My parents sent me to Catholic school in fourth grade because they had become
unhappy with the public school system. Although I had attended some church (mostly
for holidays or special occasions), this was my first contact with understanding who
God is and what He has to do with my life. When I was about twelve I felt a strong call
of God on my life. Since I considered myself Catholic, I figured He must want me to be
a nun. It didn’t take very long watching the nuns at my school for me to realize that
was not what I wanted for my life. This is when I began to run from God, spiritually.
Because I had been well sheltered and since I was a very good student, I stayed
out of any real trouble or rebellion through the end of my sophomore year in high
school. This was not by choice, however, but more because I hadn’t had any real
opportunity to do much wrong. This was all about to change. In the summer between
sophomore and junior year my drama teacher asked me and another student to
prepare some sketches for Freshman Orientation. I was to portray a rebel student
and one of the props I needed was a pack of cigarettes, so I bought a pack.
Ironically, after the skit was done I convinced myself it would be a waste to throw them
away so I taught myself to smoke.
A few months later I got a job at a local restaurant and began hanging out with
much older people. The first couple of times I was offered a joint, I declined but after
watching and seeing that they seemed fine, I relented. Within a year I had met the
man who would become my husband and we were both squarely planted in a party
atmosphere that seemed harmless at the time but would soon become our downfall.
A couple of years later while hanging out with a friend smoking pot, he pulled out a
mirror and offered us a line of cocaine. I, again, declined because cocaine seemed to
be crossing the line (no pun intended). After being put in that situation a few more
times and watching the euphoria they seemed to get from the drug, once again I
relented. The speed of my declined increased.
By the time I turned thirty I had done so many things that fifteen years earlier I
would have sworn I’d never do. Cigarettes, marijuana, powder cocaine, crack
cocaine, THC, LSD, and heroine. I would cry all the time. I don’t think a day would go
by without an emotional breakdown. We had just had our car repossessed, our
house had just been foreclosed, and other than our two children we had nothing of
any real value. We knew something had to change. My father had always been after
us to move to South Carolina with him so we decided that maybe if we left South
Florida it would be easier to leave the drugs behind. It worked for a while but we soon
found connections there.
In October 1998 something happened. My mother had just gotten really ‘religious’
before we moved away (that's the way I saw it at the time). For about a year before
we left she started reading the Bible, watching TBN, and listening to gospel music.
While talking to her on the phone from South Carolina she asked a strange question.
She said, “Denise, have you ever read the Bible?” I say it was a strange question
because as I said to her, “Mom, you know I spent eight years in Catholic school. I
took classes every year that had to do with the Bible. Of course I’ve read the Bible.”
Then she said something that changed my life. “No. Have you ever really read it?
Like a book. Because you wanted to, not because you had to.” I was speechless,
which is a rarity for me. She then challenged me, “Start at Matthew and see what
happens.” She had just visited a few weeks before and had left me a Bible which had
remained unopened on a shelf. I decided to take her up on the challenge. If she
could read the whole thing so could I (I’ve always been competitive).
Just a few chapters into Matthew something happened. It was like blinders had come
off my eyes and I was reading this stuff for the first time. Everything suddenly made
sense! I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior by myself in a cold lonely house. I
called my mother and we cried tears of joy together.
Just a week or so later my husband came home in tears. I’d never seen him like that.
He explained that he had been fired because he believed someone had found out
that he was married to a black woman. He already knew his boss was prejudiced
because of racial comments he had made. Whether that was the reason or not is of
little importance to this story. He was the only one working at the time, we had just
moved into a rental home of our own and had no savings, and now no job. He was
devastated. He thought I would be the same. As I said before, I was always crying.
The smallest things would set me off and here was a big thing; a major problem. I sat
on the floor with him and comforted him. I comforted him! I said that God was in
control and we would just have to trust His judgment. He looked at me like I’d just
popped out of an ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers’ pod, but was comforted from the
strength I was getting from Jesus. I was able to witness to him and he soon gave his
life to Jesus.
Since then we moved back to South Florida, as the Lord led us to do, and became
Youth Directors for six years at a mid-sized Baptist Church in North Miami. The Lord
recently called us to work with Thy Way Ministries where I preach and handle the web
design. We may be small right now but as it says in Zechariah 4:10 'Do not despise
the day of small things.'