I’m Aaron
In short, I’m just a guy who defeated meth addiction years ago through the grace and power of Jesus Christ. I now use that experience to fuel my passion for redefining outreach and recovery ministry throughout the Church as a whole.
My biggest objective in life is to change the way the church views addictions, and addiction/recovery ministry. The mark has been missed, and the power of Christ forgotten. It’s time to re-train our church leaders in the Word of God regarding addictions and strongholds. If this interests you, go to the “Contact” page and connect with me!!
If you want to know a little more of my story and how I got to where I am, check out this short bio from an article that was published in Sync Weekly on 9/9/09.
Aaron Reddin is on a mission. You can hear it in his voice and sense it in his posture and body language. Occasionally, glimpses of the grace he has experienced wash over his face when he talks.
Growing up in rural Arkansas, Reddin was a typical small town boy. He would tell you that the “typical” small town opportunities to get in trouble led to what became the start of a downward spiral. Growing up in Danville, he said, “There was nothing to do there except drive dirt roads and drink beer.”
Fond memories are rare for him. “I can remember wanting out of there desperately,” he said as he sat in Little Rock’s Community Bakery.
Like so many young men in the rural South, instead of occupying his time with movies and a more fully developed social scene, Danville was a place he couldn’t wait to leave.
Family dynamics led to much of his early focus on life — stopping the pain. Reddin continues, “It’s pretty common. The major influences in growing up were my parents divorce, step-siblings. These are common denominators for many people growing up in my hometown. I felt we were the functionally dysfunctional family.
“We survived. When you think of a dysfunctional family you think of people throwing things or blood and madness. There was controlled chaos. Complete instability — seven marriages between my mom and dad. It was not even close to June and Ward Cleaver.”
Reddin chose at age 13 to begin coping through using drugs. As he walked to school at Russellville Junior High, his friend offered him a joint. He didn’t hesitate to take his first drag and followed it up with a gum ball and walked into his class. That began a long journey deeper and deeper into drugs.
“There was never any peace. I was able to hide it from my mother for a long time. At age 15, I started to do methamphetamine. I was not able to hide that for very long, though. I was also drinking at that time as well. The older I got the more I wanted to numb my feelings and I wanted more. The thought of coming down was more frightening than the thought of doing drugs.”
Normal for Reddin at that point in his life was a constant struggle to score his next hit and stay as free of his pain as possible. He began to cook meth and sell it at the age of 17. As a junior in high school, the slippery slope caved in under him. Because of the excessive drug use, he has trouble remembering much of that time.
At 20, he was living in his car, shooting up with dirty needles, and stealing from his mother to feed his dope habit. His mother confronted him. “I remember her telling me that she couldn’t bear to hear my voice or see my face until I was really serious about getting clean.” The reality of how his life affected her life became a turning point.
In spite of being raised in church, religion didn’t really mean anything to him.
“It had never become a personal issue for me. It was something we were expected to do and it never meant that much to me.” He returned to church out of desperation, knowing that he could not walk away from the drugs on his own. He somehow knew that his faith would need rehab just as much as the rest of his body. He walked in to church suffering from withdrawals and he chose to surrender his life to God.
“God set me free that night, but I could just as easily walk back into it.” He describes an immediate sense of freedom and change after that experience. As he realized that his faith had become alive for the first time he knew that he also needed to develop discipline and structure in his life and joined the Marine Corps. Over the next several years he walked away from other addictions like alcohol and marijuana. Now, 8 years into his freedom from meth he has a new mission in life.
In the past, his passion and focus was on stopping the pain with drugs. Now his mission is to see other men experience the same freedom he has found. Reddin is now the director for the men’s treatment program at the Union Rescue Mission. In this role, he’s part counselor, part drill instructor, and part pastor.
“The men’s recovery program runs nine months long and is equipped to handle 30 men. We currently have 20 men working our rehab program.”
Over the course of their time in the program, the men live on the ministry campus and focus on conquering their demons while preparing for the return to the world, families and lives they left.
“In 2008 we served over 64,000 meals through the mission,” he said.
A common misconception is that the Union Rescue Mission is only serving homeless men. Many people don’t know that they feed the hungry and their partner mission, the Dorcas House, assists women and children escaping domestic violence.
“Our volunteers are priceless. We have over 30 churches that come in to help with chapel each month. We have volunteers who cook meals, drive vehicles, and teach classes. They are the backbone of our efforts at the mission.”
Never one to be content with his success, Reddin has dreams for doing more for those in central Arkansas who need a hand. He has a plan to help the homeless with affordable transportation, is writing a book on the difference between deliverance from addiction and identifying with it, and an ambitious goal of providing ministry to homeless teens in central Arkansas. He refers to teens who go from friend’s house to friend’s house as “couch surfers.” It may come as a shock to the average Arkansan the number of homeless teens in our state.
“There are more than 2,700 homeless students in Arkansas. Our idea of homelessness is the guy on the corner with the sign. Kids are resilient. If mom is a meth head, they go to stay with a friend,” he said.
When asked about what he would say to the person reading this that is struggling with addiction, abuse, or homelessness: “No. 1, don’t give up. No. 2, you’re not alone. No. 3, there are some of us who have been there and can provide help. Just don’t give up looking for help.”
With so much on his plate, how does it affect him personally? “I get overwhelmed. I get frustrated. I want to quit. That doesn’t help anyone. I have to realize that I can’t change the world alone. I have dreams, things I want to do. At the end of the day, Jesus told us two main things. Love God and love people.”
He glances out the window looking at Main Street, pauses a moment and finishes, “You get those down, you’re doing well. If someone says that in a few years, I can retire.”
