It was as if Satan himself had just entered the youth room of that Nampa, Idaho, church. Dark and foreboding, dressed in Goth attire, evil seemed to emanate from him, and the word “intimidating” didn’t do his presence justice.
No one said a word to him, even though every person in the room was keenly aware of his presence—it was as if they could feel his eyes upon them. Furtive glances were stolen at this embodiment of evil and sin. Frightening. Confusing. Unsettling. Dangerous.
The service ended. As quietly as the evil had drifted into the room, he left—and never returned.
When Jordan Hodges was nearly 13 years old, his parents’ marriage crumbled. His father had slowly become increasingly abusive and then adultery spelled the finish. Already dealing with some emotional extremes that required medication as a youngster, Hodges’ world was thrown into further turmoil when what became a vicious divorce also revealed that his “father” really wasn’t his father. Reeling, and desperately needing a positive male role model in his life, Hodges sought out his real father, only to find he was an alcoholic.
Searching for acceptance and some type of stability, Hodges soon found himself with friends who had similar problems, and who dealt with their problems by escaping through drugs. By the time he was 15, Hodges had moved from pot to crank to meth—and deep into the occult—searching for something real, something powerful. As lost as he seemed, he was only at a crossroads in his young life.
High on meth, dressed in his routine Goth garb and sporting his blue spiked hair, Hodges attended an Easter service at a church with his mother. He was struggling with the idea of God being real and if so, could He really care about him? It all seemed so impossible. But something pulled him back, and he decided to attend the foretold youth service, giving God “one last chance.”
“The rejection I felt [from the youth group], like I wasn’t accepted and didn’t belong, made it easy for me,” Hodges recalls. “It was like it gave me permission to continue on in the life I was leading. And although I know I looked a sight, I was really desperate for someone, anyone, just to say ‘Hi’ or ‘Glad you’re here’ or anything … but it never happened.”
Only later would Hodges come to realize the depth of evil that truly did encompass him, and how it intimidated the youth, who never before had been confronted by such a presence. However, Hodges also recognizes that a “meth head who’s into occult” doesn’t just “happen” to show up at church one day. God was at work, and it’s up to the church to be prepared for challenging opportunities.
After dropping out of high school, Hodges moved in with a couple who cooked their own meth. With this new and endless supply of drugs, Hodges began dealing to local gangs. At the same time, looking to maintain his high, Hodges began shooting meth and other drugs intravenously.
“I would be awake for weeks,” he said. “I never slept. I was into a very dark, dark world—seeing and doing some of the darkest things imaginable.”
When Hodges finally hit bottom, it came with his chest covered by the red lasers of police officers’ guns targeting him. He ended up first in the hospital, where doctors were amazed—they had never seen so many drugs in a person’s system—at least not a living person’s system. After five days of recovery, he was sent to jail.
Bored with being confined in a jail cell, Jordan decided to sit in on a Bible study being held by a group of local Christians. Despite his best efforts, the power and presence of God surrounded Hodges, and the next day, when Assemblies of God Biker Chaplain Rick Rigenhagen visited him, he gave his life to Christ. For Hodges, this marked the beginning of a life transformation.
“There is a whole generation of kids who are seeking some kind of spirituality,” Hodges explains, “but these kids, just like I was, are carrying a whole lot of baggage—hard things, horrible things, dark things that are pulling and grasping at them as they begin their journey down the hallway of Christianity.”
And while they’re in the hallway, Hodges says, it’s a lonely and sometimes terrifying place to be. Hodges knows what he’s talking about.
About a month after his conversion in jail, where he became a dedicated Bible reader and even led Bible studies, Hodges was released, but within a day, he was already doing meth. This time, though, something was wrong. The high wasn’t there, only fear.
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