Not long ago, Michael was walking on the 16th Street
mall when a group of street people called him over. Some of them he knew.
A man named Art was drinking whiskey from a paper cup, and he offered
a drink to Michael. When Michael refused, one of the others told Art, "You
don't know? He's been clean for over a year!" In that moment, police
arrived on the scene on motorcycles and in squad cars—but Michael,
no stranger to run-ins with the authorities, knew they had not come for
him. Michael walked away, although he expected that he would be ordered
to stop and come back.
He paused a few blocks away, beside a shoeshine stand where old Clyde
was polishing the boots of another motorcycle policeman. Michael said, "I
can't believe it, Clyde, but they just let me walk away."
Clyde replied, "Because you're not one of them no more."
Clyde introduced Michael to his client, a police sergeant, who said, "We
know who you are." He then recited Michael's full name and added, "They
call you Indio. You came from California. You've been to prison. But
you have to understand, you're not one of them any more, and I want to
shake your hand."
Michael had a reputation. Known as "Indio" on the streets
where he roamed, he was the violently drunk drug dealer who had served
time in California prisons before returning to his Denver roots after
12 years. He was the man who traded his apartment and livelihood for
a homeless life devoted to alcohol.
"My bedroom was the alley just the next block over."
He was the man who was knifed as he fought to hold on to a bottle of
booze. A terrible infection in the wound gripped him, and he reached
the point where he could no longer drink the pain away. "When I
pass out," he told his buddy as they sipped liquor, "call an
ambulance."
The injury almost cost him his life, yet it also indirectly led him
to the Mission, and into the New Life program. A referral from an outside
agency placed him in a "respite care bed" (reserved for medical
emergencies among the homeless) in the Lawrence Street facility's emergency
shelter. As he recovered, his eyes were opened to miracles happening
inside that building—lives like his, changed in profound and positive
ways.
"I finally crawled out of that alley, and I came here."
The Mission was not new to Michael—he had come for free meals
in the dining room before. Nor was he unfamiliar with Biblical teaching,
having grown up going to church; but he decided at age 15 that he wanted
nothing to do with God. "God was something you believed in because
you didn't believe in yourself," he explains. "I knew of God,
I just didn't know him." At 18 he began to drink, and five years
later he left Denver in the wake of a broken relationship, determined
to drink himself to death somewhere in California. There he spent half
his years in prison for alcohol-related violent offenses, and the other
half on the streets selling and using drugs. He used crystal meth (methamphetamine)
because it helped him drink more alcohol. He recalls his attitude in
those days, "I told my [parole officer], 'I'm not going to get a
job, I'm not going to do any of that.' The only time I got off the streets
was when I got a violation."
Michael says that the difference between the old Indio, a name he no
longer uses, and the new Michael is: "God. It was all God." While
Indio's strength came from being number one in a violent and empty life,
Michael has found a real source of strength. "I'm confident," he
says, "because God gives me that."
Nearly finished with New Life graduation requirements, he expects to
mark the milestone in April. He works part-time while pursuing a 4-year
degree toward a career as an addiction counselor, and has already finished
coursework for the first year. Eager to give back to the community, he
has spent time with juvenile offenders and with people on the street,
offering encouragement and personal testimony to those who want to turn
their lives around.
"The best thing about being me now, is that nobody can take it
from me."
As he looks forward to living in his own place, and a life of stability
and growth, Michael realizes that without the program, he would not hold
these aspirations. "Bottom line: it has got to be built with God.
That's one of the things I've learned here."
"Without God's love I can't make it."
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