Hello, my brothers and sisters. I wanted to take a moment to share my testimony with you. Testimonies are powerful stories about what God has done in your life, and when witnessing to others, they bring God to life in a way that allows others to relate. Too many times people think that God has no time for them, that God can’t or won’t use them in some meaningful way. A testimony can break through that web of lies spun by none other than satan (I will never capitalize satan no matter how many times spell check tells me to) himself.
My spiritual journey began as a child, and in many ways, I’m no different from most who are introduced to faith through family. My grandmother was devout in her love for Jesus. She lived her faith so openly that some people even made fun of her.
My paternal grandparents attended a Catholic church, while my maternal grandparents were Methodists.
My maternal grandma, despite the little time we spent together, was a constant witness to me. She was always praying, always reminding me that Jesus loved me and would welcome me whenever I was ready. I still remember my first Bible from the Wesley Methodist Church in Phillipsburg, New Jersey, a hard cover gold Good News Bible with black lettering.
As I grew older, I made more of my own decisions, and much like the rest of the world, most of those decisions led me farther away from Christ, not closer. I know I had an experience with Jesus as a child—I felt like He was truly there with me when my Aunt Mary walked me down the Roman’s Road. We were in her neighbor’s house, and we talked about being born again and that all I needed was the faith that Jesus is the LORD, to repent of my sin, and that He would be the head of my life.
But my teenage years were filled with rebellion, and not just against God, but my parents, the school, the law, and life as a whole. I wasn’t thinking about Jesus; I was busy hurting others, both physically and emotionally, and filling my life with destructive habits. I was so busy hating myself that I had no time to even think about liking anyone else. I was angry. My mother was physically abusive, my dad was never home because he was always chasing a dollar, and at the age of seven, I was sexually molested by a cousin. I wanted to burn the whole world down.
I started drinking at 14 or 15, stopped coming home, and started couch hopping at 16. At 17, I lied on an employment application about my age and started bouncing at a strip club. At 19, I joined the Army and was finally away from home. Little did I know at 19 that I would come to miss home and miss all the relationships I never had with all the classmates I never really got to know.
While the time in the Army opened my eyes to some things, I was still making bad decisions. The drinking got worse, and, at 19, I got married to a girl from Cleveland I knew for only two weeks.
Things were awful after we got out of the Army and moved to Cleveland. I joined a Pentecostal church in Cleveland. I loved it. If there is one thing, Pentecostals have its rules and structure. One day it was time to give my heart to Jesus and be baptized. We prayed, I repented, I got into the baptismal and was baptized and then escorted to the alter where we tarried (a term that means wait for the spirit to come upon you). I continued to pray. I felt the bishop getting closer and closer. This went on for what seemed forever. I stopped praying; they stopped praying. I heard the bishop say that he would see if he could come back to this church again the following week (we met in a rented old storefront and did not have a baptismal of our own). I asked why we would need to do that. I was told because I did not speak in tongues. I have to do that to show that I am saved. I asked, “So you mean to say I am not saved?” He confirmed he meant exactly that. I drove home mad. I was yelling at God. I was screaming at Him about how awful my life was and that in my hour of need He said He would be there and He wasn’t. I begged, and He did not answer. I asked Him if I wasn’t good enough for His grace. I asked what more He wanted from me. I got mad with everyone. So, I said to myself, “You don’t need church. Just read the Bible on your own. See what happens.” That’s what I did. I started with Genesis and read the whole thing through to the end of Revelation. I prayed before each reading. I told God how dedicated I was to figure this out, no matter if He wanted me or not. I went for a long time without a brick-and-mortar church, without brotherly fellowship. The more I tried to please God, the worse things got.
The marriage was not a godly marriage, and it showed. For 18 years, I was a horrible husband. I won’t take all the blame for the divorce, but I will accept most of it. Had I not been so cold, mean, and unhappy, maybe I would not have driven her to find happiness somewhere else. We are all responsible for our own actions, but sometimes our actions put others in situations they would not normally choose to be in.
We had two children at the time of our divorce. If it weren’t for those two kids, I would have eaten the shotgun I stared at when I was alone. Their next visit is what got me through week after week, or so I thought at the time.
I didn’t know it at the time, but God was preparing me. I spent 18 years in juvenile corrections and 7 years working in the field of domestic violence. I was successful at it because I was very familiar with dysfunction. God put many people in my life who would remind me of the same thing Grandma did. God loves you, Michael, Romans 8:28. Grandma loved that verse.
One day I got a call from a drinking buddy. He said he had something he wanted to tell me. He told me he was giving up the alcohol, the cigarettes, and the sinfulness of his ways and that he was going to answer the call to preach. He told me he had enrolled in college online at Liberty University. He told me so that I knew why he wasn’t going to go to the Eagles club with me anymore. I didn’t enroll with him, but I was happy for him, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about how wonderful that would be for me.
I had just recently gotten remarried, and on July 4th, 2009, after only a couple weeks of marriage, I tied on a drunk like none other. I didn’t even make it in the house. I swore that I would not let alcohol take another marriage. I stopped drinking on July 5th.
Several years and a couple good stories go by and I am attending a great Free Will Baptist Church. I loved the people, and the preacher, Jim McComas, was an awesome orator. I could feel the presence of the Holy Spirit when he preached. Life was getting better. My new wife and I went to the alter and rededicated our lives to God together.
Dates are fuzzy but somewhere in these years, my buddy became a pastor at a small church in Massillon Ohio. I was still going to the one by our home, but I would go there and visit from time to time. Then I was there every other week.
On February 24, 2013, I was driving home with the kids in the car from a Sunday service in Massillon. I remember looking at my daughter and thinking, I need to quit smoking. It is killing me, it’s killing them, and how does it look—all this God stuff with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth? I threw all the cigarettes away. For the next four weeks, I smoked five cigarettes. I remember where I was when I looked at that fifth one and was like, “What are you doing?”. It’s been weeks since you quit; you really don’t need or want this. I threw that cigarette in the ash tray, walked away, and never smoked again.
From there I became a youth Sunday school teacher, adult Sunday school teacher, videographer, treasurer, and now evangelist of my own online ministry I went back to school and got a business degree and working on my masters in online ministries from Regent University, the rival to Liberty.
Looking back, I see that God has led me through an education like no other, or at least that’s how it feels. I know my life was not the worse in all of human history. Nevertheless, I feel called to evangelistic work, to reach those who, like me, have walked hard roads. There’s wisdom gained from struggle. We hardly think of it while in the fire, but the forging we are going through produces a witness that is hard to break.
I am here to tell you that if you think God can’t or won’t use you, you’re wrong. I’d love to challenge the Apostle Paul, who claimed to be the chief sinner. I think that title belongs to me. I was a terrible son, brother, friend, husband, dad, and overall man. I hurt people emotionally and physically. I lied, cheated, stole, and have broken all ten commandments. I hated people and myself with vengeance. And yet, in my darkest moment, when I thought I had nothing left to live for, God never let me forget about those two kids. God sent me friends who said, “Why don’t you come to church with me?” He gave me a job that required study and dedication. He showed me how to teach myself and put a fire in my soul that only His Holy Word could satisfy. I am not perfect, and no Christian is, but I know that my God is real, and he works miracles. I know because I am one of them. I am no saint, and yet, because of Him, I am a saint indeed. He is a chain breaker and a healer. He is my God, and all I want in the whole world is to hear Him say, when all is done and I face my judgement day, “Well done, Michael, well done, thy good and faithful servant.”
Believers of Biblical Truth 