In all of our Blog posts we share a little piece of our journey. I’d like to continue sharing some of the experiences we had during our religious days and especially when we had our own ministry. People are very quick to judge us and criticize the methods we used to “save souls”. If we didn’t believe with all sincerity that what we were doing was the right thing TO do, we wouldn’t have done it.
There are
so many wounded individuals strewn over life’s battlefield and so few hands
reaching out to them, not to mention funds with which to do something. The
bible says in James 2 vs 14 – 26 that faith without works is dead. For us,
doing the right thing was not just words, it meant putting our words into
action. As mentioned before, we were not bench warmers. We lived what we
preached.
It was
during the prison ministry days that I realized that most of the convicts with
which I worked, were addicts. We knew nothing about treating addicts and if we
were going to help these guys, we ourselves needed some professional guidance.
A good friend introduced me to Paul.
Paul,
himself a rehabilitated cocaine addict, knew all about the pros and cons involved
when working with these guys. I can still remember meeting this huge man for
the first time – huge in faith and in stature. He ran a rehabilitation center
which he started with the help of a sponsor. He was the captain of his own ship
and crew. Paul had an amazing testimony about how he was saved and received the
anointing of the holy spirit. Every day before every meeting, and for the
previous fourteen years, he would make a statement: Today he chose to be saved
from addiction with the strength he received from his savior.
We became
friends and every time we visited his facility, we were astonished by his
abilities.
His house
ran like a well-oiled machine. The rules were strict and enforced. Every religious
and support meeting had to be attended and every individual had designated
duties. There were no exceptions; everyone was treated fairly but disobeying
the rules led to dire consequences. The one thing that really fascinated me
about his house was the emphasis which was placed on the “moving” of the holy
spirit, whether the “manifestation” was speaking in tongues or falling over. To Paul this
was the evidence of true discipleship and conversion. (?)
When I was
given authority over a convict released on bail, he went straight to Paul’s facility
for six months. A sponsor was found and a contract was signed by the new resident.
Herein lay the stipulations and conditions for rehabilitation. Random, regular urine
drug tests were done (in front of Paul, to rule out cheating) to test for marijuana,
cocaine, codeine, morphine, heroine and methamphetamine. If a resident tested
positive for any of these, he was given only one chance and thereafter evicted,
with his sponsor being informed. Paul had a saying: Grace is free, but not
cheap. There was no wiggle room and everyone knew it.
Unfortunately,
drug addicts are the biggest con-artists and manipulators. Then there are the
two types of parents: the enablers and the disablers. Paul knew how to work
with them all. The residents were free to leave if they wanted or didn’t agree
with his methods, but nobody did, because they had nowhere else to go.
Many of the
guys who left Paul’s place after their rehab period came to us, and during this time we helped them
blend back into society. It was still a complicated time for them and frequent
drug testing was still required and strict house rules applied. But this phase
of the ministry drained our batteries and unlike Paul, we carried the physical
and financial burden alone. The mental strain was also profound and I found
myself questioning our ministry.
When you
look at religion and realize how many layers of polish and varnish has been
applied, and then those layers start wearing off and eventually you’re left with
a dull, lifeless form, stripped of splendor, you know it’s time to move on. And we did just that - we moved on.
Getting back
to Paul. A few years after we left religion, one the guys who had been rehabilitated, brought me the saddest news I had ever heard. Paul had been involved
in a near fatal motorbike accident. But this was not the saddest part. After being
taken by ambulance to the hospital emergency room, the doctor on duty, not knowing
that Paul was a recovering addict, administered morphine for pain. That’s all
it took! The addiction, which had been controlled for fourteen years, was immediately
triggered. His wife took him home, but he instantly found his way back to the old
familiar suppliers. Paul disappeared and for months nobody knew where he was. It
was his mother who found him, in a morgue. Riddled with guilt and shame and
disappointment in himself, this huge man of faith went to a remote beach, wrote
a letter to God, dug a hole in the sand, undressed himself, got in and slit his
wrists, bleeding to death. In his letter he wrote the following:
God is NO - W
– HERE
Don’t you
dare judge a fallen soldier unless you have walked in his boots and carried his
backpack. You know nothing of the battles he has fought, or the scars he bears.
I salute you!
I salute all of life’s unsung heroes, soldiers!
Comments