Something’s Rotten

“Something is rotten in here,” my husband complained as he held both refrigerator doors wide open. An awful smell wafted through the air. He was right. Something had gone bad somewhere in the depths of my fridge. I needed to find it and throw it in the trash, but going through that fridge to hunt down the source of the odor would take more time than I had to spare. So I didn’t deal with it at first.

After a couple of days of being nearly knocked over every time we opened the fridge, however, I could no longer put it off. I decided to roll up my sleeves and investigate.

One by one, I removed containers and plastic bags full of leftovers that someone had shelved away for later use. Most items were only a few days old and easily passed the sniff test.

Eventually, I found the culprit. There, on the bottom shelf in the farthest corner of the fridge, was a take-home container from a Chinese restaurant. That week-old beef and broccoli practically waved at me when I opened the container. I carried it to the garbage, relieved to have found the source of the stench but amazed at how badly one little container of spoiled takeout could stink things up. I resolved to pay closer attention to what I put in the fridge and to clean things out more often.

As I put everything else back in place, I realized that my heart is kind of like a refrigerator. It’s the home of all my emotions, feelings, desires, and motives. Just like I have to be mindful of the food that accumulates in my fridge, I must be careful with what I allow to accumulate in the compartments of my heart (Proverbs 4:23).

If I let the wrong things linger, my thoughts will spoil just like those leftovers. Before long, the stench of sin will permeate my life. People who care about me might even point out that I am becoming unpleasant to be around. And once it has been brought to my attention, I can’t ignore it, or I risk becoming offensive to God.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10 NIV). I whisper these words to the Lord in prayer almost daily. I ask Him to point out the areas of my heart that need His attention (Psalm 139:23–24). God is faithful and always responds to me with grace, mercy, and gentle correction exactly where I need it (Proverbs 3:12). Repentance is soothing to a heart that needs a good cleaning.

What’s hiding in your heart that has the potential to go rotten? What painful thing are you avoiding? Maybe it’s something you meant to address, but life got in the way and you forgot about it.

Whatever it is—past trauma, unforgiveness, anger—don’t avoid it any longer. Once that matter of the heart starts to spoil, it’ll stink, just like that week-old container of beef and broccoli.

If you’ve received Jesus Christ as your Savior, then He has wiped your heart clean of your sinful nature. Jesus did the hard work when He willingly laid down His life to forgive your sins. All you have to do is care for that heart by staying close to God and by seeking Him through His Word and prayer.

Invite the Holy Spirit to examine your heart. Ask Him to do regular, thorough cleanings. Ask Him to eliminate the things that keep you from fulfilling God’s purpose for your life.

You will reflect Christ more clearly to those you encounter, and you will carry the fragrant, pleasing aroma that God created you to carry (2 Corinthians 2:15).

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

Find True Love

When I was ten, my mother called my siblings and me into a room and told us our dad had been killed in a car accident. It was traumatic news, but it was even worse because I had never heard my dad tell me he loved me, not even once. And now, I never would.

The absence of those words led me to believe I wasn’t good enough to be loved. I felt eternally rejected by my father.

Have you ever felt unlovable, unloved, or rejected? It hurts, doesn’t it?

To ease the pain, I set out to find love through people and possessions. I worked hard and became a successful businessman. I accumulated many things and surrounded myself with many people.

Have you heard the old Mickey Gilley song called “Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places”? Well, that was me.

I reasoned that people would love me if I had a lot of stuff to offer them. I was wrong.

When people didn’t fill the void, I began looking for love in booze and drugs. Surely those substances wouldn’t reject me. High under their influence, I felt confident and secure. But the high they offered always let me down.

I’m reminded of  a mission trip to China I took not long ago. Before I returned home, I had time to visit a shopping center in Beijing. I found all sorts of amazing deals on designer merchandise—things selling at a fraction of what I’d pay back home. Excited, I picked up four famous-maker jackets for $15.00 each. What a deal!

Not really. Those coats turned out to be knockoffs. Every item in that center was a cheap copy of the real thing, just like the relationships I’d built on stuff and the acceptance I’d sought in booze and drugs. They were cheap imitations of real love. And the little they offered only brought more pain and even led me to prison.

So let me tell you this: Drugs and alcohol cannot love. A successful business can’t love you, either. Nor can people who “love” you solely for what you give them. Those things and those people will only leave you empty.

The Bible tells us that true and eternal love is found in Christ alone. His love is unconditional. You can’t earn or lose it. God’s love is everlasting (Jeremiah 31:3; John 3:16), and it’s all yours, just for the asking.

That’s good news because even the love of the best parent, spouse, child, or friend will inevitably disappoint you. But God never will (Romans 10:11). He can’t because God is love (1 John 4:8).

Even more than that, when we accept His love, He makes us His children forever. “See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1 NLT).

Sadly, it took me 42 years to accept my heavenly Father’s true, unconditional love. And to think, I spent a fortune trying to earn something from others that God was ready to give to me freely.

How about you? Are you striving to prove your worth through success? Are you trying to earn the love of others through stuff? Are you surrounding yourself with people who don’t care about you, just so you won’t be alone? That’s an exhausting, empty, dead-end road.

You don’t need to look any longer. True love can be yours today. Pray with me: Lord, I want Your love. I’m tired of looking for love in all the wrong places. Those things and people have only let me down. Today, I receive Your gift of love by accepting Your Son, Jesus, into my life. Thank You for welcoming me into Your family forever. Amen.

DANNY R. COX was called by God to be an evangelist while serving time in prison. He is now a credentialed evangelist and correctional chaplain. Danny shares his story in churches and prisons worldwide. His book, High on a Lie, may be purchased on Amazon in English and Spanish. He is the founder of Prison2Preacher Ministries.

Don’t Lose Heart

Even those with the strongest faith get tired of being strong. Even the longsuffering eventually grow weary of suffering.

You’ve prayed all the prayers, you’ve surrendered your circumstances to God, and now you’re trusting Him to do His part. You fully believe that God will reward your faith in the wait.

So why does everyone else seem to be moving on with their best life while yours feels like it’s on hold? You’ve done your best to wait patiently—but change is nowhere in sight.

This place of threadbare hope is the enemy’s playground. His whispers wedge between the truth you’re clinging to and the circumstances that surround you. “It’s silly to keep hoping,” he whispers. “You’re wasting time. What you’re asking for is too hard. Your time is past. That dream’s not for you. Give it up.”

If you’re tempted to lose heart, let me tell you, you are not alone. God’s Word speaks to this, showing us how to reset our anchor when hope is wearing thin. Here are five truths to remember when you are tempted to lose heart.

There’s always a “but God.” Psalm 73:26 says, “My flesh and my heart may fail; but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (NIV).

But God are two of the strongest words in scripture. They signal His sovereignty over circumstances and the perfection of His timing. God—not the situation—gets the last word. Even when it looks like your prayers have fallen flat, you can trust there’s a but God waiting in the wings.

Trust God’s goodness for you. The psalmist said, “I am confident I will see the Lord’s goodness while I am here in the land of the living” (Psalm 27:13 NLT).

When your strength gives way, remember God’s goodness. No matter the outcome, God’s goodness is for you. No matter how long you wait, God’s goodness is with you. Even if change never comes, God’s goodness will bring life to where you are.

Don’t stop praying. God isn’t surprised by our tendency to lose heart during a long wait. That’s why, in Luke 18:1, Jesus urged his disciples to “pray and never give up” (NLT).

He told them a story about an annoyingly persistent widow who kept seeking justice from an uncaring  judge. That man ignored the widow for as long as he could, but she continued to bother him until he finally gave her what she wanted.

Then Jesus pointed out that God—the Father who loves without failing—is not like that unjust man. God delights in giving justice to His people simply because they ask for it (Luke 18:7).

You can never pray too much to God. He won’t get tired of you. Just keep praying and don’t lose heart.

God is preparing you for eternity. “Never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day. Our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever” (2 Corinthians 4:16–17 NLT).

While none of us wants suffering and we pray it away, God uses it to prepare us for eternity. The apostle Paul went through intense persecution, but he knew God never wastes suffering. He uses it to shape us for an eternity beyond compare.

Let the pain of longing draw you to God, knowing that eternity with Him far surpasses any pain you will experience here.

Fix your eyes on Jesus. It’s easy to lose heart when you hyperfocus on circumstances and people around you. The thing is, you’re not running their race; you’re running yours. And you have no idea what God has ahead for you in your lane.

Hebrews 12:1–3 says to run with endurance, fixing your eyes on Jesus. Otherwise, you’ll grow weary and lose heart. Cling to Jesus when you’ve waited long past your own timeline for change. He doesn’t just give hope. He is hope.

No matter what you’re wrestling with, struggling against, wading through, or waiting for, “Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord” (Psalm 27:14 NLT).

LISA APPELO is a speaker, writer, and Bible teacher who inspires women to deepen their faith in the midst of grief and find hope in the hard. Formerly a litigating attorney, her days are now filled with parenting seven children, ministering, writing, speaking, and running enough to justify lots of dark chocolate. Find encouragement for faith, grief, and hope at LisaAppelo.com.

Don’t Let Fear Stop You

Several years ago, I taught a class at work. At the end of each session, the participants completed a survey rating the relevance of the class material as well as my knowledge of the subject matter and overall speaking ability.

They could rate my class as great, good, or fair. Afterward, the surveys were shared with the vice president of our department and my manager, who then presented the results to me.

I’d taught the class many times and had received great and good ratings each time. Those reports made me feel confident about myself and my ability as a presenter.

But then it happened. I got a fair rating. A fair! It shook me to the core.

It didn’t matter that I had received hundreds of great and good ratings and only one fair out of about 900 participants. That single fair rating was all I could think about, and it taunted me day and night. Carla, you’re no good at public speaking. How could you even think you could speak to others? You’re stupid; no one wants to listen to you. You don’t know anything!

I continued to obsess over that one negative report, to the point that I completely lost confidence in myself. I became so paralyzed with fear about speaking in public again that I went to the vice president and tried to get out of teaching future classes. It did not work.

Recognizing the fear fueling my request, she refused to let me crawl under my desk. Instead, she encouraged me and pointed out the good in those surveys. And then she told me I’d be teaching that class again the next day.

I can’t say I was so happy then, but I’m grateful now. Because of her, I continued to teach the class to another 1,000 participants. And although I received more fair ratings, they no longer sent me into a tailspin. This was a great learning experience that helped me realize the power fear can have over us.

It took me decades to realize that fear is not of God. Second Timothy 1:7 says, “The Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline” (NIV).

The Bible teaches that fear is a spirit that comes against God’s children. Satan can take a single comment from a person, even something as meaningless as a fair rating, and make us feel like such failures that we’re afraid to try ever again.

He blows up situations that are nonissues, hoping we’ll be consumed by self-defeating thoughts. He wants us to forget how far we’ve come and how much we’ve accomplished and instead believe that we have nothing of value to say. Satan sends fear to paralyze and silence us.

But as God’s children, we don’t have to let him win. God wants to use us as His hands and feet on earth. How can we do that if we are hiding in fear?

Are you fighting fear right now? Search God’s Word and let His Spirit encourage you with the truth. God delights in every detail of your life, even the things that send you into a tailspin. Why? Because He uses them to draw you closer. Let His love and power help you overcome your fear today.

Psalm 37:23–24 states, “The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand” (NIV).

See? God’s got you. Grab His hand. He’ll strengthen you and enable you to face whatever and whoever is before you. Even if you’ve stumbled, God is still there, ready to lead you. You only truly fail when you don’t try again.

The next time Satan attacks you with a spirit of fear, don’t take the bait. Don’t let it lead you into self-isolation or keep you from moving forward. Remember who you are in Christ and face that scary situation with Him.

With God, you can overcome any challenge (Philippians 4:13).

CARLA OWENS loves the Lord and seeks to know Him more intimately daily. She is Kristi Overton Johnson’s executive assistant and the administrative director of Victorious Living.

Come Out Of Hiding

Reading the Bible gives me so much encouragement. In its pages I find truth, life, and power. Recently, I read the story of Gideon in Judges 6.

The Israelites were God’s chosen people, but they were in a terrible state because of their sin. The Bible says they had done evil in the Lord’s sight by doing what was right in their own eyes. As a result, God allowed the Midianites, their harsh enemy, to ravage their land, destroy their crops, and kill their livestock.

Their  plight reminds us that living a life deliberately contrary to God’s will and in pursuit of one’s own desires will lead to hard, frightening, barren, and lonely places.

In Judges 6:11, we meet Gideon, who was threshing wheat while hiding in a winepress. The fact that he was threshing wheat in a deep hole where wine is usually pressed shows just how afraid he was. He was hoping his enemy wouldn’t see him and steal his grain.

Reportedly, the Midian army was so vast the Israelites couldn’t even count their camels, much less the warriors themselves. No wonder Gideon was hiding.

And yet, that place of fear, desperation, and isolation was exactly where the angel of the Lord chose to appear to Gideon. He greeted him and presented an incredible, God-sized assignment: God wanted Gideon to deliver the Israelites from the hand of their enemy.

I love the angel’s greeting for Gideon in Judges 6:12. The NIV says: “The Lord is with you, mighty warrior.” The NLT says: “Mighty hero, the Lord is with you!”

Remember now, this “hero” was so frightened, he was in hiding!

The angel’s greeting holds truths that can change our lives. Notice how, before he said anything else, the angel made sure that Gideon knew God was with Him. But those words were hard for Gideon to receive.

Life was hard. Our man was hungry, afraid, and facing an evil army. His response in Judges 6:13 shows his doubts: “Pardon me, my lord,” Gideon replied, “but if the Lord is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders that our ancestors told us about?” (NIV).

Those were some brave questions to ask an angel—but Gideon felt abandoned, even punished, by God. All those miracles he’d heard about that God used to do for the Israelites? Well, he hadn’t seen one.  And now this God wanted Gideon to do what?

Have you ever asked God questions like these? Maybe you’ve said, “Pardon me, but where are You, God? Where are the miracles I’ve heard about? Why haven’t You rescued me and my family? Why do we have to suffer so much?”

I wish I could answer your questions. I have my own. Unfortunately, this passage shows us that we won’t always get the answers we seek. Gideon didn’t.

The angel answered Gideon’s questions with this command, “Go in the strength you have and save Israel out of Midian’s hand. Am I not sending you?” (v. 14 NIV).

My personal paraphrase of this verse is: “Gideon, you don’t need to understand why. All you need to know is that I am with you and I am sending you. Trust Me. Trust that in Me you are strong enough. Come out of the winepress, and you’ll see miracles like you’ve never imagined. You will lead my people and defeat your enemy. I will use you to change the world.”

At this point, Gideon had two options. He could stay in the winepress, full of fear, doubt, confusion, and maybe even anger toward God. Or he could come out of the winepress and join God on an adventure. We have these options too.

Please—don’t choose to stay in the winepress. Don’t let your questions keep you from the answers you seek. God is the answer. Don’t let your doubts keep you from facing whatever lies before you. It’s when you step out with God to face your enemy that amazing things start to happen.

The angel of the Lord reminded Gideon that he was not alone. He also reminded Gideon who he was in God’s eyes. Gideon was God’s mighty hero. His warrior. His champion.

Think about it—God called Gideon, a frightened man hiding in a winepress, a mighty warrior! God always sees us as we can be. He sees the champion in each of us.

But Gideon didn’t feel like a champion; he felt like a chump. “How can I save Israel?” he protested. “My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family” (Judges 6:15 NIV).

Surely, our man thought God had the wrong guy—but God had chosen exactly the man He wanted to use, and through Gideon, God showed His glory to both Israel and her enemy.

God loves to use people the world says are useless, people who are afraid and facing tremendous odds (1 Corinthians 1:27). And He uses them to change the world.

Gideon did choose to step out and take God at His word, but it wasn’t easy. In fact, right before he went into battle, God stripped Gideon of everything he could have relied on. He sent home most of the army, along with their mighty weapons and clever military strategies.

Read Judges 7:17–25 to learn how the enemy was defeated when God caused the Midianites to turn on each other with their own swords while Gideon and his 300 men blew trumpets, smashed pitchers, and waved torches.

When God is on your side—when you’re on His side—even if all odds are against you, you will not be defeated. Even when you’ve lost everything the world says you need to succeed, there’s still hope. Romans 8:31 NIV says, “What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?” No one.

Nothing can separate you from His love or His power. Nothing can stop God. There is no enemy too great for Him. Read Romans 8:38–39. With God, you win!

Are you hiding in fear, feeling powerless and worthless? Then you are exactly the one God wants to invite on an adventure with Him. Maybe you feel like you have nothing to give to God. That’s okay—He only needs you. Do you feel weak and helpless? Go in the strength you have. That’s all God needs. Does the enemy seem too great? No worries. God is greater.

Step out in your weakness. God promises to meet you with His strength (2 Corinthians 12:9–11). As you live in faith, even if it’s as small as a mustard seed, God will move the obstacles that are in your way (Matthew 17:20). He will fight your battles. And all the while, He’ll be looking at you and saying, “You are My mighty, courageous warrior.”

Receive this truth today. Come out of your hiding place; victory is yours.

Kristi Overton Johnson encourages and equips people for victory through her writings, speaking engagements, and prison ministry. To learn more, go to kojministries.org.

Clean State

A courtroom can be a scary place. As an addict who repeatedly made destructive choices, I know what it feels like to stand before a judge with my fate hanging in the balance. I experienced so much anxiety, fear, and worry there.

I cycled in and out of jail for years, seeing no need for God. In my mind, I was God. I worked hard trying to control everything and everyone. I judged harshly, and I loved conditionally. You do for me, and I’ll do for you. You love me, and I’ll love you. That’s how I lived.

We’re all born with a sin nature that can lead to pride and rebellion. Some people, like me, cling to this sinful nature, deliberately opposing God and any form of authority. Still, it’s a costly choice to become God’s enemy. The penalty for sin is death—eternal separation from Him (Romans 6:23).

But death doesn’t have to be our fate.  It is true that we are born into sin and have a sinful nature. It’s also true that no matter how hard we try, we can’t change that fact. Only faith in Jesus Christ can change our destiny.

Jesus gives us hope. Romans 4:25 says Jesus was “handed over to die because of our sins, and he was raised to life to make us right with God” (NLT).

Romans 5:10 teaches us that while we were His enemy, God reconciled us to Himself through the death of His Son. God, in His love, kindness, and compassion, made a way out from the death sentence of sin. Jesus willingly gave His life by taking our place on the cross and canceling our sin debt forever—past, present, and future.

I like to imagine it this way: You and I are standing in a heavenly court with God as our judge. We are guilty. We’re facing the death penalty. But right before God declares our fate, Jesus walks in and says to the judge, “Let them go. I died in their place.”

The heavenly gavel falls with a thunderous sound as God accepts the sentence and finalizes the ruling. “You are free to go,” He says. “Jesus has taken your place and wiped your record clean. You are hereby declared innocent of all charges from this day forward.”

Sound too good to be true? It’s not. This is exactly what Jesus did for us (2 Corinthians 5:21). All you have to do to receive His gift and escape sin’s death penalty is believe and accept that Jesus paid the price for your sins and made you clean (Romans 10:9).

Did you know that when Jesus died, He gave you a new identity? You are not the same person anymore. As a new person, you’re given a clean past. You are not what or who you used to be. God doesn’t see that person anymore (Psalm 32:1–2). Your past sin is no longer an issue to Him.

Along with giving you a clean slate, Jesus removes sin’s power over you. Because of Him, you are free from the bondage and slavery that were part of your past. Sin has no hold on you anymore. God’s Spirit lives inside you to give you victory over all those past habits and vices. (See Romans 6–8.)

Understanding these truths is vital to living a transformed life. Satan will still remind you of your faults, flaws, and failures. He will point out your weaknesses and tell you how unworthy you are of Jesus’s payment for your sin. But guess what. You don’t have to listen! Don’t trade God’s truth and love for Satan’s lies (Romans 1:25).

You were made right with God when you placed your trust in Jesus (Romans 3:22). He did that for you, and nothing you do will change that truth. Receive His gift of forgiveness today. Tell Him, with deep appreciation, “Thank You, Lord!”

And then go live a life that shows your gratitude unto Him.

SHERIDAN CORREA is a biblical counselor who is trained in trauma-informed care. She’s a wife, mother of two teenage boys, singer, and avid runner who has been radically changed by Jesus. She joined the Victorious Living family in 2022 as the digital content manager.

Becoming a Person of Victory

To say I was the apple of my parents’ and my grandparents’ eyes would be an understatement. They lavished me, their only child, with love, attention, and encouragement. They provided everything I needed and gave me everything I wanted. I even had a pony named Nicole’s Dream.

I wish I could say I took those blessings and used them to change the world, but I did not. I couldn’t see past my own desires to care about what was happening to anyone else.

I’m sure my parents hoped I’d grow out of my selfish phase, but I didn’t. Everything was about me. Always. And I continued my selfish and careless ways well into adulthood. As a result, I unintentionally hurt many people.

I became a mom at 19. How my son and I survived is beyond me—I was a big kid caring for a child. I had no idea what I was doing. Still, by the world’s standards, I was doing well. I became financially successful and provided a nice life for my son…for a while.

On the weekends, I’d take a break from all my hard work and ride motorcycles with my boyfriend. I loved hitting the road with my bleach-blond hair flying out from underneath my helmet. The wind on my face made me feel wild and fancy-free. I thought I was living the dream.

But at age 30, I found myself in the middle of a criminal investigation. My dream had become my nightmare.

I’ve often pondered how a person with such a great life could end up in prison. My rebellious spirit is to blame. I wanted what I wanted and never considered the consequences. I was the queen of my life’s throne, and building my kingdom was all I cared about.

I never touched alcohol during the week; I focused on work and my son. But when the weekend came, I partied hard. Eventually, my drinking led to hard drugs.

“It’s fine,” I convinced myself. “You’re just a recreational user.” My head was buried so far in the sand that I couldn’t see the trouble that was headed my way.

It began when a local drug dealer gave up the names of his associates, which somehow included mine. Law enforcement didn’t care that I was “only” an occasional drug user and had never bought drugs directly from this dealer. I was found guilty of misprision—I had known of felony activity and did not report it.

Just like that, life and all its comforts were gone. Prison became my home for the next thirteen months. Nothing could have prepared this spoiled girl for the shock of prison life. I had zero skills for survival or coping. Grief, anger, confusion, and despair suffocated me daily.

Nighttime was the worst. It was impossible to sleep as muffled cries and whimpers hung in the thick air of the shared bunkroom. My thoughts ran wild, and any sleep I did manage was full of nightmares.

Evil lurked in every shadow. Fear and loneliness were my constant companions, and sorrow and sadness hung over me like a thick, black cloud of doom. Hope and peace eluded me, and I shuffled aimlessly toward my release date.

I served most of my sentence and then transitioned to a halfway house. After four months there, the feds freed me to go home with a multiyear sentence of community service and parole.

I had hoped going home would free me from the tormenting thoughts that filled my sleep-deprived mind, but the night terrors continued. I woke up most nights, drenched in sweat, mistaking my bed at home for my bed in prison.

Desperate for rest, I started sleeping in my car, locked in the garage. When I woke up there, I immediately knew I was in my car at home—not in prison.

When my old friends started coming around, I realized I needed to make a change, or I’d end up back in prison. I put a for-sale sign in the yard, loaded up my son and whatever we could fit into the car, and left. I threw my cell phone with all my contacts out the window along the highway and never looked back.

My first stop was southwest Florida, where I lived with my mom until I could get on my feet. Not long after, a friend invited me to church. Uh, no thanks! Growing up, I had attended a religious school, and I imagined God was some angry guy dangling me over hell, just waiting for me to mess up. I didn’t want any part of Him.

I don’t remember agreeing to go, but somehow I found myself inside her church. My resistant heart melted as I heard about God’s promises and love for me and the freedom I could have in Jesus. It’s true: “Faith comes from hearing the message” (Romans 10:17 NIV). In the presence of the radiant power of Jesus Christ, I felt real hope for the first time.

I kept going to church with my friend, but it was six weeks before I could sit through an entire sermon. Emotions would overwhelm me, and I would rush out of the service and go to the church bathroom or parking lot to cry. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I’d never been much of a crier, but I was coming apart at the seams.

The day I finally made it to the end of a sermon, I felt every word the pastor said. I was under the conviction of the Holy Spirit and knew those words were for me. God’s goodness brought me to repentance (Acts 3:19; Romans 2:4), and I surrendered to His love.

God’s love broke through my pride, anger, resentment, shame, and traumatic memories . Peace replaced fear, and community pushed away the loneliness as I discovered my identity as His daughter. He gave me a new heart, too; one that was no longer selfish (2 Corinthians 5:17; Ezekiel 36:26).

My ultimate desire was for the One who chased me down while I was still a hot mess. I had done things my way for too long; it was time to get off the throne and let God have His seat. I became sold out for Jesus and couldn’t get enough of God’s Word.

Once Jesus became the Lord of my life, I became like a baby. I had to learn to walk, speak, and act differently. I had to learn how to think and make decisions with the mind of Christ. It wasn’t easy.

Since 2007, my journey with the Lord has been like Abraham’s. In his story, God promised abundant blessings, but Abraham had to obey what God told him to do and go where God told him to go. (See Genesis 17:1–25:11.) God gave me the same marching orders. Like Abraham, I had to move forward obediently, not knowing where He was leading me or why.

I don’t recall the Lord calling me to serve in jail and prison ministry. It was more like a shove from the Holy Spirit. The idea hadn’t crossed my mind until I saw a flyer at church asking for volunteers to visit the local county jail on Christmas Day.

I was alone for the holidays and needed something to do, so I volunteered. The next thing I knew, I was walking through the doors of Alachua County Jail in Gainesville, Florida. I don’t remember anything I said during the five minutes I shared my testimony, but I will never forget what happened next. All ten women who came to our service that day gave their lives to the Lord.

“Is this something you’d be interested in doing more often?” Another volunteer asked me. “Absolutely not,” I responded.  And I thought I meant it. I imagine God got a good chuckle at my response.

From that day forward, He made things happen that aren’t possible for an ex-felon like me. The couple who had been serving faithfully left to do ministry elsewhere, and they handed the women’s ministry at the Alachua County Jail over to me.

Jennifer, one of the women there, reminded me of the need for services like ours in prison. She was being transferred to the Florida Women’s Reception Center (FWRC) and was concerned about finding a Christian community there.

Fourteen years had passed since I’d been in prison, and I was not interested in returning, not even for a good reason like this. Besides, I didn’t even know how to start the process, so I passed on the idea. Ignorance was bliss.

But then, I received a letter from Jennifer. “Dear Miss Nicole,” she wrote. “I told the chaplain here about you, and he wants you to call him immediately.”

I dialed the chaplain’s number, chuckling at the thought of an ex-felon being cleared to go into prison. But the hand of God was working to put me on the mission field that He had been preparing me for my whole life. The doors to the prison system opened shockingly fast.

From the moment I walked through the doors of the FWRC, I felt at home. That’s because I recognized my former self in the faces of the people before me. Lonely. Hurt. Lost. Humiliated. Broken.

These ladies desperately needed to know the love of their heavenly Father. They needed to know about Jesus, who died for their sins so they could have eternal life and find freedom from addictions, past abuse, and other traumas. They also needed to learn how to fight the spiritual entities waging war against their souls. (See 2 Corinthians 10:4–5; Ephesians 6:10–17.)

The needs of these women quickly exceeded my ability to handle them, and a friend suggested I start a nonprofit organization. The same favor from the Lord that allowed me to preach the gospel in prison came onto the scene, and I became the founder of The Jesus Infusion.

Since its inception in 2015, The Jesus Infusion has served thousands of women in prison. We meet them where they are in their walk with God and show them His grace. Freedom and new perspectives on life are discovered daily. The Holy Spirit works through our volunteers to provide chapel services, mentoring and discipling, life-skills classes, and baptisms.

People presume that prison is a wasteland, but it’s not. It’s a place where God reaches out to His children who are sitting in darkness and pain. He commands us to go to them and infuse the light of Jesus into their lives (Isaiah 6:8). Prisoners everywhere need to know that there’s hope and that change is possible.

I thought my life was over when I was arrested and taken to prison—but look at what my heavenly Father had in store. God transformed this once selfish woman into an obedient servant who cares for the welfare of others. And to think, I could have missed it all—including the incredible blessing of finding my best friend, husband, and ministry partner, Randy.

God has saved me from myself and made me a person of victory. He brought me from rebellion to redemption, from selfishness to submission, and has placed me in the land of victory.

You can live there too—victory comes to anyone who submits and surrenders their heart, mind, and will to God.

NICOLE DYSON knows firsthand the importance of being loved and heard. She and her husband, Randy, are invested in infusing the love of Jesus into the lives of everyone they serve, on both sides of prison walls. For more information, visit www.thejesusinfusion.org.

Miracles Still Happen

I was a typical teen at the beginning of my sophomore year. I attended church with my family once or twice a month, did well enough in school, had close friends, and was active in sports. By the start of the second semester, however, I was anything but typical.

I fought hard to maintain a facade that everything was okay, but my increasingly bizarre symptoms and behaviors soon made it impossible. My hands and feet began to betray me, and my equilibrium was becoming a problem. I lost my ability to write legibly, and my teachers had to assign a classmate to take notes for me.

It was difficult to explain to my basketball coach why I could no longer handle the ball or rebound properly. Frustrated, I quit the team.

I began having tics and would unknowingly clench my fist, skip, or make low-pitched grunts. As you can imagine, my peers took notice. But that wasn’t all. Loud noises, only present to me, were sounding in my head. I heard slamming doors and distant, loud explosions.

I began experiencing great outbursts of frustration and anger, especially at home. My parents’ mild-mannered son was gone, and they feverishly sought answers from professionals. It was a confusing time for all of us, including my siblings, who often bore the brunt of my outbursts.

Pediatricians seemed untroubled at first. They said I was a 15-year-old boy and chalked it up to hormones. Tics, they assured us, were common in adolescents; I’d grow out of them.

Despite what the doctors said, I knew something was wrong, especially once the voices started. They were loud, angry, and aggressive. I chose not to tell my already alarmed parents or anyone else about my new “friends.”

Weeks passed and these schizophrenic  hallucinations all but consumed me. I kept numerous journals of dark conversations. Those voices hounded me, telling me to end my life and how best to do it.

Frightened, I finally confessed to my mom what I was enduring. The doctors told her to observe me closely in case I acted on those suicidal suggestions.

Life at school grew more difficult. The kids were sure I’d lost my mind; many bullied me. They didn’t know what to do with Josh-the-Psycho, who walked the halls muttering to himself.

Months into this ordeal, Mom finally found a doctor who cared enough to investigate what was wrong. He suspected a new but controversial disease called PANDAS (Pediatric Autoimmune Neuropsychiatric Disorders Associated with Streptococcal Infections) was ravishing my brain and body. He explained that the recent strep infection I’d had had sparked an underlying infection I’d probably had since I was a baby.

He went on to tell us that PANDAS is usually curable after a couple months of basic antibiotics. Our hopes soared, and I started treatment immediately while the doctor closely monitored my blood work.

After several rounds of different medications, however, very little changed. The voices in my head cruelly mocked my efforts to regain my health. And then, the doctor told us that in rare cases, PANDAS might not be cured and over time could affect my organs and even lead to coma or death.

Hearing this was terrifying. I might die? “Yep, you will,” the voices gleefully confirmed. I was already having trouble with my kidneys.

“Oh God,” I cried out. “Help me!” I might have been young, but even I could see that the doctors and medicine weren’t helping. There was nothing left for me unless God did something. He was my only hope.

I’d never really prayed before and had no idea what I was doing. Yes, I had attended church and I believed God existed, but that was it. My family had never faced anything we couldn’t overcome, and we were all on our knees now, hoping to witness something miraculous.

My friend who took notes for me in class invited me to a Bible study he attended with a few classmates. Unlike other kids who pushed me away, these guys embraced me and helped me navigate the disease and the bullying at school. They also introduced me to the loving, saving God of the Bible. I don’t know what I would have done without them.

I went all-out crazy, learning about God and faith. I studied the Bible, grasping at theology and apologetics. I drank in biblical stories, all of them, and wondered… Could the God who performed those miracles back then perform a miracle in my life now?

I wondered if God would ever release me from the clutches of this terrible disease. My circumstances weren’t pointing to better days. But with the help of my friends and God’s Word, I became confident that God would do something for me (Psalm 27:13).

My junior year passed in a blur, but I kept hoping against all odds that I would be healed (Romans 4:18). Still, nothing changed. And then, right before my senior year, I attended a Christian camp in the North Carolina mountains with my sister, Bible study friends, and 500 other teenagers. I had to laugh when I saw a scheduled naptime. Teenagers taking naps? Yeah, right.

On the second day of camp, July 5, 2017, I got in my bunk for that required naptime, but I couldn’t sleep. An urgency to pray rose in my spirit, and I couldn’t be still; I had to go outside.

I snuck out of the cabin and went to the worship tent. As I entered that empty space, the voices in my head grew louder than ever. I felt like I was going insane.

Desperate for peace, I dropped to my knees, closed my eyes, and prayed. A few minutes later, I was startled by a deafening silence. The raucous voices in my head had ceased, as if someone had flipped a switch.

A beam of light pierced me and then rose toward heaven. I panicked. And then I heard a new voice. It was unwavering and authoritative, yet kind.

“Son, I did not forget you. Get up and never be the same.” The light beam suddenly shifted and aimed at me again. A sacred silence filled the space.

I jumped up, shaking.

What just happened? Whatever it was, I was feeling weirdly good. I sprinted back to the cabin to find my best friend, who knew immediately that something was different. My tics were gone and my balance restored. I told him what had happened, and he asked, “Is it possible you’re healed?”

I grabbed a pen and paper and began to write. Every word was legible. Stunned, we burst out in laughter. Had God healed me? I was almost afraid to believe it.

That evening at chapel, my sister confirmed my healing. We hadn’t seen each other all day, so she had no reason to expect any change in me. When she saw me, though, she knew immediately  that something was different. I told her what happened, and then she shared what she had experienced during naptime.

While I was in the tent praying, God had given my sister a dream where I was walking beside her, completely healed. We were ecstatic.

A camp leader gave my parents a heads-up, and when we got home, they couldn’t believe their eyes. They were overjoyed.

“I’m good,” I told them, grinning. “I’m really good.” We hugged each other, celebrating through tears.

A visit with my doctor confirmed that the infection was completely gone. He was baffled as he studied my blood work.

Since that moment, I have been determined to testify to the miracle-working power of God. I want everyone to know that, yes, the God who performed miracles thousands of years ago is still performing miracles today.

Not long after my healing, God revealed to me in a dream that I would be in ministry by the time I turned 18 and a pastor by 20. I’m 21 now, and both have come to pass. God has given me other dreams of future ministry that He has shown will unify churches. I’m excited to watch Him unfold my future. It must be good, or the devil wouldn’t have tried so hard to take me out.

The Great Commission, found in Matthew 28:19, drives my zeal for God. I want to go into the world and make disciples for Jesus Christ. I also want to rouse believers to the reality that God is still a miracle worker. So many don’t believe He does that anymore.

That’s a lie Satan wants us to accept, but God is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). He doesn’t change!

If you’re in the middle of something painfully dark and confusing right now, please don’t lose hope or faith in God. I know it’s hard, but “hold tightly without wavering…for God can be trusted to keep his promise” (Hebrews 10:23 NLT). God has not forgotten you.

Keep coming boldly but reverently to His throne of grace. That’s where you’ll find the help you need (Hebrews 4:16). The Lord will strengthen you with His joy and peace. Sometimes, we have to walk a journey of pain to experience the beautiful revelation of a miracle.

Don’t be afraid to admit to others that you are struggling. Some things, like suicidal thoughts, shouldn’t be dealt with alone. Surround yourself with trusted people. Be honest. The devil will taunt you and tell you that you have no hope and that death is the answer. Don’t listen. Combat those lying voices with God’s truth. When you resist the devil, he will flee (James 4:7).

In my senior year of high school, I earned a new name: Jesus Boy. Some meant it to poke fun, but that’s okay. I wear that name like a badge of honor. There’s no one I’d rather be.

JOSH ROGISTER is the youth pastor at Christ Hope Church where he helps people of all ages develop their own authentic relationship with Jesus.

Unshakable Faith in Unthinkable Circumstances

The ringing of the telephone startled me awake. It was 12:35 a.m. Who would be  calling at this hour? I squinted as my husband turned on the light and reached for the phone on the nightstand. The pained look on Gene’s face made it clear that he was receiving alarming news.

He pulled the phone from his ear and choked out, “Jason has been arrested for the murder of his wife’s first husband. He’s in the jail in Orlando.”

I tried to get out of bed, but my legs buckled. Nausea swept over me. Everything felt as though it was moving in slow motion. I had never been in shock before.

No strength. Dizziness. I had to remind myself to breathe. Jumbled thoughts swirled through my head.

This has to be a mistake. A case of mistaken identity. Maybe I’m dreaming. That’s it. This is just a horrific dream. Jason isn’t capable of taking someone’s life, certainly not in a premeditated act of violence. My son is a dynamic Christian. He’s a graduate of the United States Naval Academy. He defends American citizens; he doesn’t destroy them. I’m going back to sleep. When I wake up, everything will be fine.

Still on the phone, Gene tried to calm our daughter-in-law, even while dealing with his own raw emotions. So many questions raced through our heads. How? Why? What happened? Was it an accident? Was it self-defense?

I stumbled to my office and called the local jail to see if he had been brought to that facility. The woman who answered the phone was rude: “Lady, we ain’t got nobody by that name, Jason Kent, in here. Your son ain’t here.”

For a few moments, hope returned. But within the hour, another call confirmed our worst fears. Jason Paul Kent, our only child, was locked up at the jail in Orlando. He was being held without bond on the worst felony charge possible—first-degree murder.

The next few hours were a blur of tears, panic, fear, and erratic, meaningless activity. Gene and I held each other and wept. We were parents caught in our worst nightmare.

Jason had been a joy to raise, and we loved him deeply. He was a focused, disciplined, compassionate, dynamic, and encouraging young man who wanted to live for things that mattered. He had dedicated himself to serving his God and country through military service in the US Navy.

When the unthinkable roared into our lives, our dreams for our only child came crashing down in a thousand broken pieces.

As the facts of the case unfolded, we learned that Jason and his wife had been pursuing multiple allegations of abuse against her first husband in regard to their children. Jason’s stepdaughters currently had supervised visits with their biological father, but he was seeking unsupervised visits.

Jason and his wife had prepared extensive paperwork on the abuse issues and taken it to an attorney, but they were told that, on a scale of one to ten, they had only an eight in provable abuse. Most likely, that would not be enough to keep supervision intact. Our son unraveled at the news until he did the unthinkable—he murdered the man in question.

We grieved over what Jason had done and the impact it would have on the deceased’s family. While we were planning for a trial of first-degree murder, they were planning a funeral. We were all experiencing deep sadness—crime impacts many and has lifelong repercussions.

Over the next several years, Gene and I found ourselves emotionally, financially, and spiritually devastated. We wanted to hide, but our friends stayed close. They launched a monthly email update, listing our tangible needs and prayer concerns. We became the recipients of lavish love as this growing list of people acted as the hands and feet of Jesus in our time of need. We had never been so needy, yet we had never felt so loved.

Our friends helped us endure two-and-a-half years and seven postponements of our son’s trial. When the trial finally came, Jason was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to life without the possibility of parole. As of this writing, all attempts for appeals at both the state and federal levels have been exhausted.

My son would tell you that he had made an idol out of his ability to rescue his stepdaughters instead of teaching them to dial 911, yell for help, and run away from danger. As a result, Jason made the most devastating choice he could have made, not only for his victim and his family but for his own family as well.

But, no matter the wrong choice, God can redeem it.

In His great salvage operation of redemption, He extracts value from even the most putrid rubbish. That is the promise of Romans 8:28: “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (NIV). As ministry leaders, Gene and I knew this verse well. Now we had to take God at His word.

We quickly discovered that God’s process of “working things out for our good” hurts. There were moments when we, as Paul says in 2 Corinthians 1:8, were under pressure “far beyond our ability to endure” (NIV). It felt like we were being crushed and wouldn’t live through it.

The enormity of our situation, however, like it did with Paul, taught us to stop relying on ourselves and to rely only on God. Every day, we had to fight the urge to control the situation. Putting Jason at the Lord’s feet was easy. Leaving him there was not.

Still, we knew only God could work out this mess. We poured out our hearts to Him daily. I took comfort in Psalm 38:9, which says, “All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you” (NIV).

So many questions tumbled around in my spirit. Lord, why didn’t You give Jason a flat tire before he got to that parking lot and pulled that trigger? You know his heart was centered on the protection of his stepdaughters.

Grief hung over us like a heavy cloud. Only our faith in God, His grace, and the love of others kept us standing.

Many people who heard about Jason’s arrest sent us cards. Most sent sympathy cards—the kind you get when someone dies. They were looking for appropriate words, but greeting card companies don’t sell cards for parents whose children have been arrested for murder.

One of my friends surprised us with a humorous card. It read, “Brain cells come, and brain cells go, but fat cells live forever.” I was stunned when I heard myself laughing out loud. I had thought I’d never laugh again. But in that moment, I felt alive.

I realized if Gene and I didn’t look for occasional splashes of joy in this journey, we’d be crushed beneath the weight of it.

It felt odd at first to laugh, wrong even. But eventually, we learned not to feel guilty about those lighter moments. We remembered John 10:10 (NIV), where Jesus says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”

We memorized this verse and reminded ourselves daily that Jesus wanted us to choose life. God did not intend for our son’s action to be the end of anyone’s story. He still had a purpose for us all if we trusted Him. Trusting Him, though, would require steps of faith that made us vulnerable to the judgments of others.

At first, most of the people who knew our story lived in Florida, where the crime had occurred. Gene and I lived a thousand miles away in Michigan, and that provided a temporary reprieve…but the news soon made its way north.

Once the local paper made the connection, a shocking headline informed the entire community of our painful situation: “Jason Kent, son of Gene and Carol Kent, arrested for murder.”

The timing couldn’t have been worse. I had a hair appointment the next day. Every part of me wanted to cancel and avoid the judgments of all those women in the salon. But I knew if I was ever going to hold my head up again, it had to be right then. Otherwise, I’d never find the courage to face the world.

Conversation ceased the moment I walked through those salon doors. I could almost hear the thoughts swirling under those dryers: “Oh, no! There’s the mother of the murderer.” “I can’t believe she’s in public. She must be embarrassed!” “Should I make eye contact?” It was an awkward moment for all.

I wanted to turn and run, but Azam, my Iranian friend who worked there, came to my aid. Feeling my pain, she took me by the hands and led me to a private room in the back.

There, she put her arms around me and said, “I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I am praying for you, your husband, and your son.” Then she pointed at the wall that separated us from the other women. “Don’t worry about them,” she said. “They’ll find someone else to talk about next week.” And they did.

Holding my head up after a devastating experience wasn’t easy. I had to be strong and courageous and trust that God was with me. (See Joshua 1:9; Proverbs 3:5–6.) I couldn’t allow feelings of embarrassment and false shame over my son’s wrong choices keep me from living.

Gene and I agreed we needed to be open and honest about our family’s journey, even though that level of authenticity would be difficult. Some people criticized us for speaking out about our journey, but for every critical person, there have been nine others who have said, “Thank you for being the real deal and sharing what’s happened.” Many then ask if they can share their stories with us.

One woman told me her husband had been incarcerated for 18 years and was being released in a month. I asked her if he was coming home to live with her. She said, “We’re going to try to make a go of it.”

Then she stood up straight and said confidently, “Today, you’ve given me the courage to tell my story. I’m going to quit hiding in false shame, and I’m going to tell people what’s happened to us and how God has brought us through it. I want to give people hope like you’ve given me.” (See 2 Corinthians 1:3-7.)

As I wrote in my book, When I Lay My Isaac Down, “I used to wonder how any good could come out of reviewing the details and reliving the pain of an unwanted experience. But I’ve discovered tremendous power is released when we dare to speak up and communicate our personal stories.

“What’s in a story? The opportunity to give hope to somebody else. By doing so, we remind others that life is an unpredictable journey for all of us.”

Through our experience, Gene and I have learned about the needs of inmates and their families—a population we’d never considered before Jason’s arrest. Now we are part of that world, and we’ve been able to use our journey for God’s glory.

Since there are over 2.2 million incarcerated individuals in America, Gene and I prayerfully brainstormed practical ways to minister to people whose lives, like ours, hadn’t turned out as expected. A year after Jason’s trial, we launched Speak Up for Hope, a national nonprofit organization that provides hope to inmates and their families through encouragement and resources. This outreach has given Gene and me a meaningful life during our challenge.

Choosing purposeful action in the middle of hopeless circumstances was perhaps our most important step on this journey. When we concentrate on the needs of others, our problems seem far less intense and depression does not squeeze the hope out of us. The more involved we get in helping others, the greater joy we experience.

It’s been 23 years since Jason received his life sentence. As the mom of a “lifer,” despite my deep sorrow over my son’s crime and the resulting consequences, I’m thankful that my son is living for the Lord in an unlikely place.

Early on, Jason became aware of the unspeakably harsh pain his actions had inflicted on his victim’s family and that the life he took could never be restored. He asked God to forgive him for his sin of murder.

He also asked the father of his victim for forgiveness. He’s never received a response—which has been difficult but understandable. Thankfully, God’s grace forgives even the most devastating choice (1 John 1:9).

It took time for Jason to fully embrace God’s forgiveness. Only then could he experience the redemption that is born out of deep sorrow for wrongdoing, total brokenness, and a recognition of his inability to fix anything apart from divine intervention. Jason knows he can never make this right, but he has committed to living the remainder of his life for the Lord.

God has used Jason mightily in the past two decades. He’s led hundreds of inmates through Dave Ramsey’s Financial Peace University course. He has mentored others, taught reentry programs, and used his Christianity and leadership skills to dispel tensions and bring peace to situations that only the Holy Spirit can provide.

I asked Jason how he keeps depression from enveloping him. He said, “Mom, I have a gratitude list. When I feel like I can’t go on, I list everything I’m thankful for, like having parents who are my advocates and family members and friends who put enough funds in my inmate account that I can share with those who have nothing.” Then he paused and said, “And I’m grateful that I have ministry opportunities every day on a compound that houses up to sixteen hundred inmates.”

Being grateful, laughing, living, serving, and being willing to be vulnerable and authentic has kept our family from being defeated by our circumstances. And it’s given our pain purpose.

There can be purpose in your pain too. Choose to have unshakable faith in your unthinkable circumstance. Life isn’t over. There’s hope for you and your family. Christ is your hope. And as Romans 5:5 promises, that hope will never put you to shame.

CAROL KENT  is the founder and executive director of Speak Up Ministries, a multifaceted organization that teaches Christian speakers, writers, and leaders to communicate well. Carol and her husband, Gene, founded the nonprofit Speak Up for Hope to provide resources to inmates and their families. For more information, visit speakupministries.com and speakupforhope.org.

There’s No Limiting God

There is neither limit nor an expiration date on what God can do in a person’s life.

By the time I was 57, my love for alcohol and myself had cost me everything dear. But that didn’t keep God from loving me, choosing me, and putting me in places where I could impact people’s lives.

For 40 years, I lived in the clutches of alcoholism and drug abuse. Programs told me I needed a higher power—something that could help me channel my thoughts and keep me sober. So I set out to find one. But each one I tried led to deeper levels of shame.

At 38, I reached an all-time low after my poor choices cost me both my marriage and a successful restaurant business. Devastated, I took my dog—the only friend I had left—and traveled to a remote place to hide from life.

I was a hopeless, pitiful sight as I sat with my loyal friend, Bailey, eating a bowl of Purina Puppy Chow soaked in Jack Daniels whiskey.

I had burned every bridge and had put everyone I loved through misery.

It all started when I was 14 and my parents delivered the shocking news that they were getting a divorce. We were a tight-knit family who attended church weekly. I’d never even seen my folks disagree, so I couldn’t understand why they would divorce.

I didn’t welcome the changes. Life wasn’t right without Dad, and strange emotions stirred in my heart. Mom cried often, and my siblings and I lived in painful confusion. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get my footing. Our family unit had been my security and foundation.

I begged God to help me. Every night, I curled up on my bed, played “The Lord’s Prayer” on my record player, and prayed, “Please, God, put my family back together.” But He didn’t.

No matter how hard I prayed, God remained silent. And that angered me. I couldn’t understand why He didn’t intervene if He was so good and loving. I don’t know if that’s when I consciously wrote God off, but I do know that I was no longer certain what to think about Him. So for the next 40 years, I lived apart from Him.

It wasn’t long before my parents each remarried. My stepparents didn’t stand a chance of gaining my acceptance. It wasn’t that they were unloving; they just didn’t fit into the picture of what I wanted my life to look like.

My parents’ divorce had turned my world upside down. I had no clue how to process the pain or navigate my new life. It didn’t help that my teenage body was raging with hormones, and I was experiencing peer pressure for all sorts of things. It was a perfect storm.

I sought out people and substances to help me escape my pain. Partying and surfing consumed my life, and I basically lived at the beach near our South Florida home. My grades reflected my new hobbies, and I failed my first semester of 11th grade.

My stepfather, a retired lieutenant colonel in the Air Force, suggested military school, and off I went. But nothing changed. More than discipline, I needed a new heart. Mine was in agony, and all I knew to do was to keep numbing it with substances.

Somehow, I made it through to graduation. Mom told me that if I wanted to continue living at home, I’d better get my act together. But I didn’t heed her warning. I racked up two DUI charges and, in separate incidents, totaled two cars. Then, I was arrested with the intent to distribute drugs.

True to her word, Mom kicked me out.

I moved into a camper van and sought work at a local restaurant. A friend of my dad’s noticed I had a knack for the food service industry and offered me work in his high-end Italian restaurant in Virginia. I jumped at the chance to move—what I’d call my first

geographic cure.

The restaurant world was an ideal match for my love for alcohol, drugs, and the party life. During this time, I met a beautiful young waitress, and we got married. Life was good.

Many influential people, including some related to organized crime, ate the food I served. I liked those guys and their exciting life, and they liked me. (It’s a good thing, because I also witnessed what happened to the people they didn’t like.)

They sat around the table laughing and carrying on their business while I took it all in. It wasn’t long before I was gambling and helping the bookies collect and pay out.

I discovered I enjoyed cooking and, in 1982, decided to attend chef school in France for six months to develop my skills. When I returned, I worked at Maison Blanche in DC, right across the street from the White House. Soon, one of the restaurant owners I had worked for in Virginia suggested we start a new restaurant. He put up the money and I put up the talent, but it wasn’t a good partnership.

My wine distributor then suggested I open my own restaurant and backed me financially. We called it Dale’s at Chick’s Beach, and it quickly became the place to be. My wife worked hard alongside me.

I wish I could say I acknowledged and honored her hard work, but I did not. My addictions were completely out of control by then, and I was no longer able to balance the party life with my responsibilities at work.

There’s no need for me to go through my “drunk log” and recount all the horrible things I did. I was an awful husband with no respect for my marriage vows and a terrible businessman. When my wife and financial backer had had enough, they held an intervention. They gave me a choice: attend a treatment center or lose my marriage and the restaurant.

I agreed to their terms, but I wasn’t ready to change. I was only there to save my hide. I even had an affair during my 30-day stay at the recovery center. I was incapable of loving anyone, including myself.

I managed to stay sober for one month after treatment before I reached for the bottle again. That choice cost both my marriage and my restaurant and led me to the pitiful scene I described earlier with my dog.

Fortunately, some good did come out of my eating that Jack-soaked dog food—I finally realized I had a problem. I asked my parents for help, and they came through. Mom helped fund a stay at another treatment program, while Dad helped me find a job and some wheels.

My sobriety was short-lived, however, and I got into another accident. This time, I hit someone head-on and almost killed them. I should have served time, but the judge graciously gave me five years’ probation during which I began attending Alcoholics Anonymous.

At these meetings, I learned valuable coping tools and met kind people who understood my pain. I also met Roberta, who was recovering from heroin addiction. It was love at first sight for me.

But a problem arose when I made her my higher power and rested my entire well-being on the health of our relationship. Since neither one of us was equipped to love the other, I lived on an emotional rollercoaster.

Three days shy of my fifth year of sobriety, Roberta broke off our relationship. Devastated, I reached for a six-pack of beer. When that wasn’t enough, I drove to the store to get more. Wouldn’t you know it—I rear-ended a police officer on the way. Three hours of drinking put me in the most serious trouble I had ever seen.

On January 2, 1997, I entered a courtroom filled with representatives from Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) and police officers, all urging the judge to send a message to the community regarding drinking and driving.

He complied and sentenced me to six-and-a-half years in the Florida DOC.

I thought I’d gotten the raw end of the deal, but I’m now convinced that sentence saved my life. It gave me time to realize I was powerless to change myself, and I remembered God.

During the three-and-a-half years I served of my sentence, I became deeply involved with chapel services and started reading my Bible. When I was released from prison, I entered a work-release program where I worked for Publix Supermarkets. The deli wasn’t my high-end restaurant, but I was grateful for the job.

I wanted to stay sober and make good choices—I really did. But like a dog who returns to his vomit (Proverbs 26:11), I eventually returned to the bottle. I just didn’t know what to do with the pain in my heart and all those uncomfortable emotions, so when they surfaced, I reached for the bottle to take them away.

Publix noticed my struggle and sent me to an employee assistance program. There, I discovered Celebrate Recovery (CR). This 12-step program unashamedly points people to Jesus Christ as the only higher power that can save and transform a life.

Through this program, I realized that although I had professed to believe in Jesus in prison, I hadn’t surrendered my life to Him. I still doubted His unconditional love for me, and that made me unstable in all my ways (James 1:6–8).

My faith took anchor, though, after I met Lonny, my CR sponsor. His faith in God was so real and attractive. For years, we met weekly at 7 a.m. on Sunday mornings at his home. It wasn’t convenient, especially with me riding a bike, but it was necessary if I wanted a different life.

Slowly, I began to let go of life’s controls and give the broken pieces of my heart to Jesus. Through Him, I found the healing I needed as He bound up my wounds (Psalm 147:3) and gave me the power to change (Philippians 2:13; 4:13).

Lonny told me early on, “Dale, if you get up, dress up, show up, and do the next right thing, and if you ask God to guide you and you surrender your life daily to Him and serve others, God will bless you.” I took his words to heart and proved him right. I’ll soon celebrate 12 years of sobriety.

God has used my past in amazing ways. He’s allowed me to set up and teach Celebrate Recovery programs in prisons and to establish a transitional home for men called The Living Harvest in Tallahassee, Florida.

I’ve attended an exclusive executive leadership training in New York City and criminal justice reform meetings at the White House. I’ve even been recognized at the Florida Governor’s Mansion for my public service. And all of that happened before I could even drive! Our inabilities and shortcomings don’t hinder God.

In March 2021, Prison Fellowship hired me as a chaplain resource liaison. In God’s perfect timing, I was able to get my driver’s license so I could accept the position. After 21 years of restrictions, I can now fly anywhere nationwide, rent a car, and drive myself to prisons and meetings. To God be the glory (Isaiah 26:12).

God truly does help those who seek Him. No matter how old you are or how many times you’ve tried and failed or how little or much you have, God can still make a way for you. It’s not too late.

Grab hold of His hand, get up, and try again. God has not given up on you, so don’t give up on yourself. Make Him your higher power. With Him, there are no limits (Matthew 19:26).

DALE WHITE is the founder of Living Harvest, a post-release residential Christian Recovery organization. He also serves as chaplain resource liaison for Prison Fellowship, has served on an executive committee for the Florida Department of Corrections, and is a Celebrate Recovery Inside State Representative for Florida.