I spent that night trapped inside the small metal room !

I spent that night trapped inside the small metal room the size of a bathroom shower.  The room had a switch called a photo-cell, and when triggered, activated a twelve-ton PSI ram to crush the trash.  The ram would compress any trash in the room, or chamber, with twelve tons of pressure per square inch.

The long story of how I ended-up in this isolated trash dumpster with my throat cut ear-to-ear can best be understood by saying - I had made many wrong choices in my life.  I had been a violent, ignorant man most all my life.  At the age of twenty-three, I had fought in the Golden Gloves as well as worked on the St Louis, Missouri loading docks.  The men I did business with were violent, corrupt, and men without morals.  The events that lead to my lifeless body being dumped in a automatic trash compactor is not public knowledge.  The magic of my testimony is.  The mystery of my testimony is what happened inside the trash dumpster.

The first time I became aware of my situation in the trash compactor was due to the loud 440 volt motors of the ram compressing the trash that I was surrounded by.  My discomfort quickly became agony as my right leg became entangled in my surroundings and was ripped off at the knee. I had no clue I was inside a trash compactor, or why I was in so much pain from my throat.  The shock and horror was more than I could bear.  I blacked-out for what I thought was a whole day.

I woke to the view of my right foot resting on my face.  I could only think to reconnect my lower leg to my upper leg.  The fear that filled my soul paralyzed me.  I did not move in fear of being attacked again.  I was still prideful, thinking I needed to fix this problem, not realizing that my lost soul was what really needed 'fixing.' 

I searched my mind to think: who could - or would - do such a terrible thing to me.  The many memories of people I had violated in my life made it painfully clear -- I was a bad man.  I was a sinner. 

With the last of my strength and courage, I decided to climb out of the trash compactor.  The most monumental effort of my life took place.  As the hours passed, I put trash under my body ' inching my way upward.  At the mark of four and a half feet, I activated the photo-cell switch.  The twelve-ton ram came alive as the metal wall screeched toward me. 

The unbelievable pain in the knowledge of what was about to happen to my body again made me turn inward for answers.  There were none. 

The air left my body without my permission, as the hiss of air was pushed out of my chest by the force of the ram.  The bones of my body started snapping as twigs, as my body convulsed with each new brake.  I wanted mercy.  Again my thoughts rested on the why and how this was happening to me.

My past memories, feelings and motives played back in my mind.  They say your life flashes before you when you die.  This was true for me.  I became aware of a strange coincidence.  The pain and the dark fearful place I was in, in the trash compactor, and the painful darkness of my failed life were the same.  The alcohol and drug I abused gave me brief periods of relief with the euphoric escape that came from being stoned -- the escape from reality never lasted.  I was able to recall the darkness that had always been there as well, and the lies and false truths I bought into it ' just to fit my life, or to justify why I had done what I had done.

As past memories flashed by in my mind, I came to a realization that so much in my life was void of anything valuable to humanity or to God.  I could not find mercy because I had never given mercy.  The darkness of all my deeds, the shear madness of it all; how sad; how tragic.  Next came intense feelings of overwhelming regret, and then a shocking reality of an eternity waiting before me of the gnashing of teeth - black darkness filled me with agony and anguish ' literally HELL for eternity was about to consume me. 

Then my eyes opened to the strong smell of blood.  The violence in my life had given me a lust for bloodshed.  I justified this as I was doing some 'noble thing' in handing out justice to the guilty.  The smell of blood now filled me with fear.  I was unable to move for what seemed like a lifetime.

The idea - I will not give up! - became my call to arms.  Ignoring fear and summoning all I had to give ' I inched my way up. 

Believing I might be in HELL and Satan himself being my keeper -- I feared any sound or movement other than my own. 

Again - in time the 440 motors came on - grinding the trash dumpster with the sound of thunder.  The prideful man I was at the time, I thought:  I will win by keeping my body straight and up-right. 

This could not have been a worse mistake.  My upper torso became reduced to three inches - snapping my shoulder blade, spine and clavicle.  The bones breaking sounded like a shot-gun blast in my ear.  I then know at that moment I cannot survive and HELL awaits me.  Again I blacked out with memories of my past.  I believed I had been inside the crusher for three days now. 

The last memory I have at that moment was when I was a small child ' my grandmother Howard gathering me and my cousins together to go to church.  Cousin Bill and I were under the last pew playing with our toys, when the back door of the church bursts open, interrupting the sermon.  Falling down in the doorway of the church was a homeless man in great pain.  The man's hair was matted together: his garment stained with filth. 

The man screamed, 'Save me Jesus!' 

Brother White was at the pulpit. He approached the man, speaking in tongues.  The preacher laid hands on the man.  I thought he was fighting with the man because the two men were in conflict.  The man's face was as close as my next breath.  Some of the other people were crying, while others were laughing hysterically in the small North Broadway Pentecostal Church.  I was afraid.

The twisted face of the homeless man suddenly came still ' as if he may have found a hundred dollar bill.  The joy and peace of JESUScame on that man as I saw the demon exit his body.  How quickly the man was transformed. I could see the man's joy return, before my eyes!

This gave me something to talk about when I got home.  I told my father about the homeless man and what had happed.  My father had been my first hero and I never questioned anything he told me.  My father did not attend church. 

My Father told me I had witnessed a deception put on by the church, and that the people in the church are the worst criminals in the world, because they take money from the poor in the name of God.  Father went on to say, 'Church people use staged shows like that to trick people to put money in the collection plate.' 

I believed my father as a small child.  Now as an adult, I could not ignore the truth.  I remembered the power I felt that day.  The power of The Holy Spirit of God that saved that homeless man was real.  The last memory of my life gave me a clue about who I really was -- a child of God. 

Now in the crusher with my last breath of life, I scream in my soul, "SAVE ME JESUS!" 

The light that started as a spec far off ' now became blindingly bright.  I am speeding through the darkness of hell and into the light of truth.  Jesus is my lord, I surrender my life.  The river of joy that I understand I am part of the light ' that I belong in the light of truth ' this knowledge rushed over my person.  All the doubt, fear and regret left my body.  The light took away my pain, and filled me with confidence.  I had been washed clean by the blood of the lamb. 

The blinding warm comfort of the light gave birth to man standing in that light.  The man lifted the lid to the trash compactor to see why the machine kept running.  The saving light of truth became the sun light.  The man spoke to me.  He said, "How long you been in there, sonny?" 

His name was Ernest Teabough.  He was the caretaker for The Santa Annta apartment complex -- this was the building complex were I was found, on November 21, 1981.  He was the human God used to save me.

I spend the next twelve months in the hospital.  The next seven years I spent living life in a wheel chair.  I could not read or write before my tragedy.  With no money and no assistance other than God's favor, I have progressed to become the man God intended for me to be.

The miracles of my life almost seem larger than life itself at times.  God gave me my mustard seed of faith in the trash compactor.  I presently walk with a cane.  I have a hole in my neck called a stoma. This is how I take in air.  I own my family business  with my lovely wife, Jan, and son, Bobby. We repair televisions.  I have been able to father a child, though all the doctors told me I would never walk or have children ever again. 

I was told I would be a welfare statistic.  God had a much different plan for my life.  After telling my girlfriend the truth about my life, I asked her to marry me. The woman I had lived in sin with for three years before my tragedy, married me the second day after the accident occurred, in the hospital.  The healing ministry of Gods Word has rested on my life. 

The power of those three little words in my moment of utter despair: "SAVE ME JESUS!" ' changed not only my life, but were the very words God had been waiting for me to say for so long to Him, but only until I was moving rapidly into hell would there be something inside me desperate enough to say them -- I was so prideful, self-willed and so stubborn.

Please ' whoever you are reading this ' don't wait as long as I waited to say those three words to God.  They are the most important three words we could ever say and mean.                        

John 3:16 truly says it all:

For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life.'  This promise is for all.