Healing for a Wounded Soul

In my second year of marriage, I experienced an unexpected storm that robbed me of my peace and joy. Tom and I had met in April 2018 and were married three months later. We’d each had long, beautiful marriages to our previous spous­es before we lost them to sickness.

We didn’t know each other very well yet, but we felt the Lord had brought us together. We quickly realized, however, that starting a second marriage as senior adults wasn’t as easy as we’d imagined.

By late summer of 2020, Tom and I sep­arated, and I moved back home. My heart was full of resentment and bitterness toward Tom, and I hated feeling these emotions. As a Christ-follower, I knew they weren’t what God desired for me. I repent­ed repeatedly and tried not to allow them to control me again. But those layers of deep resentment mocked me.

I was experiencing tremendous emo­tional pain. I was 69 years old and felt helpless. Thankfully, this dark season led me to draw close to my heavenly Father. He lovingly cared for me and assured me healing would come. Still, I longed to be free of this deep wound in my soul.

During our separation, the Lord often prompted me to call Tom. I didn’t want to call him, though, as he might think I want­ed to come back to him. Then I felt the Lord urging me to invite Tom over for dinner. “What?! Please, Lord, don’t ask me to do that!” But the Lord persisted.

I finally humbled myself and reached out to Tom by text. I was hoping he would decline my invitation so I could be off the hook, but he didn’t. It wasn’t an easy eve­ning for me. I had so much pride lurking in my heart.

One day, I was unpacking some jewelry when I discovered that my gold herringbone necklace was a tangled mess. The links were twisted, and the chain felt like sharp edges of broken glass.

I tried to remove the kinks by holding each end of the necklace and stretching it. It didn’t work. Then I tapped the kinked links on my dresser. To my shock, the neck­lace fell smoothly into place!

I asked God about that necklace, and He showed me that, just as my chain had gotten twisted in the move, my soul was tangled too. And the kinks of my soul were sharp and rigid like the chain.

I knew I needed to remain in faith and trust God’s Word so His Living Water could take me to a healthier place and untangle the deep hurt of my soul. I needed to replace my bitter thoughts with God’s promises so His healing power could work in my life.

I made it a practice each morning to ver­bally clothe myself in God’s Word as I phys­ically dressed. Often, I claimed the power of Colossians 3:12–14 as I prayed, “Lord, I am clothing myself with tender-hearted mercy, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. I choose to make allowance for Tom’s faults and forgive any offense as You have forgiven me. I will clothe myself with love and trust it to bind us together in harmony.”

Soon, I saw evidence of God working out the kinks of our relationship. By the fall of 2020, the Lord had reconciled our marriage. We didn’t have everything figured out, but we were committed to loving and respect­ing one another and letting God change us. Since then, we have enjoyed our life together, as the Lord had planned.

Perhaps today, your situation seems hopeless. Call on the Lord Jesus before bitterness takes hold of you. Surrender your situation to God and permit Him to change you.

The Holy Spirit will give you a teachable and humble heart as you devour God’s Word and speak His powerful promises into your life. Further, as you obey His kind leading, the Lord will bring healing to your soul and situation too.

Pray with me: “Father, forgive me for any hidden offenses that are giving ground to the devil. Reveal them to me. Now, in the name of Jesus, I sever from my soul every menacing spirit of pride, unbelief, and stubbornness. I denounce the painful memories that are keeping me in bondage. I cut off any spirit of rejection and anger from their place of habitation in my soul. Instead, I choose to clothe myself with Your peace, tender-hearted mercy, kindness, love, and humility. God, help me to forgive others as You have forgiven me.”

Trust His Love, Follow His Way

“God, why did You let that happen?”
“Lord, why haven’t You answered my prayers?”
“God, why aren’t You doing something about this?”
“God, why would You ask me to do that?!”
Have you ever asked God questions like these? I know I have. You are about to read stories from people who trusted God’s heart even though they didn’t understand His way.
In theory, trusting God is easy. As Christians, we know it’s what we’re “supposed” to do. In fact, it’s often the first piece of advice we offer in the face of a dilemma. “Just trust God, brother,” we say. “Do what He says, sister. God won’t fail you.”
But saying it and doing it are two very different things, especially when the wait is long, the circumstances are painful, and our prayers seem to go unheard.
In tight circumstances, it’s easy to want to grab hold of a situation (or person!) and force an outcome. Waiting makes us feel out of control. We grow anxious, fearful, and even angry with God. All too often, we find ourselves following our emotions instead of God’s leading. But, as you are about to learn, trusting God and waiting on Him are worth the effort, because blessings come through trusting God.
Of course, we usually expect God’s blessing to be pleasant. After all, if God is good, then shouldn’t everything He allows us to go through be good, too? We want the promotion, good health, financial prosperity, freedom, opportunity—all the good things we can think of. And sometimes, God does bless us with those beautiful things.
But other times, God’s blessings are the fruit of our persevering in trust through a long wait or uncomfortable circumstance. It’s through those difficult moments that God reveals His treasure, faithfulness, and power in ways that, but for the pain and the wait, we never would have known. After reading this issue, you’ll see what I mean.
For me, trusting God became possible the day I realized He loved me. I had heard and recited John 3:16 a million times growing up—“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (NIV). I believed in the concept of God loving people and sending His Son to save us. I even had faith to trust Him for salvation through His Son, Jesus.
But I didn’t understand that God Almighty, the Creator of the universe and everything in it, loves me, myself, as an individual. I didn’t realize He sees me, knows me, cares about every detail of my life, has a specific plan for me, and is on my side (Psalm 139). My life and faith changed the day I grasped that God treasures and delights in me (Psalm 18:19). He delights in you, too!
Have you ever realized that God loves you as an individual? That He sees you and delights in every detail of your life? That out of His love, He has crafted a plan and a purpose for your life? And that His plan, no matter how difficult, can be trusted?
I pray that, as you read this issue of Victorious Living, you will have a fresh revelation of God’s love and that His love will make you complete. May you, as Paul prayed in Ephesians 3:18–19, have “the power to understand…how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ…[and] be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God” (NLT).
Friend, once you understand God’s love for you personally and root yourself deep in His love, you’ll find the strength to make it through even the most challenging storms (Ephesians 3:17), and you’ll see God accomplish for you more than you can imagine or hope (Ephesians 3:20).

Kristi Overton Johnson

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Take Time to Listen

It’s morning. I glance around my little apartment at the many signs I’ve purchased over the years from thrift stores and flea markets. “I Will Never Fail You.” “Be Still and Know that I Am God.” “I Can Do All Things through Christ Who Strengthens Me.” “Set Your Mind on Things Above.” Each one reminds me of a specific promise in God’s Word.

From atop the refrigerator, my boombox plays a favorite CD, “Hidden in My Heart.” It soothes my soul. It’s a war out there, and I need constant reminders that God is on my side.

You’d think that with all these reminders, I would barrel out the door, ready to challenge any foe or dark spirit that awaits me and conquer the world. But it takes more than a sign to get me ready for whatever battle lies ahead. Not to mention the one raging within me—my daily war against anxiety, fear, and doubt.

And that’s why, before I run out the door, there’s something important I need to do. I must stop to pray and wait to hear from God.

So I move over to my recliner and begin to acknowledge my Lord and Savior. I praise Him for His undying love and grace and, most of all, His majesty. I read aloud a daily protection prayer given to me by one of my mentors. And then I ask God to show me what He wants me to read in His Word. I hear in my mind, “First John.” So I read it and carefully look for the message God has for me today. I keep a journal nearby to write down whatever He reveals to me.

Next, I ask Him who He wants me to cover in prayer. I think of several people and pray for them. I then ask God to guide me to where He would have me go today and to use me for His purposes. I intentionally slow myself down and refuse to allow my flesh to rush me out the door.

Only then am I ready to go.

I wish I could say I have this time and dialogue with God every morning. I want to, I mean to, and I know I need to—but still, I often don’t. And when I don’t, I stumble through the day, bouncing off the walls, all the while wondering why I feel so anxious and disconnected from God.

I have learned the hard way the importance of starting each day by sharing my heart with God and listening for His voice. How else can I develop a deeper relationship with Him and know His will except through dialogue with Him?

I don’t want to be that person who talks incessantly and never lets anyone else speak. I know a few people like that, and I confess, when I see their names on my phone, I hesitate to answer.

But how often have I been the incessant one with God? I ask Him for things, do most of the talking, and never stop to listen to what He has to say. I wouldn’t blame God one bit if He ignored my calls. But He doesn’t!

Talking to God is important, but listening to Him is vital, and I’m really trying to get better at actually doing it. I want to listen more closely so I can follow God better. “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me” (John 10:27 NIV).

Do you feel disconnected from God and overwhelmed? Perhaps you need to put on the brakes, find a quiet place, and like Psalm 46:10 (and another sign on my wall) says, “Be still and know that I am God.” God has so much He wants to say to you, so much He wants to show you. Take the time to listen. And I’ll try to do the same.

Find Hope in the Hands of a Merciful God

Those who knew me from my past would never imagine the man I am today. I was an angry and bitter kid who became a manipulative, deceitful man.

I cared about one thing in life—me. Years of poverty and abuse from my then alcoholic father had hardened my heart. I’ll spare the details, as I imagine many reading this magazine, maybe even you, have experienced a similar childhood. Many of you know the pain of not having a father who loves you the way God intends. It leaves a legacy of brokenness and de­spair if not dealt with properly.

Thank goodness for Momma. She loved my siblings and me and did her best to pro­tect and provide for us. She often shared with us the importance of accepting Jesus as our Savior. I didn’t want to hear about God back then, but her seeds of faith later sprouted in my heart and saved my life.

That happened when I was in the county jail, strapped to a hospital bed. A drug deal had gone bad, and a seventeen-year-old boy was dead. The authorities had apprehended me, but not be­fore I’d sustained four gunshot wounds myself. It’s only by God’s mercy that I am alive.

Lying on that bed, bleeding, I began to think about my life. It didn’t take a genius to realize that my future was bleak, and I didn’t have anyone to blame but myself. My own pride and anger had put me here.

I was losing hope as fast as I was losing blood, until God’s mercy met me. I suddenly remembered my mother’s words about Jesus. She had told me that the Bible said Jesus could forgive the worst of sinners for all their sins. All I had to do was confess my sins to Him and ask Him to come into my life (1 John 1:9).

I began to sob. I couldn’t imagine being forgiven for all the things I’d done, but I dared to ask Him anyway. I knew His forgiveness was my only hope. So, right there on that hospital bed in an Illinois jail, I opened my heart to the only One who could save me. I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, and from that moment on, I was a new man.

Of course, that didn’t mean everything magically became per­fect in my life. Although faith in Jesus undoes the consequence of eternal separation from God (Romans 6:23), it doesn’t necessarily undo earthly consequences. I had made many sinful choices in my 21 years, including killing someone. I would have to pay for my actions.

I can still remember, however, hoping for mercy when I walked into my sentencing hearing. Perhaps like God, the judge would forgive me and do away with the harsh consequences I deserved. But he didn’t; instead, he sentenced me to 50 years for my crime.

It was the first step in learning that God’s mercy comes in dif­ferent forms—including incarceration. God knew I needed that time in prison so He could bring healing to my broken heart and equip me for the good works that He had prepared for me to do (Ephesians 2:10). But at that moment, I felt like my life was done.

Fifty years in prison? How would I survive all that time behind bars? I would be an old man by the time I got out! In my mind, it was “game over.”

The judge asked if I had anything to say before they took me away. I was too choked up to respond. Back in the jail, I immedi­ately went to the shower and cried like a baby.

I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t see the truth that no matter how bleak my future seemed, I still had hope. I had forgotten that Jesus, the source of hope, was with me—and He would continue to be with me, even in a maximum-security prison where evil often reigned.

It didn’t help that the guys in jail liked to share about the chal­lenges of prison life. I became more frightened by the day as I awaited my transfer orders. Thankfully, God sent ministers from the outside into the jail to encourage my heart. Those men were a gift from God, lights in the darkness. Their presence, faith, and love did something to the inside of me. God used them to strengthen me for my long prison journey.

Finally, my transfer day came, and I walked through the gates of Menard Correctional Center. I didn’t know what lay ahead, but I had decided that, no matter what, I would live for Jesus. I would trust His love and His plan for me.

God honored my commitment, and over the next 25 years in the Illinois Department of Corrections, He protected and preserved me, both in Menard and, later, in Danville Correctional. Time and time again, He came to my defense and blessed me with His favor, including shortening my time served from 50 to 25 years.

It would be impossible to adequately share the experiences of those years behind bars. What I can do, how­ever, is tell you that God’s mercy sustained me and enabled me to not just make it, but to walk out those doors a transformed man.

He displayed His mercy to me in so many ways. First and foremost, He saved me from eternal damnation. Think about it: God sent me to jail instead of the hell I deserved. His mercy also saved me from a life of despair and destruction here on earth.

For so long, my evil desires had dragged me away from the life God intended. They had carried me down a dark road of death and destruction. I had fully experienced James 1:14–15: “Each person is tempted when they are dragged away by their own evil desire and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.”

My life was hard as a child—that’s no joke. But it was my sin, not the sins of my father, that had led me to prison. It was my evil desires that gave birth to sin and led to death. I thank God for His mercy that stopped me in my tracks and put me on a new path of hope.

Every time I think of what God has done for me, I am humbled. God actually thought that I was worthy to be saved. Me! Like Paul in the Bible, I was a chief of sinners (1 Timothy 1:15). But that’s exactly who God sent His Son, Jesus, to save. Luke 19:10 NIV says, “The Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” Jesus came to save people like me, people the world thought would never amount to anything.

Mercy came in other forms too. God put an insatiable desire for His living Word (the Bible) into my heart. As I devoured it daily, it sus­tained me. He also placed believers around me to help me stand firm in my faith. This circle of godly men helped break deadly cycles and brought me to a place of forgiveness for others and myself. Circles break cycles.

Manny Mill and representatives of his minis­try, Koinonia House, made a significant impact on my life. Not only did they disciple me in God’s Word behind bars, but Manny himself met me at the gate when I was released from Danville prison in 2014. His ministry provided housing, bought me clothes, and paid my rent for several months. I wouldn’t have made it without their support.

Today, believe it or not, I serve on the board of Koinonia House National Ministry. Not only that, I am married to a beautiful and godly woman. I own a successful HVAC company, and I am the campus pastor at Stateville Correctional Center. It’s the first church plant behind prison bars in the state of Illinois. I get to give incarcerated men the same thing God gave me—hope, inspiration, purpose, and identity.

I could have easily fallen into a victim mentality and become bitter over my life circumstances. I could have held a grudge against my father and sought revenge. I could have embraced self-hatred and shame for what I had done in my past.

But because of God’s mercy, I was able to forgive my father, other people who had hurt me, and even myself. How can I hold a grudge against anyone when I think about what God did for me? And because I chose to be merciful, God has restored my relationship with my father. God’s mercy has genuinely made us new men (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Have you encountered God’s mercy? It’s waiting for you right now. Lamentations 3:22–23 promises: “The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning” (NLT).

Maybe you gave your life to Jesus some­where in the past, but your desires have dragged you down the road of death. Even so, my friend— that’s not the end! According to Lamentations 3:22–23, God’s mercy is still there for you. It never ceas­es; it’s new every morning. If you are still breathing, if you saw the sun come up this morning, then you still have the hope of God’s mercy.

All you have to do is ask. No matter how far your evil desires have dragged you, it’s never too late for His mercy to put your life back on track so you can finish where He intended. Your failures are never greater than God’s call on your life. All you have to do is ask for forgiveness and commit to moving forward with Him, in His way this time.

I have known many people who have felt like their lives are over. Maybe you feel that way too. Perhaps you’ve received a lengthy prison sentence or you’re facing a divorce or a health crisis. Maybe you’ve lost your job or your kids are out of control.

Can I just tell you, God still has a purpose for you? It’s true. It’s never “game over” when you trust your life to the hands of a merciful God.

Be strong and courageous and keep fighting the good fight of faith (2 Timothy 4:7).

Trust that the God who knows you and loves you will not fail you. He who has begun a good work in you will bring it to completion (Philippians 1:6).

His faithful mercies will never cease! Even when you fail Him, His mercy will not fail you.

Accept God’s Invitation

It was the end of a fantastic weekend at Callaway Gardens in Pine Mountain, Georgia. I was there for the Masters Water Ski and Wakeboard Tournament. Long gone were my days of competing. Now I was in an exhibitor’s booth, sharing the mission of Victorious Living.
God had shown up in amazing ways all weekend, including introducing me to a man from Alabama who had heard me speak when he was “residing” at Club Fed (Coleman Federal Prison). We were standing next to each other at the food truck when he recognized me. It was amazing to hear how God had impacted his life through our outreaches.
I didn’t think God could top that, but He did.
I had just settled back in my chair on the beach to watch the men’s jump event, when one of the top jumpers took a horrendous crash. His screams echoed across Robin Lake.
I immediately started praying. I had never met this jumper, but I knew his crash could end his career. My heart hurt for him. As I prayed, I sensed the Lord saying, “Go lay your hands on him and pray. I will heal his hip and knee.”
Anxiety welled up within me. What if this man was offended and rejected me? What if the medical team wouldn’t let me get close? What if I prayed and nothing happened? What if I looked like a fool?
I stayed in my seat, battling these questions. Moments passed, and the athlete was removed from the water and taken to a restricted area where a medical team could examine him. Still, like the story of Jacob in Genesis 32, I continued to wrestle with God.
But He was winning, and my own hips were hurting!
Finally, I got up and approached the restricted area. “Walk through the gate like you own the place, Kristi,” I told myself. If I walked in with confidence and a look of authority, surely I’d get through. No one questions a woman on a mission.
Wrong. I hadn’t made it three steps before the security guard stopped me. “Ma’am, I need to see your credentials,” she said.
I fumbled with words, finally blurting out, “I’m the event clergy.” What?! Where had that come from? But before I could explain, a policeman walked up. Uh oh!
To my surprise, he said, “She’s who she says she is; let her through so she can go pray for that skier.” I had spoken with this man at other events over the years. He had a huge heart for the Lord and for prison ministry. The Lord had sent him, a person with true authority, to my aid.
I went to where the athlete lay and watched from behind the medical team. I tried hard to muster up the courage to approach him but stayed frozen in place. Then I saw his mom, and I devised a plan.
“Ma’am,” I said. “Could I pray with you for your son?” What mother would turn that down? With tears in her eyes, she agreed and thanked me.
We prayed, and I left. I went back to our ministry booth and sat down. But the Holy Spirit followed me there and spoke to my spirit. “I asked you to lay your hands on that young man and pray for him, not his mother.”
I felt the sting of conviction. I knew I had disobeyed the Lord’s instructions. My fear of rejection had gotten the best of me. But still, I had prayed for him. Why couldn’t God heal him that way?
Before I could even finish that thought, God answered. “Yes, I could heal him, but how will he know it was Me? He didn’t hear your prayer; his mother did. Now go to him, touch him, and I will send My healing power into him. He will know without a doubt that it was Me.”
I watched as the medics approached him with a stretcher. In a few minutes, he would be gone. I felt sick to my stomach. The clock was ticking. If I was going to obey, I had to do it now.
I rose from my chair and walked back toward the injured man, who was now strapped securely on the stretcher and being loaded into the ambulance. “Lord, help me get into that vehicle,” I murmured.
Just then, I realized that one of my former coaches was there, talking to the medic. I approached him and said, “Mike, I need to get on that ambulance and pray with him before they take him to the hospital.”
“Yes, you do,” he agreed. He called the medic over and ex¬plained our situation. She pointed to the back of the ambulance and said, “Get in there, honey!”
As I climbed in, my policeman friend yelled from behind me, “I am touching and agreeing, sister!” He was there, ready to lay hands on the injured man and agree with me in prayer for his healing. I almost chuckled; only God could arrange a scene like this.
The athlete looked a bit confused when I knelt beside him, but he seemed to relax when I asked if I could pray. He told me later that he agreed to let me pray because he needed a sense of peace amid his chaos.
My eyes were open while I prayed, and the sight I witnessed caused my faith to soar. Mike was holding one of the man’s feet, while Mr. Policeman was holding the other. Four medics were kneeling beside the stretcher with their hands on him. Everyone had their heads bowed.
I felt a hand slip into mine. The athlete told me later that I grabbed his hand, but I didn’t. Looking back, I believe God brought our hands together. He had given me specific instructions to lay my hands on this injured man as a touchpoint of His power, but I had forgotten that part of the instruction.
When I finished praying, I told the athlete he would be just fine. Those words were fueled entirely by faith because I hadn’t felt anything special happen during my prayer. Even after I prayed, there was no visible evidence to me that the man had been healed.
I know now, you don’t have to see or feel anything for God to be working. You just need to trust and obey and leave the results to Him.
The following day, Mike told me that the athlete was fine. I went into a dance of celebration that would surely have embarrassed my kids, had they seen me. God had shown up and shown off.
Two weeks later, I spoke with that athlete on the phone. He told me that he had been sure his injuries would mean his skiing career was over. He’d even thought that maybe the accident was a sign that it was time for him to hang up his skis and place his focus elsewhere.
He admitted that he attended church on Christmas and Easter with his wife and mother, but he’d never sought a personal relationship with God. He had occasionally felt his heart being drawn to God, but water-skiing goals and commitments had always taken precedent.
But that day, he said, there was no denying the realness of God. He went on to tell me how that, when our hands joined, “energy” had entered his body and healed his leg. He said it was like God was right there, in his face, saying, “I am here. I am real. Open your heart to Me.”
That day on the phone, I had the opportunity to share more with my new friend about the One who loved him beyond measure. And then I got to lead him through a prayer of salvation as he asked Jesus Christ to be his Savior and Lord.
You know, I was blessed to win eight US Masters Water Ski titles during my ski career. But nothing compared to being a part of God’s plan for this man that God had put in front of me. I can’t wait to see how God uses him to impact the world of water skiing.
Friend, when God tells you to move out of your seat, move! Don’t be afraid or worry about the details; He has everything prepared. All you have to do is get up, move forward, and leave the results to the Lord.
And be ready to be amazed.

It’s Never Too Late

“Christina, I need to see you at my desk, please.”

Anxiety ripped through me at the sound of my fifth-grade teacher’s voice. Another trip to the school office? More questions about my home? I harbored so many secrets, and even at that young age, I understood there was safety in silence.

Tears threatened as I walked to the teacher’s desk. I was relieved when I realized she only wanted to talk to me about a guest speaker who had visited our class on Career Day. Edie, a professor at the University of Arizona, had spoken to the class about journalism and had given us some writing exercises.

“She called me to ask about you, Christina,” my teacher said, beaming with pride. “Edie was impressed with your writing, and she wants to get to know you.” I couldn’t believe my ears.

Edie took me on a field trip that included a tour of the University of Arizona School of Journalism and the local daily newspaper headquarters. “Christina’s going to write someday,” she said as she introduced me to the journalists in the newsroom.

“You have a gift, Christina,” Edie told me as I exited her car. “You will be a great writer someday. I hope to see you in one of my classes!” She drove away, and I returned to the loneliness of my childhood. I have never forgotten that day, as it was one of the only times I felt heard or seen as a child.

I never made it to college. I didn’t even graduate from high school. I left home at 13, and my innocence disappeared as I fell into addiction and street life. Before I knew it, I was 18 and headed to prison. I would remain trapped in a cycle of destruction for years. It didn’t matter whether I was behind bars or out in free society; pain, shame, and self-pity kept me shackled.

By 2015, my life resembled a war-torn country. All that remained amid the rubble were broken relationships and shattered dreams. All I wanted was a way out.

I was in jail, going through the agony of heroin withdrawals, when I cried out to God. “If You really exist, please help me. I don’t want to live like this anymore.” I know God heard me because, at that moment, a strange peace washed over me. It comforted me like a warm blanket and gave me the will to keep breathing.

God responded to me like a loving father whose child is injured. He held me in His arms and gave me His strength. And with the help of His Spirit and His Word, I began a long journey into healing. I received a study Bible from the ministry, Rescued Not Arrested (RNA). And for the next two and a half years, I spent every minute I could with my nose buried in its pages.

Every day, I wrote prayers to God in a journal. I opened my heart to Him and shared things I didn’t talk about with anyone else. I also confessed things to Him that no one else knew.

Communicating with God through writing made me feel like I had a voice. I always had my Bible open during these times of prayer and journaling, and the Lord poured His healing into every broken and wounded place in my soul.

The more I read God’s Word, the more I heard His voice. God reminded me that He had created me with intent and purpose. And despite my many failures in life, He still loved me and had a plan. It wasn’t too late for Him to take my messed-up life and use it for something good (Romans 8:28).

Soon after my release in 2017, I contacted Roger Munchian, the founder of RNA. I shared my testimony with him and thanked him for the Bible that had helped build my relationship with the Lord. Then, I traveled to meet Roger and to pick up some Bibles for my roommates back at the halfway house. I didn’t know it then, but the Lord was positioning me to answer the call He had on my life.

“You have an amazing testimony, Christina,” Roger told me during our first meeting. “It was very well written. Do you like to write?” I told him that I had always wanted to be a writer, but my life had taken a different turn. Roger encouraged me not to underestimate what God might still do in and through my life.

It wasn’t long before Roger invited me to serve as part of the correspondence ministry team at RNA. For two years, I read mail, processed Bible requests, and responded to letters from inmates all over the country. I used writing to encourage others and point them toward God’s Word as a source of comfort during their dark times.

In February 2020, Rescued Not Arrested hosted a volunteer appreciation dinner where I shared my testimony. I thanked the volunteers for their part in making sure that the body of Christ did not forget about people like me in jails and prisons.

As I walked off the stage and made my way to the food table, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to see a face I didn’t recognize. “Hi,” the woman said. “My name is Kristi. I would love to hear more of your story.” She pulled out a copy of Victorious Living magazine and quickly wrote down her email address and a phone number to one of her ministry directors. “If you submit your story to Pat Avery, he will make sure I receive it.”

I procrastinated for three weeks as I wrestled with doubt and other negative thoughts. Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that submitting my testimony would be pleasing to God, so I finally did it. The very next day, I received a call from Pat. “Kristi loved your story! She wants to include it in the upcoming issue along with Roger Munchian’s testimony.” I couldn’t believe my ears.

A few days later, I received an email from Kristi that said, “Thank you for sharing your story with us. It will undoubtedly touch thousands of lives through this magazine. By the way, you are an amazing writer!” She extended an open invitation for me to continue writing for the magazine if I was interested.

If I was interested? Are you serious, God?!

As I tried to absorb what was happening, I couldn’t help but remember Edie’s words from my childhood. God had used her all those years before to plant a seed in my heart about His plan for my life (Jeremiah 29:11). And now, even after all I had done wrong, it was coming to pass. God was fulfilling His plan for me, and He would use everything Satan had meant to harm me to benefit others (Genesis 50:20).

My story, “Beauty for Ashes,” was published in Issue 2, 2020. Since then, I have shared other stories of hope in Victorious Living. Then, in July 2021, I accepted Kristi’s offer to become the production manager for the magazine. Now I help others share their God stories!

Incredibly, God has restored my life to His original purpose. Not only that, He has entrusted me to represent Him through the words I write. It is still so hard for me to fathom the depth of God’s incredible love and grace. I could never have imagined this for myself. God truly is our Redeemer when we trust Him.

He can redeem your life, too. If you make Jesus the Lord of your life, He will bring you into His good plan. He will weave every detail of your story together into a beautiful masterpiece for His purpose and glory, and it will exceed anything you could have asked or thought of for yourself (Ephesians 3:20). And that is a promise.

Trusting God, Even unto Death

My husband, Jim, and I strolled down the boardwalk toward the roller coaster. We had promised our grand­sons a ride. Soon, the boys were whipping above us in a sound mix of merry-go-round calliope and about a million squealing chil­dren. It’s a wonder I heard my phone.

“Hello.”

“Maureen, where are you?”

“Ocean City, New Jersey. Who is this?”

“Jessica from the transplant clinic. Can you leave right now and drive straight to the hospital? We have a heart for you.”

“Yes! We are on our way!”

Ten years earlier, chemotherapy for breast cancer had damaged my heart, and medications had become less effective over time. First, I got by with a pacemaker, then an implanted defibrillator, and finally, I had been scheduled for a heart pump called a Left Ventricular Assist Device (LVAD).

The thought of being plugged into a wall overnight, being unable to get the device wet, and dealing with flashing lights and batteries was a bit unnerving. I am a klutzy person—I was terrified I would kill myself by accidentally pulling the wires out of my body during my sleep.

The only other alternative was a heart transplant, but that seemed impossible. Very few people receive hearts. Besides, I was 69, I have blood type B (only 8 percent of the general population has B), and I was a woman with a small chest cavity. The size of the heart is critical; it can’t be too big or too small. My only viable option seemed to be the LVAD, so I had agreed to have the surgery after our Labor Day vacation.

And then came that call. It was as unex­pected as a UFO landing! God showed me that nothing is impossible for Him.

All I could think about in the car on the way to Washington Hospital Center was that, somewhere, a devastated family was saying goodbye to their loved one. I imagined the donor’s family would not be happy to hear that a grandmother was get­ting their daughter’s heart. Surely, they’d prefer her heart to go to a younger, more deserving patient. I hoped that one day I’d be able to express my gratitude to them. Those thoughts, however, were quickly ushered to the back of my mind as the doc­tors wheeled me into the operating room.

On September 8, 2011, five days after my transplant, I awoke to unbearable pain. I tried to call for help but I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even get enough air to form words. From a place near the ceiling above the door, I looked down and saw myself dead.

Internal bleeding had caused my left lung to partially collapse. In an emergen­cy surgery, the doctors reopened my chest and removed a large blood clot, along with two liters of fluid in my chest cavity. I sur­vived, but only by the grace of God.

During my earlier bout with breast can­cer, Jim had begun to seek God. He had prayed earnestly for my healing, and when God touched me in undeserved ways, Jim had become a believer.

The change God’s love made in the man I’d been married to for decades was un­deniable, and it drew my attention to the Lord. Before long, I’d surrendered my life to Jesus too. Now, through this heart transplant, God was giving me a second chance at life, and I wasn’t going to waste it. I promised myself and Him that I would be a better person this go around and that I would be more thankful for life’s most basic gifts.

Grateful to God, Jim and I led Christ-centered lives. We went to church, volun­teered, served, told others about God, and prayed. We did all the things Christians are “supposed to do.” And yet, the very worst thing I could imagine happened.

My true heart condition came to light when our son chose a lifestyle that I did not want him to have. He was an educat­ed adult, living on his own, and employed most of the time. That’s all good, but he gambled. It was his career, and I disap­proved. I was dead set against it; and I made sure he knew it.

I wanted Joe to be married and settled and raising my grandchildren. I had this vision of who my son should be, and I re­sented Joe for not meeting my standards. It wasn’t long before Joe cut his father and me entirely out of his life. He even stopped coming home on holidays. He called only when he needed money.

I wish I could say I handled the situation with a Christ-like manner, but I did not. I am more than ashamed by the lack of love and kindness I displayed. It became ob­vious that I needed a new spiritual heart, not just a physical one. I needed God’s love to soften my heart of stone that tended to complain, judge, and control others. I need­ed Him to transform it into a gentle, kind, and trusting heart (Ezekiel 36:26).

Pride and stubbornness fueled my an­ger. I was confident I was right. I was always right. The funny thing is, in our house, Jim always thought he was right too, and so did Joe. We each looked at life through dirty lenses that showed everything according to our own selfish desires.

As many families do, we had studious­ly avoided talking about some important things like addictions, anger, and repeated familial behaviors. They were our proverbi­al elephants in the room, but we kept walk­ing around them until they trampled us.

Instead of honestly evaluating who we were and where we had come from, we kept perpetuating our bad behaviors. We made excuses for our decisions, self-medicated, and blamed others for our circumstances and weaknesses. Thank goodness for the grace of God that covers a multitude of sins (1 Peter 4:8).

And then Joe called. He was living in Las Vegas and had multiple myeloma, a type of blood cancer. He needed help. We’d tried to help him previously, but he had distanced himself from Jim and me. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go through all that again.

We learned later that Joe was being evicted from his apartment and that his car had been repossessed. I had sensed desperation when he asked to come home, but I’d had no idea of the depths of his hopelessness. So I chose not to respond to his pleas. I didn’t know how to fix his situation, so I did nothing.

Instead, I waited for God to change Joe. I went to counseling, where I soon discov­ered that God wanted to change me. He wanted me to trust Him and quit trying to control my son and every outcome in life.

One night, in desperation, I came to that moment of trust. “You have to help me, God,” I cried. “I have no idea how to help my son. God, You were there when he was created. You were there when he was born, and You have been there for every moment of his life. You love him more than I do, and he is  as much Your son as he is mine. I don’t know what else to do, God. I’m giving Joe back to You.”

Suddenly, I remembered how God had tested Abraham’s loyalty and love by in­structing him to bring his son, Isaac, to Mount Moriah and sacrifice him there (Genesis 22). Abraham didn’t know what would happen, but he trusted God with Isaac’s life. So I prayed and told God that I trusted Him with Joe’s life.

That night, I dreamed I was walking up a mountain. Everything around me was dusty; even the rocks were the color of des­ert sand. Then I heard a small voice, like a whisper, saying, “Unto death?”

The question stopped me cold. Who would be asking that? Surely not God. But that same small voice asked again, “Unto death?”

“Yes!” I answered. “Even unto death. I promise, God; I will never second-guess You again.” Proverbs 3:5 came to mind: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”

Suddenly, everything went impenetrably dark, and then, an internal explosion jolted through my body. I was buffeted around like a flag in a hurricane. It was as if every cell of my body was on fire separately and simultaneously. I was sure I would die be­fore I could wake up.

Fighting for my life, I struggled to yell, and I tried to push Jim, but I couldn’t. I woke up twisting and moaning. I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand or walk, but I had no trouble getting out of bed. I seemed to be okay. What in the world?

I told Jim we had to go to Urgent Care. Something was wrong. I wasn’t about to risk another night like the one I’d just survived! The doctor, however, couldn’t find any medical explanation for what had happened, and, hours later, sent us home.

On the way back, the display on my phone lit up. It said, “Unknown Caller.”

“It’s just a telemarketer,” I thought. “I won’t answer.” I fumbled to silence the phone but accidentally answered instead.

A voice asked, “Is this Maureen Hooker?”

“Yes.”

“Are you the mother of Joseph Patrick Hooker?”

“Yes.” I put the phone on speaker, and Jim pulled off the road.

An officer identified himself and pro­ceeded to tell me that my son had called 911 that morning at 10:55 to report a shoot­ing in his apartment. By the time they got there, Joe had shot himself. He was gone. Jim and I sat there, stunned.

It’s hard to describe the pain of the next few months. Time was suspended in a daily fog of guilt and self-incrimination. Surely there was some way I could have prevented Joe’s death. What if Jim and I had told him about our family issues instead of avoid­ing them? What if we had talked about the generational gambling in Jim’s family and the fact that both his father and his grand­father had committed suicide? What if we’d explained to Joe why we were so against his choices. Would my son still be alive?

Months later, I discovered the paperwork from my urgent care visit. In the havoc that followed Joe’s death, I had forgotten about that. Then the words “unto death” came to mind, and I remembered Proverbs 3:5. I suddenly remembered the dream and that strange physical wrestling and pain. Had I experienced some of the turmoil my son had been going through that night? Maybe. I am not sure.

But what I do know is that God spoke those words and gave me that verse just hours before my son took his life. “Trust Me, Maureen,” He was saying, “even though life is headed in a direction you don’t want to go. Trust Me, even though you won’t have all the answers to your questions. Trust Me, even if this situation ends in death. Lean into Me, and I will carry you.”

It’s been three years since Joe’s death, and this momma’s heart still aches for her son. I continue to question myself, and I still wrestle with guilt at times. Survivors of suicide victims often encounter debili­tating guilt for years. But I’ve also given my questions and guilt to God and, as I trust Him, He has given me peace and even joy. What a great exchange! He takes my bur­dens and gives my heart and mind rest. He truly is the Savior of my soul.

You can have rest and be free of guilt, too. “Come to Me,” Jesus says in Matthew 11:28–29, “And I will give you rest.”

And He will—but the key to God’s rest is found in Proverbs 3:5—trusting God, His love, His heart, and His plan for you and your loved ones—even “unto death.”

The faithful love of God will not fail you.

God Uses the Willing Heart

I grew up attending a small Methodist church in Grifton, NC. I thought I was a Christian, but I really didn’t know anything about God. I didn’t understand the Gospel message and how it applied to me. Thankfully, God opened my faith-eyes to see my need for a personal relationship with Him through His Son, Jesus.

It happened when my teenage son returned from a week-long retreat sponsored by Young Life. The minute he returned, I knew something was different in him. He was excited and filled with joy. This was surprising because at the time, our family was really struggling. My husband of 17 years had recently left my two teenagers and me, and the trauma of the divorce was impacting us all deeply.

I was happy to see this change in my son, but it wasn’t until I attended a Young Life banquet with him that I understood the source of the transformation. There, on a stage, he shared how Jesus had touched his life. I was so proud of him but also a bit embarrassed that he hadn’t shared those intimate details with me prior to the event. Turns out, he didn’t think I would understand his newfound faith in Jesus.

“Mom, all I’ve ever heard you pray is a memorized prayer,” he told me. He’d never witnessed me having an intimate relationship with God. Talk about needing a reality check!

I kept an eye on my son. It was obvious that whatever Jesus had done in his life was real, and I knew I needed what he had. So I decided to get serious about my faith.

I found time to spend quiet moments with God. I did devotionals and read the Bible like my son. At first, it was for 5 minutes, then 10, then 30, then an hour. I couldn’t wait to get up each morning for my one-on-one time with God. His Word and presence were healing my broken heart.

Then, I went on a Walk to Emmaus retreat, where I learned how to practically live out God’s Word and to be a true Christ follower. I came to understand that I am called to be like Jesus. I am to serve and love others in practical ways. And then I discovered that I prove my love for God through my obedience to Him (John 14:15).

I went on a hunt through God’s Word to see what He expected of me. I learned God wanted me to be humble instead of prideful, gentle instead of harsh, selfless instead of selfish, forgiving instead of bitter, and generous instead of stingy. God was calling me to be His ambassador on this earth—to represent Him everywhere I went and in everything I do.

As a pharmacist, I had always separated my work from my faith. But God showed me that even as a pharmacist, I could reveal His love to people in simple ways, like by being patient, kind, and helpful.

Serving others isn’t always easy. Not everyone is pleasant and kind. It helps to remember that every person is created in God’s image. He loves them and has fashioned and formed them with His hands for a specific purpose (Psalm 119:73).

Seeing people through God’s eyes changed how I responded to them. It also helped to remember that as I served others, I was serving the Lord (Matthew 25:35–40; Colossians 3:23).

You would think that serving and obeying God’s commands would be burdensome, but it isn’t (1 John 5:3). The more I served others with God in mind, the more joy, peace, and purpose I found. That’s because we are created to serve and to glorify God. Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (NIV). When we fulfill God’s desires, we are blessed and refreshed in the process (Proverbs 11:25).

In 1999, my hometown of Grifton was wiped out by a flood brought on by Hurricane Floyd. This crisis brought many opportunities to show the love of God, but they often led me to uncomfortable places. It never failed, though, that when I stepped out in obedience, God always had gifts and treasures waiting for me.

My friend, Betty, dove headlong into crisis response, visiting devastated areas and searching for people in need. I often went with her. One day, Betty asked me to go alone to a remote area and check on a lady named Rachel. I was nervous because I had heard this lady was a bit eccentric, but I decided to trust Betty’s judgment and went.

I’ll never forget that first encounter. Rachel had had very little by the world’s standards even before the flood. Yet, she talked about the Lord the whole time we were together. She had so much joy. When I left, she followed me outside and yelled, “I love you.”

Her words pierced my heart. She had no idea how badly I needed to hear those words nor how much I needed to be loved. But God did, and He used Rachel to bless me. Today, 20 years later, Rachel and I are still great buddies. I thank God for her friendship.

As often happens after a natural disaster, relief support eventually left our area. But there were still so many people impacted long-term by the flood. I decided to use my administrative skills to become an advocate for mental health and medical needs.

I’m sure people were tired of all my “flood talk,” but I was so burdened for those still hurting in the community. I couldn’t look the other way—they needed help. How could I stop serving them? God calls us to help those in need. Proverbs 3:27 says, “Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.” Serving the flood victims was a privilege.

Years later, God showed me another place to serve—prison. This happened after I met my husband, Ron, who was very involved with Kairos ministry, a national prison outreach. (See his story on page 18.) His love for the incarcerated was contagious and soon, my heart was drawn to help relieve the suffering of inmates too.

Ron and I became very active with a prison reform agency called NC-CURE, but in 2020, the founder of NC-CURE moved out of state. The organization, on the verge of dissolution, asked me to become the execu­tive director and asked Ron to become the chairman of the board.

Ron and I had thought we were ready to retire, but that wasn’t God’s plan for us. (Now that I think about it, I haven’t found a retirement provision from serving the Lord anywhere in the Bible.) We took the positions.

It’s not an easy task to get people onboard with helping those in prison. It’s not popular. But when has God ever called us to do things that are popular? Or comfortable? Or easy, for that matter? He doesn’t.

But what He does do is call us to places and people that will change us forever, for the better. As we do right, seek justice, and defend the oppressed (Isaiah 1:17), God blesses us in unexpected ways (Ephesians 3:20).

If you’ve never experienced the joy of serving others, ask God to open your eyes to opportunities. Let your heart be willing to serve. Then, out of your love for God and His people, step into them. I promise you, you’ll never regret it.

God Restores What Has Been Taken

Before I met Christ, my life was like a desolate place, stripped bare by a swarm of locusts. Everything had been devastated by sin, rebellion, and demonic forces. But thankfully, God has restored what those “locusts” had eaten (Joel 2:25). For as long as I can remember, my life was barren. My birth mother left me with my alcoholic and emotionally distant father when I was five. I never saw her again.

I believe my father loved me, but he was unable to show love or provide stability. By the time I was 17, he had remarried four times. With each divorce, I was placed in foster care, only to be pulled out again the next time he remarried.

The rejection and abandonment of those formative years damaged me profoundly. By 13, I felt so worthless and confused that I hated myself and started using drugs to dull the pain. At 15, I ran away from home. Eventually, I was arrested and began a long trek through the legal system.

My first stop was Eastlake Juvenile Hall in Central Los Angeles, California. There, I gained an unwanted understanding of hatred, racial tension, gangs, and fear. Back then, the system didn’t separate criminals according to the severity of their crimes. The Hall housed murderers, thieves, and gang members right alongside runaways like me. It was a rude awakening.

A few months later, I was transferred to an open-placement girl’s home in East Los Angeles. “Open placement” means that I was able to leave the grounds at will; there were no bars or walls. I transferred buses at night from West LA to Central LA to East LA. I was unaware of the potential dangers I faced as pimps, predators, and gangsters abounded in those neighborhoods. God surely had His hand on my life.

As a youth, I was restless and unable to stay anywhere for long. It didn’t matter where I ended up—I hated myself, and no matter where I went, there I was—and the misery continued. So I just kept running.

After running away from the girl’s home for the third time, I became a ward of the court. My father was again divorced and didn’t want me to live with him, so I was sent to a closed facility called the Convent of the Good Shepherd. The convent walls were 12 feet high, but I managed to escape.

My contempt for and mistrust of authority, life, and people reached an all-time high. But instead of being angry at the ones who had failed me, I internalized those negative emotions and turned the weapons of destruction upon myself. As far as I could figure, I was the common denominator in every horrible thing that had happened in my life, so I must be the problem. I used every drug I could get my hands on. Life was too painful without them.

At 20, I found myself in a dysfunctional relationship with a man I didn’t really know. His name was Bill, and he had just been released from prison. We got married and had two kids before I realized Bill was an IV drug user. Soon I became one too. We were both so lost. All that mattered was getting high. Together, we fueled our addictions, hurting each other and our children. We ended up living in a tent on the streets. After eight and a half years together and a failed attempt to get sober, our marriage ended in divorce.

I abandoned my children, just as so many had left me, and my guilt over that piled on more of the self-hatred, shame, and regret I already carried.

By the time I was 29, I had been arrested 13 times. I lived alone on the streets for two years, scouring through garbage cans for food and selling my body for drugs. I was a miserable being, a bag lady, focused solely on survival.

I couldn’t see how sick I had become. When you’re out there, you don’t see yourself with eyes of truth. In fact, you don’t see yourself at all. I had completely stopped looking in the mirror.

One time, a man aimed his gun at me, and in my pitiful state, I told him to shoot me and put me out of my misery. I had no reason to live. I had tried to commit suicide several times and felt more like a failure when I couldn’t even succeed at that! Of course, now I know it was God miraculously sparing my life.

One morning while I was unlawfully on an army base, I was arrested by military police and the city police sergeant. I didn’t know it yet, but God was bringing me to a critical crossroads. I would soon see His plan for my life unfold in tangible ways.

Because of my lengthy criminal record, I was sent to a crowded southern California women’s prison. There was very little privacy there, but God arranged for my cellmate to work in the kitchen. That meant I had time alone.

In my cell, I read a book about a man named George H. Meyer. In the 1940s, he was the chauffeur and getaway driver for the alleged mafia boss, “Scarface” Al Capone. Meyer’s life of crime eventually put him behind bars. But it was there in his dark prison cell that George Meyer surrendered his life to Jesus Christ.

I was intrigued by the life-transforming power of Jesus in Meyer’s life. God had used this man while he was incarcerated to impact many people. And now, decades later, he was affecting my life too.

Up to that point, I had felt useless. As far as I could see, my life was a complete waste. I was 29 years old with nothing but misery to show for it. I had broken everything I’d touched. But Meyer’s testimony penetrated my heart, and something unfamiliar began stirring inside, something impossible to resist. It was hope!

Through Meyer’s book, I began to wonder about Jesus Christ. If living a life surrendered to Christ had helped George H. Meyer, could it help me too?

I didn’t wait for reason to surface—I got down on my knees and cried out to God for salvation. Suddenly I had remorse over my sin. I wept over what I had done to people and for my self-hatred. I asked God for forgiveness and repented for rejecting Him. I had forfeited so many opportunities to know Him through the years.  As I prayed, I felt God’s grace wash over me. When I got up off the floor, I was a brand-new person (2 Corinthians 5:17).

A few weeks later, I was placed in the general population. There, I was able to attend church within the prison. The chaplain gave me a Bible he had purchased just for me. I read it for hours every day.

God’s Word ministered hope to my heart. Through it, I learned He had a purpose for creating me and that I had value (Ephesians 2:10). I learned that I mattered to God (Psalm 139), and He loved me so much so that He had sent His Son, Jesus, to die for me (John 3:16). Me!

I was in awe that the Creator of the universe knew me by my name (Isaiah 43:1). I had always felt so invisible. He also promised never to fail or abandon me (Deuteronomy 31:6,8; Joshua 1:5–9). Everyone else in my life had let me down.

God’s Word, His truth, was like a stream of cool water in the desert. It quenched the thirst of my soul like nothing else could (John 4), and it set me free from the bondage of guilt, shame, and self-hatred (John 8:32).

This newfound freedom brought the love, peace, joy, security, and stability I had always longed for. As I grew in that security, God began to put His love for others in my heart. I knew that He wanted me to share His love and hope with others in prison, just like George Meyer had done. I stepped out in trust, leading music at the prison church service.

Not long after, I was transferred to a minimum-security prison. I was on fire for Jesus and excited about growing in my faith in this new place. And then I discovered that, out of the 90 women there, only one other inmate was a Christian. And she was being released in two weeks!

I felt so alone and betrayed by God. In my confusion, I cried out to Him and asked, “Why would You send me to such a spiritually empty place, Lord? I need training. I need friends to help me now more than ever!” Had He forgotten about my needs?

Of course not. Instead, He had put me in that spiritually barren place because those women did not know the hope of Jesus. He wanted to use me to bring healing to women who were as desperate and broken as I so recently had been.

I decided to start a Bible study. I made rounds through the dorms in the mornings and yelled, “Bible study!” At first, the response was less than welcoming. You just don’t wake people up in prison that way. I could tell by their looks that most of the women thought I was crazy.

I am sure some of them wanted to ask, “Just who do you think you are, Miss Goody Two-Shoes Christian?” But I didn’t give up, and soon a group of ladies assembled.

In our time together, I shared the scriptures that had brought me so much hope and healing. I continued to lead the study until I was released, and they continued it for many years after I left. Praise God!

Being released from prison presented immediate opportunities to return to the land that the locusts had destroyed. I was given $200 and sent to Santa Cruz, California, where I had lived before my incar­ceration. I was afraid—I knew how dangerous and unhealthy it would be for me to return, as the only people I knew there were drug addicts and prostitutes.

Once again, I questioned God’s ways. “How could You send me back to a town where all I know are drugs and the street life?!” Not only would it be difficult to stand firm in my faith, but I had such a poor reputation in that area. How would I ever overcome it?

I got off the bus and stopped by a pay phone. I could hear the devil whispering to me, “Go to your old neighborhood and get some dope.” But then I heard the whisper of the Holy Spirit, telling me to pick up the phone and call the church I had contacted before my release.

I was at a spiritual crossroads. Thankfully, God’s Word was written on my heart, and I remembered Deuteronomy 30:19: “I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live” (NIV).

I chose life.

I picked up the phone and called the church. Members there gave me the help and support I needed to keep moving in the right direction—toward God and the plan He had for my life. God also presented opportunities for me to share the Gospel with people I used to run with on the streets. They could see the change in me, and it gave them hope that what God had done for me, He could do for them.

Ten months later, I met my current husband, Michael. His father was a recently retired captain of the California Highway Patrol, and his brother was a CHP sergeant. Cops! God indeed has a sense of humor.

Initially, Michael’s family was shocked that he would bring someone like me home, but over the years, God changed their hearts about “those people.” Michael and I have been married now for 30 years. We love helping others come to faith, and we’ve had opportunities to reach people on both sides of prison walls.

I returned to school and graduated with honors as a registered nurse in 1998. I also started teaching Bible studies for women.

I leaned on the Lord, His truth, and my experience in learning and teaching the Bible in prison. Since I couldn’t find any material that the diverse group of ladies who attended the study could relate to, I started writing my own Bible studies. My book, Be Transformed by the Spirit of the Living God, was birthed from this class. I have since written two more books that are used all over the world to help people understand the Bible and apply it to their lives.

It’s been over 30 years since Jesus saved my life. And just like He promised in Joel 2:25, He has restored all that the locusts had eaten. I am forever grateful.

Have those locusts ravaged your life too, leaving it desolate and bare? Do you feel alone or like your life is a waste? Friend, there is hope. God loves you, and He still has a purpose for your life.

Surrender your heart to Him. Ask Him to forgive you for your rebellion, doubt, fear, pride, hatred, and confusion. And then accept His forgiveness (1 John 1:9). He wants to make you new. He wants to restore all that has been taken from you. It’s not too late to have the abundant life God intended for you (John 10:10). There is no life too broken for Jesus to mend.

I hope you’ll accept God’s gift of forgiveness and salvation like I did by inviting Jesus into your heart today. Please don’t wait. Your eternal security depends on it, as well as your ability to live a life of peace and purpose on earth now.

If you are ready to surrender your life to Jesus, offer the Lord your heart with this prayer:

Jesus, I’ve been searching for peace and happiness my whole life. I’ve tried everything to fill the emptiness in my heart but haven’t found anything that works. I realize now that it’s because I’ve never confessed my sins to You and received forgiveness for my selfish ways.

I’ve done a poor job of running my life on my own. I’ve done so many things against You, myself, and others. Please forgive me. I want to start a new life with You, one filled with contentment and purpose. I want to live for something greater than myself. I want to commit my life to You right now. Thank You, Lord. In Jesus’s name, amen.

Serve with Gladness

Can you imagine the Creator of the world inviting you to breakfast? And not only that, then He prepares your meal and serves you. Well, that’s exactly what happened to Jesus’s disciples. We find this account in John 21.

There, we learn about seven of Jesus’s disciples who were fishing in the Sea of Galilee at daybreak. They had fished all night and caught nothing when Jesus appeared on the shore. The disciples didn’t recognize Him at first, but then He asked them to cast their nets again. In minutes, they had caught more fish than their nets could hold, and they knew who He was.

John exclaimed, “It is the Lord!” (John 21:7). Peter was so excited, he jumped right out of the boat and swam to shore! The others dragged the miraculous haul to shore—153 fish in all—then the men hurried to greet Jesus.

John 21:9–13 tells us that when the disciples got to land, they saw a charcoal fire with fish laid out on it and bread. Jesus invited the disciples to have breakfast with Him. What a beautiful scene.

After the meal, Jesus gave the disciples some wise instruction, but I believe we can learn much from the circumstances of the breakfast itself. In fact, this is my favorite part of the story, because it reminds me of a simple truth.

If we want to live as Jesus lived, we must serve others as Jesus did.

Serving is often overlooked and can even feel insignificant, but it is essential to Christian living. It was the exact reason Jesus came.

Matthew 20:28 tells us that “the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (NIV). To serve others with joy, our hearts must be humble. In Matthew 11:29, Jesus describes Himself as “gentle and humble in heart.”

I can’t say that I am always humble and gentle at heart when it comes to service. Let’s take an example from my household, like when the dishes are piled up in the sink, as they often are.

Just the sight of them can make my heart grow frustrated. I start cleaning the dishes, but internally, I am entertaining some major self-dialogue like: “I am the only one doing the dishes. No one else in the family is helping me.”

Thoughts like this make my heart grow hard and cold. Before long, my frustration bubbles over, and I say to my kids and husband, “Guys, I have already washed twenty or thirty dishes. Can you all come and help too?” (Insert slightly raised voice.) Notice: I have even counted the dishes I’ve washed, including small spoons and forks. (Do you get an idea of my ridiculousness?)

I don’t think Jesus counted how many fish He cooked that morning. I don’t think He was angry that the disciples were out on the water while He was on the shore cooking. No. He lovingly prepared breakfast. And He did the work with gladness.

That’s not always me. Yes, I do the work, but too often, I’m not really serving. My heart isn’t glad, and I am not gentle or humble.

That’s not how I want to be. So to change my attitude, I’ve started listening to worship music while doing the dishes. It calms my spirit and reminds me that washing is a way to serve my family and the Lord. If Jesus my Savior came “not to be served, but to serve,” then why shouldn’t I serve happily and humbly as well?

Are you joining Jesus in the good work of serving others with gentleness and humility? Or are you doing the work but with a grumbling heart?

Let’s reflect Jesus in every act of service for His glory. Pray with me: “Lord Jesus, help me to serve others humbly. Allow me the privilege to be Your hands and feet on earth, so others can see You in everything I do. In Jesus’s name, amen.”