was destined for greater things.

Although I was on track for success, I was still unhappy, and I kept relying on drugs to mask my pain. In 2007, the inev­itable happened—my addiction caught up with me and took everything, including my 20-year marriage. I almost lost MyPillow, too, as others tried to take my business. I encountered painful betrayal. And this is when that friend confirmed the hopeless­ness of my life with his comment, “Mike, if it were me, I’d jump.”

My painful circumstances kept intensi­fying, and so did my drug use. I was using crack cocaine daily by this point, but then came another God intervention.

I was staying in a crack house in down­town Minneapolis. I came out of the bedroom, and three drug dealers were standing there. These guys knew of each other but had never met. I asked, “What are you guys doing here?”

One said, “Mike, you’ve been up for 14 days. We aren’t selling you any more.”

I was like, “What is this, an inter­vention?”

A little later, I hit the streets. Turned out, these guys had given an order that no one was to sell to me. Furious, I went back to the house and let that dealer have a piece of my mind.

He replied, “Man, you’ve been telling us for years how MyPillow is a platform from God and that you were going to quit drugs and come back and help all of us out of this addiction world we’re living in.” He rolled his eyes and grabbed my phone.

Then he took a picture of me and said, “Here. You’re gonna need this picture for that d— book you keep telling us you’re gonna write.” The picture is now on the cover of my book, What Are the Odds? From Crack Addict to CEO.

I wish I could say I walked away from drugs that night, but I didn’t. Instead, my life continued its downward spiral. Thank­fully, God still hadn’t given up on me. Seven months later, He intervened again.

I was lying on my back on the floor in an empty house in the middle of the woods, looking at the ceiling. As I pondered the hopelessness of my life, there was a knock at the door. I was surprised to see my former friend, Dick. He and I had grown up togeth­er, and we had started using drugs together, too, including crack. But Dick had found the Lord. His life had taken a different di­rection, and I hadn’t seen him since.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. He told me the Lord had prompted him to visit and wanted to know what was going on. I knew I could trust Dick, and I started to share the details of my life. I also asked him many questions about his faith. I knew he’d tried all sorts of recovery programs like I had, but this Jesus thing seemed to have made a difference. I wanted to understand how and why.

For the next two hours, Dick shared how Christ had changed his life when all else had failed. I was especially interested in knowing whether the Christian life was boring. He assured me it was not.

I didn’t accept Jesus into my life that night, but God used Dick to plant another seed of hope that would soon take root.

On January 16, 2009, my spirit was filled with urgency. I knew I was about to lose my opportunity to fulfill any call God had on my life, so I asked Him to deliver me from my addiction. It wasn’t the first time I had prayed. I had done so many times in jail, bargaining with God to make my problems go away. But something about this day was different.

Desperate for change, I told God I was willing to do whatever He wanted, but I needed Him to set me free of my desire for drugs first.

When I awoke the next day, it was an ab­solute miracle. I had no physical or mental desire whatsoever for drugs, alcohol, or anything, and I haven’t had any since.

I was free. I am free! I immediately dove into rebuilding and reclaiming MyPillow. I committed to making it into a large plat­form that could help other addicts find the freedom I had found.

I set off, more passionate than ever. That monkey of addiction was finally off my back. The first thing I needed was to secure $30,000. I was so intimidated as I met with investors and shared my story of being a former crack addict. One of them asked when I had quit. He looked sur­prised when I responded, “Last Thursday.” Incredibly, they agreed to loan me the $30,000 I needed. They couldn’t even check my license because I didn’t have one. It was another divine intervention.

Months later, I realized the importance of discovering the reasons behind my addiction. I went to an outpatient center at my sister’s church. The first night there, I bragged to the other guys about how many treatment centers I’d been in, how many drugs I’d used, and how I had forgotten more about addiction recovery than most counselors ever knew.

Rafe, the counselor, told me he didn’t care about all that. Instead, he wanted to know about my father and my childhood. I thought to myself, what in the world does this have to do with anything?

Rafe helped me understand that addic­tions often stem from childhood traumas, especially fatherlessness. Dealing with past traumas was essential to recovery. I needed to address them, or they would continue to manifest themselves in unhealthy ways. I also learned that those wounds had opened a door for Satan to insert His lies in my life. I learned a lot there, but I wasn’t yet ready to surrender my life to Jesus. Instead, I con­tinued to focus on building the company.

I was still struggling to get retailers to accept my product, so I decided to take the pillow to the people through the magic of television. I convinced my friends and family to pool their money and help me create an infomercial.

No one ever told me an infomercial isn’t the greatest marketing technique, so I believed it would work. Someone suggested I should hire an actor, but I knew if I wanted the thing to create sales, it would have to be authentic. And no one believed in MyPillow more than I did.

We arranged for a studio audience, and I hired a cohost. On the day we shot, I was scared to death. Even after years of sales, I still had a paralyzing fear of talking to people. It didn’t help that the producer said I was the worst guy ever to do an infomer­cial and that I would never make it on TV.

I was living in my sister’s basement when that infomercial aired at 3:00 a.m. on October 7, 2011. It was so surreal to see myself selling MyPillow on television. Over the next 40 days, MyPillow grew from 10 employees to 500. It was a miracle that we were able to produce all the pillows needed to meet the demand.

Over the next few years, MyPillow made hundreds of millions of dollars, but I be­gan taking important things for granted, and before I knew it, MyPillow was six mil­lion dollars in debt. That was 2014, and once again, MyPillow was hanging on by a thread. We were two days from going under when God intervened once again.

This time, He used a woman named Kendra. She had seen my struggles and encouraged me to pray. She then asked about my relationship with God. I told her I believed in Him, always had. But she chal­lenged me to develop a personal, intimate relationship with Him. I could see Kendra had an inner peace and confidence that I didn’t. I had seen these qualities in other Christians too. For the next three years, I observed Kendra’s relationship with God. Deep down, I knew it was what I needed.

Finally, on February 18, 2017, I got on my knees and fully surrendered my life to Jesus. At that moment, a weight fell off my shoulders. Relief came over me as I received God’s forgiveness and forgave myself. From that day forward, my life and MyPillow have remained in the Lord’s hands. MyPillow and my life are testaments to the power of prayer. There have been so many miracles, I can’t even begin to share them all.

A couple of months after surrendering to Jesus, I stood in front of 15,000 people at US Bank Stadium, sharing my story. I was amazed at how God had taken me—a guy so terrified of public speaking he had to rely on drugs even to talk—and put me on stage to be a source of hope to others.

Many people shared afterward how my story had helped them. It made me feel good to know that I was finally on the path God had desired for me. Now, I was positioned to help others find that right path too.

As you can see, it took me many years to finally surrender my life to God and to step into His purposes. It used to bother me that I had wasted so much time, but God never wastes anything. It’s not about how quickly or through what means we come to surrender—it’s just about us finally getting there.

Are you there yet? If not, today can be the day. Go ahead, get on your knees right now and surrender your life to Jesus. Give Him everything—your desire to use, your trauma, that inner pain, those disappoint­ments, and your failures. Give Him your family, business, or prison sentence. Why wait? You’ve probably already tried every­thing else. Take it from me—Jesus is the answer. You can trust Him with your life.

Let me close with some of my favorite Bible verses. Proverbs 3:5–6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take” (NLT). Do it. It makes all the difference.

Mike Lindell, inventor and CEO of MyPillow, is passionate about helping others find freedom from addiction through Christ. For free recovery resources, visit LindellRecoveryNetwork.org. To purchase Mike’s newly released book, What Are the Odds? From Crack Addict to CEO, visit Amazon.com. Softcover prison versions are also available (ISBN code 1734283432).

Keep Pressing On

“I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. … One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 3:12–14 NIV

Often there is a valley between what we are praying for and God’s answer, and the only way to get to His answer is to walk through that valley. The journey is rarely easy. Disappointment, discouragement, fear, and frustration challenge our faith, and we wonder if God has abandoned us.

I have learned, though, that God never lets us walk through dark valleys alone (Psalm 23:4), even though it might feel like it at times. In the fall of 2020, I found myself in such a valley.

As the COVID-19 pandemic wreaked havoc in the free world, those of us doing time behind bars were also experiencing new levels of anxiety and helplessness.

When I heard of the possibility of a home confinement release, I half-heartedly be­gan looking into it. I tried hard not to get my hopes up. And then I found out I was eligible, and I began praying constantly.

Finally, the day I had been waiting for came, and my caseworker gave me a re­lease date of October 28, 2020. I was over­joyed, and my countdown began. I couldn’t wait to see my precious family again. I could almost taste my freedom!

And then, with just days left, my faith was severely tested. I had experienced many highs and lows during my ten years in the federal system, so this rollercoaster wasn’t new. My low­est point had been when the Holy Spirit brought me face-to-face with the person I had become, apart from God. This new de­velopment was just another dip in the ride.

I grew up in the church, but I was a fraud. I hid behind masks and carried my­self with pride and arrogance. Like many, I claimed with my mouth to know God (Titus 1:16), but I wasn’t a true Christ-follower in my heart.

Most of my mistakes have stemmed from my insecurities. Since a child, I’d felt unloved, unworthy, deceived, and rejected—despite the great love many family members, particularly my grand­parents, showed me. It’s a lie Satan sells to many of us.

Deception ruled my life in many forms, including manipulation, greed, hypocrisy, lies, and thievery. I quickly learned that self-promotion and deception are exhaust­ing and seldom end well. They landed me in prison. Of course, the Bible does warn us that pride goes before destruction (Prov­erbs 16:18).

It took months of isolation, loneliness, and despair to bring me to my knees in sur­render to God. During a trip to the special housing unit, I finally quit playing games with God and decided to get serious about Him. There, I recognized my need for the forgiveness and grace that Jesus Christ had died to give me, and I embraced it whole­heartedly. (I shared more details in Issue 4, 2019 of Victorious Living.)

Blessings were waiting for me on the other side of that surrender—just as they await anyone who lays down their life at Jesus’s feet.

My true and lasting transformation be­gan right there in prison when I stepped out into a genuine relationship with the Lord. In His goodness, God didn’t waste one experience or mistake, and He opened doors for me to share my faith and minis­ter His love and grace to other inmates. It was a privilege to encourage and mentor other women with similar struggles and tell them about the Savior who set me free. I loved serving God as I did my time, but I was never so naïve to think that doing the Lord’s work would exempt me from trials (John 16:33). I should have expect­ed Satan to rear his ugly head right as my release date approached, but I was caught off guard when I entered that valley.

Six days before my scheduled freedom, I received word from the Bureau of Prisons (BOP) that they had withdrawn my release date. They did not provide a new date or an explanation. The door just slammed shut in my face. Stunned, I slipped into a miserable state of uncertainty.

I had been so confident that the Lord would answer my prayers favorably that this came as a significant blow to my faith. Lies from the enemy flooded my mind, and fear of the unknown came in waves. I fought to keep my eyes on my source of strength, reminding myself, “God did not bring you this far just to leave you, Meli­sha,” but I was losing the battle.

I wasn’t the only one on this emotional and spiritual rollercoaster. I watched my incarcerated sisters deal with the same pain as they, too, had lost their release dates. I tried to encourage them, but I was weary myself.

When one of my mentees got her release date back, a spark of excitement came alive inside of me…but it was short-lived. I al­lowed myself a private moment of despair before accepting that she would be leaving without me. I was hurting and disappoint­ed but forced myself to dry my tears, suck it up, and be there to support my friend. One by one, all my close spiritual sisters went home. I stayed behind.

I still held a tiny shred of hope that I would make it home by October 30, in time to surprise my mother for her seventieth birthday. When that day came and went, frustration and despair overtook me.

For several nights, I cried out to the Lord, pouring everything out to Him and begging for understanding. “Why is this happening, Father God? I know You have Your reasons, but I am so confused!”

I remember getting loud about it with Him as if He were deaf. I just couldn’t wrap my head around what was happening and why. I was tired and felt alone, as if everyone had forgotten about me.

Interestingly, letting God know how confused and hurt I felt helped ease my despair. On the other side of my meltdown, I discovered His comfort (2 Corinthians 1:4), and my emotions began to stabilize.

Suddenly, it didn’t matter why it was happening or who was at fault. I under­stood that God was most concerned with my heart and my response to the situa­tion. It was time for me to get it together if I wanted to have any peace. Psalm 37:7 teaches us to “Be still in the presence of the Lord and wait patiently for Him to act” (NLT). I decided to do what I should have been doing all along—rest in God’s pres­ence and trust His timing.

I collected myself and asked God to for­give me for letting these circumstances affect my trust in Him. I began to thank and praise Him for all He had done in my life over the years. And as I worshiped Him, His grace and peace flowed over me, bringing contentment with them.

“Lord,” I prayed, “I know my life is in Your hands. I am giving this situation to You and letting go” (Psalm 31:14). I felt His presence distinctly in that moment, and it comforted me.

With fresh confidence that nothing was going to touch my life that did not first pass through His hands, I rested in Him and His promise that I would be okay (Isaiah 43:1–2). I was safe in His arms. My job was to fix my eyes on Him and keep pressing forward. And as I did, peace came to my dark valley.

The day I’d been hoping and praying for finally came. On November 18, 2020, they opened the prison gates for me, and I ran outside and into the arms of my dad and sister. God had shown up and worked in my situation in a way that brought Him glory. No, the road getting to this moment was not pleasant. Still, the destination was pure joy as I reunited with my family.

I struggle to describe how surreal and wonderful it felt to hug and hold them. I didn’t have to let them go for the first time in ten years. We stood outside the prison gates, holding each other, crying together, and embracing this God-given moment with our whole hearts. Then I remembered where I was, and I turned to my family and said, “C’mon y’all, let’s get in this car and get out of here before somebody changes their mind!” My dad and sister laughed, but I was serious. I could not get out of that parking lot and away from that prison fast enough.

Once we were safely on the interstate, the first thing I did was call my son. “Can we do a video call?” he asked. “I just have to see your face, so I know that this is real.” That moment with my son was among God’s most precious gifts to me as a moth­er. It took time for me to believe that my freedom was true. It was so surreal.

Unexpected realities of life in the free world soon set in. After a decade of impris­onment, I was in for a rude awakening as new challenges hit me head-on.

It started with the ankle monitor they attached to me when I got to the halfway house. I knew it was coming, but wearing it brought a significant degree of discomfort and constant shame.

I had just walked out into a world that was anything but ordinary. Nothing was familiar. I was starting life completely over, and I often felt like an alien who had just arrived on earth.

Everything from my family to technolo­gy had changed. And in case these issues weren’t enough, the pandemic added extra layers of anxiety. Social distancing, face masks, restrictions on gather­ing in places that I had looked so forward to attending—there were so many changes. The worst thing was not being able to go to church because of COVID-19. Still, God had gone ahead and prepared the way for me. He knew I’d need structure and counseling after years of incarceration. He provid­ed the right amount of both through the Dismas Charities halfway house. I called it home for over a year. They truly set me up for success.

I have been out for just over a year now,  and adapting to my new normals hasn’t been easy. Relying on the essential dis­ciplines I developed during my time in prison has helped me stay focused and encouraged. Maintaining my daily devo­tions with God has been my top priority.

Spending time in God’s Word and in His presence keeps me in peace and enables me to move forward. I cannot overempha­size the importance of studying and apply­ing God’s Word to your life. Seeking out and walking with other Christ-followers is also essential. Godly friends are what will keep you standing when the way gets tough.

God has graciously kept me connected to my church, which has been there for me every step of the way. When I was a teenag­er making mistakes, they loved me. When I was arrested and attempted to take my life, my pastor was right there by my side. During my prison sentence, they loved me through thick and thin, never once con­sidering me a lost cause. Their love has modeled the unconditional, everlasting love of Jesus, and God used them to draw me to Himself (Jeremiah 31:3).

Their seeds of faith and teaching, sown into my life before, during, and after in­carceration, have kept me standing. My pastor, Bishop Richard Peoples Sr., has constantly reminded me, “Don’t let what you’re walking through cause you to get stuck, Melisha!” His words helped me press on through dark valleys.

My pastor’s letters and teaching CDs, sent to me in prison, strengthened my faith and enabled me to help others along the way. When I needed someone to speak the truth in love or to hold me accountable, the Lord used him and my church family. They sharpened me like iron sharpens iron (Proverbs 27:17). And when I walked out of prison, their arms were open wide. I fell right into them. They have helped me navigate this new life that is so very different from anything I have known before.

God has given me opportunities to pour into others too. It’s important to give back and not just seek support from others. My Aunt Carrie hosts a daily conference call to uplift and encourage others. It helps people start their day off on a positive note with God. I joined her group immediately after my release. Since then, I’ve had opportuni­ties to cohost and share my testimony with the group. I never thought my story could help folks in the free world, but many have told me how my willingness to be honest and vulnerable has inspired them. It gives them the courage to lean into the Lord for strength as they face their own valleys.

Nothing about my journey has been easy. I get tired. The many restrictions that still govern my life are overwhelming at times. But the Bible says that the testing of our faith helps us grow in endurance and character (James 1:3). God patiently continues to mold and shape me into who He needs me to be, so He can complete the plan He has for my life (Jeremiah 29:11).

I’ve learned valuable lessons as I’ve pressed on through this valley with the Lord. There is purpose in everything, in­cluding my incarceration and the challeng­es I face now. God has used everything I’ve been through to prepare me to answer the call He has had on my life all along.

My past has equipped me to do what I desire to do today. I want to advocate for the incarcerated and those recently released. I want to help churches understand the importance of consistency in a person’s life. We can’t just tell people about Jesus and then leave them to figure out life on their own. We must model His love and teach them how to have a relationship with Him. We must stand by people, even the difficult ones. They need the love of Christ demonstrated in tangible ways.

Recently released from home confine­ment, I can now see the light at the end of the tunnel. I am excited to step into this new adventure of ministry with God, knowing that the Lord will be with me as He always has been. He is going before me, preparing the way.

Each day, I thank God for my freedom as I seek Him with all my heart (Jeremiah 29:13). Because of His great love for me, I want to be obedient to Him—and it feels like I’m finally making progress.

I hold on to the truth that the same God who carried me through ten years in prison will be with me as I walk through every valley ahead. I know that the best years of my life are yet to come.

Whatever you are praying for today, be­lieve that the Lord will answer you (Psalm 66:19). He will! You might not get exactly what you think you want or when you want it, but don’t lose hope.

Circumstances often don’t make sense or look like they’ll turn out in your favor. Give Jesus your circumstances anyway and believe that He will perfect all that con­cerns you according to His will. He has your ultimate good in mind (Psalm 138:8).

God has started His work in you, and just like He did in me, He will carry it on to completion through whatever trials you face (Philippians 1:6).

In the meantime, do what I am still doing today. Fix your eyes on the Lord and keep pressing on. There is a glorious victory for you ahead. God will help you every step of the way.

MELISHA JOHNSON walked out of federal prison a woman on a mission. No longer an inmate, she is a voice for those she left behind. Working with churches and prison ministries, she shares her experience to help them better understand the needs of the incarcerated.

God’s Faithfulness

God has made promises to His people since the be­ginning of creation. Some of my favorites are found in the Old Testament. The Israelites wandered through the desert for a lot longer than they needed to, because they were often ungrateful and disobedient to God. Despite that, however, the Lord continued to pursue His people.

He had promised to never leave or forsake them, and He never did (Deuteronomy 31:8). Instead He encouraged them, protected them, and provided for them during all the years they were in the wilderness.

Deuteronomy 7:9 says, “Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments” (NIV).

You know what? All these generations later, you and I aren’t all that different from the Israelites. Like them, through our disobedience, sometimes we bring horrible consequences on ourselves, but when we do, God is the same as He has always been. He remains faithful to us just like He was back then.

It doesn’t matter which side of a prison wall you’re on, the challenges you face are great. But God’s promises and ever­lasting love remain the same. His greatest promise to us is eternal life through the blood of Jesus Christ. There is no love greater than that.

When I went to prison for the third time in 1989, I was sen­tenced as a habitual offender. At the beginning of my 45-year sentence, I believed I would never see the free world again. For the next 31 years, I learned many lessons about the faithfulness of God. The more committed I became to following Jesus, the more He amazed me with the things He was doing in my life.

Every day, I learn more about God’s promises and His faith­fulness in keeping them. Living on the outside can be as chal­lenging as being on the inside. When I was first released, I was at a halfway house, and not everyone there was looking to follow God. Temptation was everywhere, but God gave me strength and a way to escape it (1 Corinthians 10:13). Some of the men actually saw Christ in me, and it was a blessing to be a good example to others in that way.

The more I live my life to serve Christ, the more He pours out His blessings on me. He has been faithful to provide for my every need, just like He did for the Israelites (Psalm 34:10). He has opened doors and done things for me that I never thought possible, including providing me with a cozy RV to live in and my own vehicle.

There have been times when my flesh became weak. I have failed at some things, but God has been faithful in His grace and mercy (Lamentations 3:22–23). He never fails to pick me up when I grow weary and to continue with me on our path together.

I have learned that I can rely on God and His Word to carry me through anything I am facing. He is a covenant-keeping God. He cannot lie, and that should be a comforting truth to all believers. It is for me. I know I can trust God, and I want to be obedient to Him because of the love He has shown me. The road I am traveling is not an easy one, but God is always there to help me on my journey.

You know—this applies to you just as much as it does me. God’s faithfulness brings peace and victory to His children. If you believe that Jesus Christ died for the forgiveness of your sins and are willing to learn how to live His way, then you are a child of God. That means those promises are yours too.

Roy A. Borges served 31 years in the Florida Department of Corrections, where he realized his need for a Savior. While incarcerated, Roy ministered to others through his writings, over 300 of which have been published. He now lives in Tampa, Florida, and is a member of the Victorious Living writing team.

Let the Good Shepherd Lead You

Twenty years ago, Child Protective Services took my two toddlers away from me. I remember it like it was yesterday. At the time, I was a self-centered person fueled by an insatiable appetite for heroin and crack. My daughters were suffering from it, and everyone but me could see it.

I tried often to stop getting high but always fell back into my addiction. Ultimately, we became homeless. A worried stranger called the police and requested a welfare check. “Why can’t people mind their own business?!” I wondered. Like most addicts, I was comfortable in my dysfunction.

When the police and CPS caseworker arrived, I screamed profanities at them. “I am fine! We are fine! Just go away and leave us alone!”

It was obvious we weren’t okay, and the authorities immediately removed my daughters from me. If I wanted to see my girls again, they said, I’d have to go to detox and then complete an extensive stay in rehab.

I let the caseworker take me to detox, but I didn’t make it a full 24 hours before heroin withdrawals took me back to the streets. I wan­dered around in a stupor for weeks, grieving the loss of my children. Every time I’d sober up, I’d remember what was happening to my family and inevitably sink back into the hole I had dug for myself.

I wound up in jail, and after nearly two hor­rible weeks of withdrawals, reality sank in. I reached out to my caseworker, determined to be a better mom for my babies when I got out.

CPS tried hard to help me and even allowed me to have visitation with my girls. I went to recovery meetings and counseling, and I took advantage of the resources provided. The court gave me every opportunity to start over and be a good mom to my kids.

I tried to comply with all the requirements of my case plan for family reunification, but my addiction prevailed at every turn. One day, CPS surprised me with a drug test. I was dirty, and suddenly, all my efforts spiraled down the drain.

As they should have, CPS submitted a recommendation to sever my parental rights. I knew my chance at reconciliation with my girls was over. I wouldn’t be able to see them until they were eighteen—and then, only if they wanted to know their mother.

I headed for the nearest dope house. Two weeks later, I was back in jail, facing multiple felony counts of drug possession. I received a four-year prison sentence.

CPS sent my kids to live with relatives they didn’t know, which only added to their trauma and confusion. The devastating consequences my choices brought into these two innocent lives would impact them for years to come. It was the biggest failure of my life.

For the next 15 years, I stayed stuck in a cycle of self-destruction. It didn’t matter whether I lived in the free world or behind layers of barbed wire—shame and self-pity imprisoned me. There was a hole in my heart where my two little girls belonged. I lived every day, hoping it’d be my last. I hated myself that much.

And then, Jesus met me in my empty and lonely regret and revealed His love to me. (See my story in Issue 2, 2020.) While in jail, I asked Jesus to be the Lord of my life. I reasoned that He must care for me deeply to sacrifice His life on a cross for the forgiveness of my sins. I had done nothing to deserve His love, and there was no way I could ever repay it (Ephesians 2:8–9).

All I had to offer the Lord was a broken spirit and a crushed and repentant heart (Psalm 51:17). Thankfully, that’s all He wanted. It still amazes me that God wanted a relationship with me after all the damage I’d done.

I dove into the Bible to discover more about God. I found relief in His Word; it bandaged the wounds of my soul (Psalm 147:3). I spent hours weeping at Jesus’s feet, grieving the loss of my daughters. I asked God to give me a desire to move forward with my life and a sense of direction. I had neither.

One day in my morning Bible study, God led me to Isaiah 40:11, “He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young” (NIV). These words stirred up hope. Would God lead me? Did He still consider me a mother? I was confused. “My daughters are long gone, Lord!” I prayed. “I don’t understand what You are telling me.”

The following day, God woke me up with two questions. He asked, “What are you doing to prepare yourself to be a better mother? If they came looking for you today, who would they find?” I was speechless.

All those years, I had been blaming other people for the messes I had created. I did the same things over and over, somehow expecting different outcomes (John 5). I realized that God was lovingly saying to me, “It’s time to get up, Christina. It’s time to do something!”

Strength and determination came over me as I’d never felt before. I know God put it there. I found the courage to open every area of my life to Jesus and to follow Him with my whole heart. I started putting one foot in front of the other and living by faith, not sight (2 Corinthians 5:7).

I realized all I could do was prepare myself in the way the Lord told me. He would have to prepare my girls. So I put them in His hands. If we would find reconciliation, it would come through Him. In the meantime, I would let the Holy Spirit work in my heart. And boy, did He!

God and His Word began to change the way I thought. Eventually, I even started thanking Him for the day CPS took my daughters away. He had reached down from heaven and intervened in all three of our lives to save us. I could see it now.

The way I prayed for my girls changed too. Instead of begging God to reunite me with them, I sought His will in our situation. I’d pray: “Father, please put people in their path to point them toward You. Even if they never want to speak to me again, Lord, let them know You.”

I put my whole heart into trusting Him. He was the Good Shepherd who had laid down His life for me (John 10:11). He would lead, protect, and guide me and my girls to where He wanted each of us to be.

I praise God that He has led us to that long-awaited reconciliation. I am grateful to have had the chance to ask my daughters for forgiveness. In His perfect timing, He has given us the gift of restored relationships.

Do we still face challenges? Absolutely! Generational patterns such as addiction and low self-esteem still ripple through their adult lives. But I am not discouraged because the healing and transformative power of Jesus Christ is generational too. I know the same victory He has given me, He will give to my daughters.

Don’t lose hope if your past choices have led to broken relationships. Put your loved ones and yourself in the hands of the Good Shepherd. Trust His timing and His ways. And while you wait, draw close to Him, and let Him change you. You will find peace at every stage of the journey.

Christina Kimbrel serves as VL’s production manager. Once incarcerated, she now ministers hope to those held captive by their past and current circumstances by sharing the message of healing she found in Jesus.

Restored to Usefulness

I have heard that one person’s junk is another per­son’s treasure. One of my fa­vorite hobbies is to wander through thrift stores looking for a bargain. The aisles con­tain things that might qualify as junk to some, but for some reason, their previous owner donated them instead of dump­ing them. I love it when I find something that I need or that I know I might use. On a recent treasure hunt, I found an old guitar collecting dust behind a counter. I recognized it right away as a Yamaha.

The color of the wood of an acoustic guitar can help iden­tify its age. The older the guitar, the richer the tone. By the dark, almost orange tint of this one, I could tell it had seen many years and plenty of tough times. It looked water damaged and had a large crack in its upper side. Its neck was bowed, and residue caked its strings. De­spite these blemishes, I decided that this old Yamaha needed a home and some tender love and care. With a little negotiating, I bought it for $60. The case I carried it home in looked even worse than the guitar itself.

I took my new treasure to my favorite guitar repair guy, Bob­by. He’s a master at repairing instruments. He looked it over and shook his head.

“Bad, huh?” I asked.

“Not good,” he replied. “I think we can fix her up so she’ll at least be playable though.”

“That’s all I want.” I left knowing the old guitar was in capable hands.

Two weeks later, the repairs were complete. I was excit­ed to go pick up my restored treasure.

Bobby had a big smile on his face when I walked in. “Try her out and tell me if she’s okay.”

I was more than pleased. Bobby had worked a miracle to bring the old instrument back to life. To top it off, he only charged me for the strings. Talk about God’s favor in action!

My “new” Yamaha has a beautifully rich sound and a renewed purpose. I even take it to prison events and tell this story during my performances to encourage those who think a restored life is out of reach.

Many people think there’s no hope, that God couldn’t possi­bly want or use them for any­thing good. But 1 Corinthians 6:20 says, “You were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies” (NIV).

Every one of us is in bad shape before we are “pur­chased” by God through the blood of His precious Son. We might feel beaten down, tossed aside, and abandoned with little hope, but when we put our faith in Jesus, we put ourselves into the hands of the master repairman. No matter what dark place we’ve come from, He gives us lives full of meaning and purpose that we never thought possible.

I’ve witnessed this hundreds of times in the lives of people I have ministered to. I’ve seen lost souls surrender to Jesus behind prison walls, and as they grow older and wiser and their roots in the Lord grow down deep, their knowledge and perception deepen as well. They become beautiful instruments that God uses to teach and mentor the younger inmates coming in fresh off the street.

Jesus warned us that we would not live without diffi­culty, but we can all cling to the promise that He will restore us, confirm us, strengthen us, and establish us by His grace (1 Peter 5:10).

Occasionally, I’ll take my old Yamaha guitar in to repair a crack here and there. In the same way, sometimes life caus­es damage to me—and when it does, I make another visit to the foot of the cross, and I pray that I will remain a useful instru­ment despite the wounds I’ve suffered.

Do you need restoration? It doesn’t matter whose fault it is or how you got to where you are—in God’s eyes, you are not junk. Your life is valuable to Him. If you are willing to put everything that is damaged into the hands of the master repair­man, He will keep His promise to clean you up and make you new and useful once more (2 Timothy 2:20–21).

Kenny Munds takes the good news of God’s love and forgiveness into prisons across America. To learn more about his ministry, go to kennymundsministry.org.

Trust God, Even When You Dont Understand

This story took place during my incarceration, and it taught me a spiritual lesson that helped me through some of the most questioning times in my spiri­tual walk. I believe it can help you in your journey with the Lord as well.

I remember that day like it was yester­day. I had been asked to pray for a guy that I had never seen in the chapel before. He had just received the terrible news that his mother was in an ICU and not expected to live. So I laid my hands upon him and started praying. Immediately, I heard the word “kidneys” come up in my spirit.

Now, I won’t speak for everyone, but kidneys aren’t what first comes to mind when I think of someone dying. I quickly decided to step out in faith and believe that I was hearing from God. And I prayed for his mother’s kidneys.

As soon as the word “kidneys” left my mouth, I felt him tremble under my hand. When I finished praying, he looked at me and said, “I know that was from God be­cause I never told you that my mother is dying from double kidney failure.”

Listen, at that moment, I felt like I had the faith to walk on water. Excitement and boldness flooded through my veins. I was convinced that his mother was going to step out of that hospital room miraculous­ly healed. The following week, I shared the testimony with everyone in the chapel. I boldly told them God would heal the guy’s mother. But then, sadly, a couple of days later, she died.

News of her death was like a punch to the gut. Not only did I hurt for this guy who’d just lost his mother, but I was con­fused and ashamed. I had stood before a chapel full of men and made a fool out of myself. I prayed for understanding, but it seemed as if God had gone silent.

Still, I continued with my ministry. One day the guy who had lost his mother came into the chapel. As I looked at him, I heard the Lord say to my spirit, “It was never about her. It was about her son.”

Suddenly, understanding filled my heart. This guy, before our prayer together, hadn’t wanted anything to do with God. Now, he was involved in every Christian activity the chapel offered. Every time I saw him, he had a Bible in his hand. He had even committed to moving into the faith-based dorm.

When the Lord first spoke the word “kid­neys” to me, it wasn’t because He was go­ing to heal her. That was my assumption, and I was wrong. Instead, God was pursu­ing one of His lost sons. And He was using this difficult situation to lay hold of the guy’s heart by revealing to him that God was real and present in his life. My prayer for his mother’s kidneys had ignited his faith and drawn him into a relationship with Christ.

I learned an important lesson from this: We can trust God even when things don’t go our way or when we don’t understand why something happened.

We only get to see a small portion of the picture God is painting. His thoughts are higher than our thoughts, and His ways are higher than our ways (Isaiah 55:8–9). We simply must not lean on our limited understanding (Proverbs 3:5–6). We have to rest on the simple truths that He is God and He loves us.

Maybe you’re going through a difficult season right now. Maybe your heart is overwhelmed as you search for answers. Remember, in this life, you will only know in part, but God sees the whole picture, and He is at work behind the scenes. You can be confident in Him, for He is the all-seeing, all-knowing, and all-powerful God. And that same God loves you!

KORY GORDON spent 11 years in incarceration, where he gave his life to Christ. He is now an evangelist, sharing the Good News that set him free. In 2021, he founded Damascus Road, a nonprofit residential discipleship program battling addiction, recidivism, and homelessness. Email damascusroad2021@gmail.com for more info.

Don’t Give Up

A friend of mine, a gardening expert, gave me an ama­ryllis flower for Christmas in 2019. He gave me very little instruc­tion with it. “Put it outside and leave it be,” he said.

So I did. I placed it on the ground next to a tree and just let it be. As the season changed, the one, bright red flower on the plant began to die. Soon, that beautiful flower was gone, and only one large, long, green leaf remained.

As the year went on, I continued to look out my window at the plant and wonder if it would ever bloom again. I waited and waited. So many times, I almost gave up and threw it in the trash. I could always replace it with another one, I thought.

But for some reason, I couldn’t do it. Something told me to just leave it alone and be patient. Perhaps it would grow again. I had faith, but it was as small as a mustard seed (Matthew 17:20).

And then it happened. Almost a year after the first flower died, I looked out the window and saw a speckle of red. To my excite­ment, I found a red flower in bloom.

Days later, another bloom appeared, and a week after that, another one. Right before my eyes, three stunning red flowers flourished. And then, I saw another bud forming. I was about to have four flowers on that once barren plant.

Intrigued, I examined the plant and saw that the bulb had burrowed its way into the ground and established its own root system. That system was well designed, and it provided all the nutrients the plant needed to grow, thrive, and bloom.

What I witnessed in that flower felt so symbolic and spiritual to me. Through it, God revealed many things. First, He reminded me that His timing is not my own. Ecclesiastes 3:1 says that there’s a season for everything under the sun, and God knows the right time for everything in my life to bloom.

Second, I understood better that God’s version of patience is not mine. For a year, I had waited impa­tiently for evidence of the flower’s viability. When there was none, I assumed its usefulness was gone. But I was wrong. God was at work bringing about a beautiful bloom, just like He is at work behind the scenes in my life bringing about exactly what I need, when I need it. I simply need to have faith and wait for Him to bring about the evidence (Psalm 5:3; Romans 8:25).

Next, I learned that God is a multiplier of what is good. When I was given the plant, it had one small flower. But as the plant matured, four blossoms emerged. It exceeded my expectations. Likewise, God can multiply the good things I have planted in my life and far exceed my wildest dreams (Ephesians 3:20). Where there was once a hint of beauty, there can be a grand display.

I also learned that growth and prosperity come from a well-nourished root system. The Lord re­minded me that Jesus is the Living Water and the Bread of Life. As I nourish my soul with His Word and root myself in His love and truth, I will have the nour­ishment I need to thrive in every season and produce His fruit in my life (Ephesians 3:16–19).

Finally, I learned that visible beauty is a natural result of this well-nourished root system. That flower didn’t have to think about blooming, and, if I am rooted in Christ and abide in Him, neither do I. The Holy Spirit will bring about fruit naturally that can impact the world (John 15:1–8).

Do you feel like your fruitful days are over? Have you given up on a relationship, idea, dream, or career? Remember, God’s timing is not yours. He is at work, even now, bringing about results in your life with the good, God-things you have planted. All you have to do is stay rooted in His love and have faith.

In His perfect timing, He will bring about much fruit—a display of beauty that impacts the world.

VENNESA VIEKE is a devoted daughter of Christ, wife, and mother of two. She is a professional water skier in South Florida where she trains and uses her degree in physical therapy to teach Pilates. Nessa is passionate about health and wellness; she loves to cook and create fun recipes and tell about the goodness of God.

Be a Vessel for the Thirsty

How can they hear about him unless someone tells them?

Romans 10:14 NLT

The Victorious Living ministry team was all set for our fundraising dinner. We had planned for our annual event for months, being sure to take care of the smallest detail. You can believe, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief when I fi­nally completed all the items on my to-do list…a whole five minutes before the event started!

That sense of relief vanished quickly when Joanna, the volunteer in charge of the beverage table, approached me to ask where the cups were. Turns out, we didn’t have any.

My stomach churned as I surveyed the line of guests waiting for their beverages. Twelve gallons of freshly brewed iced tea were arranged neatly on the counter next to a cooler full of ice. But the tea and ice were useless without cups.

I searched for the caterer, only to find that he had driven back to town to retrieve the forgotten items and wouldn’t be back for at least 30 minutes. My concern in­creased. We were already past our sched­uled starting time, and the volunteers were now serving food. Cups or no cups, I had to begin the program.

About ten minutes into my welcoming re­marks, I saw the caterer hurrying across the room, cups in hand. The beverage crisis was over; no one would have to choke down their food at this event.

The following day, I thanked God for His provision. Despite that stumble, we’d had an incredibly successful event, and we’d gained many ministry partners. As I prayed, I remembered the line of thirsty guests—people standing, empty-handed, on one side of the table and all those jugs of tea on the other side.

I thought of the irony of the situation. We had a generous supply of tea (sweet, of course) for our guests. We even had a sink faucet containing an endless supply of wa­ter. But still, our guests remained thirsty. They couldn’t get a single drop of liquid refreshment because we didn’t have any cups. Until that night, I had never consid­ered the importance of a simple vessel. I sensed a spiritual analogy emerging. And then it came.

A long line of tired and weary peo­ple formed in my mind’s eye. They were thirsty and in desperate need of refresh­ment. Many of them were on the verge of collapsing and giving up on life altogether.

And then I saw a sparkling, steady source of water. It was Jesus. And He was in infinite supply, available to the whoso­evers of the world (John 3:15). The Living Water was ready to quench every thirst and refresh weary souls (John 4:13–15; 7:27–39).

Jesus was who these people needed to live a life of purpose here on earth (John 10:10). He was also their security for eter­nal life in heaven (John 3:16). Jesus offered the answers to their questions, hope for people’s future, peace of mind, uncon­ditional love, and endless joy. He offered acceptance, forgiveness, and salvation.

But the people in the line were walking away empty-handed. Just like at my event, there were no vessels available to serve them the thirst-quenching Living Water.

It suddenly became clear that just like I’d needed cups to serve beverages to my guests, God needs “cups” too. He needs vessels to take His message of salvation, to be His arms of love, to demonstrate His life-transforming power to the world. You and I are those vessels.

Scores of weary people are desperate for Jesus, and they are coming to the ta­ble. They are thirsty for something other than what this world offers. They need the Living Water of God, and they need it now, before they lose hope.

You and I, as believers, have the privi­lege and the responsibility to serve God’s Living Water to the world. If we don’t, how will they ever get it? How will they even know about it? According to Romans 10:14, without us as willing, living vessels, they can’t. And they won’t.

Let’s ask God to open our eyes to the thirsty ones. We encounter them daily. Let’s ask Him for courage, too, to serve those people, with love, the Living Water of God through our words and actions. We have what this world needs; He lives in us. We must not keep Him to ourselves.

KRISTI OVERTON JOHNSON encourages and equips people for victory through her writings, speaking engagements, and prison ministry. To learn more, go to kojministries.org.

How can they hear about him unless someone tells them?

Romans 10:14 NLT

Tired of Running and Ready to Live

For many years, I lived for the human trinity—me, myself, and I.

I did what was right in my own eyes and judged everything by how it would benefit me or someone I wanted to influence. I had no understanding of objective truth, nor did I care how God might view my actions.

I thrived on power and being the center of attention. It helped that I was charismatic because people played right into my manipulative hands—especially women. They were objects to be used for my gain and discarded.

I wasn’t always that way. My mother says I became self-absorbed and reckless around my senior year of college. I saw the world and people as potential conquests. Mom tried to influence me and tell me about God. She had recently come to faith in Jesus Christ through the testimony of a spiritual medium who had become a Christian.

This was a big change for my mother. For years, she had channeled demonic spirits in her quest to help people find answers. She’d started dabbling in witchcraft when our family lived in Cuba. (We subsequently escaped to America to avoid Fidel Castro’s regime.) I’d often assisted Mom during her channeling sessions and had witnessed demonic spirits pass through her. She thought she was doing a good thing and even believed she was drawing close to God through it. She was so deceived.

But then, a medium at the spiritual center that Mom frequented became a believer in Jesus Christ. She and another lady shared their newfound faith with Mom. “We have met the Lord, Jesus Christ!” they said. “You don’t need to go to that center anymore.” Soon, Mom attended church with her friends, where she heard the truth of the Gospel. She responded to God’s gift of salvation immediately.

From that day forward, Mom was a new person. She had peace and a hunger for God’s Word. She began opening our home to share Christ with others. “Jesus found me when I was so very lost in my sin,” she said, “because He is the One who searches for us.”

I didn’t want anything to do with Mom’s faith; I thought she was nuts! If there was a God, I reasoned, it was me. I did attend the worship services she held at our home—but only to meet a certain beautiful brunette.

Her name was Cecilia, and I’d decided I had to have her. Driven by an impulsive nature and the need for immediate gratification, I came up with a plan to get this beauty. I would marry her. I was only a semester away from graduation, but I was already making a lot of money as a life-insurance salesman and driving a Mercedes Benz 380SL. I decided I’d rather be married than have a college degree, and I dropped out.

I was 22 years old and as arrogant as they come.

My fidelity lasted about as long as our honeymoon. I had no idea what a marriage commitment meant. I was a terrible husband and put Cecilia through hell. The following winter, our son, Manny Jr., was born. While I knew nothing about being a father, I was proud to have a son.

My flair for networking paid off, and soon I was making more money than I knew how to spend. But nothing the world offered—not even a Lincoln Town Coupe, an Audi 5000, and a Cadillac Seville—could satisfy me. I always searched for more.

Soon a business opportunity arose in Coral Gables, Florida, that provided both a new conquest and a great excuse to escape the righteous impact my mother was trying to have on me. I moved my family and continued to do my thing in Miami. It wasn’t long before my sin and pride caught up to me.

My sister’s boyfriend had approached me with what appeared to be a sweet deal. All I had to do was cash some bogus checks. I didn’t care that the money belonged to someone else.

With my connections in Miami, I could easily pull off the scam. A friend who worked at a bank helped me open a checking account under a false name. I deposited the checks, waited until they cleared, then emptied the account and closed it. I got fifty thousand bucks for a couple of hours of work. Not bad.

A month later, however, FBI agents were in my office looking for me. My “friend” had ratted me out, and I was facing a possible 55 years in prison. It was my word against his, and at first, I thought I could talk my way out of this situation. I was, after all, a master manipulator. But my fingerprints were on the checks. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who was telling the truth.

I was a dead dog if the FBI found me, so I went into survival mode and withdrew what cash I could. “Pack our things,” I told Cecilia. “We’re taking a little vacation.”

Poor Cecelia. She was seven months pregnant with our second child and caring for our four-year-old son. Nonetheless, she did as I asked, and we left for Puerto Rico that very night.

With Puerto Rico being a US territory, we couldn’t stay long, or I’d risk being arrested. We had to keep moving. We needed passports to go further, but with my connections, obtaining them wasn’t a problem. I told Cecilia the truth while we were there. She was furious.

After a few days in Puerto Rico, we flew to the Dominican Republic, and then to Bogotá, and then to Medellín (Colombia). I had no plan, and I wasn’t thinking clearly. Finally, we settled in Caracas, Venezuela.

I opened a restaurant, which took some underhanded scheming and money. I worked fast and hard to find investors and a Venezuelan partner. In no time, I owned the best Cuban restaurant in the country. I used the restaurant and its glamour, not to mention my mad dancing skills and thick dark hair, to get women. Cuban men were very popular with Venezuelan women.

We lived in Caracas for almost two years. But then, the FBI paid a visit to my dad. That night, he and my mom called me. “Manolito,” he said. “I know what you have done. I know you are facing time behind bars. Let me ask you a question. If I died tonight, could you come to my funeral?”

I was silent. I knew the answer was no. I broke down and cried. Then, my mom began to speak. She reminded me that I had sinned against a holy God, and she pleaded with me to repent of my sins—to turn from my ways.

“To repent is to live,” she said. “You need to trust in Jesus Christ and make Him Lord and Savior of your life. He will forgive you for your sins, Manny, if you ask Him.”

Mom started praying for me on the phone. “Oh, God, save my son. Make him see how lost he is, how far he is from You. He’s on his way to hell. He needs You, God! Help him see he cannot run from You. Father, You promised to forgive him. I pray my son will ask for Your forgiveness and follow Jesus.”

I sobbed as the Holy Spirit quickened my spirit and opened the eyes of my heart to see what I could not see before—that I was lost and in desperate need of a Savior.

I prayed out loud, repeating the words of my mom, “Oh, God, please forgive me for all I have done; I have sinned against You. I’m guilty and ashamed, and I don’t want to run anymore. Lord, save me. Come into my heart and change my life. God, I need Your help. Give me the courage to face what I’ve done and make it right. Give me the courage to face my family and the world with the truth.”

My mom started praising God and thanking Him for what He had done. I felt like God had lifted the whole world off my back until Mom asked, “When are you coming back to America to face the music? You must surrender to the FBI and do what is right.”

The world ground to a halt. Sure, I had prayed for courage and a way to make things right, but surrendering to the FBI was not what I had in mind! That wasn’t part of the deal.

Mom noticed my hesitation and said, “Manolito, God promises in Hebrews 13:5 that He will never leave you or forsake you. He will not fail you. You have invited Jesus into your heart, and He will be with you from now on—even if you have to go to prison.”

Tears flowed from my eyes as I bowed in total surrender to the God of the universe, to His Son, and to His Holy Spirit. I would now serve a new Trinity. My mind was set, and there was no going back.

What I did not realize at the time was that my dad had become a Christian on the telephone right along with me. Just like Nicodemus in John 3, we were both born again. Dad had been observing the unmistakable change in my mom’s way of life and that night, he surrendered to the one true God too. My father, Manolo, was a mighty man of God from that day forward.

God answered my prayer, and His Holy Spirit gave me the courage to fly home to New York with my family and take responsibility for the crimes I had committed. FBI agents were waiting for me when I deplaned at Kennedy International Airport, and they took me into custody.

They escorted me to a regional office in Newark, New Jersey, where other FBI agents booked and fingerprinted me and confiscated my US passport. Then, I was released on bond.

Because I had pleaded guilty, there was no trial. Incredibly, the judge sentenced me to only three years at Allenwood Federal Prison in Montgomery, Pennsylvania. God’s amazing grace was on full display. And soon there would be more.

Typically, incarceration begins immediately after sentencing, but I did not go to prison right away. The judge allowed me to go home for three more months and then to report to prison on my own, unescorted. I treasured this time with my family and appreciated the opportunity to set my things in order.

When the time came, my family drove with me to prison. Once I was processed, a correctional officer came to take me away. Tears flowed as I hugged Cecilia, my parents, and my children goodbye. Leaving them was very hard as my future felt so uncertain. We put everything in God’s hands.

I changed into prison clothes, and then I was fingerprinted again and checked in. My ID card proclaimed that I was prisoner #07592-050. Humiliation does not begin to describe the experience. My boots and pants didn’t fit, and for the first two weeks, I had no pillow. My top bunk was in a dormitory with 74 other men. What a change in lifestyle! But God was faithful to me.

Before prison, I had never in my life cleaned a room or even made my bed, so my first work assignment was a rude awakening. I would be cleaning the bathrooms. Now, I didn’t know how to clean a bathroom, but I had traveled in high-class circles, so I knew what one should look like. So I set my expectations accordingly.

Colossians 3:23 says that whatever we do, we should do it unto God. It seemed to me that, as a Christian, my actions should reveal my love for God. He deserved my best efforts. I was His ambassador and wanted to reflect Him positively everywhere and in every way.

I quickly learned about work ethic and principles like “hitting the corners.” A superficial clean wasn’t good enough; I wanted those bathrooms to be clean from top to bottom, just like I wanted my life to be pure before God.

It never failed though—just as I finished cleaning, some guy would come in and mess it all up. Nevertheless, I cleaned to the best of my ability for eight hours a day, and I did it for the glory of God. He had ordained this work to humble me. What I didn’t know was that God was preparing me for a ministry of “getting dirty.” He was about to call me to an up-close-and-personal ministry with people the world didn’t want to touch.

I knew my salvation was real because this unpleasant work didn’t produce a complaining attitude, not even hidden in my heart. Only the Holy Spirit could have brought about that transformation.

Apart from Jesus, I had nothing to bring to the table. God was the only One who could change my life; my task was to submit, surrender, and let God have His way. Sometimes I failed miserably because my stubborn, sinful human nature resisted change. But God, so rich in mercy, always forgave me and helped me move forward better (Ephesians 2:4–5; 1 John 1:9).

I was developing into a new person, and I knew I did not want to go back to the man I had been. I didn’t like him, so I aimed to draw closer to Jesus. Only He could help me develop godly traits and bear lasting fruit in my life (John 15:1–5). I didn’t know God very well yet, but I knew He was for real, and that authenticity attracted me like a magnet.

Several godly inmates and I began holding daily prayer meetings to help other inmates know God. Not long after, God brought a new chaplain to our prison. We worked together to organize the church body, and the church began to grow.

Chaplain Cordero and I planned a weekend marriage seminar sponsored by Prison Fellowship. The men and I were excited to encounter God in a new way with our spouses. What a treasured opportunity! When the time came, the chaplain and I were at the door, welcoming the wives. I was so excited…but grew concerned when Cecelia didn’t arrive.

A phone call to my mother-in-law revealed that Cecelia had left New Jersey and gone to Miami with our children. I felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on my head. Divorce papers arrived a few weeks later.

I don’t blame Cecelia for our marriage ending; I blame myself. The consequences of my actions made life difficult for her and our children. Thankfully, the Lord has helped me learn from my mistakes so I could be a better husband and father in the future.

I attended a Prison Fellowship Ministries (PFM) banquet with five other inmates in my final year of incarceration. Billy Graham was the keynote speaker. By God’s providence, I sat next to a member of PFM’s executive board. He asked about my post-incarceration plans.

“Sir, by faith, I am going to Wheaton Bible College. I just applied for a scholarship there,” I replied. I said “in faith” because the admission date for college was August of 1988, and my release date wasn’t until January 1989. I was trusting God to work out my release if He wanted me to go.

As we talked, I could tell this man was genuinely interested in my desire to attend Wheaton. Then the man introduced himself. “Manny,” he said, “my name is Kenneth Wessner. I am the chairman of the board of Wheaton College.” My jaw about hit the table! Clearly, God had ordained this meeting for me.

Dr. Wessner took a chance on me and championed my cause. Talk about godly love; this man didn’t even know me. God worked out every detail, and I started my studies at Wheaton College on the Charles W. Colson Scholarship.

I studied hard to receive a bachelor of arts degree in biblical studies. Then I attended graduate school and pursued my master’s in theological studies. While there, and in collaboration with several people, I developed the concept of a Koinonia House, a family home where prisoners could live after their release, witness a healthy family life, and receive help integrating back into society. Dr. Wessner helped me develop the Koinonia House, and our doors opened to inmates in late 1991.

Not long after, the Lord blessed me with a most beautiful gift—my wife, Barbara. We met while I was on an internship in Israel as a student with Wheaton College. She had just arrived and was leading a group of students from Philadelphia Bible College. She was pursuing a master’s degree in Bible geography. We met on Mt. Zion in Jerusalem on what happened to be my last day of parole. (I had received special permission to go abroad.)

I was instantly attracted to Barbara, but we both knew we’d need to be careful in establishing a relationship. We wanted godly discernment, not man’s approval. We both sought wise counsel, and God worked through His people to affirm direction from the Holy Spirit.

After much prayer and consideration, Barbara and I felt released to be married. For the last 32 years, we have served the Lord in our national prison ministry, Koinonia House Ministries, and shared the Gospel of Jesus Christ around the world. Not only is she my wife, she is my best friend and ministry partner too.

Barbara has also been instrumental in restoring my relationships with my children, Manny Jr. and Cesia. Today, we have a healthy relationship. Not only that, God blessed Barbara and me with two sons, Howard and Kenneth, and even brought my daughter Sasha, from another relationship, into my life. God’s grace and love have restored my life beyond my wildest expectations (Ephesians 3:20). Today, I am the proud grandfather of seven grandchildren and a great-grandson.

I am so glad that God arrested me with His love and confronted me with His truth years ago. His goodness chased me down and led me to repentance (Romans 2:4). Because of Him, I have hope (Ephesians 2:12–13). God resurrected my life from the dead, and He made me a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17). I have been born again into His family. Alleluia!

My wise mother once told me that “to repent is to live.” Today, I tell you the same.

Are you ready to live? To quit running and find rest? Then turn from serving the trinity of self and live for God. Surrender your heart and mind to Him and trust His love for you. God will never leave you or forsake you. It’s time to repent so you can live.

Pray with me: “God, forgive me for sinning against You. I’m guilty and ashamed. I don’t want to run anymore. Lord, save me. Come into my heart and change my life. I need Your help. Give me the courage to face what I’ve done and make it right. Strengthen me to face my family and the world with Your truth. Amen.”