My story is a complicated one. It’s full of ups and downs, rights and wrongs; doubts, fears, and above all, salvation. I was only 19 years old when I began a terrible journey in my life. A journey that would lead me down the roughest road I have ever traveled.
You see, I stand before you today as a completely different person than I was just a short 3 years ago. Until then I was a struggling drug addict. There wasn’t a drug on this green earth that I wouldn’t try. Several of which I could not stop using after a while. I found myself at the mercy of evil. This evil eventually became common place in my life. I would lie, cheat, and steal. Whatever it took to make sure I had what I thought I needed. I stole from family members. Took advantage of good people who extended their good hearts to me. I even went as far as lying my way through any situation that might reveal who I really was.
I was running from the truth, and from myself. I found that after you run long enough, you start to forget things. You start to forget what matters in life. You even start to forget who you even are. You start to believe that you have no purpose in this world. That no one would miss you even if you just up and disappeared. I became a nomad of sorts. Running not only from my problems, but from myself, and from God’s conviction. In 10 years’ time, I lived in 5 different states, attempted to blend in to whatever crowd I found myself in. Self-preservation was the most important thing in my life.
What I didn’t realize at the time, was that the self I thought I was preserving was not even me. It wasn’t who I was at all. It all came to a head on January 3, 2014. I was homeless, I was helpless, and I was hopeless. My addiction had spiraled completely out of control. I had not only ruined my life, but had brutalized the hearts of others who trusted me, and that I had let down. The grief was overwhelming. That day I found myself living in a truck alongside of a back alley street in Kingwood, West Virginia. No food, no money, and no future. I contemplated suicide, but found that I had no means to accomplish that.
So with nothing else left I did the one thing that came to mind. I prayed. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I prayed. I didn’t, however, pray for God to heal me. I prayed for him to take me out of this world. To make the pain go away. To erase all that I felt and had done. He had other plans though that day. Out of nowhere, a kind old man stopped and asked if I was okay. I dropped my head in shame and told him that I just wanted to go home. He asked were home was and I told him Terra Alta, that’s where my parents are, and I need help.
Well, the truck I was in had a flat tire and no gasoline. He got me some gas and fixed my tire. Told me to get home to my family and that God said everything will be okay. I was beside myself at those words. How could he know I thought to myself as I drove sobbing to my parents’ house? I have never felt so ashamed as I did that day. Sitting at my parent’s dining room table, I began to tell them everything. How their beloved son was a drug addict, a liar, a thief, and a fraud.
I was fully prepared to be thrown out in disgrace and told to never return. Much to my surprise though, they told me they were willing to do whatever it takes to get me back. That they missed their son and had worried many a night as to where I was and even if I was still alive. Traditional rehab was far too expensive for my family to afford. So, as mothers will do, my mother set herself the goal of getting her son clean. The days turned into weeks. The pain was fierce, sleep was impossible and eating just as impossible. I found myself intently studying the Word. Praying for forgiveness and for healing. The more I prayed, the less it hurt. Until finally after three months, all the pain was gone. My doctor was astonished and beyond words. A Christian man himself, he declared proudly that it was God’s doing that healed me. That there was no other medical explanation.
I agreed, although I admit I still had my doubts. I left the doctor’s office and drove to Kathy Romans for a haircut. There she began to witness to me about my experience (my mother had kept her well informed). She told me that it was very real and that I needed to accept it. As I left her driveway, I remember saying, God, if this is real how can I know? I was suddenly overtaken by something that I still can’t explain. I began sobbing hard. To the point I stopped right there in the middle of Salt Lick Road. I just kept repeating out loud, He is real, He is real. I couldn’t stop. I felt a presence in that car. A cool, calming, powerful presence.
Then it happened. My hair stood on end when I heard him speak. He said to me, “Jasen, I am here, I always have been. I have chosen you.” I asked chosen for what, but he said no more.
I praised God the entire way home that day. My heart filled with Joy. Confusion of sorts still haunts my mind to this day though. The enemy is working hard to pull me down from the mountain I have ascended out of that terrible valley. Still straying, I never ran full force into what he wanted me to do until now.
In 2015, He brought Amanda back into my life. She has helped to mold me back into the man God has always wanted me to be. I know now why I’m here, what He wants me to do. And I’m doing it right now telling you this.
My message from Him is clear and simple. You are not alone, you can beat this and you will have victory in the Name of Jesus Christ. Praise God for you will be healed, and IT CAN BE DONE!
