A Line Cook, Two Years of Painkillers, and a Voicemail From His Mother

Pastor Cole: Well, welcome in. I've got a friend with me today — this is Marcus, and he's a ways from home. He's out of Bakersfield, California. Some mutual folks put us in touch, said, you need to hear this man's story. And he was gracious enough to make the trip. Marcus, thank you for coming. So — where does the story start?

Marcus: Man, honestly? It starts with me thinking I had it handled. I was a line cook — good one, too. Fifteen years on the line. Fast hands, nobody faster. And I had my wife, had my two girls at home... and I figured, y'know, I built this. Me. Didn't need my family telling me nothin', didn't need my mom callin' me every Sunday, didn't need God. I was doing just fine on my own.

Pastor Cole: Fifteen years on the line, fast hands — that's real. And I hear that "I built this" in you, Marcus. You know, that puts me in mind of the boy in Luke 15. He didn't hate his father. He just figured he could do better with his share of it, out on his own. Nobody sets out for the far country. You just start walking, and one day you look up and you're there.

Marcus: Nah, it wasn't like one day, y'know? It was a beer after shift, then it was four, then it was — I don't even know. And then I threw my back out on the line, and they give you pills for that, and dude... those pills made everything quiet. So I chased quiet for like two years. And my wife'd ask me something and I'd bite her head off. My girls'd come in the room and I'd walk out. Nobody kicked me out, honestly. I just kept... walking.

Pastor Cole: Nobody kicked you out. You just kept walking. You know, there's a line about that boy in Luke fifteen — it says, when he came to himself. Like he'd been somewhere else the whole time. Marcus, I'm not gonna push you anywhere you don't wanna go. But somewhere out there, the walking stopped. Can you tell me about that?

Marcus: It was like... two in the morning, empty apartment, nothing in it. And I had this voicemail from my mom saved, and I hadn't listened to it in — I don't know how long. And she's not mad, man. She's just... praying for me. On a voicemail. Something just broke loose in me right there. I didn't get fixed that night, I wanna be straight about that. But something started.

Marcus: So a few weeks go by and I'm still... rough, honestly. And this guy from my recovery group, he just goes, come to church with me Sunday. And I went 'cause I didn't have nothing else. But that little church — somebody's up there talking about Jesus dying on the cross, and it hit me like it was for ME. My sin. Not just, like, everybody's. And one night I just broke. Right there. Prayed, gave Him everything. And dude, the weight came off. That wasn't me cleaning myself up — I'd tried that a hundred times. That was the Lord picking me up out of it. And that was three years ago. Three years. I got my wife back, I got my girls back — I do the Wednesday food pantry at my little church now. So I get to be the guy watching the door for the next one.

Pastor Cole: Marcus... that right there. That's the whole thing. Because you didn't clean yourself up — you said it plain, you'd tried a hundred times. That was Jesus. That was the cross doing what only the cross can do. The Word says, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. And that night, in that little church — you got born again. If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature. Not repaired, Marcus. New. By grace are ye saved through faith, not of works, lest any man should boast. You got nothin' to boast about, brother — and that's the good news.

Pastor Cole: Marcus, watching the door. Brother, do you hear what you just said? Because in Luke fifteen, that father — he's out on the porch. He's looking down that road every single day for a boy who took everything and left. And the Word says while he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and ran. Somebody was watching that door for you. And now you're the one watching it. That's the whole gospel, right there in a food pantry on a Wednesday. Thank you, brother.