Jesse Martin

At thirty-two years old, I was in the Veteran’s Hospital dying of acute alcoholism. I had reached the point where I would steal, beg, or do anything else necessary just to get one drink. I had no moral scruples left whatsoever. I had tried repeatedly to quit drinking, but to no avail.

I had not been raised to live like this. Born in the state of Arkansas to a hard-working railroad man and his wife, I was brought up in a happy home. The economic desolation of the Depression and a desire for some excitement in life led me to enlist in the Marine Corps. In basic training with other young men, who like myself, were in tiptop physical shape and anxious to be known as tough, my personality changed radically. I had always been an easy-going sort of person, but before long I had a chip on both shoulders and would dare anybody to try to knock the chip off. Drinking also entered my life and only served to make things worse.

After basic training I was sent to the Fourth Marine Regiment in Shanghai, China, as an antitank gunner. The fascination of the big city of Shanghai gripped me. I was an energetic young man and I began to dabble around in activities that were new to me. Immorality was something I had always avoided because I grew up in a home where such things were foreign. In China, though, I was free of parental restraint and free from friends who would know what I was doing. My young pals and I went way overboard in that city.

When World War II broke out, I was ready to fight. As a gunnery sergeant, I relished the excitement of battle and directing other soldiers in combat. I prided myself on being a tough Marine. I wasn’t giving God credit for anything at that time, but was attributing everything I knew to my own ability.

When I was on the island of Guadalcanal, malaria was extremely prevalent. I contracted a severe case of it and consequently was sent back to the States. After I recovered, I was assigned to an infantry training school as an instructor. I was responsible for my own liberty card, and my wages were quickly spent on beer. The more money I made, the more I drank.

One time while drinking in town, I was too tired to come back to the camp. I stayed out for thirty days. For the insubordination I received a general court martial and six months in the brig. Also, my rank was reduced to Buck Private. This was humiliating and discouraging, but in time I was restored to being an acting First Sergeant and was sent to Guam to guard Japanese prisoners. Then the atomic bombs were dropped and the war was over.

I returned to the States and was discharged with twelve years of service behind me. I had no particular training for making a living as a civilian, but eventually found a position in the security department of a large aircraft factory in Los Angeles, California.

By this time my drinking had become a serious problem. I was restless and dissatisfied, and soon quit my job and went into construction work. I couldn’t seem to settle down, and was getting into more and more trouble all the time.

I traveled to Oregon to work on the railroad as an outfit manager, but it didn’t last: life was losing its appeal for me. After leaving the railroad, I started going to school in Portland, Oregon, but by that time the drinking had really gotten the better of me. I wouldn’t admit defeat, but every time I got a paycheck, I was broke soon after because of my habit, and my health was suffering terribly.

The doctor said I was going to end up in the grave or at best, insane. I decided to believe God rather than the doctor.

Just when it seemed I couldn’t sink any lower, things got worse. I was drinking with two men when they decided to rob a seaman who had been buying us drinks. I didn’t want to do anything like that, and I told them so. Later, I woke up and saw that they had money and whiskey. I found out that I had helped them rob the man. When I heard it, I was cut to the heart. I had sunk lower than I ever dreamed I would.

I was living on Portland’s skid row in a friend’s hotel. He was a compassionate man who had given me a room on credit. One day I experienced alcohol withdrawal. I became delirious and tore up the hotel room. He called the police to restrain me and requested that I be taken to the Veteran’s Hospital. There I reached the darkest hour of my life. I was strapped down to a bed in a locked ward. They knew I had had unarmed combat training and weren’t taking any chances. My alcoholism had taken its toll, and the little life that was left in me was quickly ebbing out.

One morning a nurse took several of us from the locked psychiatric ward to a church service being held in the hospital by the Apostolic Faith people. This was not normally done. I had never seen this nurse before, and I never saw her again. Little did she know how important her actions would prove to be in my life!

I had always scoffed at religion and had gone through World War II without a prayer. In that hospital, though, at the brink of death, things began to take on a different perspective. In the meeting, several veterans testified of what God had done for them. They told how He could heal the body as well as the soul. I had never heard anything like it. There were tears in my eyes as I held up my hand to indicate I wanted prayer. Afterward I had an attendant take me to where I could get a New Testament, and I began reading it avidly.

I did more than believe what the workers told me; I put it to the test. The doctor said I was going to end up in the grave or at best, insane. I decided to believe God rather than the doctor. I promised God that if He would get me out of that place I would serve Him. Just a short time later I was discharged.

I found a hotel near the Apostolic Faith Church and attended the services. God began to deal with my soul and I became more tender-hearted; my conscience came back to life. Even though I wasn’t yet converted, God showed me things that needed to be taken care of. I began to make restitutions for some of the wrong things I had done.

The Lord put it into my heart to confess to the robbery I had been involved in. I knew I could be locked up for it. At the police station I told what had happened and that I was one of three robbers. The officer said, “You go on back to church and come back again tomorrow. We will investigate further.” The next day he told me, “As far as we can find out, the seaman has gone home and you’ve done everything you can to straighten this out. Go on to your church now and into a new life.” And that I did!

At the church I was told that God worked on the condition of unconditional surrender. As a soldier I fully understood what that meant, and I was willing to meet those terms. When I did, God saved my soul! After a life of drinking and causing trouble, the Lord made me a free man. The desire for drink was gone!

My body was racked and ruined from drink, but God restored it as good as new. That wasn’t the last time He undertook for me when I needed healing. Years later, I got cancer, but when I called on God, He healed me of that also. I have found that God will answer if we will call on Him. Every word in the Bible is true. It is that simple!

I have enjoyed being a Christian, and I want to do everything I can for the Lord who has done so much for me.