Josh Hamilton- Cincinnati Reds

To let you know how far I've come, let me tell you where I've been.

Not that long ago, there were nights I went to sleep in strange places praying I wouldn't wake up. After another night of bad decisions, I'd lie down with my heart speeding inside my chest like it was about to burst through the skin. My thinking was clouded, and my talent was one day closer to being totally wasted.

I prayed to be spared another day of guilt and depression and addiction. I couldn't continue living the life of a crack addict, and I couldn't stop, either. It was a horrible downward spiral that I had to pull out of, or die. I lay there -- in a hot and dirty trailer in the North Carolina countryside, in a stranger's house, in the cab of my pickup -- and prayed the Lord would take me away from the nightmare my life had become.

When I think of those terrible times, there's one memory that stands out. I was walking down the double-yellow of a two-lane country highway outside Raleigh when I woke up out of a trance.

I was so out of it I had lost consciousness, but my body had kept going, down the middle of the road, cars whizzing by on either side. I had run out of gas on my way to a drug dealer's house, and from there I left the truck and started walking. I had taken Klonopin, a prescription antianxiety drug, along with whatever else I was using at the time, and the combination had put me over the edge. It's the perfect example of what I was: a dead man walking.

And now, as I stand on the green grass of a major league outfield or walk to the batter's box with people cheering for me, I repeatedly ask myself one simple question: How did I get here from there?

I've been in the big leagues as a member of the Cincinnati Reds for half a season, but I still find myself taking off my cap between pitches and taking a good look around. The uniform, the ballparks, the fans -- it doesn't seem real. How am I here? It makes no sense to anybody, and I feel almost guilty when I have to tell people, over and over, that I can't answer that one simple question.

I go to sleep every night with a clear mind and a clear conscience. Every day, I walk into an immaculate clubhouse with 10 TVs and all the food I can eat, a far cry from the rat-infested hellholes of my user past. I walk to my locker and change into a perfectly clean and pressed uniform that someone else hung up for me. I grab a bat and a glove and walk onto a beautifully manicured field to play a game for a living.

How am I here? I can only shrug and say, "It's a God thing." It's the only possible explanation.

There's a reason my prayers weren't answered during those dark, messed-up nights I spent scared out of my mind. There's a reason I have this blessed and unexpected opportunity to play baseball and tell people my story.

My wife, Katie, told me this day would come. At my lowest point, about three years ago, when I was wasting away to skin and bones and listening to nobody, she told me I'd be back playing baseball someday. She had no reason to believe in me. During that time, I did nothing to build my body and everything to destroy it. I'd go five or six months without picking up a ball or swinging a bat. By then, I'd been in rehab five or six times -- on my way to eight -- and failed to get clean. I was a bad husband and a bad father, and I had no relationship with God. Baseball wasn't even on my mind.

And still Katie told me, "You're going to be back playing baseball, because there's a bigger plan for you." I couldn't even look her in the eye. I said something like, "Yeah, yeah, quit talking to me."

She looks pretty smart, doesn't she? I have a mission now. My mission is to be the ray of hope, the guy who stands out there on that beautiful field and owns up to his mistakes and lets people know it's never completely hopeless, no matter how bad it seems at the time. I have a platform and a message, and now I go to bed at night, sober and happy, praying I can be a good messenger.

Addiction is a humbling experience. Getting it under control is even more humbling. I got better for one reason: I surrendered. Instead of asking to be bailed out, instead of making deals with God by saying, "If you get me out of this mess, I'll stop doing what I'm doing," I asked for help. I wouldn't do that before. I'd been the Devil Rays' No. 1 pick in the 1999 draft, supposedly a five-tool prospect. I was a big, strong man, and I was supposed to be able to handle my problems myself. That didn't work out so well.

Every day I'm reminded that my story is bigger than me. It never fails. Every time I go to the ballpark, I talk to people who are either battling addictions themselves or trying to help someone else who is. Who talks to me? Just about everybody. I walked to the plate to lead off an inning in early May, minding my own business, when the catcher jogged out to the mound to talk to his pitcher. As I was digging in, the home plate umpire (I'm intentionally not naming him) took off his mask and walked around the plate to brush it off. He looked up at me and said, "Josh, I'm really pulling for you. I've fought some battles myself, and I just want you to know I'm rooting for you."

A father will tell me about his son while I'm signing autographs. A mother will wait outside the players' parking lot to tell me about her daughter. They know where I've been. They look to me because I'm proof that hope is never lost.

They remind me that this isn't really about baseball. It's amazing that God allowed me to keep my baseball talents after I sat out three years and played only 15 games last season in A-ball. On May 6, I hit two homers against the Rockies at home, and I felt like I did in high school. I felt like I could do anything on the field.

I've been called the biggest surprise in baseball this year, and I can't argue with that. If you think about it, how many people have gone from being a crack addict to succeeding at anything, especially something as demanding as major league baseball? If I hadn't been picked up by the Reds after the Rule 5 draft, which opened up a major league roster spot for me, I'd probably still be in A-ball. Instead, I'm hanging around .270 with 13 homers through 60 games with Cincinnati; not bad for a 26-year-old major league rookie. But the way I look at it, I couldn't fail. I've been given this platform to talk about the hell I've been through, so it's almost like I need to do well, like I don't have a choice.

This may sound crazy, but I wouldn't change a thing about my path to the big leagues. I wouldn't even change the 26 tattoos that cover so much of my body, even though they're the most obvious signs of my life temporarily leaving the tracks. You're probably thinking, Bad decisions and addiction almost cost him his life, and he wouldn't change anything? But if I hadn't gone through all the hard times, this whole story would be just about baseball. If I'd made the big leagues at 21 and made my first All-Star team at 23 and done all the things expected of me, I would be a big-time baseball player, and that's it.

Baseball is third in my life right now, behind my relationship with God and my family. Without the first two, baseball isn't even in the picture. Believe me, I know.

***** I'LL NEVER forget Opening Day in Cincinnati. When they called my name during introductions and a sellout crowd stood and cheered, I looked into the stands and saw Katie and our two kids -- Sierra, who's nearly 2, and my 6-year-old stepdaughter, Julia -- and my parents and Katie's parents. I had to swallow hard to keep from breaking down right there. They were all crying, but I had to at least try to keep it together.

I pinch-hit in the eighth inning of that game against the Cubs, and Lou Piniella decided to make a pitching change before I got to the plate. The crowd stood and cheered me for what seemed like forever. It was the best sound I've ever heard. When I got into the box, Cubs catcher Michael Barrett looked up at me from his crouch and said, "You deserve it, Josh. Take it all in, brother. I'm happy for you." I lined out to left, but the following week I got my first start and my first hit -- a home run.

Whether I hit two bombs or strike out three times, like I did in a game against the Pirates, I never forget that I'm living with addiction. It's just part of my life. Johnny Narron, my former manager's brother, is a big part of my recovery. He's the Reds' video coordinator, and he once coached me in fall baseball when I was 15. He looks after me on the road. When they pass out meal money before a trip -- always in cash -- they give mine to Johnny, and he parcels it out to me when I need it.

I see no shame in that; it's just one of the realities of my situation. I don't need to be walking around with $400 in my pocket.

I know I'm different, and my teammates have been very accepting. Being a rookie in the big leagues, there are certain rituals involved, and one of them is carrying beer onto the plane. My teammates gave me that job on one of the first road trips, and I didn't do it. I didn't think it would be a good idea for me to be seen carrying beer onto a plane. They respected my decision.

I get a lot of abuse in visiting cities, but it only bothers me when people are vulgar around kids. The rest I can handle. Some of it is even funny. In St. Louis, I was standing in rightfield when a fan yelled, "My name is Josh Hamilton, and I'm a drug addict!" I turned around and looked at him with my palms raised to the sky. "Tell me something I don't know, dude," I said. The whole section started laughing and cheering, and the heckler turned to them and said, "Did you hear that? He's my new favorite player." They cheered me from that point on.

I live by a simple philosophy: Nobody can insult me as much as I've insulted myself. I've learned that I have to keep doing the right things and not worry about what people think. Fortunately, I have a strong support group with Katie, my family and Johnny. If I ever get in a bad situation, I know I would have to get out of it and give Johnny a call. The key is not getting myself into those situations, but we've talked about having a plan for removing myself just in case. It's all part of understanding the reality of the addiction.

In spring training, when I hit over .400 and made the team, there was a lot of interest in my story.

I decided to be open about what happened to me; early on, I was doing long interviews before my first game in every city. It's been amazing how people have responded, and I think being honest helped. I can't avoid my past, so I don't try. It's not always easy, though. I got sick in late May and ended up on the disabled list after going to the hospital with a stomach problem, and I knew I'd have to answer questions about whether I was using again. I can't control what people think, but the years of drug abuse tore up my immune system pretty good. I get tested three times a week, and if it comes back positive, I know I'm done with baseball for life.

Aside from our struggles as a team, this season has been a dream for me. And that's fitting, because in a way I had to learn how to dream all over again. When I was using, I never dreamed. I'd sleep the dead, dreamless sleep of a stalled brain. When I stopped using, I found my dreams returned. They weren't always good dreams; most of the ones I remember were haunting and dark. They stayed with me long after I woke up.

Within my first week of sobriety in October 2005 -- after I showed up at my grandmother's house in Raleigh in the middle of the night, coming off a crack binge -- I had the most haunting dream. I was fighting the devil, an awful-looking thing. I had a stick or a bat or something, and every time I hit the devil, he'd fall and get back up. Over and over I hit him, until I was exhausted and he was still standing.

I woke up in a sweat, as if I'd been truly fighting, and the terror that gripped me makes that dream feel real to this day. I'd been alone for so long, alone with the fears and emotions I worked so hard to kill. I'm not embarrassed to admit that after I woke up that night, I walked down the hall to my grandmother's room and crawled under the covers with her. The devil stayed out of my dreams for seven months after that. I stayed clean and worked hard and tried to put my marriage and my life back together. I got word in June 2006 that I'd been reinstated by Major League Baseball, and a few weeks afterward, the devil reappeared.

It was the same dream, with an important difference. I would hit him and he would bounce back up, the ugliest and most hideous creature you could imagine. This devil seemed unbeatable; I couldn't knock him out. But just when I felt like giving up, I felt a presence by my side. I turned my head and saw Jesus, battling alongside me. We kept fighting, and I was filled with strength. The devil didn't stand a chance.

You can doubt me, but I swear to you I dreamed it. When I woke up, I felt at peace. I wasn't scared. To me, the lesson was obvious: Alone, I couldn't win this battle. With Jesus, I couldn't lose.

***** I GET cravings sometimes, and I see it as the devil trying to catch me in a weak moment. The best thing I can do is get the thought out of my mind as soon as I can, so it doesn't turn into an obsession. When it happens, I talk to him. I talk to the devil and say, "These are just thoughts, and I'm not going to act on them." When I talk like that, when I tell him he's not going to get the best of me, I find the thought goes away sooner.

Believe it or not, talking to the devil is no harder to explain than many other experiences I've had since that day last December when my life changed. I was working for my brother's tree service in Raleigh, sending limbs through a chipper, when I found out I'd been selected by the Cubs and traded to the Reds in the Rule 5 draft.

But there is one story that sticks with me, so much so that I think of it every day. I was driving out of the players' parking lot at Great American Ball Park after a game in May, with Katie and our two girls. There's always a group of fans standing at the curb, hoping to get autographs, and I stop to sign as many as I can.

And on this particular night, a little boy of about 9 or 10, wearing a Reds cap, handed me a pen and something to sign. Nothing unusual there, but as I was writing the boy said, "Josh, you're my savior."

This stopped me. I looked at him and said, "Well, thank you. Do you know who my savior is?"

He thought for a minute. I could see the gears turning. Finally, he smiled and blurted out, "Jesus Christ." He said it like he'd just come up with the answer to a test. "That's exactly right," I said.

You see, I may not know how I got here from there, but every day I get a better understanding of why.

God Uses a Dream to Reveal Himself to a Girl

"That's the Picture! That's the Picture!"



On a Dominican Republic Mission trip, the voice of a middle-aged man grabbed our attention as he motioned us over.

We walked toward him and were invited into his home.
Quickly discovering our common faith in Christ, he called his daughter into the room. I began to show them the EvangeCube.

Turning to the first panel of man separated from God because of our sin.The young lady loudly exclaimed, "That is the picture! That is the picture!"

Then she began to tell us a story you may not believe.

Two months earlier she had a vivid and disturbing dream.
From her dream she clearly described each panel of the EvangeCube, which she had never seen!

She said, "For two whole months, I was living in fear, because I didn't understand what my dream meant."

We then shared a Gospel presentation using the EvangeCube. And on every panel she would say, "that's the image I saw!" And, "these are all the pictures from my dream!"

Her father shared how he felt led to call out to us walking by, but didn't know why... Now it was very clear. His daughter with tears running down her cheeks said, "I need to give my life to Jesus." So there, in the living room she prayed a prayer of repentance and welcomed Jesus into her life. By the end of our divine meeting, each of us in tears knew that the Lord had preformed a miracle right before our eyes.

Mission in Rwanda- Amber Book

Amber Book has been a full time missionary (and is now a full time mom) and has had many trips to Rwanda. Her gentle boldness is a powerful tool in the hands of the Lord. Here are a few of her stories from trips to Rwanda with e3 Partners.

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Walking along the beaten path, my evangelism team came upon a bar where a handful of men were circled up outside. We stopped to share Jesus with them. No more than 2 minutes went by when a crowd of men came walking out of the bar to join the circle. All were hanging on each word of the message and were nodding their heads in agreement. Towards the end of our conversation together, I asked if any of them would like to pray to receive Jesus as their Lord and Savior. Many of them seemed to be chuckling. My translator told me they were laughing because I would even ask them this question. They responded, “Of course we all want to!”.

Signs and Wonders Will Follow

Do you believe miracles are still happening? Let me tell you they are!! The bible says in Mark 16:17 that “signs will accompany those who believe…..they will place their hands on sick people, and they will get well.” v 20 “Then the disciples went out and preached everywhere, and the Lord worked with them and confirmed his word by the signs that accompanied it.”

We saw this with our own eyes. There were many stories of people getting healed after they put their trust in Jesus. After sharing the gospel with a mother, she asked us to pray for her baby. The baby’s head and body was covered in terrible sores. The next day, the mother came to the fellowship meeting and shared a testimony about how God healed the baby. She said, “ I tried everything before; I even got medicine but nothing worked. Then, you came to my house and told me about Jesus and prayed for my baby. Today, my baby is well.” An elderly woman we called ’grandma’ found us as soon as we arrived at the mission point. She was acting out all that God had done! We found out that before g’ma had put her trust in Jesus, she could hardly stand and couldn’t stretch out her arms. When she came to us she was walking and would not stop raising her arms to God! She went out with us that day to share the gospel and tell her story to others. G’ma ran to people telling them to come listen. That day, grandma even shared the gospel with people in her village. She knew God healed her from the inside out and she couldn’t wait to tell everyone!

The whole team had numerous stories similar to these. It’s so easy for us to say the circumstance we have or our friend has is too big. We deny God and His miracles because we have a small view of God. God calls all of us to be used by Him. Many have different responses. Some people will delay and say I’ll do it another time. Some will reject and ignore God, but some will answer Him and say, “Here I am!” Which one of these responses will you say? When the opportunities are so big, we realize we can’t do it on our own. There is a crazy feeling inside of us like we can’t do this. God wants us to feel this way so we understand that we need Him to help. You must be willing and ready for these opportunities. No matter how difficult the call, it will all be worth it when we are in heaven with Jesus. (Grandma and the Gang)

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The Way He Moves Me- Ashley Smith

Changing hearts is one of the coolest things God does... and He does a lot of cool things.

I had a passionate faith starting at age 8 that carried me through the middle of my Jr. High years.

Then I dipped my toe into the world of "life apart from God" and thought I had found "the dream"! My natural "free spirit" took me down a path of twists and turns, that never really got too rocky. Most of the time, I stayed just on the outside of all the "ugliness", but close enough to think I was enjoying the ride.

I didn't seek to find God again. I didn't even think I needed Him. The last thing I wanted was to resemble the "stuffy christians" in sweater vests & floral dresses. Christians to me were the nasty women who came into Macaroni Grill to sit in my section...to talk about other women in the church... while they hissed at me when their bread plate came close to being empty. Sundays were the worst days to wait tables! I never wanted to come close to these crazy judgemental people.

I loved my "free life" of actively persuing sin. I didn't so much like the concequences and the emptiness I felt when I was honest about it...but atleast I didn't have to follow a bunch of rules.

For me, it started with curiosity. Coincidentally, this was the same thing that lead me away from Him in the first place.

I started reading books about ALL the different belief systems. I took a few "philisophy" classes in college in my quest to try to understand God...and creation...and truth. I didn't find any "one way" that made perfect sense to me...and I really didn't want to get a closer look at Jesus- because Christianity looked really ugly to me from the outside. Judgemental people. Stupid rules that you can never follow- that make you feel better than everyone else.

So, after college I started working at a youth camp for at-risk teenagers. It was 24 hours a day, 5 days a week- living in tents in east Texas- working to help kids find their way back to emotional health. It was a crash course in the painful realities of life...and how NOT in control I was. During this process, I went through a painful break up, as well. Still...I didn't think I needed God.

So, in the midst of this chaos- I used to call my sister-in-law Jennifer. Just to talk about life...and camp...and the struggles. Mostly about the kids...and breaking up fights...and kids getting pregnant...one of my kids becoming HIV +...and all the grossness that results in the darkest places of life apart from God. When I would hang up with Jennifer, she would always tell me that she was praying for me. I started getting hooked on HER prayers... because they were working!!I found peace in her prayers and was desperate enough to ask for it. It gave me relief- where relief was nowhere to be found.

So, we started doing a bible study together on weekends. I also started reading some books on my own. It hit me gradually. This stuff was TRUE!! Not just something you have to believe by faith- but verifyable, historical, factual...and TRUE! This was God's love story to creation and it was a love that I could have that was more real than the illusions I had been chasing. It was the "freedom" that I was looking for.

So, what would I do with this truth that was staring me in the face? This is the question I have been asking for the last 5 years & the answer has been a surprise for me. I haven't really had to do much but receive His perfect love...and love Him back!

It's not a bunch of rules that we have to follow. I love that! I am a NATURAL rule breaker, so this has been fascinating to be a part of. Just surrendering and allowing the change to happen inside of me.

It's been funny to watch God transform this heart of mine...and NOT by my own strength, at all.
My desires, my hopes, my values(though they were never rotten- just based on my own strength and understanding of right & wrong) & what drives me- is all different. None of it my own doing. Just surrendering and watching.

It's a wild ride to say the least. It's peace when peace shouldn't be happening. It's a persuit of all things real. It's a love that makes no sense from the outside looking in.

It's humbling and challening.

The greatest adventure, the sweetest love, the deepest strength, the rock beneath my feet, a love that I can't earn and don't deserve...it just is... and always will be- all that really matters.

He found me when I wasn't looking & captured my hard heart and transformed it and continues to straighten out my stubborn "wrinkles"- because He loves me!

Because He wants to give me life that is FAR GREATER than what I could dream of for myself.
It all started with a curiosity and turned into this love affair that continues to blow my mind.
He is the perfect leader. The perfect friend. The perfect writer for my story. I love to read each chapter that He writes and I love that I get the princess...and He the hero.

And everytime I try to take back the control, I look around at all that He created.... The mountains, the four seasons, flowers and trees, my nieces and nephews, my goofy dogs, birds and squirrels and red-tailed hawks.

I look at how He has provided for me...in the most unexpected ways-my sweet friends, my house, my job & my family.

I think about the amazing peace that surrounded me when I had to put my 16 year old dog to sleep just a few months ago. It was the most tenderly I have ever been loved. It was a supernatural peace that I never could have imagined- had I not experienced it first hand.

He is the perfect father.

It's the sweet provision I watch Him give to those around me. Lives united in love, babies born, sicknesses healed, hearts mended, and glorious restoration that is a taste of the life to come.

Why would I ever want to write my own story? Could I dream up anything quite as beautiful as what He's created? Could I even dream of something quite as beautiful as the Napali Coast in Kauai? As the rainforest in Costa Rica? As giraffes in Africa? That Creator is big enough to write my story!!

But making beauty from the ashes is where God creates His greatest works of art. That's what He's making of me. That's why I love Him so much.