I had just gotten out of prison. No job, no real plan—just me, the streets of Harlem, and the weight of my past hanging over me. I wasn’t sure where I was headed, but I knew one thing: I didn’t want to go back to the life I had left behind. Still, the world felt cold, and I felt alone.
John’s Story
Then, something stopped me in my tracks. Music. Not just any music—it was worship. Voices singing, hands lifted, people praising. I don’t know why, but I felt drawn to it. I sat down on the sidewalk, just listening. For the first time in a long time, I felt… something. Peace? Hope? I wasn’t sure.
John
One of the team members noticed me and came over. They didn’t judge me. They didn’t ask questions. They just talked to me like I mattered. And before I knew it, I blurted out something I hadn’t told anyone—I had just been on the phone with my wife. She had been praying for me for years, asking God to send someone to reach me, to bring me back. And here they were. Right in front of me.
I don’t believe in coincidences. That moment was real. It was God reaching out to me when I least expected it. They spoke words of encouragement, but more than that, they showed me love—the kind I didn’t think I deserved. Right there, sitting on that sidewalk, something in me broke. I let go of the fear, the shame, the weight of my past, and for the first time in years, I felt hope.
That day, I gave my life to Christ. I don’t have it all figured out yet, but I know I’m not the same man I was. And it all started with a song, a prayer, and a team willing to show up and remind me that God hadn’t forgotten me.