The Great Awakening

By Justin Ruggles

This story is my testimony of Jesus Christ. It’s a story of a childhood of great tribulation that left me with terrible traumatic issues that generated much pain in me and left me feeling hopeless and wanting to die before coming to know Him.
This story reveals the great awakening I went through when He called me out to bring me to Him. It includes supernatural occurrences such as demonic attacks, powerful dreams and visions, being visited by Him, and how He led me on a path to heal me from all of the terrible things that happened to me.
This story has always been very complicated to simply speak to other believers, and often times, they looked at me like they had no idea what God was doing. I was led by the Holy Spirit to write this story out for His people to read so that they could see His incredible handiwork, love, compassion, and mercy.
He is my greatest love, and this story here is not by me, but it is His story that He wanted to share with everyone He brings it to. My greatest prayer in this is that you might find hope and see light when you are down, and that He would deliver you from all pain and suffering.
There is a reason for why certain things are happening the way they are happening to you in your life. I’ve come to understand that things don’t occur without reason or by accident. He is in complete control of everything in creation. He is guiding us out of all brokenness and pain in ways we will never be able to figure out. He loves His people very much, and so I’d like to share my testimony out of love for you and Him. I pray this testimony is a blessing to you. Amen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098070342

Book preview

Chapter 1

In the Beginning, There Was Darkness

Life started out normal for me just like everyone else. We had a beautiful home. We lived in a safe neighborhood, and we had what appeared to be a happy family. My mom was an accountant for an insurance agency, and my dad was a computer scientist for the Federal Reserve. We would have huge birthday celebrations with many gifts, and on the holidays, the living room was overflowing with toys for us.

We lived in a beautiful white colonial. I have no idea how many bedrooms. It had a two-story garage, a swimming pool, two playgrounds, and a large yard. We had two awesome dogs that I loved to play with, and surrounding us was nothing but deep woods. We must’ve lived on land that was once inhabited by Native Americans, because one time I found a tepee in the woods that seemed really old—it was really cool.

Sometimes my dad would play pranks on us when we would be walking home from school to try and scare us and make us laugh. I could tell that he loved us. My mom was always working around the home doing laundry, cleaning, and making dinner for us. She was always so kind and sweet; it was impossible not to like her.

My best friend at the time was a girl who lived next door. We did everything together. If I wasn’t with my mom doing errands or playing with my other brothers, I was always with her. I was five at the time, and she was a year younger than me. I guess it’s only a matter of time before realizing that men and women are different and opposite, because one day we were hiding under a blanket trying to kiss each other. We kept laughing in an ever-failing attempt to finally kiss.

Everything seemed all well and great in the beginning of my life, but sometimes life doesn’t always appear to be what is seems. One day, I was driving with my mom on her errands. There was some snow on the ground, but for what seemed to be no apparent reason, we almost slid into a ditch. Everything ended up being okay. And no one was hurt, but when I looked at my mom, she wasn’t acting like herself. She was slurring her words and appeared to be drowsy and out of it.

This changed something in me as a child. After this, I was always concerned for my mom and worried about her well-being. I knew she was in trouble, and I was scared to lose her. I began to call my mom every day when I got home from school to make sure she was okay. I remember feeling the desire to hear her voice, and I would feel a sense of relief when I did. I never missed a day when it came to making sure I called her and could hear her voice.

My mother’s behavior got worse and worse as the days went on. She would always be acting very strange, and I could never make sense of what was happening with her. Her loving and sweet personality turned into hate and anger. She stopped caring about things. I would see her stumble and fall around the house. Sometimes I would walk into a room, and she would be lying lifeless on the ground.

My father began to be more and more angry during this time. I was always afraid to be around him because of this anger. I would sometimes witness him physically and emotionally abusing my mother. I didn’t know what to do. I was only five years old. I would hide in my bedroom under my covers and put a fan on to drown out the crying and screaming. I laid there crying, hoping that it would stop.

One of the last memories I have with my father was my sixth birthday. I remember him walking me into the kitchen, and I saw the cake with the candles and a bunch of gifts. But not too long after this, my father was gone. He went to prison for having underage sexual relations with my older half sister. The house became even worse after this time because my mother’s alcoholism got worse. There weren’t many times that I didn’t see my mother drunk.

My older brother and sister acted out. My sister would throw these parties at the house and invite older women over. They tried to get me to do sexual things to them. I was only six years old. I didn’t understand what was going on. I was very confused and afraid at what my home was turning into. My older brother who was about ten at the time would start bonfires with gasoline in the front yard.

One time, I walked into the living room, and I saw my mother drunk with a large knife in her hands pointed at my older brother. I had no idea what to do, and my first instinct was to run into a hiding place with a phone and call the police. Although my brother never forgave me for what I did, I knew that it was the right thing to do because the cops came and broke up the fight before anyone got hurt.

All hell had broken loose in this once peaceful home, and it seemed to happen out of nowhere and for no apparent reason—not understanding that there were serious issues in my mother and father’s relationship. Maybe I was either too young to understand or was simply tuning it out to remain happy in my thoughts.

Eventually, even I started getting myself into trouble. Nothing serious, but we would all play pranks on other kids in the neighborhood. I remember hanging out with my older brother who started to hang out with the wrong types of kids. I didn’t know what I was doing. I just looked up to my older brother. Maybe I started hanging out with him more because my dad was gone.

One night, a lady I didn’t know was putting me and my brothers into a car. In my young mind, I was excited because I thought we were going on an adventure. I kept asking, Where are we going? in excitement. I kept looking at my brother and saw a look of sorrow in his face as he stared at the floor of the car. At the time, I really had no idea what he was so upset about.

Soon after this, I was with another family in a strange place. This was the first family that I was placed with among many other families. I’m not really sure why they kept moving us, but with every move it got worse, because little by little, they didn’t just separate me from my mother, but they also separated me from my brothers one at a time.

Each home was abusive in their own way. The first home I remember going into was a hunting home. They hunted everything that they ate, and they used every bit of food that they caught. I could understand the reasoning behind this, but they didn’t care when I was full and didn’t want to eat any more food. They would make me stay there until every bite was finished, and I wasn’t allowed to leave the dinner table until it was all gone. Sometimes, it would just be me and my older brother sitting there for hours because we weren’t allowed to leave the table, and we just couldn’t eat anymore.

I didn’t like certain foods, and they didn’t have any respect for that. They would force me to eat it, and when I would cry, it only made things worse. I couldn’t help but continuously wonder, Where is my mom, and who are these strange people? But I continued to press on hoping that I would see her again one day.

Eventually, I was in a new home, and this home had a lot of children in it. I was now completely separated from all of my family. I was very mistreated by all of the children there. I don’t really remember the parents at all, but the children had lasting impressions on me. There were two older children who would have intercourse in front of me, make me watch, and laugh while they were doing it. They would lead me and the other children into criminal activity like breaking into Foxboro stadium.

One of the other kids would constantly bully me, put me down, and tell me that I’d never see my mom or brothers again, and that I was one of them now, forever lost in the system. My heart said otherwise. Something in me knew that I would have my mother again, because even with all of her issues, I knew how much my mom loved me, and that she would never allow me to be lost in some system never to see her again. I would try my best to ignore all of these children and keep hoping to see my loved ones again.

In the next home, I was reunited with my two younger brothers who were one and two at the time. The lady that was taking care of us was very angry and abusive. I never really felt like I did anything wrong, but she always found the excuse to bend me over and spank me and tell me what a rotten kid I was.

Eventually, the social workers caught word of this, and I was in court testifying against her. I remember seeing the fear and sorrow in the old lady who was my foster mother, and I didn’t want to hurt her or ruin her life. I tried my best to keep things to myself in an attempt to preserve her life, knowing that what had happened might’ve been good enough for her to change, and there was no need to tear