I was just two years old when my parents divorced. Much of my childhood was spent in the loving care of my grandparents—two people who didn’t have an abundance of material wealth, but whose unwavering love for Jesus and each other left a lasting imprint on my heart.

Between the ages of 2 and 8, I watched my mother suffer at the hands of an abusive man. That pain pushed me toward faith, and at just eight years old, I gave my heart to Jesus, thinking, “That’s it. I’m safe now.” But life didn’t exactly work that way.

As a teenager, rebellion took root. I spiraled into drugs, partying, and chasing anything that might fill the void inside. At 18, I became a father and stepped into adulthood the best way I knew how—by grinding at a factory job. That’s where I met a different kind of enemy: Oxycontin. Over the course of two and a half years, I became enslaved to what many call “Hillbilly Heroin.”

When I found out my second child was on the way, something shifted. With the help and prayers of loved ones, I broke free—no methadone, just grit, grace, and God. I wish I could say the rest was smooth sailing. But that would be a lie.

By 27, I had four children and my Red Seal as a carpenter. I launched my own renovation business and dove deep into new age teachings—manifesting, positivity, and abundance. For a moment, it all felt like it was working. Until it didn’t.

My marriage ended. I lost everything I thought I had built. Confidence shattered, I numbed the pain with drinking, women, and escapism. That’s when I found NLP and life coaching—and for the first time, I saw my own patterns clearly. I discovered my gift for helping others navigate their pain. But even with all that insight, something was still missing.

After my business collapsed and I filed for bankruptcy, God placed someone in my life: Morgan Pierce of Black Sheep Thinking. His mentorship and steady encouragement helped me tune into something deeper—the voice of God within me.

For four years, I worked beside Morgan, helping others wake up to their spiritual reality. But it wasn’t until the loss of my grandparents—those pillars of faith—that I returned to the source of it all: Jesus.

Through Him, I found not only healing but purpose. My story isn’t about perfection—it’s about resurrection. It’s not about finding religion—it’s about creating relationship with my creator.

Through Spirit of a Lion, I now help others transform anger into understanding, frustration into peace, and emptiness into connection.

I believe your mess, when understood, can become your message—and that true freedom begins when you walk boldly in the identity God gave you.

Much Love,

Andrew