When God Broke Through My Pride

There was a point in my life where I hit rock bottom; spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. I was staring down two options: take my own life or surrender to the God I had spent years resisting. I knew the road of faith wouldn’t be easy. In fact, I assumed it would cost me everything. I had a distorted view of Christians; coffee, pie, soft songs, and smiles. They didn’t seem real. They didn’t resonate with me.

But I was desperate.

I began reading the Bible, even though much of it didn’t make sense. I started listening to Bible teachers who could explain Scripture in ways I could understand. I prayed, not perfectly, not eloquently, but I asked God, “What now?” Still, inside, I was dying. I was in despair.

Then, one Sunday morning after church, something unexpected happened. Before the sermon even began, a pastor stood up and said they needed volunteers for a ministry called Men’s Teen Challenge, a Christian program that helps men battling addiction. He said, “If you’ve been asking God what to do next, maybe He’s calling you here.”

Those words hit me like a punch to the gut.

Deep down, I knew God was speaking. But I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to volunteer there, I wanted to do something else, anything but that. My pride resisted. How could I help the same people I used to arrest?

During my time in law enforcement, I took pride in putting drug users and dealers behind bars. I saw it as doing my part to fight narco-terrorism since heroin ultimately was being produced in Afghanistan. I never once stopped to consider what led someone to addiction. I never saw the person, just the crime.

So when I felt God calling me to volunteer, I buried it. I told myself, “I’m too broken to help anyone.” But every time I prayed, Men’s Teen Challenge came to mind. Eventually, I stopped praying altogether. But conviction doesn’t need an invitation to show up.

The Breaking Point

My life continued to unravel. I was barely holding it together. One day, I sat alone in a parking lot with the means to end my life. I asked God, “Are You even there? Do You care?”

He was there. And yes, He cared. But the pain didn’t magically go away.

God was breaking me.

Psalm 51 reminds us that God is not afraid to break us in order to rebuild us. And Romans 8:32 makes it clear:

“He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him over for us all, how will He not also with Him freely give us all things?”

If God didn’t spare Jesus, why would I think I’d be exempt from pain or discipline?

As I sat in darkness, the enemy whispered lies: “You’ve ruined everything. Just end it.” I thought about my daughters growing up without a father. I imagined my then-wife moving on with someone else. The guilt was paralyzing.

But then God revealed something I hadn’t seen: even my desire to end the pain was rooted in pride. I claimed to trust God, but deep down, I still wanted to control the outcome.

And then it hit me, I was being hunted. Just like I used to surveil criminals, the enemy had been surveilling me, waiting for the moment I let my guard down.

Ephesians 6:11 became real: "Put on the full armor of God, so that you can make your stand against the devil’s schemes.”

I was in a war. Not with flesh and blood, but a spiritual one. And I couldn’t win it on my own.

Obedience Before Understanding

That day, I chose to submit to God. I drove to Men’s Teen Challenge unannounced. No plan. Just obedience.

When I arrived, I was told the staff was in the middle of prayer. As I sat in the lobby, I overheard their voices: “God, please send us men willing to volunteer.”

I was stunned. That was no coincidence. That was God confirming what He’d already told me.

Volunteering didn’t fix my life, but it began to heal my heart. The men were younger than me, and at first, I didn’t relate to them. But I saw something in them; pain, desperation, and a longing for change. It was all too familiar.

Even still, I felt stuck. I was giving, but nothing seemed to be pouring back into me. I prayed, “God, do You even want me here?”

The next day, a new group of men arrived. This time, they were my age. Some were veterans. Some had families. And despite everything they were going through, they still had faith, stronger than mine.

That moment changed everything.

Abraham, the Altar, and the Ram

It reminded me of Abraham in Genesis 22. God asked him to sacrifice his son Isaac, not because He desired death, but to test Abraham’s trust. Imagine the confusion. The fear. The agony.

“Then Abraham stretched out his hand and took the knife to slay his son. But the angel of the Lord called to him from heaven… ‘Do not lay a hand on the boy… for now I know that you fear God.’”(Genesis 22:10–12, NASB)

Then God provided a ram.

“Then Abraham raised his eyes and looked, and behold, behind him was a ram caught in the thicket… And Abraham offered it up as a burnt offering in the place of his son.”(Genesis 22:13, NASB)

God was already working in the background. Abraham couldn’t see the ram while walking up the mountain, but God had already provided it. That’s how His providence works.

And centuries later, God would do the same, but this time, He wouldn’t intervene. Jesus became the sacrifice.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life.”(John 3:16, NASB)

The testing of faith often looks like confusion. But it’s trusting even when you don’t understand. It’s walking in obedience even when you can’t see what God is doing.

God used those men at Teen Challenge to save me from myself. They weren’t weak, they were warriors. They weren’t beneath me, they were brothers. Through their brokenness, God exposed my pride. Through their faith, He restored mine.

“But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to shame the things which are strong.”(1 Corinthians 1:27, NASB)

Healing Through Humility

I had to lay my pride on the altar, just like Abraham laid down Isaac. And God met me there. Not with shame, but with healing.

I once thought manhood was toughness; combat, arrests, and shutting down your emotions. But real strength is found in surrender.

God used the very people I once judged to reshape me. They prayed for me. Encouraged me. Walked with me. They became the ram in the thicket. God’s provision in my valley.

And I’ll never forget the verse that sustained me:

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me.”(Psalm 23:4, NASB)

Sometimes you have to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, there’s no way around it, drugs, alcohol, fill in the blank. I don’t know what your valley is, but you must face it. The only way to overcome it is to go through it.

If you're in a valley, if you're wrestling with pride, if you're barely hanging on; know this: God is already working behind the scenes. He doesn’t waste pain. He doesn’t abandon His children.

He may ask for your obedience before you understand. He may call you to trust when everything feels uncertain. But just like Abraham, just like Calvary, God always provides.

He provided for me. And He will for you, too.