Clay Johnson's Testimony

Pray

Dear Father, for Christ’s sake, speak to us. In Jesus name, Amen.

Introduction:

I am a grateful believer, that celebrates recovery over drugs, alcohol, pornography, and sexual immorality. I still wrestle with control, pride, and anger. My name is Clay.

Revelation 12:11 NKJV

And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives to the death.

Everyone has a story to tell. Some of us spend a little more time writing our story than others. Though our stories may be different, they all must end with Jesus. Jesus is the only happy ever after.

I was born in 1979 in Albany, GA. My parents divorced before I was one. Later my dad would tell me that he was in the process of divorcing my mom when she found out she was pregnant. My conception forced him to stay with my mom for another year. You see, before I was even born, I was messing things up for my dad. This would be a theme for much of my life. To say I have daddy issues is an understatement. I was constantly told I was a failure by my father, although he preferred the term F-up. Being a failure became my identity, so I eventually embraced it and became the best failure I could be.

I lived with my mom until the ninth grade. We never stayed in one place longer than a year. In kindergarten, while living in Albany, an older neighborhood bully would frequently take advantage of me. Later in fifth grade, while living in Jacksonville, an older man at a baseball card shop did the same.

I held onto this and buried it deep. When your told that you’re a failure so much that you believe it, you assume that this is par for the course. Until recently, I never told anyone what happened when I was a child, because I thought I deserved it. I could hear my dad’s voice, “Clay you’re an F-up, you deserve what you get, you only have yourself to blame!”

This would also lead to confusion that I was not equipped to deal with. I would become so determined to disprove my confusion, that I would spend the rest of my life going from one female to the next, not having a clue what it meant to be faithful. I would tell girl’s whatever lies they needed to hear to get what I wanted. I was headed down a path of destruction.

Matthew 7:13 NKJV

“Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it.

In ninth grade I moved to Cordele, GA to live with my dad and my stepmom. I had an older brother, Mark, who was perfect in the eyes of my dad. I also had a younger sister, Autumn, that was perfect in the eyes of my stepmom. My dad was a functioning alcoholic as far as owning a small business and providing for his family. However, he was not a very nice drunk when it came to his home-life. He was physically and verbally abusive.

My dad did teach us the importance of working hard and being responsible. This was a life lesson that my older brother was naturally gifted at. I was not. Dad was extremely big on rules and chores. This was something new to me. My mom had been the exact opposite. My mother was a pothead and let me do what I wanted.

I was not raised in church. I did go off and on during high school. Not for the right reasons though. You see, the prettiest girl in the school lived down the road and her parents went to church every time the doors were open. So, what did I do? What any young man would do, I started going to church with them.

In tenth grade I started going to Crisp Academy, a Christian-school. I got a scholarship to play sports. Life took a turn for the better, so I thought. I quickly became the star of the football and basketball team. I was THE MAN! For the first time in my life, my dad was proud of me. Or was he proud of my success in sports? Either way life was grand.

I loved being the center of attention. Remember earlier when I said I had a problem with confusion, and how I dealt with that confusion? Popularity only made things worse. I became a father’s worst nightmare.

It was at Crisp Academy that I was introduced to alcohol and drugs. In tenth grade I started smoking pot and drinking alcohol. In twelve grade I was did my first line of cocaine in the school bathroom. “WOW!” Getting drunk and high covered up the confusion and pain better than women.

In 1998 I graduated high school and went off to college. I moved in with some friends on the lake and started partying even harder. I started doing harder drugs and even started selling drugs to help pay for my habit. I had it all figured out. That was until one of my close friends got in wreck and died leaving our house on mushrooms one night. My dad caught wind of this and I dropped out of my classes and moved back home. After one more failed attempt at college, I started working for a living at Johnson Electronics.

I had a golden opportunity in front of me working for the family business. I was more interested in making money the fast way. Looking back, there is no such thing as a good drug dealer. We suck at what we do. It never fails. We use more than we sale. It’s hard to win like that. It was during this time that I had I would ‘get back’ at my dad for all the pain he caused me. I forged a $30,000 loan in his name and spent it all before he got the paperwork. It took a while, but he forgave me. After a few years I started stealing copper wire from the company and selling it for scrap. He found out, fired me, forgave me, hired me back. Then I started using the gas card to fill the dope man’s car up with gas in exchange for a sack. My dad found out, he fired me, he forgave me, and hired me back. This twisted, unhealthy, relationship, would continue like this for years.

After several failed engagements due to unfaithfulness, I met my first wife. We had a beautiful daughter. We moved to Perry where I would get introduced to Oxycodone. “GOODNIGHT!” This was a miracle drug. I spent the next eight years married to a pill. My wife tried everything she could to salvage our marriage. She tried to get me to go to rehab. She even took me to a local Celebrate Recovery, in which I pitched a fit until we left. She finally kicked me out and divorced me.

My drug use and unhealthy relationships would continue to spiral out of control. In 2010. I caught my first felony, sale of oxycodone. I was now on state probation. For the first time in my life, I had accountability. I didn’t want any part of this. I learned every way possible to pass a drug test. My drug use was under control, and I totally had my life together.

I was a grown man, living with my Nanny. My Nanny was the Godliest woman I ever met. She constantly did her best to tell me about Jesus. I never listened and I was convinced that Jesus was just a fairy tale, and she was obviously naive. There is no doubt that her prayers are why I’m standing before you now.

Just when life couldn’t get any worse, I was introduced to a needle. This would spiral me into such a deep, dark, place. I couldn’t even begin to feed this addiction. I never had enough. I always wanted more. The “pull” was too strong and ever persistent. Within six months of meeting my new best friend, my dad fired me for the final time, I was forced to move out of my Nannies, and I lost my visitation rights to see my daughter. Like the prodigal son I was eating with pigs in the mud. The only difference is that I didn’t come to my senses.

To make my dad happy I checked into a Christian rehab in Alapaha, Georgia named Penfield. I wasn’t very happy about it. First off, I didn’t need rehab. Rehab is for quitters and the word quit isn’t in my vocabulary. Only weak people quit. Second, I didn’t need a made-up God. As I said earlier, I got daddy issues. A loving, forgiving Father is an oxymoron if I ever heard one. Nope, they don’t exist. Statistically, you’d be better off trying to find a unicorn or leprechaun.

Anyways, I did all the things I was supposed to do while at Penfield. I even got baptized because that will prove that I’ve really changed. What I know now is that you can say as many prayers as you want and ask Jesus to come into your heart, but if you don’t really believe and repent, it means nothing.

As soon as I got out of rehab, I found a needle and some pills. I also got involved in some extremely toxic relationships that, mixed with drugs had me spend the next 5 years either on the run or locked up.

My first of many stays at the Crisp County Detention Center, I spent 42 days, during which time I fully detoxed from pills. When I got out, I made my mind up I wasn’t going back to pills. Instead, I traded my pills for meth, and I was off to the moon. The meth mentally took me mentally to a dark, demonic place. What meth does to someone with sexual addiction is twisted. This is a time in my life that makes me sick to think about or discuss. Just know that I was one of the enemies’ minions.

After my five-year trip to the moon in which I spent lost either running from the law, locked up, arrowhead hunting, watching porn, or worshiping sexual immorality, the court systems finally had enough. They sent me to prison. You know being locked up wasn’t all that bad for a homeless junkie. They gave me a roof over my head, 3 meals a day, my very own bed, and they even had air conditioning. My family even preferred me to be locked up. At least then, they knew I was safe. My dad was so convinced that I was going to kill myself, that he took out a life insurance policy on me. I guess he wanted to capitalize on my failure. Well dad, I showed you.

On July 13th, 2018, I was released from my luxurious gated community and out on parole. I paroled to my dad’s house and even got my job back at the family business. I reconnected with a female friend from high school. She invited me to church, and I accepted. Hey, I can play that game. I was tried of being locked up and I was ready to try anything. Even if that meant going to a building with all the hypocrites and pretending to worship a God that didn’t exist.

I would like to tell you that this was my happy ever after, but as I said earlier, I’m not a quitter. Not only did I move in with my female friend, but I couldn’t stop, on my own strength, from going out and giving the fast life one more time. This lasted around 3 months, during which my parole officer stopped checking on me. This was odd. They hadn’t missed a month since I was released from prison until I started getting high again. Someone, for whatever reason, must be looking out for me. Wait a minute, that’s foolish talk. There’s no one to watch my back, except me. Or is there?

On January 10th, 2019, I finally had enough. I quit, whatever that means. Somehow, someway, I laid down everything and haven’t picked it up since. Three days later, parole shows up with a cup. I’ve been using for 3 months and have no time to study for this drug test. I’m going back to prison. The test come up negative. There must be a mistake. Someone must be looking after me, wait that’s childish talk.

I got involved in AA, got a sponsor, and started working the steps. The common denominator in the meetings I went to was simple. Every person at that table said that their recovery started off with asking God to keep them sober just for today. I was desperate and willing to try anything. Even if that meant asking Someone that didn’t exist to keep me sober. Or did He exist.

Meanwhile at church, my Sunday school teacher, James Barry made several comments about people living together and not being married and how that was sin. I know a Greek word for that. Hogwash! I confronted him and asked him why he was calling me out and he said he didn’t even know I was cohabiting. He even tried to blame it on some imaginary Holy Spirit. I have another Greek word for that. Bologna!

The problem with marrying my female friend, let’s call her Natalie, was very simple. Natalie was a widow. Her first husband was killed himself due to drug addiction. She was receiving $1353 a month social security and would continue to for the rest of her life unless she got remarried. This led to quite a few arguments with this so-called God. To make a long story short, I told Him, if He really existed, to prove to me this was what I was supposed to do.

During the summer of 2019, Natalie got a new job making $10,000 more a year. Within that same month, I dad gave me a $3 an hour raise. It’s funny how you ask for a sign but can’t recognize one if it slaps you in the face. One day, as I’m still asking God to prove Himself, He tells me to do the math knucklehead. Remember earlier I said $1353. If you take $10,000 and divide it by 12, you get $833.33. If you take $3 an hour and do the math it comes up to $520 a month. $833 plus $520 just so happens to equal $1352. Look at God.

1 John 5:14–15 NKJV

Now this is the confidence that we have in Him, that if we ask anything according to His will, He hears us. And if we know that He hears us, whatever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we have asked of Him.

God directly answered my question pertaining to marriage. I bought Natalie a ring and asked her to be my wife.

The following Sunday, July 21st, 2019, was and is and always will be the greatest day in the history of Clay’s life. It was a normal Sunday morning at Ebenezer Baptist. Sunday school taught by the anointed teacher Brother James Barry. Brother Fred Jones brought the message. Brother Fred always ended the service with an invitation. Before this particular Sunday, I despised the invitation. For some reason I always felt like Brother Fred was calling me out. The invitation was always excruciating. I would start sweating and this might sound strange, but I always felt like someone was pushing me. I was determined to wait it out. He’ll be done any second. Not this Sunday. I didn’t wait. For all I know, Brother Fred wasn’t finished yet. I had a divine appointment with Jesus. I wanted to be saved and that was exactly what Jesus did for me that day.

Romans 10:9–10 NKJV

that if you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.

That day I moved out of Natalie’s. I knew instantly that God didn’t approve of our living situation. I had spent my entire life being disobedient. I was ready to be as obedient as humanly possible on this side of heaven. I surrendered everything that beautiful day.

Two weeks later Natalie surrendered her life. Two weeks after that we both got baptized. And the following week we made a covenant with God and joined in marriage.

Joel 2:25a (NKJV)

“So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten,

God gave me everything I lost, plus more. I am proud to say that my daughter is a part of my life and even tells me she loves me despite all the wrong I’ve done to her. I now have a son, Fletcher, and a stepdaughter, River.

Since that glorious Sunday morning not to long ago, so much has happened I could write a book.