Newsletter

I was born in Macon, Georgia, in 1962, and from the earliest memories I can recall, moving was a constant. My mom, my sisters, and I seemed to always be packing up, heading to a new city, a new state, and a new home. We did this every few years. I never thought much about it at the time—it was just how things were. 

Moving was normal to me. I never really had a father figure in my life. My memories of him are hazy, almost like old Polaroid snapshots that quickly faded. I spent very little time with him, and we never built any real relationship. 

The constant moving had its ups and downs. There was a certain excitement and a fresh start in each new place. But it also meant changing schools often, leaving behind friends, and always trying to fit in somewhere new. There was the cultural shock, especially until I was around twelve or thirteen years old. I always knew God existed. I was saved and baptized during this time, but I didn’t feel worthy of His love. I believed He was unapproachable. Around the same time, I started partying socially. It wasn’t just on weekends—it became part of my daily routine. Music played a big part in my life, both in school and out.

As high school began, I started drinking. What began as something social quickly became a demon in my life. By 1990, I moved back to Georgia from California. I quit doing drugs, but I couldn’t quit drinking. That demon would control my life for the next 34 years. Despite attending several rehab programs, the urge to drink always came back. I lost many good jobs, some with companies that should have been a dream come true. My relationships with my wife, family, and friends became damaged and complicated. There were times when I disappeared for days or weeks, leaving destruction behind. I couldn’t stop myself. This life I was living pushed me further and further away from God. 

Then, in early 2020, as the pandemic began to unfold, I woke up in a hospital with a loss of memory. I’d had a seizure while driving and was involved in an accident, which led to a traumatic brain injury (TBI). I was in the hospital for a month. One day, while standing at the window, I knew something had changed inside me. For the first time, I didn’t just know God—I felt Him. I also realized that my need to drink had completely vanished. For three years, things went well. I slowly recovered from my injuries, and I even got back to working with wood, making wall art, something I had always loved. But after a while, I made the mistake of taking control again. The alcohol didn’t have the same effect on me, but the consequences were just as severe. I ended up back in the hospital for a week. 

During those dark moments, I prayed to God, asking for His help, and He delivered. My sister, Cindy, told me she had contacted the Mission to find out about their Life Recovery Program. She had given my contact information to Brad, and a few days later, he reached out to me. He asked me some questions and then invited me to come to the Rescue Mission. That moment changed my life in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. Even though the journey had been painful, I believe God orchestrated everything that happened to bring me right here, to the Mission. It was exactly where I needed to be. 

Since coming here, the most significant change in my life is my relationship with God. He welcomed me back with open arms, and now, my connection with Him is stronger than ever. I know now that God isn’t unapproachable; He’s always been right beside me, walking with me. It was just that I didn’t recognize His presence before. The shame I used to carry—the guilt of the person I used to be—is gone. I know who I am now, and I’m okay with who I see. The relationships with my family and friends, despite everything I put them through, have actually improved. They’re better now than they’ve ever been. 

When I first arrived at the Mission, I was lost. But now, my life is so much better. I’ve gained confidence in myself and my abilities. I no longer worry about what others think of me. I know who I am in Christ and trust that He will lead me where I need to be. While I’ve always been an introvert, I’ve learned there’s nothing wrong with that. I feel more comfortable expressing myself and sharing my thoughts, and it doesn’t bother me when others disagree with me. Looking ahead, my hope is to continue serving at the Mission after I graduate from the program, if it’s God’s will. I’ve learned so much during my time here. For most of my life, I was a taker. I took from others without giving back. But now, I want to give—without expecting anything in return. I’ve learned to feel emotions again, and that’s a beautiful thing. I’ve gained wisdom from some very insightful people here, and I’ll carry that with me. Most importantly, I’ve learned about grace. If there’s one thing that defines the Mission, it’s grace. Grace is something I want to carry with me, and something I want to give to others. The relationships I’ve formed here and the grace I’ve experienced are the things I’ll take with me as I move forward.