Free At Last

In 1993, I moved from Seattle, Washington, to Portland, Oregon, for a new job. By then, I was a heavy smoker. I had been addicted to cigarettes since my military years, beginning around 1976.

The addiction had started to bother me—especially the amount of money I was spending on cigarettes. I tried to quit several times, and for a while, I would succeed. But every time, I eventually returned to smoking.

After moving to Portland, I began attending a Spirit-filled congregation that I sincerely believe was led by the Holy Spirit. I still had friends in Seattle, so I made several weekend trips back to visit them. The drive along the Interstate 5 corridor was beautiful. At the time, I drove a shiny black 1983 Toyota Supra with tinted windows and a five-speed transmission. That car was a speed demon, and I loved driving it.

During one of those visits, I put out a cigarette in my friend Henry Watts’ garage. I did not know it then, but that would be the last cigarette I would smoke as an addicted man.

As I began my drive back to Portland, my plan was simple: I would stop at the first gas station after merging from Interstate 405 onto Interstate 5, buy a pack of cigarettes, and shoot on down to Portland.

But while I was driving through Bellevue, Washington—only minutes into my journey—my plan suddenly changed.

The Holy Spirit spoke to me:

“It’s your turn to stop smoking.”

I thought, You have to be kidding me. It was raining, I was driving, and I was paranoid—yes, I was high. Still, I continued the conversation:

“You have to be kidding me. But if this is really You, keep this addiction away from me. Take away the urge to smoke, and I will not physically pull over and buy cigarettes.”

I kept my word, and Elohim kept His.

I did not pull over. I did not buy another pack. I experienced no withdrawal symptoms, and being around other people who smoked did not bother me. The addiction and the desire were simply gone.

Thirty-three years later, I remain completely free.

Years after the Father rescued me, I was in Exline, Iowa, spending time with cousins who smoked. I decided to try a cigarette to see what would happen. The moment I lit it and took a puff, it tasted like poison. I immediately put it out.

That was the final time tobacco ever touched my lips.

This is my miracle story—a supernatural intervention in my life that I tucked away in my memory for safekeeping. Just as He was present during my first encounter with Him, when I stood on that kitchen cabinet as a child, the Father was still watching over me. He has continued watching over me ever since.

Even today, I feel the presence of the Holy Spirit—the Comforter.

Yet I am still just a country boy from Iowa. There is nothing special about me, except that I chose to listen, accept, and obey the Word, the Book, and the Way.

Elohim spoke. I listened. He delivered me.

Shalom.