Knock knock, it’s Jesus.
Figuratively, that’s what happened today when we walked through the opening of a beach shanty enclosed by blankets and rice sacks. Inside, we found 11 young men zoned out and passed out with drugs scattered around them. They sat shoulder to shoulder on uncomfortable wooden benches, passing joints and passing time.
We were in a part of town called Amanful. According to our host, it’s one of the darkest parts of Cape Coast; inviting drugs, prostitution, human trafficking, and extreme poverty into every corner. If any part of me has become desensitized to the shock of seeing poverty and brokenness, it was shattered by the heavy oppression I could feel upon arriving.
Yes, there’s physical oppression in the sense that living conditions are harsh, women and children make up almost the entire community, leaving little positive male influence, and there’s no shortage of desperation for basic needs to be met. However, I think there’s more we can’t see.
This was more than physical oppression, but a spiritual war. Some things can’t be solved by charity work and community programs. They need Someone bigger, Someone with good power who is always on their side.
This is why I’m traveling around the world to spread the Gospel. I believe deeply and wholly that the hardest issues are ones that can’t be solved by human hands. I want to steward that hope, that Good News to the Amanfuls of the world. We need a spiritual solution for our spiritual maladies.
This is what I learned when Jesus interrupted my own eight-year-long smoke and drink sesh more than two and a half years ago. I had a spiritual problem that required a spiritual solution. Every other option failed me up to that point.
Since my brain fog cleared and I began to see my life take shape, I also learned the value of not keeping this treasure to myself. There are many sick, suffering alcoholics and addicts out there whose only hope may be an interruption from God Himself.
People close to me shared the importance of sharing my story, not for my sake, but for the benefit of passing my experience, strength, and hope onto the next person in need. It’s not supposed to be about me in the slightest.
I’ve prayed and prayed some more for opportunities to share my story of brokenness and redemption with people who need to hear it.
My sponsor has often told me that one day, God is going to put someone in front of me who needs to hear about the darkest times of my life so they don’t feel so alone anymore.
This taught me to throw away shame from my past and to freely give what I have so freely received.
I share my story often, believing God will continually put people in my path who are stuck in the darkness of addiction. Sharing with them doesn’t mean I expect them to change, but it does open a door for them to walk through if and when they are ready.
We stood in that dark, smoky beach shanty and tears filled my eyes. They filled my eyes because I knew the Lord was sad for these guys. I was sad for these guys.
Here we were, steps away from the majestic turquoise waters of Ghana’s coastline and they’re trapped inside a dark, dirty structure that had more of a likeness to a prison cell than a hangout spot. It was obvious the beauty of this world was escaping them completely.
Imagine what it would be like for that to be your normal? Would you resign at the pathetic idea that this is as good as it gets?
I didn’t have to imagine much. I never sat in a beach shanty or even a drug house during my drinking days, but I resonated deeply with the sentiment in that place. Feelings of being so lost, so hopeless for my life flooded back to my mind. I knew God wanted me to give them something.
I presented my life story in 15 minutes. I told them how I was knocked on my butt enough times to surrender, how freaking hard it was to abandon the old Kenzie, and how God is the only reason I’m still sober today. I shared how Jesus interrupted my life, and he’s doing the same for them. They just have to make the choice whether to tune him out or give him an ear.
A local guy from the ministry closed out our time together by inviting these men to accept Christ as their Lord and Savior. To my surprise, every single man raised a hand.
He also told them how the mission center (where my team is living this month) is a rehab center and the doors are always open. They don’t have to journey this alone.
I’ll never know whether they were genuine in their decisions, but that’s not my business anyhow. I hope and pray they will choose Life and move toward freedom one day at a time.
In closing, I want to share something with you; a prayer that has helped me many days and proved useful in all circumstances, especially on the World Race.
I learned this prayer through my recovery journey, when I made my own decision to turn my will and my life over to God. I didn’t realize how big, how far, how deep He would stretch its meaning as I matured and walked through my days.
The words are simple yet profound:
God, I offer myself to You – to build with me and to do with me as You will. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Your will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of Your Power, Your Love, and Your Way of Life. May I do Your will always!
I have found myself asking God to relieve me of the bondage of self every morning for most of the Race. That’s what it is, after all, a bondage. I don’t want to be a slave to anything, especially my own selfishness. If I’d been concerned with my wants, I wouldn’t be nearly as useful to people around me or the Lord.
So I pray: Use me, Lord. And He surely does.
How does God want to use you today? Are you willing and ready? He used regular misfits all the time in His ministry on earth, and look how that turned out.
Love and blessings,
Kenz
