Blog #freedom in christ

Angelo Liloc

Founder of Operation Redwood--Restore Manhood/Rescue Kids/Rebuild Families

These are Angelo's favorite scriptures...

Angelo shared his story on...

Truth, Talk & Testimonies

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Angelo, can you take us back to when everything in your life began to unravel? What were you going through physically, emotionally, and spiritually?

Yeah. The crazy part is I’ve told this story plenty of times before, and every time I share it, a part of me feels it again. I used to think that was bad, but I realized it’s just a reminder of where God has taken me and taken me through. I used to be a police officer in California, so my background is in law enforcement. I come from a family of warriors—my grandpa and uncles have all served in some form of military, and even my dad was in the US Army, and my little brother was in the Navy. So, growing up, I was always around warriors, sharing stories of all the cool stuff they did. I couldn’t wait until I, too, could share and partake in those stories. When I got out of high school, I got injured, and that took me out of going to the Army, so I went into law enforcement, and it’s still something in the warrior community. So I was in law enforcement at the peak of my career and experienced a lot of darkness and violence day-to-day to the point I turned away from my faith because I was like, “God, how are you letting these crimes and violence happen to these good people?” As a police officer, you go from call to call, never knowing what you’ll encounter—sometimes it’s nothing, and other times it’s crazy, so you don’t see what you’ll step into next. You become desensitized to it because your hormones and adrenaline levels are always up and down. Each day, you arrive unsure if it will be your last, so you master suppressing the trauma you witness to remain fully present for the next call demanding your service or protection. My career took a dramatic turn when I received an invitation to try out for the Police Department SWAT team. This is what I lived for and wanted to do. At this point in my life, I have seen and experienced enough darkness that I have stopped going to church. Growing up, my family and I would attend church every Sunday, but after seeing everything, I got turned off, and everything I saw and experienced didn’t make sense. Preparation eliminates nervousness, as you’ve done everything possible to succeed. Coming up to the day of the SWAT test, I was in the best shape of my life. With all my training and trial runs, I was confident I would make the team. The morning of the SWAT test, I’m prepared and ready to tear it up and get on the team. I had breakfast and was leaving on time, but as I picked up my bags by the door and reached for the doorknob to open it, something didn’t feel right in my heart. I had this weird anxiety, so I shut the door, put my bags down, and did something I hadn’t done in years—I knelt to say a quick “insurance prayer,” and the last part of my prayer to God was, “Let your will be done.” When I got to the police department, I warmed up, and then it was my turn. I started to go through all the obstacles and was having a perfect time, and then I got to the part I had done hundreds of times in the last six months of training: jumping over a wall. I slipped on the grass and hit my knee into the wall, which dislocated my knee and messed up my hips and back. I remember screaming out in pain. All the police chiefs and the staff were there, and I was cursing every word that I could think of. The ambulance took me to the hospital, and I lay in my hospital bed, the pain medicine wearing off. I clicked the button for the nurses to help, and my body was shaking from the pain I was in. So, I called for help, but nobody was coming—I felt invisible. At this moment, I remember thinking, “What is going on? Why can’t I get some medicine?” I looked down in distress and then looked up into the light on the ceiling and started cursing God, “Why did you do this to me? Do you know what I had to sacrifice to get my career? I left my fiancé in Chicago and missed birthdays and other special celebrations. I missed everything, and you take it away like this??!!" Of all the scenarios I envisioned happening in my life and purpose, this was not one of them. And just like a parent reprimands their children, I heard God remind me, “Do you remember that prayer you said? What was the last part?" I was initially surprised, but then I remembered the last part of my morning prayer before the SWAT test: “Whatever happens, Lord, let your will be done.” 

All the best doctors in California treated me during my recovery in an attempt to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. My healing wasn’t progressing as quickly as everyone had hoped—I had already injured my other knee. I was eager to return to the streets in uniform in six months. Four months after my accident, my good friend and mentor, Sergeant Scott, died in a shooting on the streets. Another one of my good friends called me, letting me know what happened. After this, my physical therapy and healing stopped progressing. I believe that my healing plateaued because I was hurting so much mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually—hurting in every way. Being in my mid-20s, I didn’t know how to cope. I grew up in a family where my dad told us to shake it off. Because what I was going through was an internal emotional and spiritual pain, it was tough. I much prefer to feel physical pain. From that point, my physical therapy progress plateaued and then declined, surprising my doctors. I believe that how most men deal with things is to drink or play video games, and that’s what I did, too. It was my coping mechanism to feel short-term goodness because I was hurting so much. A couple of months later, I got a call from a police department representative, and then they sent my buddy, Rick, to come and get my gear. This is the protocol they go through when they retire an officer. In my mind, I was thinking, “You’re not giving me up just yet, are you? After everything I’ve done for this city!” I remember my buddy coming to take my gun, badge, and radio, putting everything in a box, and then putting it in his trunk—I know it not only hurt me, but it hurt him, too. At that point, I felt my identity as a warrior was slipping away and being put in a box. This happened the same year, and I didn’t understand much about what was happening. 

I think many people forget that they may get some sign or message from God, and think everything will be a piece of cake. No, there will be wilderness parts of our lives because we don’t get to where we are overnight, and sometimes we’re asking God to add things to our lives—to give us things—but really, we need to have things taken away. We must remember that subtraction is equally as powerful and important as addition. We’re always praying for more: a better house, a better this, a better that,  gives me more. But how are we handling and stewarding the things that we already have? We don’t need to keep adding more. Sometimes, we need things taken away, and I think that’s what God was doing with me—He was taking things away. He let me experience my years in law enforcement and the tactical life, and He was teaching me to trust Him, that He would use everything I have done and learned. 

Can you share the Sunday morning you visited a high school parking lot? After this, things began to change. 

This was when the stripping away of everything started happening, and I lost my identity as a warrior. Now, I’m confused. What am I supposed to do? I have no degree. I’ve got two messed-up knees, a messed-up hip, and a messed-up back—now, what am I supposed to do? I can’t do the things I want to do. I can’t go to the military. What now? I didn’t want a desk job. I was in such a dark place. And like I said. What do many guys do when they are struggling? We drink and play video games. So, I started drinking, eating a lot, and gaining weight. My wife would come home after work and ask if I was okay. It came to a point where I almost took my life. My wife was at work, and the devil was whispering in my mind that I was nothing, I had no degree, and I was worthless, and how was I going to provide for my wife? So, when she went to work that day, I believed all the lies I could see around me were problems. No one knew I was hurting because I’m a goofy, funny dude who was good at masking things and diverting attention away from me by making people laugh. I fought the lies I was believing and hearing in my head and knew that I couldn’t do it, so I walked out of my apartment using my crutches, got in the car, and just drove. I didn’t know where I was going because I didn’t have a destination—I just kept moving, and then I ended up in this high school parking lot, and with the beautiful California weather, I had all the windows down. In the distance, I could hear music. I recognized this music because I grew up in church. I said, “That sounds like church music, but it’s a high school?” I got out of the car and saw a crowd walking, so I followed them into the gymnasium, a church that rented out the high school for Sunday services. I sat down in the back, and it felt weird but calm and comforting at the same time. The pastor’s name was Ryan, and he preached out of the book of Habakkuk and said to everyone, “Most of you have never heard of this book, and many preachers don’t speak from this book. It’s such a small book in the Bible. A lot of you probably have never even heard of it. When he goes on preaching, he talks about how Habakkuk continued to question God and why He was allowing all these things to happen. Why are you allowing all this violence to happen around me? And I felt he was speaking directly to me. Yeah. Then, Pastor Ryan shared a personal story. One summer, he took a sabbatical, a brief vacation to rest. On his sabbatical, he could spend every day with his daughter, who may have been around 3 or 4 years old. When the sabbatical was over and it was time for him to return to work, his daughter asked him, “Where are you going?” And he told her, “We’re not going to hang out today; I’m sorry, honey. I’ve got to get back to church.” She asked, Why? And he told her, “Well, I’m the pastor, and my sabbatical is over.” She asked, Why? Because, “It’s my responsibility. It’s how I get paid and how we pay the bills.” She kept asking why, and he tried to explain it to her. Then, at one point, his daughter ran away, returned with her piggy bank, gave it to him, and said, “Here you go, Daddy. Now, you don’t have to go back to work anymore.”

He shared that story to reference Habakkuk—sometimes we ask God, “Why this? Why that? Why, why, why?” Why did this happen to me? Why did you allow this? But even if God gave us the answer, we still wouldn’t be able to handle it or fully understand what He’s trying to do in our lives. So it’s like, “Why this, God, why that?” He’s like, no, you’re not going to get it. No, no, no, tell me. Just tell me. No, no, no, you’re not going to get it. Just tell me. I swear I’ll get it. And then He tells us, and we’re like, huh, and it makes no sense. And that’s exactly the feeling I got. I may not understand the darkness that I’m in—I may not understand the violence that’s around me—I may not understand the depression that is going on in my life right now. And I can continue to ask Him why, but even if He gave me the answer, would I be able to receive His answer and understand?

I remember breaking down crying when the praise and worship music started. I knew God had placed me at the perfect time and place with the ideal message to speak into my life. It was perfect. As I was crying with my eyes closed, I felt a cool, watery substance on the top of my head, behind my neck, and on my back, slowly dripping down to my feet. Initially, I thought someone behind me took a bottle of water and poured it on my head, and I almost switched into fight mode, but then I noticed that it didn’t feel like water because it was moving slowly and was cool. At that moment, God told me He loves me and He didn’t forget about me, and it was then that God got my attention.  

I shared earlier that my family was a big warrior type. So, I learned my identity as a warrior from my dad, which carried me on to the first half of my career. Still, I knew faith through my mom, and that’s what carried me on for life because when the world took my badge and gun—when the world took my gun, when the world gave me the identity of a warrior and then took it away—the only thing left was my identity as a son and child of God; that was the only thing. This reminds me of one of my favorite scriptures. It’s James 1:2-4 where it says, “My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” So, instead of looking at the trials we go through as God hating us, not loving us, or forgetting about us, sometimes He uses opportunities to mold us. Remember when I was talking about adding versus taking away? Sometimes, this is Him taking away, and it’s that identity that people miss. When the world took my identity as a warrior, my identity in Christ carried me through.

So when we live in and by the world, have our confidence come from the world, have our identities be from the world, and have our faith be in the world, when that’s gone, what’s left? I speak confidently because I know what it did to me. When the world took everything away, and I didn’t have anything else, my faith was the last thing I turned to. And yet, you know what? That’s probably the first thing I should have been leaning into this whole time—faith and faith in God and my identity in Him.

What inspired you to start Operation Redwood, and what does the name mean?

I must shout out to my buddy Samuel because he asked me if I was born in Redwood City, California, and if I knew anything about redwood trees. Samuel said the redwood trees are massive, but their roots are shallow and intertwine, so you can’t pull one tree out without pulling all the others out. They can create a stable base because their roots are intertwined like a church community. Then he shared that when one of their seeds falls to the ground, it won’t open up unless there’s some stress put on it, such as fire or a flood—stress needs to be applied to that seed so it can open up and become another redwood tree. That’s like the James 1:2-4 verse. There’s a process in this. I thought Redwood’s idea and name were cool, but didn’t know what to do with it next—it was just a cool name. 

Then, I had this dream that my home office was burning. The only things left standing that were not burnt or touched by the fire were my desk and computer; when I talked to people that I trusted about it who are deeply rooted in faith and biblically based, all concluded, including myself, that God was asking me to burn all of this down and focus on Him. 

At the time, I had equity in a couple of different companies. And to be completely honest, I was still unhappy. When I left the police department and went into entrepreneurship and business, I thought it would make me happy, but again, it was just trying to fill in the void that the police department had stripped away. The difference now was that I had a daughter. And if you guys have kids, you know, they’re going to see the things that you’re doing, and they’re also going to see the things that you don’t want them to see or do. So, in my mind, I was depressed, and I couldn’t have her replicate that. I couldn’t have her see that this was how I lived. And then, suddenly, maybe she might blame herself. Why Dad’s unhappy, why he’s never satisfied, why he’s always short-tempered, why he’s never giving us grace—that’s not the type of man, husband, or dad that I want to be. It was a six-month battle of trying to figure out if God wanted me to release equity, and, in a sense, I had debt I had to pay off, so I surrendered. 

And then God brought that whole Redwood thing that I had spoken to Samuel about months ago up again. If you look at our logo, you’ll see the three spears. Yes, it also looks like trees, which is cool. It stands for restoring manhood, rescuing kids, and rebuilding families. At the core of what we’re trying to do is to restore manhood. I chose the word restore because the buzzword was redefine in the entrepreneurship world at the time—Everyone was redefining fitness, redefining this, and redefining that. But really, we’re not redefining anything. 

God already built it to be what it’s supposed to be. So we’re not here to redefine. We’re trying to restore the original blueprint of what God had intended men to be. We desire to restore manhood and rescue kids by donating between 30% and 40% to support companies and organizations that are rescuing and rehabilitating human trafficking victims. Rescuing these kids is just part of it; the second part is that these children experience so much trauma, darkness, and violence, and they need God to come in and fill that hole with light. These children need rehabilitation—these girls’ and women’s identities are going to change, and their understanding of what a man is supposed to be like and what a woman is supposed to be like will change. They need to be restored, and that’s what we’re passionate about. I believe that when a man is whole, he is coming alive; kids, too, will be rescued, homes will be rebuilt, and traditional family values will be restored. 

There needs to be a strong man to lead the homes. I’m not trying to take away from women because they have an equally important role. I’m just speaking directly to the men right now. Because that’s what God called us to be, right? There’s a reason He made Adam first and then Eve. There’s a calling for men to step up and be the protectors that they were called to be. I believe that if we’re able to restore manhood, reach the men, and reach the hearts of these men, we’ll be able to save more kids and rebuild family values so that the whole trafficking stuff starts to push that back because that is evil and satanic.

Imagine the generations impacted—these women and kids will eventually become parents, and if their foundation is already rooted in that darkness, what do you think their kids will experience? So, Redwood has a two-pronged approach. One, we’re approaching men because men are the main offenders. We’re trying to reach the hearts of men and bring Jesus into their world, meeting them where they’re at. Change their hearts. And then, hopefully, that will lead to rescuing more kids, and that will lead to rebuilding more families. If we stick to what we do at Redwood, and our specialty is working with men, you know, helping them find vision, helping them find clarity, and helping them rebuild. If God can trust us to be faithful in a few things, then He can trust us to be faithful with all the other things He will entrust us with all for His glory.

What encouraging last words can you share?

There’s a story in the Bible of the parable of the talents, and many people are familiar with it. There was a master who had three servants. He gave five talents to one servant, to another, he gave two, and to another, he gave one. The master left, but when he returned, the guy with five talents made it ten, the one given two made two more, and the one given one talent hid it because he was afraid. I want people to take away that God sometimes gives people five, sometimes two, and sometimes one, yes, but I want people to remember that God never made zero-talent people. God never made you with zero talents. At the very least, you have at least one. I believe you have many more. And if you look deeper into the scripture, they say that when the master gave his servant the five, two, and one talent, he gave it according to their ability. You have something hidden in you that maybe you haven’t fully discovered yet that God still wants to use. God still wants to take whatever talent and make it more of a blessing to other people, just like we discussed earlier. No matter how dark it may be for you, no matter how lost you feel, or maybe a lack of identity or lack of vision, you need to remember that you were made on purpose, with a purpose, and He never made zero-talent people—you still have a story to tell—you still have a gift to share with the world, so don’t give up. 

Operation Redwood YouTube Channel & Facebook Men's Group

Noemi Padilla

Nurse and Client Support Specialist with

And Then There Were None (ATTWN)

These are the scriptures that have spoken deeply to Noemi's heart and the resources that she shared. 

Noemi shared her testimony on Truth, Talk & Testimonies

Noemi, please share your testimony. You told me that you were a Christian but backslid. Can you tell me what happened?

I grew up in a very Christian family—I like to say I’ve been a Christian since I was six months old. We left Puerto Rico and came to the United States, and my entire family attended the same church. I grew up there and formed lifelong friendships with friends who shared my cribs in the nursery. So, I had a strong Christian upbringing.

My Christianity—my religion and my life—were two separate things growing up. Again, my grandmother planted amazing seeds, teaching us to count on and trust God. Despite being raised in the church, I had a tumultuous upbringing. I used to think that anybody who was a Christian or member of a church was perfect, but God is the only perfect one, and we’re all sinners. Churches are hospitals for sinners. Unfortunately, there was abuse on multiple levels, even within the church. Growing up in this environment made me angry. If someone is dealing with this in every aspect of their life, told God is good, you begin to question where God is during all this horrible stuff. There was physical abuse, there was sexual abuse, drugs, and alcoholism. There was so much. Thankfully, I was never angry at God.

When I was old enough to make my own decisions, I was making terrible choices instead of making wise decisions, and I became sexually active and promiscuous. During my backslidden years, I believed in God, but I was trying to survive. Amidst everything, I got pregnant at seventeen. Getting pregnant was a big fork in the road as I was about to graduate high school and attend college. For me, the only way out of my upbringing and life living in the ghetto was an excellent education, and this was always super important to me. Despite having terrible attendance, I managed to maintain straight A’s in my studies. I remember I found out a month and a half before my high school graduation and found out on a fluke because I wasn’t even in tune with my body. One morning, after eating two scrambled eggs, I fell gravely ill. I shared my pregnancy news, and my friend suggested I schedule an abortion. That’s how casual and the norm it is—you get pregnant, and the solution is to have an abortion. 

We got a hold of a pregnancy test, and I was pregnant—she wasn’t wrong. From there, I embarked on this mission to get an abortion. I was underage at seventeen, so I took my own Medicaid card from my mom’s bag because I dared not ask her, “Hey, Mom—can I have my insurance card to have an abortion?”. So I grabbed my card and took a bus to the abortion clinic—I remember the location of the abortion clinic—I remember that it was on the 5th floor, and when I got there, somebody took some blood work and some urine. A while later, she comes to me and says, “You’re seventeen, and you’re pregnant with twins—it’s a twin pregnancy.”. At that moment, I felt disconnected from everything and asked, “What did that mean?“ Is it still possible to perform the procedure today?” She responded that it could be done, but it will be more money. I didn’t care if it cost more because I wasn’t paying for it. After all, they put the charge on my insurance card back then. They charged my insurance, and not once did they ask if my legal guardian was there since I was underage. A little while later, she returned to tell me that I was very far along and in the second trimester of pregnancy. Again, I asked, does this mean we can’t do this today? She responded, We can. Nothing was sinking in because, at this point, I was in survival mode. I was trying to come to terms with everything—it was either having babies and getting married and going through another cycle, another generation of this. I pictured having the abortion as a breakaway to go to college and do the best that I can do.

They did the procedure, and I don’t remember much after that other than when I woke up; they said that I was screaming, but you have to get up and go home now. And so, I said okay, and then they asked if somebody was there to pick me up, and I lied and said, “Yeah, my boyfriend is downstairs.”. They responded, “Okay, goodbye,” and gave me some antibiotics. I hobbled to the bus to go back home and remembered that I had almost made it all the way home, but I became sick around four blocks from where I needed to get off the bus. Now, as a nurse, I know that’s the anesthesia and the motion sickness. When I got off the bus, which happened to be in front of my dad’s job, I started throwing up. Somebody told him that his daughter was across the street and she was sick. When my dad walked across the street, I remember panicking, and he asked what was wrong with me. I told him that I must have a stomach flu. He told me to stop it and walk home, which I did. I can’t even tell you that I took the pills they gave me—I boxed my abortion up, put it away, and graduated high school. I went to college and thought I was living a good life, but I was making horrible decisions. 

Was it after college that you started your nursing career?

Yes, I went to college, graduated from nursing school, and started my nursing career. I remember that my first nursing job was at this well-to-do and posh hospital in the Bronx, and supplies were plentiful, so it was a good nursing experience. I did that for about 8 years, and then I went to a city hospital because I wanted to experience both sides, so I went into community medicine at a city hospital and got to see the other side of nursing where you were struggling to keep your patients alive and enjoyed this experience so much more because I felt like I was giving back to my community and felt what nursing is all about. Fast forward–911 happened, and I didn’t want to live in the city anymore, so I moved out to Florida, which was one block away from the abortion clinic where I worked, so I knew very well what was being done there. Still, it didn't bother me because I had an abortion myself, and I was extremely pro-choice at that time. The way I perceived it was that my abortion saved my life when I was seventeen, so I want to go in there and help woman–I want to help save their lives and give them what was given to me, and I think that it’s a key point because one of our phrases that we like to share a lot is that no one grows up wanting to work in an abortion clinic. For instance, in my nursing school and clinical, we were excited to do OB, and no one said, “Yes, let me go work at an abortion clinic.” 

I wanted to give back and help women, and it was super convenient for me because it was a block away from where I lived, and I could walk to work if I wanted. As a former New Yorker, I didn’t have a driver's license at the time–it was like the perfect picture of everything. So I walked in one day after getting off my night shift at my previous job and asked the girl at the front desk if they were hiring. They asked what I do, and I told them that I was a nurse, so they got the executive director. She asked if I had time to interview her immediately because she needed a nurse. We went into a room to talk, and she said I would be a great fit there. From the beginning, she uplifted me, and I’m a former New Yorker–don’t schmooze me, you know. She saw it wasn’t working for me, so she said, “Let me introduce you to our doctor, a New York transplant. She's a former New Yorker.” I said fine, so she introduced me to her, and immediately we meshed–there were many connections. We discovered that we ate Chinese food in the same circle, worked at the same hospital, and had the same work ethic. The next thing you know, I was told that working there would be a good fit, and I thought so.

Then, I was asked if I could start that day because they needed me. I said no because I told her I smelled–I was working at the jail, and jails have a distinct smell because they have a closed ventilation system. I picked up on the nonverbal communication between them, which I came to learn about quickly. And she goes, “Well, you know, we'll offer you a $500 sign-on bonus if you can start right now.” They see where the need is and how they can grasp you, and they see that that would get me. Who doesn’t like $500 dollars? In my mind, I said this is a piece of cake, and $500 dollars can’t hurt. The executive director then took out $500 and paid me–I didn’t even need to wait before the shift was over. About a couple of hours into the shift, I noticed that the support staff was very excited I asked them what they were excited about, and they said that they met the quota and they were going to get lunch that day and if we saw two more patients, we’re going to get the good lunch. I asked them what they were talking about, and they shared that every time we see 12 patients, they buy lunch for us, and if we see 24 patients, we get to get Chinese food instead of pizza or sandwiches. And I'm like, OK, so a little while later, they came up to me and said they would get Chinese food, and what did I want? That didn't seem right to me, so I told them no–I’m okay. The doctor then insisted I get something because I was there all day and needed to eat something. And that’s how they pull you in further. Then, I took out my cell phone which was pretty old, and the doctor noticed and said, “Girl, that phone is ancient. You cannot have that phone to represent us. We'll get you a new phone”. 

Now, let’s look at the whole picture–I got a $500 sign-on bonus, and I was told that every day, if we met the quota, we got free lunch, they were going to buy me a new phone, work was close to home, I could help women–I should’ve caught on quickly, that this was out of the norm. You don't go into any job or hospital and have all these things given to you, but we don't think that clearly when you're being given all these gifts or when you're being given $500 on the spot. So, I started my four years there, and this was just an indication of what life would be like there, in a short amount of time, it was me saying to the support staff–Hold on, you're having a bad day, let's get some dessert or, you know, just everything was compensated–we fixed it–whatever it took to keep the flow and keep the peace and the patients circulating. 

About two months later, they told me I was ready to learn about the sonogram room. I’ve been a nurse for a long time but haven't attended sonography school. They told me that they were going to teach me, and the owner at the time told me she was going to take me under her wing. I thought she must have gone to sonogram school, but she didn’t even have medical assistance credentialing. Yet, she performed the sonograms and taught others how to perform sonograms.

But again, that evil part of us gets uplifted quickly, and they say you can do this, and before you know it, it becomes a challenge for me. I had to perfect sonograms, which became my next milestone. I kept doing sonograms until they were terrific, and I began getting kudos. I got a new Michael Kors bag, and the doctors were so happy with me, and all was well. But throughout all this, we're still performing abortions–We're still treating women horribly–and still an assembly line. Then, the executive director had an accident; she fell, and she got hurt and was going to be out for a long time. The owner called me, saying, “I have a job offer for you. Do you want to be the interim executive director? Because you can do this. You're the only one who can run this clinic.” I responded, “Absolutely not.” I have no desire to do anything other than nursing. And then she said, “Well, it comes with a big pay raise.” Once I heard about the salary, I changed my mind and told her I would do it. I clarified that I had free range to make decisions, and she said yes. So, I thought this was a good opportunity to fix some of the problems we had going on to give better patient care, have the young ladies in a medical professional environment, and, you know, things like that. Well, she fought me every step of the way. Anything that created a wave in her flow was an issue.

Throughout this, I had to hire several young ladies, which I did, and after about two years, I knew I couldn't do this anymore. It was horrendous. But I felt responsible for these young ladies that I had hired, and I had also seen when somebody left the abortion industry, how they get blacklisted and shunned worse than the Amish. It’s a cult-like environment. This family they claim to be so that we can all isolate and deal with each other. You become enemy number one when you have an opinion or step out of that circle. So, I felt responsible for these young ladies, and I told them I didn’t know how long I would be there, but if they wanted out to go talk to the crazy people on the sidewalk and see what they were about. Those were our sidewalk advocates for life and Abby Johnson’s ministry, And Then There Were None, and all prayer warriors were represented. I told them that I would give them good recommendations and see how they could help you out, and then they started quitting one by one like dominoes and having successful encounters with And Then There Were None. They were excited, genuinely cared for, and learned they were real and not horrible. 

We were in that process for about two years, and finally, one morning, I woke up and was so weary. While putting on my uniform, I said, “I couldn’t do this anymore.” Then I heard a voice say, “You don’t have to do this; you can quit.” I started to rationalize. They wouldn't have a nurse if I didn’t go to work. And then, I heard the voice again say, “You can just quit.” I knew it was God speaking to me, and it was the sign I needed, so I told Him I would quit. I called the doctor first and told him I was quitting today, and she said, “Here we go, What do you need? A Michael Kors bag, a few days off?” She wasn't a horrible person. She was just trying to please me in what I was possibly disgruntled over. Regardless of our credentials, we were all in the same cult-like environment. So I said no, I'm going to quit. She goes, all right, just come into the office, and we'll talk. So I got to the office and said, here’s the keys to your kingdom–I don’t want them anymore. The owner took the keys and said, “You’ll be back.” And I responded, “I would not be back”. It became a really bad interaction, but I grabbed my stethoscope and the magazine on my desk and walked away. 

I called my brother and asked him if we could go to the beach. He thought I was having a nervous breakdown, I said, no, let's just go to the beach. I sat at the shoreline by the water's edge and cried for eight hours. Every once in a while, my brother came to give me water and a sandwich. I begged God for forgiveness, and I remember telling Him I wasn’t worthy of this, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing tomorrow but knew what I couldn’t do today. And then, I called And Then There Were None, and it was such a beautiful thing because I remember that initial phone call so clearly. I said, “Hey, this is me, I'm from Tampa, Florida.” The person responded, “Wait a minute–Purple building on Fletcher Avenue. You?” 

My old abortion clinic was distinctively painted purple on purpose so that we could describe it to the patients–it’s the purple building–you can't miss us. So I said yes, that's me. And he said, “We have been praying for you for years.” God sent me the sign; I was now with the right people because they didn’t know me, but they knew me, had been praying for me, and weren’t holding anything against me. I felt instant peace. Abby Johnson’s ministry, And Then There Were None, is focused on ex-abortion workers in any way, shape, or form–It could be medical, it could be clerical, it could be male or female–We have male participants, we have had people who have, reached out to us who have picked up specimens from the abortion clinic. So, it's anyone who is in any way, shape, or form affiliated with or affected by an abortion clinic. 

In my personal redemption path, I trusted my God-seeds, planted so firmly that I trusted them, and knew that he forgave me. That part was so much easier for me than for me to forgive myself. I had already accepted His love. I knew I was redeemed, but I was still knocking myself, wondering how I did what I did, and I was stuck in that phase for a while. It’s a process–Not that you quit, and that’s it. You quit, and then we have different stages of healing, such as Healing Foundations 101 for those who have quit recently, and that’s our accountability weekend, where you have to come to terms with things. I used to say, “They did that”. I was saying this even though I no longer work there, and I’m separated from them. At my first healing retreat, I said this a few times. I said, “Wait a minute, I am they and took responsibility in this safe zone for it and completely broke down. I needed to come to terms with the fact that I participated in over 5,000 abortions. 

When we come to terms with I participated in over 5000 abortions, you know, when we lovingly go through this process where we try and put a number together–Not that it matters because life is life, but it's part of our healing process, and it’s way better for me to go through that with a group of women who are there loving me unconditionally then for me to go through that alone at 1:00 am so they understand. There’s a place for abortion workers to come safely where it's going to be nonjudgmental and unconditional–I promise you that nothing that they say that they've done has been said or done before. We're a unique group, and they can't shock us. The reason why I put my dirty laundry out there and wrongdoings and speak publicly is because if one person in the industry hears or sees a sister to someone who works in an abortion clinic–for me, it was my brother who was a chaplain who prayed for me every day when I was working there. He would call me, saying, “I’m praying for you.” We didn’t have any other conversation other than that for four years, and somebody else can hear it and say, wait, I want to pass this information forward to somebody who works in the abortion industry. 

The devil wants to keep you isolated and keep you having a facade. There is truth, light, and happiness in the world. Put the work in for your healing, and you can laugh and smile again–We do. 

Is there any other encouragement you can give to people?

Please contact any of the ministries mentioned if you are touched by any part of my testimony or anything you heard. And Then There Were None is super vital to both current and ex-abortion workers–we don’t care if you worked in an abortion clinic 25-30 years ago and never had healing because we know what it’s like to carry that burden. So please, any affiliation that you've ever had with any abortion clinic, reach out to us, it doesn't hurt. It's one phone call. You can text if you don't like what you hear, which hasn’t happened yet, but you don’t have to follow through. There’s help out there, and there’s a whole tribe waiting to love you unconditionally and help you get another smile on your face because we know how hard it is to look at ourselves in the mirror and smile. 

Abby Johnson, CEO + Founder

And Then There Were None (ATTWN)

****Text or call (888) 570-5501 to get started on the path to freedom outside the abortion industry**** 

Oasis Pregnancy Care Centers -- Five locations in Florida

Jayson Borawski

"So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten," Joel 2:25

Jayson shared his testimony on a VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies broadcast. 

These are the questions that I asked Jayson during his interview on the VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies YouTube channel, and what he shared. 

Jason, please share about your childhood and how your upbringing affected your life.

I’ll start by sharing that my father served in World War II, and he faced a lot of problems—he consumed alcohol before going to war, but he developed into a serious alcoholic.

My mom and I rode out to California, and when we came home to an empty house, it was extremely tough. We moved further out in Montgomery County, and while we were out there, my mother married for a second time, and that marriage only lasted two years—my stepdad had 5 children—we had 4 in a very crowded house. My stepdad would beat my mom, so I witnessed my mother getting beaten and my biological dad falling drunk. The person my mother married a third time was a gambler. My mom was a psychiatric nurse and practiced nursing for 20 years. 

When we lived in Montgomery County, PA, my brother went into the service, my one sister moved to New York City and my other sister, who is just 4 years older than me, was very close; she became a heroin addict. This was back in the 60s so there weren’t many addicts around back then—maybe 20 in the whole area—and I knew all 20 of them, so I watched them shoot up, and one time I was watching this guy, and he was rocking back and forth, saying, “I got to get straight.” And, I thought to myself, if he wanted to get messed up... Why does he want to get straight? Then, I realized when they were sitting in the apartment, a few people went down to Philadelphia to get the drugs, and they came back, and we would shoot up the drugs. When I saw him all disheveled and disoriented after the shot of heroin, suddenly his countenance changed, and it was fine again, and I thought to myself, “I got to get straight.” That influenced me profoundly watching the change come over him to where that evening, at 12 years old, I went directly to shooting up heroin. Before this, I was smoking marijuana. People say that heroin is better than sex—I thought it was better than life because I didn’t like my life and if it were going to end, I would be fine with that, so I went on to use heroin and various drugs—I didn’t have a lot of money, so I had to steal, and I wasn’t good at it back then, so by the time I was 18, I went to prison. I spent a little time in prison, and when I got there, I realized that there were a lot of things—a lot of different crimes—I learned and was back in 1972, so all I learned in prison was how to make friends with criminals and how to do crimes without getting caught. So after I got out, I became very sophisticated. I would go to the library and I would research different crimes I could do and look at how much time I would have to serve in prison to determine if it was worth it—I wasn’t going to do a crime unless I could make a lot of money, so I started to get involved with forgeries and prescription writing and calling in prescriptions, which made a tremendous amount of money. I don’t want to disclose that—the statute of limitations is up; I don’t want to encourage people to get involved with it. My heroin addiction got bad, and I started losing everything—the people I love were gone, I couldn’t trust anybody, and it wore on me—I got very tired of it after 10 years, so I finally quit, married a girl I met even though I wasn’t prepared at all for marriage, and she was an alcoholic and I was a drug addict. I started taking pills because they were easier to get. It was cheaper. I could get a prescription, and I could sell the pills for an extraordinary price. When I was in Philadelphia, there was a guy who was the number one drug dealer, and he was selling Codeine Syrup and Doriden—it was a sleeping pill and I told him, Why don’t we get the Codeine pills? From this, we invented the thing called Combos in Philadelphia. And that became famous among the heroin addicts. I took a different mixture—I took amphetamines and codeine. The Codeine was to kill the pain, and that made me feel like a god—or like Superman. I had more energy to do more crime, and it was just one thing after another. We would have runners to get the prescriptions I wrote, and for each $6 prescription, we would make several hundred dollars. I then started to get involved in Speed, and Philadelphia was the Speed capital of the world—all the Speed that came into the United States was hubbed in Philadelphia—on every street corner; you can get methamphetamine, and when there was a federal laboratory that was robbed, my company got the Speed—it was pure methamphetamine, and we had to cut it down several times; it was still very powerful, and a lot of it went out to California. So, I was doing various kinds of crimes, and when I got married, we did have a son, and I was proud about that and laid off shooting up for a while, but drank. From all the shooting up though, I had hepatitis A twice and hepatitis B, and actually at one time I had hepatitis A and B the same time, and what I didn’t realize was that I had hepatitis C as well in the latter years and went through the treatment at the time was Interferon. Things like this went on for about 20 years. In those years, I would be in and out of prison, and I left my wife and son because I was too out of control.

For a year, I became homeless, sold drugs while on the streets, and stayed at people’s places for shelter. The police and other people couldn’t find me. I finally got fed up with it, so I committed myself to the state hospital and told them I was going to take my life—I wasn’t going to—I just needed to get out of the whole drug scene. They put me in there, and that’s when I found out I had hepatitis A and B at the same time, so they sent me to the hospital and treated me there for a while, and then I went back to the state hospital. They told me that I couldn’t stay there because I wasn’t crazy and I had methamphetamine psychosis, so I asked them to send me to drug rehab because that’s what I truly needed, so they sent me to a place in Pottstown, PA for an 84-day treatment program. 

How did you overcome your addiction and give your life to Christ?

While there, the lady who cooked the meals was a born-again Christian. We would talk to each other because I did commit myself to Christ and believed for a while that I was saved, but then when I saw myself wired up on drugs, I realized that I wasn’t. One of my prayers whenever I thought I was going to overdose and before I passed out was, “Jesus, let me get saved before I die.” He did answer that prayer.  How did you break free from drug addiction and come to know Jesus? While I was at the treatment center in Pottstown, this lady would get all the people at the church to pray for somebody, and that February, she prayed for me. She had all the girls from the church send me cards and letters. I was very grateful for this. When I got out in March, my friend and I came across a church in Pottstown, so we went in. As I walked up to the church, I heard music playing, and when I opened the sanctuary doors, it was the first time I ever felt love. I gave my life to the Lord and began to attend this church, but I don’t know if I was saved right away because I was still possessed by demons. The way I found out was they had an inner healing ministry and they addressed the demons that were in me and I heard them speak and it was crazy. It was a horrifying experience. I remember feeling a heavy weight on top of me and I was on the floor and was laughing and doing crazy stuff, but one day, almost 2 years later—it took me 2 years to get off of the drugs—and I was sitting in a doctors office and I heard a still quiet voice in my head—it wasn’t audible, but I would run these thoughts in my head that I’m not good enough—there’s nothing good about you and putting myself down and I heard the Lord say, “You don’t need to feel this way anymore.” And then I felt the demons come off my skin—it was a very unusual feeling, and I knew they were demons leaving my body. After this moment, my mind became clear—I could think better, and it was then that I believed the Holy Spirit entered my body. The Lord cast out the demons and put the Holy Spirit in me and this is when I truly experience victory in my life. You can’t do it on your own. 

I got remarried, and in September we celebrated our 33rd anniversary—I call her my Proverbs 31 woman. I got involved with Calvary Chapel in 1991, went through a three-year ministry training course, and then became an acting associate pastor for 6 years. My wife and I had the time of our lives—we did so many ministries together. I have been so blessed—I have 3 children from my previous marriages and have 7 grandchildren; and my youngest son is getting married in October, so we’re going to have more grandchildren. I am blessed!