When Todd Ayer breathes the pine-scented woods of northern Arizona,
it’s not just clean air he smells; it’s the smell of freedom. After
making some tragic choices as a young man, Todd spent 17 years behind
bars. “I knew God. I knew His presence. I never did one thing in my
life that was wrong; that I didn’t know was wrong. But I chose the
world. And it took me down a bad path.”
Todd began drinking and doing drugs by the time he was 12.
Todd had a restless soul and, during his teens, hitchhiked across the
country several times. Then, on Super Bowl Sunday, 1986, when he was
just 24, his life changed forever. Todd shot and killed a man who was
abusing a relative. He then drove straight to the police station and
turned himself in. “I did what I did, and wasn’t hiding from anybody.
And I was willing to pay the cost for it, but I had no idea of the
cost, of just how high it would be.”
Todd received a 27-year sentence and was sent to a federal
prison in South Carolina. “Prison life is hard, and the violent
generally excel. I lost hope. It’s a rough environment, and I was told
pretty early on that, because of my pride, I probably wouldn’t live
through it. I had a goal: when my day came, when they took me out, I
was going to take a whole bunch of them with me.”
In prison, Todd started buying and selling drugs, and
developed a reputation for his ruthlessness. One time, he nearly killed
another inmate in a knife fight, and was put into solitary
confinement. “I was what they called SSR, which stands for substantial
security risk, which meant that the three times a week I was let out
for a shower, I had to be in chains and belly shackles. I didn’t think I
would ever see the outside world again. I lost all hope. I just kind of
felt like, ‘Well, this is what I’m destined for.’”
Todd always kept a Bible in his cell, but says he seldom
read it. “I looked at it one day. It was laying there with dust on it
about that thick, and I said, ‘Lord, I know there’s peace in them
words. And man, I need some peace. I’m just sick in my heart.’ And I
said, ‘But Lord, that Bible, it’s kinda hard to understand. If I had
something to help me understand it, I’d try to read it.’ Then the very
next day, I get a manila envelope in the mail. In it is a book.
Knowing and Experiencing God, and a little caption,
How to Understand Your Bible. So I knew that God had heard me.”
That book came from Todd’s aunt and uncle, who had been
praying for him for years. For Todd, it was a life-changing moment.
“When I got that book, and I knew that God had heard me, and more than
that, that He just wasn’t through with me, that was it. I broke down
and I bawled for about two days. I just said, ‘I’m Yours. If You, the
Maker of heaven and earth, this wonderful, merciful, kind God, can still
love me, after the monster I had become,’ I said, ‘I’m on your team,
Bro. I’m yours. Send me where You’ll send me and I’ll go. Ask me to do
whatever it is, I don’t care how hard it is, I’ll do it.’ And God just
started teaching me how to minister.”
Todd continued to pray and study his Bible in his cell. One
hot summer day, another inmate borrowed his fan. “After a little while,
he calls me and says, ‘Hey man, you want your fan back?’ And the Lord
kind of spoke to my heart and said ‘Give it to him.’ I said ‘Give it to
him? Lord, it’s 100-plus degrees in here. Are You crazy?’ And He said,
‘No, you’ve been t
elling him what Jesus would do. It’s time to
show him what Jesus would do.’ And it just blew him away.”
Then an amazing thing happened. “It cooled off and I bet you
it wasn’t but 70 degrees in that cell. So through that little bit of
obedience, God started manifesting himself.”
Todd began sharing with the other inmates what he had
learned from the Bible about Jesus. “Each time I would do something
like that, I would grow spiritually and my faith would get stronger,
and He’d always give me these beautiful little miracles to say, ‘Good
job.’ One time, I said, ‘Lord I’m so tired of looking at all this wire
and these fences and this concrete, I just would like to see something
pretty.’ And it didn’t no more get out of my mouth than three morning
doves lit in front of my cell. And those same doves came back every day
until I got out. As I started seeking Him and searching for Him, He
just started revealing His beauty and His wonder and His majesty. But
more than that, He was communing with me. The God of heaven and earth
was communing with this old convict down there.”
The drastic change in Todd’s character got the attention of
the other inmates. “The old timers, when I got my heart right with the
Lord, instead of shunning me, they surrounded me. They were tickled for
me, man. They were happy for me. They saw the peace and the joy in my
heart and it gave them hope.”
In 2003, Todd was granted an early parole due to good
behavior. Shortly after, he met and married Lori and they started a
family. The couple and their daughter Kendra recently moved to Arizona
where they manage Camp Grace, a summer camp for young people.
“My God is an awesome God, and He is not limited. He’s given
is the Holy Spirit. But it’s time for you and me and others to step up
to the plate and walk in the faith that is ours, and walk in the gifts
of the Spirit that is ours.”
Todd believes his freedom from prison was a miracle, and he still
believes in a God that makes miracles happen every day. “One of the
reasons nobody gets to see the miracles of God is because they don’t put
their full trust in Him. Learn to trust Him. Put your faith in Him.
He’ll provide for you, man, and He won’t just provide for you, He’ll
bless your socks off. But you gotta trust Him.”
- CBN700
Fatuma Shubisa works hard to provide for her and her husband’s nine
children. She lives in the little village of Alelu in rural Ethiopia.
She considers her simple life a gift from God, because it was God
himself who raised her from the dead.
Pritchard Adams served as a missionary to
Haiti for 28 years. He was visiting Canada the morning he felt a pain
so severe in his head that he collapsed to the bathroom floor. By the
time paramedics arrived, his condition had gotten worse.
