Sunday Faith Statement

My Testimony

My grandfather, Carl Spacone, was a devout Christian minister. Partnered with his wife, my grandmother Dorthy Spacone, they opened the Phoenix Rescue Mission. For over 30 years my grandfather was the Director there, and my grandmother sat on the board, and did accounting work for the Mission. My mother worked as a secretary in the Mission as well, and my father eventually became the Homeless Men’s Director. Naturally, most of my early childhood, joined with both amazing, and terrible memories of those years, are at that Mission. Coupled with those same Mission moments, are vibrant memories of the church my family membered. My father was the Youth Pastor to the teens at that church, and my mother taught Sunday School to the little tikes.

Obviously, my early upbringing was very ministry centered, but being brought up in a Christian environment doesn’t make you a Christian.

The Passing of A Patriarch Brings About Massive Change

In 1994, my grandfather passed away, leaving behind a wife, 6 daughters, 1 son, and give or take, 30 grandchildren. Which tore asunder one specific grandchilds heart.

During the Korean War, Carl Spacone contracted Hepatitis from falling into a sewage pit. Hepatitis was eventually too much for the man, and he went on to live in Heaven with his God. Following his death, a few short years later a heart-blackened wolf in white wooly sheep’ skin, deceptively crept in, a son of Belial, whose name will be blotted out, began one by one, to force my family out of the Mission. Built on the backs of our fathers by The Father, The Mission being our heritage the Phoenix of Phoenix, was stolen from our stock.

Following the families exodus, my parents also left the church, and within a year or so, distracted, discouraged, and dismayed my parents divorced. My father was absent for most of the rest of mine and my 3 younger brothers lives, a folly that is still true today. My mother went back to school, while working at the same time to support us, so she was rarely home. Being the oldest of 4 sons, I took care of my brothers, made breakfast and lunches. Then I’d go into the world and do as I pleased with little supervision.

By the time I turned 15 in 2003, I was a poor, angry kid, running the streets. I lived a life whipped in constant cracking violence, consuming and dealing drugs, drinking, deceiving, and growing in the ways of my replacement father, that old serpent, Satan.

Summer 05′

All my evil wicked ways cascaded into chaos. I had been kicked out of two High Schools, 1 Public, the other a charter school, plus I was on probation for drug possession. That’s when one of the key turning points came to pass. Not just for me either. We all reaped the reward of lawless living. Those I associated with, many of whom I taught the craft of iniquity to, also being irreparably stricken by justice soon after the actions of horror we committed. That horrible storm swirled about me like black soot, suffocating my future, and the future of many others.

One summers eve,  I knew not at what I stumbled, my then closest friends little brother, who I had known, and lived with, or been neighbors to since his birth, gutted a woman like a fish, in public, right before my eyes.Without remorse, or a sense of urgent panic, I walked home.

Having known wickedness of that sort thoroughly by my 17th year, I wasn’t phased. Multiple police helicopters encompassed the area quickly, but all I could think about was how much I hoped Robert got away.

Three days later, after my name had been given to a detective, my house was served with warrants and raided by homicide officers. I wasn’t there, but my mom was, and when I got home she forced me to go to the precinct. There I sat, stone faced, like the hardened criminal I was. I would lie straight to the detective trying for this sick, twisted “code of honor”, not to rat. I didn’t give any damning evidence against my brother in belligerence and it was not till many years later, that I realized how wrong that ‘’Code of Honor” ideal is. I mean, how honorable was my friend who just murdered someones daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s mother, someone’s friend? He slaughtered that poor woman for nothing more than $20.00.

At that time, my mind was drenched in demonic deeds, so much so that the thought never crossed my mind that I should tell the truth.
My cup was flowing over with The blood of The Creator’s creation. And I couldn’t wash my hands clean of it. It was as if I couldn’t make my own decisions, even what I truly did not want to do I did anyway.

I Prayed

Only days after Robert was finally caught, I remember laying on my bed, sleepless like always. I was plagued by night terrors, tormented with visions of my blotted soul escaping my body, only to be cast into the fire lake: where engulfed, I would inhale the flame into my ash flaked lungs. Choking on the unquenchable flames was the only muffler to my woeful wailing as I drowned in fire with my teeth gnashing in that agony.
In the real world once I was released from that vision of terror, I looked out of my window and prayed to God. I didn’t even know if He was real or not. I had no idea what to say, but I still prayed, I pleaded, “God if you are real, make me into a good son.”

Salvation

Right after that my mom, who being pushed too far, kicked me out of the house. By fate, I then ended up in a little church that same Sunday night.

There at the church, in the pulpit, stood an old, old fashioned brimstone, and certain hell fire preaching preacher. He, while yelling his message, looked square into my dim dark eyes. My souls painfully weary window pane’s and asked me,” If you died, right this second would go to Heaven or Hell son?”. The little church was full, but I felt like I was the only one there.

Surprisingly, instead of being offended, I felt convicted, convicted of all my rebellion. I then repented of my sins and called upon the Redeemer, The Word of God, Christ Jesus, and He saved my soul not just from hell, and not just so that I could also reign in Heaven with Him. But He saved my soul from the bondage of sin, loosed the shackles of it from my being, he rid me of the black burden of the Adversary.

Glory to the One Who Sees, Who Was and Is and Is To Come for his grace is sufficient for even me.
My name is Jason Paden, your fellowservant, and this is my testimony, having the testimony of Jesus Christ.

The Find Faith page is about everything that is Faith to me that has come after that day when The Father found me and placed me back into His fold, buying me back with the Blood of His Only Begotten Son.