The Villain in His Own Story: Eric Stephens' Testimony

"I said, every story needs a Darth Vader — so I'm just going to be that in my own story. But once you find Jesus, there is nothing to go back to."

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Some testimonies start with a bang. Eric Stephens’ starts on a basketball court, with a grown man fouling a five-year-old so hard he cried — and then telling him to toughen up.

That’s not where his story ends, though. It’s where it starts.

This week on Just Talking About Jesus, Eric — pastor, life coach, founder of Redwood Christian Ministries, host of the Rooted in Christ podcast — walks us through the villain years, the backslide nobody talks about, and the exact prayer that finally cracked things open. Here’s his story, mostly in his own words.

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The Villain in His Own Story

I want to tell you about a basketball game.

I was maybe four or five years old — chubby kid, nothing special about the moment except that it was my eleventh birthday and my biological father, who wasn’t around much, had picked me up. We went to Woodhill Park in Cleveland. I went up for a rebound. He fouled me so hard I hit the ground and started crying.

Now understand — I was a little kid. He was six-foot-three, fresh out of the military. We were not exactly matched up.

But instead of picking me up, he told me I didn’t have muscles like him, I wasn’t going to get girls like him, I wasn’t tough like him. I was just crying on the ground.

That’s it. That’s the moment. And I know it sounds small compared to what some people carry. But that’s where the rejection started, and that rejection ran straight through the rest of my childhood and into high school — me trying to fit in, trying to be like everybody else, and it just not working.

At some point I made a decision. I said, forget trying to be the good guy. Forget trying to be liked and accepted. I’m going to become the villain of my own story. I’m going to build a character everybody can follow, and I started pulling pieces from rappers, actors, sports entertainers — whoever looked like they had it figured out — and I stitched together a persona. But here’s the thing nobody tells you about that: the whole time you’re building the character, you’re losing yourself. I was disappearing while I built somebody else to wear.

I used to say every story needs a Darth Vader, so I figured I’d just be that in mine. And look — understanding why the bad guy does what he does doesn’t make the evil right. It doesn’t justify it. I got heavy into drinking. Heavy into drugs. Heavy into the party scene, into being a tough guy at two in the morning doing whatever tough guys do at two in the morning.

Here’s the part that still gets me: I was baptized around eleven or twelve years old. I said yes to Jesus with a child’s understanding, and then I willingly walked away from it for the things of the world. I’ll tell anybody who’ll listen — once you actually find Jesus, there is nothing to go back to. Nothing. But I hadn’t fully found Him yet. Not really. Not the way I needed to.

The Phone Call

Fast forward — I’d moved from Kent State to Lakewood, Ohio. I got a call from my mom. My grandmother had bladder cancer, pretty advanced. They were giving her three to five days.

If you’ve ever lived in Lakewood, you know about the train. It runs so close and so often that it becomes white noise — like living by an airport, you stop hearing the planes until somebody points them out to you. That train was just part of the background of my life at that point.

Not long after my mom’s call, another family member called and told me my grandmother was going to be fine. She was going to make it.

My mind was spinning. I hadn’t spent much time actually processing my emotions outside of substance abuse — that was my processing system, if you could call it that. So hearing two completely conflicting stories wrecked me. Why would my mom lie about her own mother dying? But I wanted to believe the version I was hearing that let me off the hook.

I went to my room. Sat there a long time — longer than I usually sat still for anything. And then I got on my knees, and I prayed the most honest prayer I think I’d ever prayed up to that point.

I said, God, if you’re real, I need you to show yourself to me. Make yourself real to me.

The train went by right then. Loud enough that I jumped out of my skin. It blew its horn three times.

I knew, right there, that my grandmother was going to die in three days. And on the third day, at six in the morning — first thing — she was gone.

So when people try to tell me Jesus isn’t real, that God isn’t real, that prayer doesn’t get answered — I already know better.

I knew it the second that horn went off three times. That was my wake-up moment. This life isn’t all there is. I’m not untouchable. Anybody can go like this. Everything I’d been living for up to that point was so finite. And for the first time, I got a real glimpse of what eternity might actually be about.

The Backslide Nobody Warns You About

Here’s what I think people get wrong about testimonies — they assume the moment of breakthrough is the finish line. It wasn’t for me. I did well for a stretch after that, and then I backslid, hard, not too long after I got saved. Same struggles pulling me back in.

It took me years to understand something important: the root issue was never actually the drugs. It wasn’t the alcohol. It wasn’t the lust or the pride, even though all of those were present and accounted for. Those were symptoms. The thing that actually needed to get ripped out, all the way out, was rejection.

So I did what a lot of people do — I changed my phone number. Changed my social media. Tried to close the doors from the outside. But those doors stayed open anyway, because I hadn’t dealt with the real problem, which was accepting that I am not rejected. I’m accepted. By a Savior who never once flinched at me.

That understanding didn’t come overnight. It took about five or six years for it to really land — the concept that I’m enough in the eyes of Jesus. Not enough because I cleaned myself up. Enough because of who He is.

There was a conference in Cleveland in 2016 — AZUSA — where I finally said, I’m done. I’m tired of having one foot in and one foot out. Tired of being stumbling one week and strong the next. Tired of looking backward. Lord, if you’ll still have me, take me. I’m ready to go all the way this time.

That was the real wake-up call.

After that, yes — the phone number changed, the social media changed, but more than that, I had to close some doors on people I actually loved. I had to block numbers and delete them, not because I didn’t care about those people, but because I wasn’t strong enough yet to be around what came with them. That’s an important distinction. You don’t have to hate someone to know you can’t be near them right now.

And here’s something I tell people constantly:

I’m not going to sit there and justify to a friend still selling drugs why I can’t hang out the way we used to. The turning point wasn’t identifying the problem over and over. It was identifying who Christ says I actually am, and building from there instead.

Identity Over Everything

Marti read me a quote during our conversation from Graham Cook: “If all our thinking has brought us to a place that we do not like, then surely it is time to have another thought.” That’s basically the whole gospel in one sentence, if you ask me. Jesus is constantly saying, here’s the way. Here’s how you actually do this. Take the foot straddling the fence, have a relationship with me, renew your mind, be in prayer. There’s a way that works, and it’s been available the whole time.

Identity is everything. I don’t care how relatively easy or lovely somebody’s life looks from the outside — everybody eventually hits a point where they have to figure out who they actually are. Not who the world sees. Who you really are in Jesus.

Keeping the Main Thing the Main Thing

People ask me constantly how I don’t burn out. I run a nonprofit, I host a podcast, I’m a pastor, I’m a husband, and our motto is literally “if we see a need, we fill it.” That sounds exhausting on paper. Here’s how it actually works.

It comes down to priority. My relationship with God comes first. My wife is right there next to that. I make sure I’m healthy and available for those two things before anything else gets my time. Redwood Christian Ministries stands on three pillars — salvation, discipleship, and church unity. If something doesn’t fall under one of those three, I don’t show up. The answer is no. And that no validates all my other yeses.

I’m a stickler about my Sabbath. If I can’t find a day in the week to actually rest, I’ll take PTO from work to make it happen. Rest isn’t optional for me — it’s part of staying good for the things He’s actually called me to do. I also schedule time to fast — not just from TV or social media, actual food fasting — as a way of telling my flesh, you are not in control here.

I’ll give you a real example. My podcast — I use Podmatch to find guests — I’ve got about 24 episodes stacked up right now. I honestly couldn’t tell you the last time I recorded one, but the show hasn’t stopped. An episode dropped the same day we recorded this conversation. Because I believe God called me to do this, and we’re doing it with excellence, the mission doesn’t require me to run myself into the ground. I can take all the time off I want from recording, and the show keeps going.

That margin is what lets me protect my marriage. My wife and I are intentional — we call it two by two by two. No less than two date nights a month. Every two months, some kind of weekend getaway. Every two years, a longer trip. The main thing stays the main thing, and she never has to feel like the mission is pulling me away from her, because I’ve watched how easily that can happen in ministry, on the road, in any high-visibility calling.

Discipleship Isn’t Complicated, It’s Costly

The Bible is clear — disciples make disciples. So you have to be discipled yourself first. I’ve got people pouring into me, and I’ve got people I’m pouring into, with the hope that they eventually pour into somebody else. You can’t walk this out alone.

I’ve had to accept some honest limits about myself. I know my capacity. Right now there are four guys I’m actively pouring into. One of them just showed up this past weekend at an event and asked me to start investing in him, and I told him straight up — here’s how I’m available, here’s how we can meet, here’s what I can offer. If you’re okay with that, let’s go. But I’m also honest that I’m going to be a bad friend to some people simply because of bandwidth. Not this close to a concert. Not this close to a speaking engagement season. That’s just the reality of the current chapter, and the guys I am investing in get the best of what I actually have to give.

Jesus walked with twelve. I’m not saying everybody needs exactly twelve people. I’m saying there’s a model here — you were never meant to do this life alone, and a lot of the people I meet, especially in the Christian hip-hop space, aren’t being discipled, aren’t being poured into, aren’t being coached. They’ve got yes-people around them instead of real friends. That’s a gap worth naming.

Practical Faith, Not Complicated Faith

When I preach or teach, I try to give people something they can actually take home and use. Take the Great Commission — how do you actually live that out? You’re already going somewhere every single day. You’re going to work, the gym, the store, taking your kids to school. So before you go, pray: Lord, give me the opportunity to lead someone to you today.

Have you cut your neighbor’s grass while you were cutting yours? Shoveled their driveway along with your own? Let the person behind you in line with two items go ahead of you? Invited someone to your church’s ice cream social? Do the people right next to you know you love Jesus — and do they know you love them?

We tend to overcomplicate faith. We want to dive into the deep end of theology while missing the day-to-day practicality sitting right in front of us. I don’t change the message depending on who I’m talking to. I change the method. The message — the saving power of Jesus — stays exactly the same no matter who’s in the room.

Why the Rooted in Christ Podcast Exists

I never wanted to call the podcast something with an obvious “churchy” name upfront, honestly — I actually landed on Rooted in Christ because I prefer to already be in the room with people before they figure out what I’m about. Let them get curious first. Why does this guy act so different? Then I get to tell them what’s really going on.

Early on, people told me to narrow the show — make it just for men, only cover certain topics, shorten the ministry’s name because Redwood Christian Ministries was “too long.” I said no to all of it, because that’s not what God told me to do. There’s a story on that podcast for everybody, and I wasn’t going to shrink it down to make it more marketable.

The Concert, and Why It Matters

November 7th, we’re hosting our third annual concert at the House of Blues — Christian hip-hop and R&B, KB headlining, along with Bruno, Mike Teezy, Portia Love, Taylor Wells, and my brother in Christ Renzo, who’s Cleveland’s own and co-hosting with me.

I can’t stand what a lot of mainstream music glorifies — the robbing, the stealing, the drug dealing, artists pretending to be something they’re not while living nowhere near that lifestyle. I’m not interested in adding more of that noise to the world. So we give people an alternative. You just got saved and don’t know what to listen to on a Saturday night? Here’s something for you. You’re struggling to let go of old music that doesn’t line up with where you’re headed? Here’s something better to put in its place.

There’s something about the music itself — when I listen, I can feel what the artist felt writing it. I’ll text some of these guys and tell them, man, I felt every bit of pain in that song. Keep going. That’s real body of work.

Last year, people came to that show who I know didn’t have a relationship with Jesus, and they told me afterward they were glad they brought their kids because they didn’t want them absorbing what’s on the radio. We built an altar call into the night, and forty to fifty people gave their hearts to Christ or rededicated their lives. I don’t tell people that number to brag. I tell them because it shows the intentionality behind it — we’re not doing this for entertainment’s sake. We’re doing it because souls matter.

I just got back from a missions trip on Bourbon Street, and if there’s one thing this world doesn’t need more of, it’s encouragement toward drugs, alcohol, prostitution, and violence. What it needs is healing. Real healing. The kind only Jesus provides.

What I’d Leave You With

If you’re on the fence, if you’re circling something you know isn’t good for you, if you’re tired — try Jesus. That’s it. That’s genuinely all I’ve got, and it’s enough.

Keep going if you’re already trying. Let Him lead your path instead of forcing your own way through it. It may not happen overnight — mine sure didn’t — but there is nothing that has happened in your life that He is not able to use. Good, bad, or ugly by your own judgment, if God allowed it, He has a plan folded into it. He did not bring you this far just to bring you this far. And He is never going to leave you or forsake you.

If you don’t have a relationship with Jesus yet, give Him an honest shot. That empty feeling, that sense that you’re missing something, that compulsion to keep reaching for the same thing that never actually satisfies — that’s a space built for Him, and nothing else is going to fill it the way He can.

However you need to say it, say it: accept Him as Lord and Savior. We’ve all fallen short. We’ve all made a mess of something. But the way back to the Father runs straight through the Son. Ask for forgiveness, ask Him into your heart, and let Him lead from here.

I’m going to tell you to follow Christ every chance I get. That’s not going to change.

Follow Eric’s ministry, Redwood Christian Ministries, and catch new episodes of the Rooted in Christ podcast wherever you listen. If you’re in the Cleveland area, join Eric and this year’s lineup — headlined by KB — at the House of Blues on November 7th for a night of Christian hip-hop, R&B, and an altar call built right into the show.

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It was so much fun sharing a table with Jackie M Baker in Castle Rock, Washington.

Thank you Books & Brew Bookstore!!

You can find my books at jan-johnson.com or amazon.

Till next time….

Keep Talkin’ About Jesus!

Jan