Issue 1| 2023

my father’s stepson; perhaps
that’s why he targeted him so
fiercely. Whatever the reason,
it made me uncomfortable because
Dad treated me like the
golden child.
Dad’s addiction led him in
and out of jail and eventually
to prison. It also caused us to
move a lot. By the time I was 15,
we had moved ten times.
My mother was loving, but
she had her own struggles,
primarily due to her battle with
diabetes. I don’t remember a
time when she wasn’t in intense
pain or homebound. She
ultimately became blind and
addicted to prescription pain
pills. Her addiction and physical
misery made it difficult for
her to be emotionally present
for my brother and me, but she
did the best she could.
Extended family provided
much-needed support. My
grandmother, aunt, and uncle
loved our family well. We often
attended church together.
I heard many stories about
Jesus when I was a kid. Early
on, I believed that God had
sent His Son to die for me. I
even prayed to receive His gift
of eternal salvation. But as often
happens, my Christian faith
stopped at my head and never
settled in my heart.
I had no relationship with
God outside of the church, nor
was I interested in developing
one. To me, God was to blame
for the chaos in my home, especially
Mom’s sickness. She
passed when I was 15, and that
was just proof that God didn’t
care about us.
Dad was in prison then, and
my brother had moved from
West Virginia to Ohio. I felt so
alone, lost, and overwhelmed
by the uncertainty of my future.
Where was God, and why was
He allowing me to endure such
hardships?
Anger pumped through my
veins as I recounted how He
had cheated me.
My Aunt Kathy and Uncle
Herb, a kind Christian couple,
welcomed me into their home.
They loved, accepted, and supported
me daily, and they modeled
God’s sacrificial love and
faithfulness. Through them,
I learned the benefits of hard
work and integrity and experienced
a stable home life for
the first time.
But the anger, resentment,
and self-pity inside kept me
from accepting their love or
God’s gift of a new life. I spent
the best years of my life at my
aunt and uncle’s home, yet I
wasn’t satisfied. By focusing
only on the things I didn’t have,
I forfeited the very things I had
longed for in a family.
During my two years in
their home, I partied, smoked,
cussed, and messed around
with girls. I occasionally dabbled
in weed. Tired of their
watchful eye, I devised a plan
for my brother to obtain legal
guardianship of me. Because I
was 17, I could make that foolish
choice without my aunt and
uncle’s permission. They knew
it would not end well for me as
my brother was involved with
drugs too.
The court granted my request,
and I moved to Ohio.
My brother enrolled me in
high school, but after only six
months, I dropped out and dove
headfirst into a life of destruction.
I traded weed for methamphetamines,
and for the next 13
years, I served a harsh master.
I did whatever I had to do to
satisfy my addiction, including
manufacturing and selling the
drug myself. My choices caught
up with me when I was 30, and
My Christian faith
stopped at my head and never
settled in my heart.
I was arrested. It was the first
time I’d ever been in serious
trouble, and there I was, facing
prison time.
While in solitary confinement
in jail, I came across a
Bible. I opened it a few times,
but my heart of stone couldn’t
receive anything it had to offer.
I still blamed God for my miserable
life.
The day before my sentencing
hearing, my lawyer visited
and told me he was getting
me a great deal. His promises
brought me a sense of hope.
That night I decided I’d better
make one more deal. “God,” I
said, “if You’ll come through for
me tomorrow, I’ll follow You. Do
this for me, and I’ll trust You. I’ll
even read the Bible.”
But God wasn’t playing my
Let’s Make a Deal game.
The lawyer didn’t show
up for court. Instead, some
wet-behind-the-ears, state-
appointed attorney represented
me. This new guy knew
nothing about my case, and
the judge sentenced me to a
mandatory three years in prison
with no possibility of early
release. I sat in disbelief as life
as I knew it came to an end.
The officer took me back
to solitary confinement. The
clanging of the chains connected
to my hands and feet was the
only sound in the corridor. As
I shuffled, I searched for some
emotion but felt numb.
Back in my cell, I punched
the wall to feel something. Anything.
Nothing. I turned on the
small 5-station radio in my cell.
I couldn’t stand the silence.
“Drunk on a Plane” by Dierks
Bentley echoed through the
cell. I quickly changed the station.
I wasn’t in the mood. Suddenly,
“How He Loves” by David
Crowder Band rang through the
emptiness. It’s a song about
the unconditional love of God,
and the words brought me to
my knees.
It was a surreal moment.
Years of anger and resentment
toward God drained from my
heart in tears. I was so tired of
fighting for my rightful place
A rebellious spirit led to Ronnie’s
arrest. Pictured above is his
mug shot from 2014.
VICTORIOUSLIVINGMAGAZINE.COM
Issue 01 / 2023
25