When Patrick Booth of 2015 M Squad was invited to speak in a men’s drug rehabilitation program, he knew exactly what he was supposed to do: enroll as a patient for a week in order to learn more about the men there. He had no idea just how much those he met would impact him.
There’s no such thing as silence here.
Lying on my bed, I listen to the sounds of the night – everything from street noise and traffic to men speaking in languages I don’t understand. The lights are out, but the glow from the street lamps streams in from outside.
I’m sharing this room with five other men and it smells like a combination of a locker room, construction site, and a hospital. Men argue and snore loudly, making it nearly impossible to get a solid night’s sleep.
Such is life in the drug rehabilitation program where I have enrolled myself here in Colombia.
After I was given the opportunity to speak at Fundacion Ciudad Refugio, I realized I wouldn’t understand what these men were living unless I went through it with them. So I enrolled in the program for a week to gain that understanding.
I had no idea how much they would minister to me in the process.
I was nervous enrolling my first day, because it meant completely submitting to the authority of the program for the next seven days. The rules were rigid:
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Follow the schedule from the time you wake at 5 a.m. till lights out at 9 p.m.
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Meals must take no more than 10-15 minutes, and no one is allowed to sit at the table.
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Buckets of water make up your showers, your clothes’ washer, and the way you flush the toilets.
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Chores include sweeping the street, mopping the six flights of stairs each day, taking care of the dog, and cleaning the bathrooms.
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Of the three prayer times each day, two of them must be done standing or walking, so that no one falls asleep.
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Classes and lectures must be attended with proper attention to avoid receiving “disciplina”.
The program seems strict, but it’s based in love. These men have spent their entire lives without any structure, their lives revolved around where the next hit was coming from or who the gang would attack next.
After a few days, the routine becomes the new normal. I saw the fruit of the discipline with some of the more advanced members operating the ministries of the Fundacion Ciudad Refugio, including the discounted street bakery, the recycling program, and the shelter for fifty men open 365 nights a year.
One of these men was Jose*. One morning at prayer time, I witnessed him almost come to blows with another patient, Marcos, after Marcos challenged his work ethic.
Threatening a fight, Jose vowed he’d show Marcos what it meant to disrespect him that afternoon on the soccer field.
I prayed out loud for him; thanking God for Jose’s strength and God’s grace in his life. I prayed he’d rely only on God’s strength and that his life would change from this day forward.
Moved by the prayer, Jose wept and began to pray in Spanish.
That afternoon, Jose sat on the sidelines at soccer, talking with the other guys. He ignored Marcos’s threatening looks, choosing love over hate.
When I told him how proud I was he replied, “The Spirit is stronger than we know”.
Jose’s courage to avoid a fight and the vulnerability these other tough men showed changed me.
So when I had the opportunity to share two days later, I chose to be vulnerable. I shared everything. My faults, indiscretions, and personal struggles became an integral part of my story. I shared the gritty details of anger and sexual immorality.
We found common ground in our experience because while the details were different, our stories were the same.
As I continued to share, a power came over me that I was not prepared for, and the words that came out of my mouth were not my own.
I described how the church and Spirit of God changed my life, and how he wants to change their lives as well. I asked who was tired of struggling to satisfy their own desires, only to find that it is a never-ending pursuit.
Then I watched as two thirds of the men in the rehab program and one third of the homeless men stepped to the front.
As I walked through the group of hardened gangsters, hopeless drug addicts, and wandering vagrants, I interceded for them. And as the tears rolled down their cheeks, I saw hearts soften, hope restored, and a new foundation built upon love.
I enrolled in this rehab program with a simple desire – for God to help me understand the people I would speak to. I had no idea that in doing so, God would not only use me in changing their lives, but God would also use them to change mine.
*Names are changed for privacy; first photo by Abigail Boland
Patrick took a radical step of faith by voluntarily checking himself into a men’s rehabilitation program in Colombia. Some people could even say he was crazy – but God used him in incredible ways. Have you ever made a similar step in your walk with God?
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