Hope from a Hard Place: A Journey of Healing & Restoration
Listen to Jennifer’s story on the podcast!
Words by Jenna Kruse, as told to her by Jennifer Hopkins
This blog post contains sensitive topics
The best day of Jennifer Hopkins' life was the day she went to jail. So, when Jennifer's tires hit the narrow path leading into camp for her first Christian women's retreat at The Well, she wasn't sure what to expect. Though she had healed physically from her 16-year crystal meth addiction a few years prior, there were mental and emotional scars from her past bubbling under the surface.
Her mind raced with doubt. What is a girl like me doing at a women's retreat? I should just turn around, she thought. She doubted she would have anything in common with the other retreat participants.
“But God knows the doors you need to walk through," says Jennifer in hindsight. As a newlywed having married into motherhood, she felt unsure in her new role as a stepmom. "I grew up having to be hard; I wanted to learn how to be gentle," she says. Knowing Jennifer's desire, her counselor encouraged her to attend the women's weekend put on annually by Mission Uprising.
She bucked the idea from the beginning. The thought of taking four days off during a week when she and her husband were responsible for the kids didn't seem feasible. Like so many women, she knew spending time away in the intentional pursuit of connecting more deeply with God could turn into countless hours ironing out details before departing. But the more stressed Jennifer became, the more she leaned into the possibility, ultimately signing up just a week before the event.
As Jennifer hesitantly began settling into her cabin with the other women, who, at first glance, seemed to have it all together, the questions she had about her self-worth grew louder. "I worry so much how I look on the outside," confesses Jennifer, "because I am deathly afraid people will find out how messed up I am on the inside."
The truth is, Jennifer's pain began way before she started using drugs. Growing up, no one told her that her body was special, and their actions confirmed it. She endured sexual abuse at a young age. By ten years old, angry, hurt, and confused, it wouldn't have been uncommon for her to punch a wall. She was always waiting for the next shoe to drop—the next thing to go wrong or the next person to walk out of her life.
As an early teen, she looked for love and acceptance in all the wrong places. When she found herself pregnant at 15, she was driven to a clinic to have an abortion. After that, she numbed out. It was the thing that no one talked about, so she tried burying it too. Reeling from poor mental health, she took "the bait on a hook to hell," as she calls it: her first inhale of methamphetamine.
From there, it was a downward spiral for Jennifer. "I lived in my car more times than I can count. I slept on porches, lived without electricity or running water, woke up on mattresses with bed bugbites,” she says. “In every sense of the word, I was a junkie."
But sometimes God wrecks your life to save it, and now Jennifer gets to share that hope with young girls much like she once was in recovery centers, churches, and missions. She's the Celebrate Recovery leader in a local jail because that's where God met her: on the cold, hard floor of a jail cell. Additionally, she leads Psalm 46:5, a music ministry named after the verse, "God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day, "because that's her story.
Though getting arrested seemed like the worst day of Jennifer's life, it was also the day her life began to change. She remembers not wanting to detox in a jail cell, not wanting her family and her mom to see her mug shot, and the shame of putting on county-issued underwear yet again. Jennifer says that everyone in the drug world thinks they are "some kind of big deal," but at that moment, looking around and realizing everyone already knew her, she hated herself for it.
The night before Jennifer's bond-reduction hearing, the self-loathing turned to fear. "People come to Christ a lot of different ways: out of sadness or love or devotion, but for me, it was because I was scared. I was afraid of what was going to happen," she admits. She didn't want to be a junkie anymore, but she didn't know her way out. So, she did what she had never done: dropped to her knees, and as tears hit the concrete floor, told God that if he helped her out of the mess she was in, she would do everything in her power to make him proud.
The next day, her hearing was moved to a different courtroom, which meant a different holding cell—one they reserved for criminals being tried and convicted of the highest felonies, including murder. When she stepped inside, handcuffs squeezing her wrists, she was met with scripture and "Jesus loves you" messages tagged by inmates up and down the walls. It was the first time Jennifer could see God's hand in her life. He had heard her cry.
They lowered her bond and at 3:30 in the morning, released her from jail. With just a garbage bag of clothes to her name, Jennifer got into the car with her best friend at the time, and they drove away from Indianapolis. Not knowing the first thing about starting this new life with God, the little interstate motel had her covered. There inside the nightstand drawer was a Bible placed by the Gideons. She had no idea how to read it, but as she began flipping through the pages, she found comfort.
With her feet still in two worlds, she spent the next several months hanging out and singing in bars. Proud of her decision to get clean, she declared it to everyone she encountered—the gas station attendant, the bartender, the grocery store worker: "Hey! I'm 19 days clean from meth!" "I'm 32 days!" Knowing her story, one of the bartenders told her to check out a church in town that hosts Celebrate Recovery meetings.
Once there, she accidentally walked through the back entrance where the worship band hangs out—another door God knew she needed to walk through, eventually helping lead worship at that church for the next five years. In the recovery meetings she began to attend, she found a handful of people living out their recovery and fighting for their lives. "They were putting their hands in the air in submission and saying, 'I don't know what I'm doing, but You do.'" This new community gave Jennifer the opportunity to dig in to her relationship with God, to community with fellow believers, and to her recovery.
Getting healthy allowed her to eventually meet and marry her husband. "We got back from our honeymoon, and it was literally homework, carlines, car seats, dinner, all of it," recalls Jennifer. "Life came at me fast." And with it, so did the feelings of inadequacy. "Just because life is good doesn't make it easy," she says. She still had things to work through, like how she felt about herself—not only in her marriage and motherhood but even in her identity as a new creation. She was at a breaking point the day she left for the women’s retreat.
Through tears, she called her husband from the camp parking lot, pleading with him to give her a reason to get back in her car and head home. Lovingly, he didn't. Taking her sweet timesettling in, Jennifer thought she would be walking to the first session alone. To her surprise, when she opened the cabin door, a total stranger just minutes prior looked up at her with genuine enthusiasm and said, "We were waiting for you!"
They were waiting for me? Jennifer thought. That moment, Jennifer knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She no longer felt so alone. She felt like she belonged.
Other things surprised Jennifer that weekend too. For starters, there is no hierarchy of speakers and leaders at this unique women's retreat. Their histories include heartaches like substance abuse, cutting, abortion, infidelity, and depression. Yet, these women weren't sweating it out, waiting to be found out. They weren't covering their arms or hiding their hearts. They were talking about it. Openly. And these women's stories served as a catalyst for setting people free.
"I saw incredible women walking through what I had tried to forget," says Jennifer. Through their openness and vulnerability, Jennifer entered her own path of healing, forgiveness, and purpose. In the safe place of The Well, Jennifer was able to process through her past more deeply and learn who she is to God as a woman, mother, and unique image-bearer. It changed how she viewed herself and, more importantly, how she previously thought God viewed her. The Well awakened Jennifer to the romance of God in her life.
At her first Well weekend, Jennifer was also introduced to Forgiven and Set Free, a post-abortion Bible study and weekend experience, where she worked through her shame, gained additional freedom, and experienced the grace of God like never before. For the first time, she was able to see that her life is a living testimony of God's love for her. “In Joel 2:25, it says that God will restore everything that the locusts have eaten, and I stand my life on that," says Jennifer. "He doesn't just say that he's going to forgive you. He's going to restore you as if it never happened. In the Forgiven and Set Free Bible study, I realized that God giving me my children was like the ultimate gift of forgiveness. I mean, how better can you say, 'I love you' than here are two beautiful children that you were supposed to have."
Because Jennifer's first experience at The Well was so pivotal in her journey of healing and restoration, she's been back every year since. And this fall, in her third time attending The Well, Jennifer appreciated it on a new level. "I looked around and saw so many women with their hands in the air, praising God, swaying back and forth. And then it hit me. I realized the amount of healing happening all around me."
What about you? How has this world or your own personal story hardened you? What’s your next step in processing through that with the God who heals?