How I Got Addicted to Crystal Meth as a Missionary (w/ Snoop Dogg Narration)

The Apostle "Metthew" (updated with audio)

a preview of the book I’m writing

I’m standing on the stage just moments away from approaching the pulpit.

A massive crowd on their feet with their hands up, surrendering all that they are to our God. I look down at the crowd as they began to blur. 

I blink my eyes a few times and finally see what I believe are my wife and kids coming into focus; their smiles comfort my stage fright. The music then begins to cease as the silence begins to grow. 

The opening prayer respectfully broke the silence. There’s no place in the world that I will rather be right now, I tell myself. The prayer ended in Jesus’ name; I took my place at the pulpit. I open my Bible to Philippians 4:67. 

Suddenly, a phone began to ring. It kept ringing and ringing and no one in the audience would turn it off. I reached into my pocket, and I realize that it was mine. There was a great earthquake as I answered the call. Then everything began to cease and disappear.

“Hello, Brother?” 

With my raspy morning voice. I sensed that something was wrong by the way Brother Joel’s voice said: 

“Bro, we got to talk. Get Hazel into a taxi. When she’s gone come to the back of the hotel and get in.” 

It is 6 A.M., and the sun is halfway up. I begin wondering what could be going on this early. I accidentally slam the taxi door, and the driver immediately takes off. I see Hazel looking back at me, I wave her farewell. I walk over to the back of the hotel, but the car isn’t there. I pull my phone out and as soon as it starts ringing, the car rolls up. 

“What’s going on?” 

I ask as I put on my seatbelt. 

“Bro, what the hell is the matter with you? Your picture with Hazel in the hotel room is all over Facebook.” 

I laugh, not thinking of the situation so seriously.

“It’s not funny bro! Bishop just texted me saying that Sarah sent him all your messages. Look!” 

I grab Brother Joel’s phone and look at Bishop’s texts. They were screenshots of my and Sarah’s past conversations. 

“Shit!” 

I yell out. My cover is blown and there is no way I could manipulate my way out of this one. Everyone finally realizes that I’m not the newly created and redeemed sinner that I worked so hard to make everyone believe. 

I admit I have never in my life been more of a piece of shit than I am at this moment. I take a Xanax to calm myself down. Then it finally hit me. A few nights ago, when I was leaving Sarah’s hotel room, that one Sister warned me about Sarah.

Bishop James left me a Facebook message saying:

“Brother, if we were in the U.S., I could easily make this go away. But you must understand, this is the Apostle’s territory. I don’t want to believe this about you, trust me. You will be brought before the council because they’re threatening to excommunicate you. I’ll do what I can to defend you, but I can’t promise you anything because these are not our grounds.” 

The only words that I could say at the time were, “I’m sorry.” 

To this day, he has never replied. I looked at Brother Joel and could sense a little bit of fear in his eyes. He probably thought that I was going to talk about his involvement. We got back to his house and had breakfast. 

Corn beef, fried eggs, rice, and orange juice were on the table. I could barely eat; I was thinking way too much. I went upstairs after breakfast and took the longest shower. All I could think about was how I ruined my reputation and ministry for an insecure, unrespectable bitch. I can’t believe she exposed us and even Hazel! Hazel was now involved. 

I put on the standard uniform. White top with the sleeves rolled up a black tie and some skinny black slacks. Brother Joel said that we were going to meet them at 2 P.M. As soon as I saw Sarah online, I thought of so many things to say to her. I refrained for as long as I could, but I honestly couldn’t help it, I began to fire away. 

I called Sarah through Facebook Messenger and cussed her out. I said the meanest things I’ve probably ever said to a human being. I rather not repeat what I said. Hardly even remember anything I say or do when I’m angry. I swear it’s like I black out and this angry short-tempered version of me takes over. She cried so much, and I was happy that she was hurt. 

She ruined me for no reason! She deserved it! It was such a petty thing that she did. She hung up on me while I was cussing her out. I began cussing her out again via Messenger. Brother Joel came into the room and said, 

“Bro! Stop it! You’re just making it worst.” 

Marriot Hotel, Torrance CA 2015

“She fucking deserves it; she fucking ruined me! She’s a fucking a bitch! I hope she dies in a fucking fire! I’ll kill that bitch!” 

I snapped, as I fell to the ground. My shredded tears profusely linger in pain and regret. I opened my eyes, finding myself on the floor. Praying and wishing that it was all a dream. I quickly realized that my wishful thinking was just that, wishful. An hour or two goes by. 

I tilted up and rested against the wall. A few minutes later, Brother Joel (who was fresh out of the shower and dressed) walked out of the bathroom. He looked at me and jokingly said:

“You sleep on it?” 

In dire desperation: 

“Too freaking soon bro” 

I replied neutrally. 

“Okay, bro, let’s pray first.” 

Brother Joel is always prayerful and spiritual. Since he is an elder, we always believe that their prayers had an extra pinch of grace and favor.
We finally arrived to meet with the council. Back in Bulacan once again. 
I thought it would be another year before I’d be back there. I walked into the meeting with my head down. I was so nervous, standing in front of the council. 

There’s the Apostle in the middle. The Bishops on his side and a few council members on their side. Everyone was dressed and ready, wearing a Filipino Barong. Bishop James and I made contact, then he gets up from his seat to stand next to me. Brother Joel stood on my other side, leaving me in the middle. 

I didn’t get to say much. I was nervous and to be quite honest, I could barely understand anything. Their Tagalog speaking was too advanced for me. They made a notion to excommunicate me, but Bishop James and Brother Joel defended me on my behalf. 

They shared the same thought 

“This brother is new. Although he is a missionary, he is still a new believer and should be treated as such.” 

It made sense, I had only been in the church for about three years. After my first year, I decided to enter the mission field. The standard rule is that every member had to be active for at least three years in the church to enter the missionary field, but Bishop James favored me a lot. 

The Apostle then decided after an hour of back-and-forth arguing: 

“He will not be excommunicated. However, it is necessary that this brother must be discharged as a missionary. You are officially discharged from your position as a missionary. The Bible School must remain Holy and this kind of behavior ruins that integrity. May God have mercy on you.”

My heart sinks, and I begin to tighten my fist inside my pocket. 

“Wait!” 

A woman’s voice yelled out. It was the Apostle’s wife, Pastor Angie, but we always referred to her as Evangelist Angie. She single-handedly pioneered the work and opened up churches outside of the Philippines. Everyone was puzzled as she continued looking down, she was writing something down in her journal. She broke the silence and said, 

“Not defending yourself and not denying the claims is equal to an admission of guilt. Do you have anything to say, Brother?” 

Before I could say anything, I looked at Bishop James. It’s amazing how clearly you could remember something you were learning the moment it becomes relevant in your life. A lot of times we think that something we’re learning, or hearing goes in one ear and out the other, but I believe that a lot of what we learn gets stored and released at the time when we need it most.

I looked towards the council and said:

“What about forgiveness… What about the lessons we are taught to teach our flock?” 

Even those in the ministry understand that we don’t always practice what we preach. We try our best to do so, but we would be lying to profess that any one of us is immune to failure. Deep down inside, I knew the weight of my debts, and their decision was nothing short of appropriate. But I had to fight. I couldn’t just allow myself to lose, not like that. I was trained better than that. The Apostle replied to me: 

“Brother, you are forgiven. But that does not reverse anything.”

I argued saying,

“I know that I’m not the first person in the Bible school to be caught doing this. There’s a lot of things that we hide from the brethren, why is this any different?” 

They were alarmed that I brought this up. You see, every organization has its dirty little secrets. Some are simple and some are more complex. Pastor Angie asked: 

“Then what do you think we should do?” 

I replied, 

“There’s not much that I can ask for… I just … just don’t have anything else… I need this.”

“That’s enough!” the Apostle said. “You are suspended until further notice. I ask Bishop James to settle this when you return to the U.S.”

I walked out of the room crying. Bishop James looked at me and said:

“That’s the best we could do. Be strong, take some time. This is a problem that you must fix with God. Only He knows what exactly you are going through. I’ll pray for you and see you back in California in a few weeks.”

Suspension in the church meant different things. I didn’t know exactly whether I was still considered a missionary or not. I knew for sure that I was prohibited from receiving Holy Communion. Hazel messaged me saying that she and Sarah got into a fight in the dorm room. 

She found Sarah packing her stuff and asked her “Why are you going to ruin someone’s ministry because of your insecurities!” Hazel said to Sarah. From what I heard; it wasn’t a crazy fight.

Hazel was suspended for a month. She had to go back to her home province in Aklan. Sarah was removed from her position as a host for the church’s television program and was kicked out of the Bible School. 

She went back home to Palawan the next day. I can’t believe one person’s actions ruined all our ministries. To be fair, I know what we did was wrong, and we were treated justly. It was all our fault. I blamed Sarah for so long, but the truth is that we were all in the wrong. Sarah and I should have never hooked up. Hazel and I should have never been taking pictures in that hotel room.

In all honesty, we all fucked up. At the time, I was just so fixed on blaming Sarah because if she kept her mouth shut, we would both still have our ministries right now. What was I going to do now? I felt like I didn’t have a reason to live anymore. If it wasn’t for the mission, I’d still be out in the streets slanging ecstasy and weed and getting drunk every single night. 

The ministry was a genuine escape. Power and authority became my new addiction. It became my anti-drug. Day and night, I was so obsessed with this high. And for someone to just take all that away from you, just sucks so much. But I was in the wrong. God is just. 

Do you know how they say everything happens for a reason? To be honest I still haven’t found a silver lining. Life is much better in the ministry. Outside of it, it’s been nothing but a downward spiral of addiction, manic depression, manipulation, and near-death experiences.

Brother Joel and I got in the car, and we drove toward his house. We both needed some rest. I remember crying on the way back and feeling so worthless. 

“You know I use to be in the ministry too, right? A long time ago!” 

Brother Joel said while we were at a red light. I never knew this. He said:

 “Both Sister Bethany and I were in the ministry. And you know how you’re not allowed to date? Well, I and Sister Bethany couldn’t resist because we were so in love. We both felt how you’re feeling right now, but at least we had each other.” 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I replied.

Brother Joel said, “I got some work for you remember? Since you’re not going to be doing anything else… it’ll keep you busy.” I had about three weeks left in my trip and nowhere to go. I had already been robbed, doxed, and suspended from the Bible School; it couldn’t possibly get anymore worst. 

“Yeah, I’m down bro but what do you mean work?” 

I asked. 

“What do you know about shabu? Methamphetamine?” 

Brother Joel asked as I turned my head in shock. 

We got to the front of his house and he honked his horn to signal Ateh to open the gate. As we pulled in, he said, “rest first, let’s talk about it later bro.” I remember climbing up the stairs and just falling right asleep as I fell on the bed in the guest room. I woke up about four hours later, around 8 in the evening because one of his servants was massaging me.

She said, “just relax, Sir asked me to because you keep screaming in your sleep.” I felt so embarrassed. One thing that I struggle with, ever since I was a kid, is night terrors. In the middle of my sleep, I can just get up and started screaming out of nowhere. I always tried blaming the meds and drugs, but it was hard to because I’ve had night terrors since I was a child.

 I’m sure they exacerbated the symptoms though. This servant of his was young, probably around 19. She didn’t know how to massage, but it just felt good to have her touching me.

I took off all my clothes and she massaged my whole body. She wiped me dry and fell asleep next to me. We cuddled for a bit. Brother Joel came into the room and saw us, and she quickly got up and apologized. I told Brother Joel that I asked her too, so she wouldn’t get in trouble. 

Brother Joel said, 

“Bro, let’s sleep in the kid’s room, there are two beds in there. Maybe you won’t scream so much in your sleep if someone is next to you.” 

The truth is that I don’t scream every night, but it doesn’t matter if I’m alone or sleeping in a dorm with eight other missionaries, night terrors still happened. They were extremely embarrassing but unpredictable, so what could I do?

Brother Joel’s alarm clock woke us up the next morning. We had a morning service at 5 am to attend. We always tried our best because there’s no better time to speak to God. Your mind is clear since you’re freshly woke. It’s just the best time to ask for help. We got dressed and walked over to the local church to pray. I remember being so quiet with God. I didn’t know where to start. I felt like I was so unworthy to come before Him. My ministry evaporated into thin air, and I was nothing anymore.

I left the sanctuary and went out to the balcony. I prayed there. All I could do at that point was ask for forgiveness. I asked God to forgive me for being selfish. Forgive me for feeling entitled. Forgive me for focusing on everything else but Him. Forgive me for the words I use. I thought to myself how I am supposed to ask God for forgiveness when I can’t even forgive myself? I needed to be rescued from the monster that I became.

I asked God to save me from myself. The devil wasn’t my worst enemy, I was my own worst enemy. I cried as I looked down from that balcony. I got up and thought, what if I just jumped? Would God forgive me? Would God forgive me for not wanting to put up with this shit anymore? I thought about it, I wanted to die, but I didn’t want to go out that way.

Crystal methamphetamine is known as Shabu. But in the Philippines, meth is real. The meth in North America is hardly even meth, to begin with. Since the DEA began controlling the production of ephedrine. With the local Chinese syndicates as chemists and cooks, shit’s fucking pure all over the place. It’s cheap, widely available, and it produces a euphoric stimulant effect similar to cocaine. The high lasts long, keeps you awake, feels amazing, and helps suppress your appetite. In the U.S., it’s a prescription med used to treat ADHD and Narcolepsy, but in recent years has been used more by college students. Shit, I don’t blame them. Nobody can afford to fail these days. Despite those poor souls that were caught in the crosshairs of Duterte’s drug war, there are still an estimated 1.8 million methamphetamine users in the country. 

“So, what do you know about methamphetamine bro?” Brother Joel asked as he started laying right beside me. “It’s like 8 in the morning bro what are you talking about? It’s too early for this shit.” Brother Joel laughed as he walked over to the window to let all the light come into the room. I put the blanket over my face and pretended to go back to sleep. I have been going through a depressive episode ever since the day with the council. Didn’t know how or what I was going to tell my parents, probably shouldn’t say anything. They have never been so proud of me in all their life. I know mom was finally happy and at peace with the fact that I wasn’t getting blacked out drunk at our neighbor’s house every night. Now that I think about it, I was such a fucked-up son. 

“Bro… you were pushing Ecstasy tablets when you were an unbeliever right?” Brother Joel’s persistent ass questioned me. To which I replied, “I don’t anything about that special agent, as far as I know… I’m a new creation in Jesus Christ… the old has gone and the new has come!” You could see Brother Joel trying his best not to crack up, “Well, Praise the Lord for that but you sure don’t smell new bro. Go wash up, brush your teeth, and meet me in my office upstairs in five minutes. It’s your first day of work so don’t be late ah?” 

Man, I looked like shit and to make things better, I broke out on my chin. I hate looking at myself in the mirror when I’m depressed. I feel like I don’t know that person. I start to hate myself. “Shit!” I yelled out as I put all my toiletries away. I just realized that I haven’t done laundry at all since I arrived. I had to hurry up though, so I just put on some khaki shorts and a white t-shirt. As I was walking up the stairs to the third floor, I ran into the servant that massaged me the other night. She was dusting off the photo frames when she turned around and saw me coming up. “Good A.M Sir, kumayan ka na?” She was wondering if I had eaten already.

I started looking at the pictures. I started to miss my own family. Apart from being a missionary is learning how to find strength without your family. There are going to be lonely nights when you want to call them, and you’re more than welcome to, but it stunts your growth and can even make matters worse. I slowly began moving in closer to her and she reciprocated. Our lips came so close. She locked her arms behind my neck. I wanted to kiss her, but I resisted. Instead, I said, “Thanks for the other night… you know... for the massage. It was good. I liked it… maybe you can do it again later?” She smiled and buried her face in my chest. She’s a shy girl, I guess. 

“Hey... what’s your name?” I asked. In that split second, before she could open her mouth, Brother Joel popped out of one of the doors and goes, “Hallelujah! In Jesus’ Name... I can’t take you anywhere. Come on already bro.” She broke away so fast. I turned and followed Brother Joel into the room. “It’s Joy…” “What... what was that?” I asked as I turned around. Even with the distance, our eyes found a way to lock. “I’m Joy,” she said again. I smiled, “Well Joy, I’ll see you later than nalang k?” I closed door the door.

His office at home was much bigger than his work office. One similarity was that there were guns all over the place. I sat down on the brown leather couch and asked what the plans are for today. Brother Joel either ignored me or didn’t hear me. He was in the restroom with the door slightly opened. It was enough for me to see him fettling with something over the sink. “Bro? You good?” Still no answer from him. I got up from the couch and knocked on the bathroom door. “Seph?” When I opened the door wider I saw all this “stuff.” I didn’t know what everything was at the time. I could tell that it was drug paraphernalia, but nothing familiar to an ex-pothead and ecstasy dealer. 

Brother Joel asked, “Have you ever tried shabu before?”