Overcoming Addiction Through Faith: Rob Reynolds' Recovery Story

Early Life and Struggles

Rob knows I'll start with you, ma'am. I don't want you to introduce yourself and maybe share a little bit of your story. Hi, and let me go first, sir. I'm Rob Reynolds. I'm originally from Martinsburg, West Virginia. Currently residing around West Virginia. But I grew up on the streets with parents that were addicts and alcoholics. I pretty much did the best they could, but it was a lifestyle I grew up in. By the time I was trying to make a long story short, by the time I was 16, I was dealing mass amounts of weed, getting into cocaine, drinking a lot. I didn't give up on sports and everything. By the time I graduated, I barely did that, but I moved on to really doing a lot of cocaine, doing a lot of acid.

My parents let everybody party at my house. It was like everybody loved my house. Senior skip day 24/7. Of course, I had girls everywhere just all the time and thought I was the cool kid in school. Then after I graduated, most of my friends graduated too, so they went on to Morgantown and different colleges, and so my connect was like, “You're moving to Morgantown with all of our customers who went there.” We moved to Morgantown for probably about six to nine months and severely became an alcoholic at that point. I just lived at the bar. For some reason, at that point, I knew I had to get out of there or it was going to get really bad, so I moved back, just kept living the same lifestyle, but ended up meeting a woman, getting her pregnant, lived together for two years, and then decided to get married and figured we'd make it that long.

Encounters with Religion

The story at a vacation Bible school thought it was pretty cool, but that's really all I ever got of the gospel growing up. The woman that I married, her mom was a Christian, and so she would make us go on Christmas and Easter. I was one of the creatures that would show up on those two days, but I remember being so hard. I was so drunk that nobody came over and shared Jesus with me. They left me sitting in the corner, and I didn't want to listen to the pastor, but nobody bothered to tell me there was an answer, and so I just felt like I was treated like I was trash by them, and I never really wanted to go.

Fast forward down, I got into a bunch of criminal activity. In its range, how the religious folks and the church folks, I mean, that's one thing, and maybe it's changed a little bit in the last 10 years, but I know when we first started working in addiction, the religious folks just didn't know what to do with us as addicts, like the church folks. I know my experience—my family always told me, “You’re good at church, good at church, it’ll help change you.” And then when I went to church with track marks on my arms, they didn't know what to do with me.

Descent into Addiction and Despair

I heard you say a little bit of that when you were talking about the Crestor thing. You showed up, and it was like, "Okay, well, he's here now, now what?" That was my experience, and I was married for 10 years, so there were 20 opportunities at least. I don't think we really went to maybe a wedding or something like that, but really, it was two times a year I was there with an opportunity to hear the gospel. Like I said, I wasn't listening to the pastor by far; I was hungover, thinking it looked like in a straight hell, I'm sure. But at any point, somebody could have said something to me or at least tried to share.

Then by the time I got to 2004, I had gone and did some plumbing in 2000. I really went in and ate a lot in NA. At one point, I wanted to get clean because we had a second kid, and I thought, “I'm gonna go down and do plumbing work in Virginia in the necessary area.” My wife at the time, her uncle was a Sunday school teacher and a deacon in a church. So I thought, “Well, maybe I'll go work with him and maybe that'll help.” So again, I thought that might be an option, and I went. I just remember he treated me worse than anybody had ever treated me in all my life.

Turning Point and Rehabilitation

Like he cussed me out every day, told me I was stupid. I wasn't ever going to make it, and I had no idea what I was doing. So that didn't take long. I stayed there for years, but ended up not working with him within six months because it was just impossible. So that put another bad taste in my mouth for sure. I kept getting into criminal activity and hurt my back. I don't know how to seek out in this, and all this time, I was going through depression. I got diagnosed with bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. I was taking all kinds of psych meds.

I think by the time I went to prison, I was taking 500 milligrams of Seroquel twice a day, plus all the other stuff, plus abusing oxycodone, plus pills and coping, and drinking anything to get my hands on. So I was like the garbage man. By the time 2004 came, I remember always saying, “At least I'm not that bad.” Does anybody else do that in their addiction? I did everything except shoot the needle and smoke crack until 2004. So for 14 years, I would say, “At least I got a car.” Yeah. Actually, I thought, “I'm working, I got a job, and at least I'm not shooting dope.”

A Path to Redemption

So I started smoking crack. Then I started shooting up heroin. I would eat at least six times. In the last three years, I just remember, I just gave up. I just wanted to die. I'd be happy to live. I tried to go down to the river one day and purposely tried to overdose. I had some heroin, but I mainly had about eight or ten oxycodones, eighties, a bunch of Prozac, a bunch of Valium, a bunch of crack, and a bunch of beer, and did it all and didn't wake up for two days. I drove myself to the hospital just wanting to die. I think that's when I finally went to rehab, didn't stay there long this time again, and got out and wound up getting three charges for robbery not too long after that. My last incident in 2007, I robbed the bar that my wife worked at.

I ran out of that money, robbed a sheet store where I ran out of that money, and then robbed a man at a convenience store. So I wound up with a 10-year flat prison sentence. In 2007, I did two years at a regional jail waiting to get to prison. Everybody kept trying to hand me a Bible and tell me about Jesus. Through my whole in and out of jails, I just remember thinking I didn't want him on the street. I for sure was not going to want him in prison when I'm just down on my last leg, you know what I mean?

First Steps Toward Faith

My daughter, who was 12 at the time, wrote me a letter. Finally, she was the last person I had left, and she said, “Dad, when you get out, I'm done with you. Don’t talk to me. Don't come around. I don't even want your last name. Don't come to my wedding. I won't be at your funeral. You're dead to me.” That made me realize I was becoming worse than my parents ever were. I said, “Okay, I got to do something.” So I put myself in the residential treatment program called RSTAT at Huntington's Most Late Prison.

I ran into Mark Cumble, who Justin Smith, I think, and Rocky Meadows. They were like leaders in the program with me, and I just remember coming to them and saying, “Guys, I don't know how to do this, but I don't want to be an addict anymore, and I need help.” They literally held me accountable every day until I was tired of writing, and they were telling me about Jesus. I didn't really want to hear it. They were going through devotions, and so I would listen to their devotions but never really go.

A Life-Altering Encounter

Towers Prison Ministries was coming and they were going to serve good food for four days and you get all the cookies you want for free. I was like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! What did you say? The good food and cookies, cookies?!” It's on me up. For real, that's why I went. The first couple of days, the people were coming up. Yeah, chocolate chip cookies. That's it. That's it. That's it. I'm not the one biscuit someone. You did it off of the cookie. It's terrible. I'm so good. Sorry.

No, but really like, people have convinced me over the past eight or nine years to write a book. I think it's going to be called "Cookies of Christ" because that's the early one. But I ended up going, and they were trying to hug me and love on me, and I didn't want to hear it. I just kept eating the cookies. But the third day I was there, they asked us to write down where we needed forgiveness, and everybody needed forgiveness. I didn't want to talk to them, so the more that I did it, they left me alone. I took all day long and did it, and we went outside, and they balled it up.

We had to throw it in this burn barrel, and I just sat there and it was the first time in my life that I felt anxiety and panic leaving. But I could breathe for once. I was like, “Oh!” Like a weight came off, and I started crying in front of 60 dudes and cruising—which is not the coolest thing to do. I remember believing that I was throwing it on the fire, and I was like, “Oh!” It was smoke. But I felt something really good. I went back to the cell because I was scared to death. I didn't know what it was.

The Transformation Begins

I remember saying, “God, if that's you, I want that.” The next morning when I came into the prison, that pastor was sitting there and said, “Man, I've been up all night praying for you. I feel like you want to talk to me.” I was like, “Yes, I do.” He said, “Well, I got a scripture for you,” and he gave me Proverbs 35 and 6, which meant nothing to me at the time. Now, it's become one of my main verses all my life. Just trust him and get out of the way, he's pretty much it.

I ended up walking into his chapel with him, and as soon as his little makeshift chapel was lit, I know now what it was. The Holy Spirit hit me and I just fell flat on my face. Everything that I wrote on that paper, everything in me, just started gusting out for like two hours. I cried and snot and balled on the floor until I was a mess. I stood up, and I really couldn't see what it was. That's just a real encounter—the only thing I can do is explain it to you.

I know I believe it and I know it was there. Like, I stood up, and it was just a huge shining light on this side that I couldn't even look at. Then I looked down, and I was still laying there dead. I could breathe, and I was free, and everything was just so. I just never felt that way before. I knew that all my addictions and everything was going like. I knew I met Jesus, and that dude died. I couldn't explain that back then. I know now what it is. From that day, I never took a Seroquel. I never weaned off of anything. I got radically delivered in that one encounter.

Moving Forward: A New Life

I finished the program, I got out and went through— I sprained my parole six months because I was up for parole, but I wanted to get into a Christian-based program. I got into a place called House of Miracles. I went there and got cycled for a year in that pastor. Freed to me out the first day because it was a Pentecostal prayer meeting, and I had no idea what that stuff was. I'm thinking, “We're going to hold hands.” People were rolling on the floor, wailing, crying, screaming, and talking in tongues.

I thought, “Uh-oh, whoops, what did I get into? Stand me back to prison tomorrow, please.” Yeah, I dropped it. The pastor came and asked me, “You okay?” I said, “Absolutely not. Don't ask me; just go away. I'm done.” He said, “What?” I said, “Stand me on the bus to prison tomorrow.”

He just so calmly said, “I’ve asked you to read the Bible. I want you to open it to Acts 2, and I want you to read it to me.” And I read it. He said, “Read it again.” I read it, and he said, “All I can tell you is if you believe everything in here is for you. It’s the absolute truth. You can walk in it. You can do it. Put your name on it and bank on God, you’ll never go back to that lifestyle.”

And you know, I just remember thinking, “I don't know how to do this thing, so I'm just going to trust you.” And man, ever since then, I had no religious background to undo. I was just a brand new baby that said yes, I believe, never been of it, and then ran by faith.

It's been 12 years. That was November 20th, 2010, when I got saved in prison. I've never had a relapse. Never went back. Never went to any, any, any—none of that, you know? As Gerald Mayhem would say, “Not tonight!” Hey, hey, hey—none of that. I just got radically delivered and have been pursuing him ever since. I had a recovery program or was the youth pastor for four years at a recovery program called Freedom Mouse. It's actually right before, right when I met Justin, before I started Freedom Mouse.

I was speaking at Teen Challenge. He actually talked me into my first testimony. Actually, he would— I would never do such a thing. Yeah, he was, because I was coming up to Teen Challenge and sharing with the guys on Sundays and having fun and loving it. I was okay with the one or the one. But he's like, “Someday I’m going to get you to share your testimony at chapel.” I'm like, “No, not happening.”

And then, like, a couple of weeks later, he just put my name on there, and he's like, “Hey, you're going to.” I'm like, “No, not Justin. I'm not.” He said, “You'll be all right. You'll be all right.” I'm like, “No, but I did.” And man, when I did, it just—I don't know. I’m just done; least something to me that I knew that to rest in my life, I was compelled to tell people my story and preach the gospel. I had Freedom Mouse for four years, and now I have my own church. Now Freedom Mouse is shut down, and now I just took a director's job at Cumberland Teen Challenge. They started Teen Challenge down there.

Man, I'm remarried. God's brought my kids back into my life. I've adopted two other kids. It's not supposed to happen with 17 felonies, you know what I mean? So I live in a new kingdom and a new person.

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