THE STREET, THE BJE STORY

Chapter 2: FORGIVEN, RESTORED, HEALED

Psalm 34:18 The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.

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The Second Rescue

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It is 2025, and sirens from an ambulance just screamed by, indicating another overdose in the city. I am writing this book in my outreach van downtown with my cat, Buddy, sitting beside me. But before I tell you about the supernatural healing of my eyes and my decision to start street ministry, I want to testify to how God rescued me from my addictions for the second time in my life.

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The year was 2017. I had been fighting drug addiction and homelessness for five years, surviving by getting labor work in construction and eating free food distributed at homeless shelters and churches downtown in Vancouver, B.C. I often walked the streets and occasionally slept in a bunk bed at one of the shelters. I became a back-alley dumpster-diving drug addict. Sadly, I started shoplifting from stores for food and stole electronics to sell for drugs. Every day was a struggle to survive.

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It felt as though I was trapped in a disoriented state I couldn't escape. I couldn't focus on anything and was in deep depression. For years I couldn't even look at myself in the mirror. I was ashamed of what I had become.

During this difficult season, tragedy struck. My younger brother, Ben, passed away from accidental fentanyl poisoning. I will never forget the moment my mom called to tell me he had overdosed and that we needed to prepare for the funeral. Her words didn't even feel real. I loved Ben deeply and couldn't grasp that he was gone, that I would never see him again.

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At the time, I was in full-blown addiction myself, and the pain of losing him only drove me deeper into it. Looking back now, I can see how broken I was, trying to numb the very grief that should have brought me to my knees. Back then, it seemed like there was no hope.

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One of the hardest days of my life was attending Ben’s funeral. I sat beside my ex-wife, Nanyelly, and my children, consumed with grief not only for my brother but for my daughters as well. In that moment, I realized how much I had lost. For the first time in a long while, my whole family was together again, but it was under the worst possible circumstances. I was filled with shame and a deep sense of failure.

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I was strung out on drugs, unemployed, and barely recognizable. I had to face everyone I loved while being a shadow of the man I once was. I don’t remember what was said at the service or who spoke. It all felt like a blur of pain and regret.

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I also felt terrible for my mom and my dad. I knew how devastating Ben’s death had been for our family, and my heart ached for all of them. My younger brother and sister had been much closer to him than I ever was, and the loss cut especially deep for them. Even in my own brokenness, I could see how loved he was, and I grieved for everyone who had lost him.

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After the funeral, Nanyelly’s boyfriend came to pick up my two daughters. I watched as they all got into his car and drove away. Not long after, they were married. Nanyelly and I have remained good friends even to this day, but that moment broke something inside me. That evening, when the house grew quiet, I wept through the night, overwhelmed by guilt and the crushing realization that my own choices had destroyed my family.

Still, I couldn’t bring myself to seek help for my addiction. I was ashamed of who I was, and losing my two daughters made it worse. I love my daughters more than my life, yet I was trapped in a vicious cycle of addiction I couldn’t escape physically or mentally.

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With no hope left, I reached a point of deep despair. I began using drugs recklessly, not caring about my own survival. I blacked out night after night, often waking up face down on the floor or outside, not knowing how I got there. My drug of choice at the time was something called Pebbles, the street name for melted-down fentanyl patches. The drugs were incredibly powerful, just a few puffs were enough to knock me out cold and send me deeper into the spiral I no longer cared to escape.

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I longed for the pain to end in those days, and it is only by the grace of God that I am alive today.

Downtown Vancouver, there is a place called Insite, the first free injection site in North America. To register, you gave your name and were called to a stall to use your drugs. Occasionally you would have to wait a long time. So I went by my street name, JD. My Insite registration name was JD76.

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One night, I bought drugs off the street and walked to Insite. Not knowing exactly what I had purchased, I used them and immediately felt something was terribly wrong. I staggered out of the injection site and ended up in front of the Carnegie Community Centre, a historic landmark in Vancouver, Canada. I collapsed on the steps.

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There, I overdosed and began having uncontrollable seizures. An ambulance arrived, and the paramedics administered Narcan, bringing me back. Narcan is a brand name for naloxone, a fast-acting medication that can reverse the life-threatening effects of an opioid overdose by restoring normal breathing.

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Two vials of Narcan were used on me that day. My recovery was slow because of all the drugs in my system. I remember shaking uncontrollably in the ambulance, strapped to the stretcher as they inserted an IV into my arm. The pain was unbearable. It felt like one of those movie scenes where someone is restrained after causing irreparable damage, only this time it was real. I was trapped in a body wrecked by addiction, overcome with total and absolute despair.

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In the ambulance, I turned to the young paramedic beside me and asked, “Can you hold my hand?” He looked at me and said, “No, but you can hold this,” and handed me a seatbelt strap instead.

 

I will never forget that moment. I thought to myself, Here I am, dying on my way to the hospital, so far gone that even the paramedic doesn’t want to touch me. I clutched that seatbelt with shaking hands, feeling worthless, a failure, an addict, a man who had destroyed everything.

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Later, in the hospital, I smuggled in two bottles of antidepressant pills during a moment of hopelessness. Overwhelmed by despair, I tried to harm myself, convinced it was the only way to end the pain. As I lay in the hospital bed, tears streaming down my face, something shifted inside me. Watching the nurses working around me, I thought, Here are these people trying to save lives, and I am trying to end mine.

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The guilt hit me hard. I called one of the nurses over and showed her the empty bottles. Within seconds, nurses and doctors rushed to my aid and moved me into a critical care unit. I was hooked up to monitors for two days, fading in and out of consciousness as a psychiatrist tried to speak to me. I was eventually admitted under the Canadian Mental Health Act for attempted suicide.

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When I was finally released from the psychiatric ward, I went right back to the streets. I moved into a homeless shelter in Surrey, and that is where everything began to change. Alcoholics often talk about reaching their lowest point, that defining moment when they finally decide to fight for their life. That shelter became the place where God began to rebuild mine.

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The fear of God is what changed my life. In a single moment of clarity, I was overwhelmed by a desperate and consuming fear of God, right in the midst of my addiction and the wreckage of losing my family and my business. I knew that my life was coming to an end, and I was going to have to one day give account to God for what I had done.

For years, I had lived in rebellion against Him, staggering through life in confusion and depression. But that day, everything came into sharp focus. I was a Bible college graduate with years of ministry behind me, yet I had been running from the very One I once served. The fog dissipated, revealing my spiritual condition with unmistakable clarity.

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In that sobering moment, I recognized the depth of my rebellion and realized I was just one step away from hell. The conviction was so intense that it drove me to my knees in that homeless shelter, where I cried out for mercy.

“Father, if You can forgive me, I will serve You all the days of my life.”

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From that moment on, the fear of God never left me. At first it was a heavy dread, knowing my sins had put me under judgment and one step from hell. But that same fear drove me to repentance and back into His arms.

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As Proverbs 9:10 says, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” For me, it truly was the beginning of a new life. Over time, that fear was transformed by His love until I could echo John’s words, “Perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18). What started as terror became reverence, and what began in trembling ended in the peace of His love.

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From that moment on, I began making radical changes in my life. For years I had lived as a criminal, and nearly everything I owned had been stolen, hustled for, or obtained dishonestly. Under deep conviction, I realized that all I possessed was tainted, so I made the decision to rid myself of anything illegitimate or tied to my old life. I started giving away my possessions. Even my best friend, who was a crystal meth dealer, received all my electronics.

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I also began a food fast. It was a major sacrifice. I still remember the homeless shelter serving a big spaghetti dinner that night, yet I chose not to eat. Instead, I stayed in prayer and immersed myself in the Bible. My hunger for God’s Word returned with a ferocity I had not felt in years. Piece by piece, I got rid of every stolen item and every article of clothing that represented my old lifestyle.

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I began fasting regularly. During those first weeks, it felt like my years of confusion were unraveling one by one. I spent that time in deep repentance, asking God again and again for forgiveness. This time it was genuine and heartfelt. I was waking up to who I was, a child of God.

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A few days into my fast, I thought about my friend Cliff, the street minister who led me to the Lord in my twenties. He was the best man at my wedding in Mexico City and has been a lifelong friend. I decided to call him for advice.

 

The phone call went something like this: “Cliff, I am getting my life back together. I am currently fasting, and I feel like I am going to pass out. I do not know what to do.” Cliff told me I had better eat some food. He also offered to let me stay with him on Vancouver Island.

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Cliff said I could help him at the coffee shop he owned. A week later, I jumped on a ferry and headed to Vancouver Island. He let me sleep on the floor of his coffee shop and volunteer as a barista during the day. I closed the shop at night and slept on the hardwood floor every night with a little mat and sleeping bag.

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Cliff also gave me a small car that had been donated to his ministry, with the promise that I would take care of it and pay him back. The first time I got on the road driving it was a freedom I had not felt in a long time. I started to feel normal again, off drugs, in a safe place to sleep, and back with Christian friends. My life was healing again. I had no money, but Cliff gave me a few dollars here and there for gas and essentials. I ate for free at the coffee shop.

 

Cliff even opened up the coffee shop when my two daughters and my mom visited me for Christmas. For the first time in years of addiction, I was spending time with my two daughters. I bought them both special gifts with the little money I had. Cliff even bought a special gift for me to give to my oldest daughter.

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That Christmas was a special time. I cooked pancakes for my daughters in the coffee shop, and on the last day I was with them, we all started crying because we love each other so much. I was finally reunited with my family.

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It was not long before I left the coffee shop and started another small construction business, billing clients for the hours I worked as a carpenter. One of Cliff’s close friends, who owned a landscaping company, hired me to build a house. Within a few months, I was able to pay off the car Cliff had given me and began faithfully donating to his ministry every month. His outreach is an incredible work in the community.

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Amazingly, God opened the door to a new home, a small trailer tucked away on the same property where I had been hired to build a house. The owners told me I could live there for free if I kept the property locked up at night. The property was known to the police and had a rough reputation, and they liked knowing someone was there. Each night I would lock the gate, sit on the steps of that trailer, and thank God that I finally had a roof over my head again. Working as a carpenter, I began to rebuild not just homes but my life, and I was finally able to support my kids once more.

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As my mind cleared up, I started to remember who I was before all the drug addiction and chaos. God gave me a clarity of mind I had not had in a decade. I was surprised that many of the Bible verses I had memorized at Teen Challenge I could still quote verbatim. I remembered why I had gone to Bible college in Mexico. I knew I had a calling from the Lord to be in ministry.

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My Healing and Return to Full-Time Ministry

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As my construction work picked up and my family relationships improved, life felt more stable. Yet inside, I carried a burden for those on the margins, people wrestling with homelessness, addiction, and despair. I spent my days at the job site, but when evening came, I would hit the streets and visit homeless shelters to share the love of Christ through evangelism and outreach.

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I bought a new cell phone with a camera and started making Facebook Live videos every morning, encouraging people in both English and Spanish. Before work each day, I recorded short five to ten minute messages, sharing my faith and my story. A small but faithful group of people began tuning in every morning to watch. It became part of my routine, a time of healing and reflection. I loved sharing my faith publicly again, giving testimony to what God was doing in my life.

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One morning, just before work, I made another live video to post on social media. In it, I said, “I am not an apostle, prophet, pastor, teacher, or evangelist. I am simply a carpenter.” Instantly, I knew that was not true. The conviction hit me hard, and I knew God had called me into ministry.

 

That realization broke me. As I finished my live video, I clicked it off. I dropped to my knees and began weeping because the conviction overwhelmed me so heavily. I was at odds with myself because there was no way I was going back into ministry. I had finally gotten my life back together, so I was deeply burdened by this. I called out to God, “Lord, if You truly want me to return to full-time ministry, please send someone to confirm it.”

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Right then, God worked a healing miracle. As I brushed away the tears from my eyes, it seemed as though I was experiencing a vision or some extraordinary occurrence. Then I realized I was outside on the property where I was working. I hoped none of the neighbors had seen me on my knees crying. I got up and walked over to my saw where my tools were. I was building a fence on the property.

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The first thing I noticed were the ridges in my hands. As I looked down, I could see every groove and every line, and I thought, My hands are dirty. Nanyelly, my ex-wife, used to tell me to wash my hands every day when I came home from work, but I never paid much attention. I did not think they looked that bad. But now, for the first time, I could see them crystal clear, and yes, they were dirty from work.

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Then I looked up at a tree in front of me, and it was like seeing in high definition. I could make out every line on each leaf and every detail of the branches. It felt as if I were in a 3D movie theater wearing those special glasses for the first time. The branches seemed to stand out from the background with incredible clarity.

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In that instant, I realized that I could see. I was not in a vision or caught up in the Spirit. I was fully awake, yet everything around me had changed. Nothing was blurry. The world looked alive, sharp, and full of depth. For the first time in my life, I could truly see.

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I had always needed glasses to see clearly, but suddenly everything came into perfect focus. I knew instantly I was healed, but I wanted a doctor to check my eyes right away. So I left work early and went straight to the hospital for an eye test.

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I walked into the emergency room and said to the nurse, “I need an eye test.” She asked what was wrong. I said, “I can see everything perfectly, in high definition.” The nurse looked at me and said, “Clear and perfect vision is not an emergency. We cannot help you here.” I left disappointed but determined to see an eye doctor.

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The only place I could find with a doctor available was Walmart Vision and Glasses at the Uptown Mall in Victoria. I drove over, paid one hundred dollars, and saw an optometrist who told me my vision was 20/20.

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I did not need a doctor to tell me I had perfect vision. The change was so radical and so instant that I knew it myself. Everything I looked at was suddenly in high definition, clearer than I had ever seen in my life. Even the best glasses I had worn for years could not compare to what I now saw with my own eyes. It was a tremendous miracle.

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Years later, in 2025, Dr. James Nah at Acuity Eye Care confirmed what I already knew, that my vision had been completely healed. He explained that the reason Dr. Eric had recorded my eyesight as 20/20 back in 2018 was because most clinics only test to that level. It is the standard threshold they measure, and anything sharper often goes untested. Dr. Nah measured my eyesight at an even clearer 20/15, which means I could see in crisp, high-definition detail even at close reading distance. He told me that such precision is very rare for someone my age.

 

The change is medically documented:

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• 2015: Dr. Linda Yee, Lucent Family Eye Care. Right eye −1.75 astigmatism, left −1.00

• 2018: Dr. Erick Vesterback, Eye to Eye Optometry. Right −1.25, left −1.00 (a half diopter improvement)

• 2025: Dr. James Nah, Acuity Eye Care. 20/15 binocular acuity confirmed

• 2025: Dr. James Nah, Acuity Eye Care. 20/20 near distance (no smaller reading size available to test for 20/15)

 

A 0.50 diopter change might seem small, but true improvement in corneal astigmatism is rare in adults. Most people my age see their eyesight decline, but mine improved instantly without surgery, laser correction, or vision therapy. My distance vision is 20/15, verified by two separate clinical letters.

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One of the most remarkable changes was the ease of seeing. I no longer had to try to focus on anything. I simply looked, and everything was clear whether near or far, bright or dim. Before, even with glasses, my eyes were constantly straining to adjust and fighting to stay in focus. Now there is no effort, no fatigue, and no tension. My vision is calm, steady, and alive. It feels as if my eyes and the part of me that once struggled to see have both found rest.

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Some might still question whether this was truly a healing. I often ask, Why would someone with verified 20/15 vision, sharper than average and with perfect focus both near and far, ever need glasses? The answer is simple. They would not. The fact that I wore glasses for years and now see better without them than I ever did with them speaks for itself.

It was an extraordinary miracle. As clear as my sight became, so did God’s call. In that moment, I experienced a clear confirmation from the Holy Spirit that it was time to return to full-time ministry.

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Author’s Note (Medical Perspective)

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From a clinical standpoint, vision involves more than what a standard eye chart measures. A chart can record visual acuity and prescription strength, but it cannot fully capture changes in the way the eyes and brain work together or explain why visual strain suddenly disappears. In adults, especially those near fifty, natural improvement in astigmatism and the sudden appearance of 20/15 vision is medically uncommon. Yet this is exactly what was documented in my case.

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The sharpness, ease, and clarity I now experience cannot be explained by a minor adjustment in prescription alone. I had relied on glasses for years, and even with them, I never saw with the definition I have today. I no longer strain to focus, and both near and far objects appear crisp and defined. While doctors may describe this as an unusual neurological or visual shift, I recognize it as the moment God healed my eyes.

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