5 Years From Prison
Yesterday I preached my first sermon. Over a year ago I bought my first home, almost four and a half years ago I discovered sobriety, five years ago today I was released from prison.
A past is a funny thing. Yesterday in my sermon on shame, I talked about how we couldn’t really hope or dream until we first unburdened ourselves with the toxic thoughts that burden us around our past, and for a really long time I was so ashamed of myself for my time being incarcerated.
We can talk about the merits of the prison industrial complex. How in Missouri I would have gotten probation for the same amount of narcotics that I got a hefty sentence for in Oklahoma. How the governor at the time’s husband was heavily invested in private prisons. How the punitive justice system in the United States does nothing to restore or recover the overwhelming influence addiction has on criminal justice. How the cash bond system traps people without financial resources in jails until they sing unfavorable plea bargains. We can also talk about the loophole that got me out well before the end of my sentence that favors white people and systematically oppresses people of color in a state with a long history of racial injustices. And someday I might. But today, I just want to talk about God’s grace.
Following my release from prison I wasn’t prepared for life in the real world. Although I swore that I would never use again after 19 months behind bars, I was given no real skills or rehabilitation to function as a sober member of society. With a punitive, not restorative, justice system in the United States, I simply wasn’t prepared. No amount of love from my mother or shame from my past mistakes could have given me the power to say no when offered drugs a mere 72 hours after release from prison. The next six months were very dark. I lived on the streets, would break into an abandoned house to shelter from the elements or, if I was lucky, crash at a “trap house” inhabited by cockroaches and other addicts. I wrecked cars, I gained and lost minimum wage jobs, and nearly got arrested stealing food from WalMart just to eat. My last violation report for probation marked 11 ways that I had violated probation.
By the grace of God discovered through the 12 steps of recovery, I was able to gain and retain sobriety on April 29, 2018 after six months of absolute hell, two months of hard gained sobriety and one weekend of relapse. It took passionate 12 step members to care and love for me in a way that society never had. “For fun and for free” these people gave me the first dose of restorative justice. A form of accountability for my past actions that focused on repairing the wreckage of my past and reducing my ego enough to let God in. I am forever grateful for these people who took in broken and busted me and loved me until I loved myself.
Three years ago when I moved to Saint Louis I came the closest to complete collapse I have been since getting sober. After a year of sobriety in which I worked at a call center and lived in the Forest Cove South Trailer Park, I finally had a career opportunity to work in the accounting field that I held multiple degrees and immense experience in. Due to my felony and general mental state, I wasn’t exactly an ideal candidate for many opportunities up until then. Presented with a life changing opportunity, I had to relocate from Saint Louis to Springfield. A move that already involved separating myself from my support system and recovery resources. This was immediately compounded with the complete rejection of felons from the rental market by the vast majority of landlords. After at least 10 applications submitted (after disclosing the felony to the leasing agent) I was able to secure an apartment with a double deposit AND a co-signer. The complete mental anguish that accompanies housing insecurity is something that I never want to experience again. Two years later when I purchased my first home, the approval process for a mortgage was nothing in comparison to the complete discrimination facing fellons in the housing market.
Then, a year later, I was presented with a life changing career opportunity, one that I was heavily recruited for due to my resume and past accomplishments. After all, before addiction I was a CPA at a Big Four accounting firm. I disclosed my felony to recruiters repeatedly, often getting the “sorry we can’t work with you” response. Finally, for a contract position with a regional accounting firm, the recruiter said that she could make it work. After white lies to go through three rounds of interviews, disclosing my felony conviction at every level, I was informed that they could not hire me due to the felony. From the same people that were concerned I was overqualified for the position.
I am going to take a minute to name my privilege in this. Not only do the rooms of recovery favor people who carry white privilege. I was able to be released due to my “economic earning potential” by the State of Oklahoma, to a family that was able to do things like buy me a car. Also, due to my education and background from schools that did not fail me, I had a degree to lean on. Additionally, when the career opportunity presented itself, I had a benevolent family member who stepped in to cover the double deposit required to secure the apartment that was willing to work with me on my complex background.
The grace of God has been immensely abundant in my life. The power of God to transform this pain and shame into something that can be used to benefit and empower others is a gift that I will work the rest of my life and never even begin to repay. In the past five years I have been blessed with home ownership, abundance of love from friends and family and a call to ministry that has given me purpose and life. Yesterday I was able to stand on stage of The Gathering's Clayton site and be exactly who God made me to be, sharing a message of hope that they had placed on my heart.
Although the grace of God is abundant and I have been given more than my fair share of opportunity, we can’t rely on the grace of God to combat a society that systematically oppresses felons, disproportionately affecting people of color and other marginalized groups. With a system that takes addicts and permanently brands them with criminal records, every sentence is a life sentence with no ability to fully leave their past behind them. No one in their right mind would trade a six figure career and a thriving life for a life on the streets, so the thought of addiction being a choice and stigmatized has to end. The prison industrial complex that places sandbags around the waste of our brothers and sisters and tells them to swim has to end.
The last five years of my life have clearly been a rollercoaster and I am blessed by a God who redeems. Now as a society we have to do better. Be more Christ-like. Allow redemption and restoration.
