Homeless, Dying, and 70 Pills a Day. Then Byron Called the Police on Himself.

Byron is a graduate of the Rise Discipleship home in Abilene, Texas. But the road that got him there started with a wound he carried from the day he was born.

His father was unfaithful to his mother from the start, and Byron grew up feeling unwanted, with a hardness settling over his heart early. By his teens he was in the streets with older friends, fighting, exposed to everything the world had to offer. When his family's faith fractured and he couldn't find God in the places they took him, he got angry and walked away.

"I got mad at God. I left, and I was like, I'm gone."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nWqIK4EHBpw&t=4s

Running

The drugs came fast. Xanax, weed, cocaine, and more. He was kicked out at fifteen, went to the streets, and started selling. Rejection had followed him his whole life, so the crowd that finally accepted him felt like a crown.

At sixteen, a woman took him in and loved him like her own son. She never judged him. She fed him, washed his clothes, and told him again and again to follow Jesus. Part of him wanted to.

"I'd tell her, I want to follow Jesus. But I kept saying, I can't."

God kept reaching for him anyway. One night, broken and high, Byron looked up and saw a scripture a friend had written on the wall, Psalm 46:10, "Be still and know that I am God." The presence of God hit him and he broke down crying. But he wasn't ready. He kept running.

The Bottom

The cycle went on for years. Jail, bond out, back to the same people, the same drugs. Then fentanyl took over completely. Byron was taking around 70 pills a day, homeless, running from the law, and he had burned every bridge he had left, even the closest ones.

It came to an end in a broken-down car at the end of December. The roads were iced over, the windows were shattered, and Byron was in the back seat under a blanket, shaking, withdrawing, dying.

"I started crying. I told Jesus, I'm a junkie. I'm going to die like this. I don't want to do this anymore. What do I do?"

And in his thoughts, he heard an answer he did not want: turn yourself in.

He Called the Law on Himself

Byron ran from that too, at first. But days later, dying and cold-sweating in a place that had just run a background check on him, a warrant that somehow hadn't shown up, he finally decided to obey. He walked into the office and told them the truth: he had a warrant, he was on the run. Then he called the police on himself.

He still remembers the officer who came for him. Byron was cuffed, nose running from withdrawal, and the man gently wiped his face with a tissue. At the time it just confused him. Looking back, he sees it clearly.

"Now that I think about it, that was the love of God taking care of me."

He turned himself in and was offered five years. His lawyer fought for a program instead. It came down to whether the victim in his case would answer the phone, a moment that could have ended in decades behind bars. Byron chose to trust the God who told him to surrender. The victim answered, said Byron was no threat, and the serious charge was dropped. He signed for probation and was court-ordered to Rise Discipleship for one year.

The Wall

That first year, Byron was in the program by force, and he says it had to be that way, because he would have run otherwise. He was fired up for two weeks, then drifted, compromising in small ways until he got caught.

His breakthrough came during discipline, on his knees scrubbing a wall with a toothbrush. Aggravated and done, he threw the brush to the ground and cried out.

"I said, Jesus, what do you want from me? Why am I here? And all I heard was: surrender."

Slowly, he lifted his hands. And something snapped. He finally let go and let God.

"My way sucks. Only Yahweh."

Solid Gold

From there everything changed. His home director, Belony, and Pastor AG poured into him with a fire he could feel, and though his pride fought it at first, he knew it was the truth. He stopped just fundraising and started testifying to the power of Jesus. He fell in love with God, and with leading other people to Him.

Byron will tell you Rise is not a rehab or a halfway house. It's a place where God deals with the heart, a season in the fire that keeps purifying you until, as he puts it, you come out like solid gold, reflecting Jesus.

When he was about to graduate, a job offer came dangling money, women, and "do whatever you want." He heard the enemy in it, kept his eyes on Jesus, and instead did something no one could ever chalk up to a court order: he committed to a second year, by his own choice.

"Now I'm in this program because I choose Jesus. I tried everything my own way. Jesus really is the only way."

If This Is You

Byron knows the grip of fentanyl, the withdrawals, the drought, the impossible math of trying to function. And he wants you to know Jesus can take all of it away. If that's where you are, or if someone you love is that far down, don't wait. It's free, a real person answers day or night, and it starts with one call.

Ready to reach out? Get help now. Freedom really is just one phone call away. (325) 232-5449.

And it's all free because of people like you. Rise receives no government help, so donations cover the food, clothing, transportation, bus tickets, medical needs, and even probation fees that carry men like Byron through their first year. As he put it, when you put a seed in the hands of God, He multiplies it.

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If you or someone you love is struggling with addiction or thoughts of suicide, you are not alone and help is available. Rise Discipleship's 24/7 helpline is (325) 232-5449.