How I Got in and out of the Poison Business

This is a testimony given when Luke became a member at Tenth in 2006.

I was born in 1982 to two loving Christians in a Christ-centered marriage. After being homeschooled for five years in Philadelphia, I moved to central Pennsylvania where I attended my first day of public school in fifth grade. Soon after entering school, I was diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome. I was put on experimental medication and it almost killed me. After stopping the medication, I was worse off than before.

In two years, my nervous system problems worsened and I began searching for alternative treatments. After some research, I discovered marijuana was the best treatment for the nervous disorder, and for the next seven years I was driven by my search for an endless supply if possible. This led me to many drug dealers, and I eventually met some well armed “backwoods guerilla growers”, big time Saudi Arabian pushers, and an eclectic mix of people I could exploit as a middleman. I was a very successful drug dealer – and I define this success as staying out of handcuffs, though I did make enough money to support my habits comfortably.

By ninth grade I was doing all kinds of other drugs because I had so much energy, I was able to take anything and still go to class, or eat dinner with the family. I was kicked out of school in ninth grade for selling pot at lunch, so I was homeschooled for tenth grade. I basically taught myself for three hours a day and learned more than any other year of high school. During that school year, I started my first job at a pizza restaurant.

I worked with several alcoholics and quickly began drinking heavily. Then I got my license, and by that time I was drinking a six-pack every day and smoking or eating whatever drugs were available. As always, I was involved in the chain of distribution in my spare time. In eleventh grade I was re-admitted into my high school with an enhanced knowledge of how to stealthily provide poison to the people I thought I was helping – If they didn’t buy it from me, they would have gone to other more dangerous dealers who would have exploited them much more than I, including my ex-dealer who became a crack head and beat me several times, taking drugs and money from me.

I’ve been robbed for thousands of dollars, but in the long run, I was able to support my habit as well as providing free drugs for most of my friends. I almost died about a dozen times (I lost count between the overdoses and the near-fatal car crashes that just missed me). I was set up by the police five times. The last time was when I noticed God had complete control over my life.

I had been selling to a salon owner who cut my hair every other week. I showed up for the haircut, and afterwards I would go grab my bag of drugs and sell about $1,000 worth of pot each haircut. Looking back, many events pointed to reasons I should not have trusted the guy. I showed up on a Saturday morning in the summer of 2003. In the morning I had taken some acid with friends of mine (but not too much, I was able to drive and act like I was just fine), and left them quickly to do the usual haircut transaction. I left my bag in the trunk as I went in. I noticed a strange high-pitched ringing noise, and a slight echo in the deserted salon. There was also a very large bank bag of money on the counter, perhaps to entice me. The guy was acting very strangely. He told me, “go get your bag, and I’ll know what I want when you get back.” Immediately I knew what was happening, and I couldn’t believe it. I have never felt so helpless. From that point on, I was sure I would go to jail for five years. I was immediately weak, so I was able to tell him honestly, “I’m too tired to get it.” First of all, protocol never included doing the deal first. Second, it didn’t make sense that he didn’t know what he wanted at this point, but when I take the 20-second round-trip to my car in the adjacent parking lot, then he would know. He just wanted me to get all my drugs, to get the maximum penalty. After I told him I wouldn’t get the bag, he said he would do some accounting before the haircut. I sat in the waiting room for five minutes staring at a magazine, then realized that this was nuts because nobody was there, and he could just as easily do his accounting afterwards. I got up and looked at what he was doing, and the page was covered with scribble. He also appeared to be trying to communicate with whoever was monitoring (I later confirmed hidden cameras). As soon as I came up to see what he was doing, he closed the book, and we did the haircut. I don’t know who was more nervous, but the conversation was evasive to say the least. I was so helpless. After he was done, and the scissors were away from my head, I told him I left my bag at my buddy’s house. It was a lie, but that’s when he lost it. I then found out about the video cameras. I didn’t discover who was behind them though. He walked me out to the car to see if the bag was there, but it was in the trunk where he couldn’t see. As I drove away, an unmarked car followed me out of town, but not to my friend’s house, where I told the story to the other high kids there who didn’t believe me, or didn’t want to.

I started cutting back the people I sold drugs to, but I wasn’t able to completely give it up. It was my motivating force; the thing that got me up in the morning; my slave master. Still, after that experience, I did not enjoy selling the way I used to, and I increasingly grew distasteful of drugs and their effects on people. At this point I was enrolled in some high-level economics courses at my university, and realized the damaging economic effects I was causing, particularly supporting the upper strata of organized crime I was invited to join. I was at the point where I needed to join up with the Philadelphia criminals I had been buying from, or completely quit messing around with drugs.

Over Thanksgiving weekend, at the age of 21, I gave my will to God. I told Him I would never again poison my mind and society with recreational drugs, and I got rid of my drugs and money, leaving my double life behind. For all those years, my parents never knew what I was up to. I was getting good grades, and I appeared to be handling myself well, but I was just very good at deception. My will was to get as many drugs as I possibly could. That pretty much happened – I had everything I wanted; years’ worth of drugs, the excitement of being in rooms full of guns, thousands of dollars of my money and that of others, and pounds of drugs. My flesh had everything it wanted, but God opened the eyes of my heart to realize how quickly earthly things fade (James 1:11). Those desires had to die (Rom 8:13) and with God’s help they did die. I laid my burden on Christ, and have been completely freed from my desire for the life I used to live. Looking back, I see how God’s hand protected me in every moment of my rebellion. I saw how he allowed certain things to happen for me to become aware of the self-helplessness I still realize, and about which I am continually refreshed in awareness through God’s excellent provision of his Word, everything we need to equip ourselves for holy living in this world. My desire for drugs has been completely replaced with a desire for Him. I don’t deserve the justification or the sanctification I know, but these things are an incredible testimony to His Grace, the Lord, Jesus Christ.

Colossians 2

1 Peter 4