I grew up the eldest son of five siblings, my mom was a devout Christian woman, but my dad had absolutely no use for church, even though he grew up in a Christian family. On the outside we would look like the perfect family, but behind closed doors was another story, another life being lived. Domestic Violence was what I later in life found out that they called it. I can’t count the many mornings, days and nights that my siblings and I witnessed the physical attacks and heard the verbal barrages that the two of them would engage in. The memories even now bring back all the fear and terror. As we grew older that fights got worst, mom would have broken noses and blackened eyes, broken ribs and blooded lips, dad would leave only to be back the next day as if nothing had happened.

I grew to hate my dad and everything about him, I hated the way he talked, the way he walked, the way he looked and smelled. There were many times I wished he would die and if he didn’t die, I just wanted him gone.

Growing up I always told myself that one day he’s going to hit mom and I’m going to kick his, well you fill in the blank. Well finally the day came and true to my word, when the fight started I came running to the rescue, only to get my you know what kicked, but that would be the last fight we’d witness for a while, so I felt some sense of relief. Problem was now, that my dad turned his attacks on me, which wasn’t a good thing.

During my teen years I discovered medicine in the forms of alcohol and weed. By the age of fifteen I was going to school high and drunk on a regular basis and no one seemed to notice or care and thus started the journey of self medicating that has plagued me most of my life. Something else was happening during all those fights as well. Growing up children learn everything they see and hear and mom and dad were teaching each of us how to have a fully dysfunctional relationship. I ran through woman like I was running track, never being with anyone for any length of time, soon as there was a problem I was out of there. When I did finally decide to try to stick it out in a relationship, I started to see the same things play out with me that I grew up in. I never got as physical as mom and dad, my ex-wife can’t say that I ever blacked her eyes, broke her nose or ribs or sent her to the hospital for anything other than having our son. What I did have was a very abusive mouth and I knew how to use it well.

Our son had just turned two and we were having one of those moments, y’all know the ones, one of those I can’t stand this person moments, I’m screaming at the top of my lungs when I look at my son and he has this look of horror in his eyes. At that very moment I calmly said to my wife that it was over, I had to break this cycle and so we parted ways.

I continued medicating myself and in fact graduated to cocaine and by the time I was thirty I was freebasing almost everyday and around the age of thirty five crack was invented, which to me was cool because I didn’t have to cook it any longer. The crazy part about all this was that I worked everyday and in fact had gain custody of my son, bought a house and appeared to be a regular guy. I would never smoked drug while my son was at home, always waiting until Friday for him to go to his grandma’s house, but as soon as he left it was on.

During one of my, what I liked to call episodes, I had been up since that Friday night when my son left. I was working on my third eight ball and it was Sunday morning about six or seven o’clock. I heard a voice speak to me and I mean a loud voice spoke saying that today was my day for deliverance, to get to church and repent, to stop with the drug or I was going to lose everything and end up in prison. My car had broken down so I call a cab which didn’t show, so I called my sister who didn’t answer and my mom who didn’t answer. I said to God, I can’t find a ride, and God said call your sister back, when I did, she was shocked and said, the only reason she was at home was because she had forgotten her bible, that she was on her way and don’t make me wait.

When she got to my house I was sitting on the street curb waiting, as soon as I got into her car I felt the spirit of God overtake me. When we arrived at church it was packed but they found one seat for me, right on the front row. I can’t tell you to this day what the man of God preached on, I was sitting there crying the entire time. When the alter call went forth and since I was on the front row, I was the first one to the Alter. I assumed that something big was going to happen, but the preacher just walked up looked me in the eye and said “you’ve been delivered” and walked away.

On the ride home God gave me instruction to rid my home of all impurities, the drugs, the porn, the paraphernalia, everything and I did. I started attending church like it was bootcamp, I read the bible from beginning to end within a matter on months and God delivered on His promise to deliver me.

I gave a speech a few years ago at the Theological Seminary in my city on, of all things, Domestic Violence. I still struggle in relationships and have been seeing a counselor to deal with some of the inner issues I have, but again God has spoke a promise that He will heal the broken places, the hidden place of my heart. I’m definitely not were I know I should be yet, but I praise God that I’m not were I was.

And this testimony just keeps going and you can follow my journal for more of what God is doing in the life and times of this true believer of God.

Thank you for reading and I hope you were blessed.