Bryan:
When I was twelve years old, I smoked my first cigarette. It was a small step, but the first down a very slippery slope. Before I knew it, I was using cocaine. And I have been addicted ever since. I took a lot of drugs in my teens and early twenties, building up to a habit that cost over $100 a day. I kept that up for two years, until finally one day, I looked in the mirror and realized I resembled Skeletor. That day, I loaded my Bronco, grabbed my dog and headed for Idaho. |
Traci:
God is many things to many people. For me, He was just there somewhere in the background until one afternoon when He unexpectedly became someone very real to me.
I didn’t used to be a sinner. Sin was only what was punishable by law and I didn’t break the law anymore. That’s what I thought when I began my walk and I quickly learned that I did, in fact, sin every day. |
I thought that I could make a fresh start there. Meth was in Idaho, not so much coke, and I hated meth. Little did I know that my old friend alcoholism copped a ride with me. In no time I acquired two D.U.I.’s. It didn’t make a dent in my addiction, though. I see now that I just traded one addiction for another. Labor Day weekend, 2006, I was the cause of a felonious hit and run accident. I thank the Lord every day that no one was seriously injured. I went to prison in the summer of 2007 and returned sober and intent on staying that way.
Life was great and probation was going smoothly. My family moved back to Seattle so I could move in with them. I was saving my money for the move, so I decided not to go home for the holidays that year. December 28, 2007, I received devastating news that my mother was dying in the hospital. I arrived at the hospital ten hours later and thirty minutes too late. I went to the first bar I could find. Sometimes, it feels like I never left that bar. My relapse persisted and eventually led to a series of probation violations, and I went to jail. I didn’t care one bit. I didn’t care about anything. Then on December 23rd at a chapel service in Jerome County jail, I turned my life over to Jesus Christ.
By God’s love and grace, I was appointed a lawyer who had also been saved from alcoholism many years before. This amazing man introduced me to a chance to change my life by entering the New Life Program at the River of Life. It was a tough decision for me, but ultimately, it was the only decision.
God has blessed my life so much; on September 5th, 2009, I married the love of my life, Lisa, and have had an amazing turn for the better. My good friend Reverend Arthur Clemens did us the honor of marrying us. He was there at the beginning of my life change and I was proud he set me on my next life path. Lisa and I brought Patricia Marie Baker into this world on March 16th of 2010. Our happy little family still resides just two miles from the Mission.
I owe my new life to so many; Jesus, of course, for the price He paid for me; Lisa, who stood beside me through all the good and especially the bad and always gave me hope; my family, who always showed courage and support; my aunt, who kicked me in the rear when I needed it; my judge, who took no bull; Mark Guerry, the attorney who showed me the way to the New Life Program; all of the staff at the River of Life, who gave the hope and the tools to succeed; Dave Brooks, who shared some of my darkest days; all my brothers, who have shown me the rights and wrongs; and all who stay here at 13th and River, who remind me ever day of the trials of the world. Finally I want to thank my cousin, who gave me that first cigarette. I now know that I had to walk that dark trail to find my enlightened road.
| It wasn’t a big deal though; because there was absolutely no way that my inconsequential deeds could dent the Almighty God. Therefore, it didn’t matter that I sinned. It also didn’t matter that Jesus died on the cross for me because none of my sins were pertinent, nor did forgiveness matter if my sins were harmless to God. He loves me anyway, I’m saved anyway, and He can’t be hurt my little old Traci, right?
My callousness regarding Jesus’ death was deeply perturbing to me. How could I not care about the torture and abandonment that Jesus endured for my sake? Some 2,000 years ago, a guy is severely pain-wracked, intensely degraded, and utterly abandoned before He experienced death and met with Satan himself, only for me to think that my actions didn’t need to be forgiven. On the day that this man died, my life flashed before His eyes and to me it was of no merit; useless to my irrelevant evil.
Before I really even knew what I was doing, I began to ask God to make me aware of the impact of my wickedness. He answered very quickly. One afternoon in a class, three words were spoken that triggered a memory so horrifying to me that I could hardly stand to be in my own skin.
In my younger adult years, I had landed employment at a car wash, and I spotted career potential on the management team. One man in particular, had promised me a spot in his department, which was a step up from where I was. He was flattering toward my work ethic, painting a forthright picture of a reliable, hard-working, self-disciplined employee.
This man I’d been working under was much older and married, yet seemed to have different motives for wanting me in his shop. One afternoon he was showing me the inside of his camper that he was selling; his motives became apparent. I couldn’t turn him down though, and he did promise advancement in my employment and I was indebted to him.
I’m sure that the Holy Spirit tried to intervene that night and I questioned the possibility of pregnancy. I allowed myself to commit the unspeakable when the words “I’ll kill it” rang through my head. The solution seemed so simple - abortion. It remained in the back of my mind as a way out.
The memory paralyzed me. Once again I hated waking up and I was disgusted with myself allover again. My skin crawled at the mere thought of being stuck with me, and I almost panicked at the reality of no escape. At least until the day I die, I would live in a hell that was my own flesh and I couldn’t stand it.
All of this was released from me one afternoon during an unexpected encounter with a staff member. The pent up emotions brimmed over the edge of my resolve and before I could stop them, they erupted out of my now shattered will. My crying was ceaseless and my words were almost incoherent. I sobbed with such fury that my shoulders ached; then I began to pray.
Pleas of sorrow and regret gushed from me, please that were tightly locked behind a wall of pride that grew even thicker. How those weak feelings could break through me with such force was a miracle in itself.
I cried until fatigue set in. My whole body was numb and simply breathing took more effort than breathing should. At that point I felt I had nothing left to protect and was able to voice with understanding that God is with me not because of who I am, but because I need Him. I expressed to God remorse over my sin and realized then that I was able to thank Him because in spite of my horrible capabilities, He never allowed me a child to hurt.
He let me understand His love as He ripped my sin from me. Giving myself permission to murder the unborn child I might have had was in fact something I had done and I was capable of so much more. On that unexpected afternoon, forgiveness meant that I was not created to hurt anybody, but to be someone of eternal use. His love remained unfathomable, but it was real.
When my mind was settled enough to hear His whisper, God spoke to me. He said “I made you a mother, and your children are beautiful.”
That day, Jesus became real and God’s mercies became necessary. He is my Savior. Jesus suffered torture and saved me from myself and others from me; for that alone, I am eternally grateful.
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