I was blessed to discover my God-given writing talent at an early age. Before the age of sixteen I had written my first full-length novel. It was a crime novel, steeped in gang violence, a subject that for some reason fascinated me as a young boy. When I heard my calling into ministry, God used my writing talents to write skits and productions for Children’s ministry. But my true passion continued to be writing about crime. My mystery-suspense novels were far from Christian-based—rooted in the values of a crooked and fallen world. Little did I know that the day I had met a twelve-time felon by the name of Roger Munchian how God was about to turn my talents for writing crime fiction from entertaining the world to serving His eternal Kingdom. 

While in ministry with our home church, CCV, my wife at the time and I had joined a CCV neighborhood group, the group to which Roger belonged. A week rarely went by when Roger would not share his testimony as a former drug lord living a fast and reckless life. I was inspired by how God used a speeding car, a sharp highway curve, and an 85 mph impact with a barrier wall to slow him down—and to get his attention. It was the kind of swashbuckling intrigue that I loved to write about. Wow, of all of the hundreds of crime-filled pages I had written, of all the hundreds-of-thousands of thuggish words I had penned—Roger’s life-story was one that I could not make up. The real life Roger had lived was one way beyond even this crime writer’s wildest imagination.  

When our paths crossed, Roger was just starting in his prison ministry. He was mentoring just a few inmates a week at the Maricopa County jails and had no volunteers. But when his testimony was published in Prison Living Magazine and circulated throughout the County system, hundreds of requests a week were pouring in for mentoring. During one neighborhood group meeting, he shared a vision that if God could reach hundreds of incarcerated lives through one magazine article circulating in the prison system—think of what He could do with a full-length story. God nudged me to approach him. This was a powerful testimony. Certainly he had dozens of authors vying to write his story. When I nervously asked him if he had a writer on the project he said no, then told me one woman had started writing his story, but abandoned the project after her marriage came under attack by the Enemy. He gave me a copy of the unfinished manuscript and told me that if this was something that I wanted to take on, to let him know.

On vacation, my wife and I went on a SCUBA diving trip down to the Turks and Caicos and I took the half-written manuscript with me to read. Dear Brother or Sister, I never had a more powerful vision as to what God wanted me to do as I had during that trip. See, I had run a very successful Executive Search business for over 17 years, but at the time we were on the cusp of the 2009 Financial Meltdown. We owned two homes—upside down on both, and investment property up in Northern Arizona that had plummeted in value. Deep down, I knew that my business was done. But I felt a rush of peace after getting the vision, God telling me, “I’ve blessed your career and your business all these years, and you’ve remained faithful in the gift of writing I gave you. This is what I want you doing now. Trust me. I will provide.”

My wife, sadly, did not get the memo on that. When I took on the project, I did not realize that in writing Roger’s story—my own story was about to become a testimony as well.

So this is where my story really begins.

In Matthew 14:22-32 Jesus sent the disciples ahead of Him across the Sea of Galilee—on their first mission trip, so to speak, without him physically there with them. They obeyed, and immediately came under Satan’s attack with a ferocious storm. I believe that’s what
happened to me. After I started the project, the storm hit: we lost both of our homes and my business flat-lined. But I pressed on, and not only did God have me writing Roger’s testimony, He also called me into prison ministry. I became a badged clergy volunteer for the Maricopa County Sheriff’s office in Arizona, and my faith, knowledge, and walk with Christ grew deeper by mentoring inmates in the dark places of the Maricopa County jail system.

After over fifteen years in Children’s ministry, the truth of Hebrews 5:12-14 was revealed to me: “In fact, though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you the elementary truths of God’s word all over again. You need milk, not solid food! Anyone who lives on milk, being still an infant, is not acquainted with the teaching about righteousness. But solid food is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil” (New International).  Fifteen years of ministry and I was still drinking the milk like an infant in Christ. God convicted me that if I was going to be reaching the lost in dark places like the county jails, I needed to learn to eat the solid food of the truth in Jesus Christ.    

But the storm intensified. My wife decided to leave the marriage.  Forced to move out, everything I owned, except what I could fit in a 5x8 storage unit and in the back of my truck, was hauled off by a St. Vincent DePaul truck. Just as Satan wanted to stop the disciples ministry, he wanted to stop mine—and he pretty much succeeded. When Satan attacked the disciples with the storm, Peter at least had the guts to jump out of the boat and run to Jesus. I chose to cower in the boat and fled to the bottle. Looking at single parenthood, financial bankruptcy, and an uncertain future, I found comfort in alcohol and a reckless life-style that I thought I could keep secret.

On the outside I was a devoted father, loyal employee, and a dedicated minister. Inside, I was crushed and dying, self-medicating with alcohol and out carousing in unhealthy, reckless relationships that I thought could fix my shattered heart and fill the excruciating void that divorce leaves deep in the soul. I remember leaving the barstool one evening to attend a prison ministry meeting, stuffing my mouth full of breath mints and peppermint candies, fooling myself, thinking I could mask the smell of booze. Roger was not fooled. The next day when he called call me out on my behavior, I thought he would be furious with

me. Instead, he simply said:

“Joe, I love you, brother. I am worried about you.”

“I am dead inside, Roger. I am sorry I let you down. I am so, so dead inside.”

“You did not let me down, Joe. I am here to talk if you need me.”

This is the genuine heart of Roger Munchian—full of the kind of unconditional love and compassion that can only come from an unwavering walk with Christ. 

I did take Roger up on his offer to talk. However, it was simply to tell him that I was stepping down from the prison ministry. But I did not want to quit writing his story. Something deep down inside me—deep below the deadness and decay I felt in my heart and soul—did not want to give up on the book, and I did not want Roger to find another author to pick up yet another failed attempt to write his story. Yet even though I told him I was still working on the book—I really wasn’t.  I’d type a few sentences here and there between hangovers and self-pity, but it really wasn’t going anywhere. 

But God never gave up on me. Pealing my hungover eyes open one morning, I watched Joyce Meyers preaching the message about the Bethesda pool in John 5:8 where Jesus looked at the invalid and said “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.” God telling me to “Get up! You’re acting like this thing has crippled you. Get up—pick up your troubles and get to work.” 

I picked up my mat, but the toxin of booze did not let me get very far. I eventually showed up at Roger’s home ready to tell him that I was calling it quits. But before I could get the words out, he opened up Acts 22:10 where Paul had just been knocked flat on his back. Paul asked Jesus “What shall I do?”  Jesus simply answered, “Get up, Paul.” Jesus again telling me, “GET UP!”  

This time I got up. When I told Roger that I wanted to get back into prison ministry, I thought I would have to go through the process of getting my volunteer badge renewed. To my surprise, Roger told me that he never cancelled my badge. 

He said, “I knew you would be coming back.” 

Typical Roger. He had faith in me even though I had given up on myself.

Finding a flash of hope, I started forcing myself to get up early every morning and pushed forward with the book. My appointment with God was the insane hours of 4:30 to 6:00 every morning. Each morning I woke up without a clue as to what I was going to write. Re-vitalized only with the smell of coffee and a shot from God’s Word, I sat down at the keyboard and let the Holy Spirit take over. To my
amazement, the words poured across my screen. Morning after morning God filled the pages with words of His choosing, not mine. I have never experienced such a presence of the Holy Spirit. After several incredible months of this—after day after day of feeling God’s workmanship through my finger-tips tapping the keyboard—I wrote the two most cherished words of any author: “The End”.

The book was finished, but my own journey to sobriety was only beginning. Every day is a new day of victory in Jesus Christ over alcohol. As with anyone with an addiction, it is a not an easy struggle, but as long as I take up my mat daily, He gives me the strength to make it through—reminding me that He has rescued me from the chains of my own making. He has also delivered me from my desire to seek recklessness relationships—delivered me and rescued me before I got arrested or faced the destruction that was the certain destination of the secret road I was traveling. Only He knew where that dark and lonely road was headed—and He chose to rescue me. I will stay rescued as long as I stay grateful, seek first His Kingdom, and keep my feet firmly planted on the path that He ordained for me. His path. Not my path. His will. Not my will. As God promises in Proverbs 16:9, “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps” (New International Version). 

I’ve seen God do incredible things serving in jail ministry.  I’ve seen the bulkiest, tattoo-covered men who have seen nothing but blood and murder all their lives completely break down, shedding tears they have not likely shed since the doctor first smacked them on the behind at birth. I’ve seen prison gang leaders turn from the iron-fisted leadership of violence and brute intimidation to leading jail pods
of hundreds of chained men in prayer. I got to listen to a young inmate, barely in his twenties, saying “I can face the next twenty-eight years in prison. But what I can’t face is eternity in Hell, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I am going to Hell for what I have done.”  I got to see palpable fear and excruciation in his eyes dissipate to peace and joy when I told him, “Hell is not for you! You belong to Jesus Christ—He paid the price of His blood for you to be with Him. There is nothing you have done that cannot be forgiven by His blood.” I got to see the complete transformation—to literally feel the shroud of evil lift from him—as he accepted Christ that day. I will never forget the joy on his face, the new bounce in his step as he danced back to his cell, Bible in his hand, a new citizen of Christ’s Kingdom. 

Rescued—not arrested.

Outside I watch the evening news and see a broken and lost world. Behind the razor wire and cold cinderblock walls of the jails—I see true revival!  

Most importantly, I have seen my own life turn around. This ministry is reaching people on both sides of the prison walls. I am looking forward to seeing what Jesus Christ has next for me on this incredible journey, and I am looking forward to hearing from you, dear Brother or Sister in Christ. You can always reach me through www.rescuednotarrested.org or at on my contact page. I am eager to learn how our Lord and savior Jesus Christ has touched your life and has begun a permanent and eternal restoration that can only come from the one true Master.

H.Joseph Gammage, Broken and Renewed by the Loving Hands of Christ