I remember sitting in a bus station last winter, waiting for the Greyhound to bring me to Atlanta Mission. It was snowing, and the cold irritated the raw bullet wounds in my shoulder, back, and legs. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into — but I sure knew what I getting away from.
I was born a crack baby and grew up in a family of gangbangers in Los Angeles — running the streets, fighting, using drugs, going wild. When I was 15, my mom had enough and moved us to Atlanta. But the more things change…
A new city didn’t affect who I really was. My reckless behavior continued. I kept robbing people to make money. And I kept using drugs. But one day, I held up the wrong guys. They found me out, waited for just the right time . . . on October 27, 2015, I’d just arrived home, was walking to my door when a car pulled up and bullets started flying. I got hit 12 times.
By God’s grace, I survived. But when I left the hospital, I couldn’t work and had no money. I was homeless, in pain, struggling to keep my wounds clean. When doctors stopped giving me medication, I broke down. I couldn’t take it anymore! So I called Atlanta Mission for help, and that’s what brought me to the bus station on that cold winter’s day. I came to the Potter’s House, their long-term residential discipleship program.
For a city boy like me, it wasn’t easy. Most people didn’t think I’d make it, and they had good reason to doubt me. I was still a thug and I acted like it. But I was determined to work through all the emotional baggage I grew up with. I got saved here and my life slowly started to change. I left the past behind and everything got better, especially my relationship with my mother. Everyone here became the family I never had.
Next month, I’ll leave here. I’m planning to start my own business. I’ve turned 180 degrees from the man I used to be. That’s the power of God — but God used generous, compassionate people like you to do it. Thank you for transforming my life.