My Story:

Compass Church Welcomed Me & My Family

Mon, 17 Nov 2025 03:59:03 GMT

Compass Church Welcomed Me And My Family

I was born far from here, in North Africa. My family is from Libya, which is just west of Egypt. My parents were followers of Jesus in a place where that wasn’t always safe. They went to a private Bible study in someone’s home—something that’s actually illegal in Libya. Someone told the authorities, and the police came. They didn’t just warn us; they evicted us.

It felt like everything was being taken away, but God had another plan. My mom was pregnant with me at the time. My dad went ahead to America, and my mom stayed in Egypt until I was born. When I was about nine months old and strong enough to travel, we came to the United States to start a new life.

When I was four, my parents began to realize something was wrong. I wasn’t responding like other kids. I couldn’t speak, and I struggled to communicate. Doctors eventually discovered I had nerve damage from being born premature. Back then, they called it “hard of hearing,” but really, I was deaf.

My parents were going to an Arabic-speaking church at the time. That was their language, their culture, their comfort. But once they realized I was deaf and didn’t have access to Arabic, they made a huge decision: they stopped going to the Arabic church and started attending an English-speaking church so that I could have better access to God’s Word and community.

At the age of nine, I accepted Jesus into my heart. Three weeks later, my parents and I were all baptized together as a family. It was a beautiful moment—a picture of how God had been guiding us all along.

Before I had sign language in my life, I was very lonely. Imagine being surrounded by people but unable to truly connect with anyone. It was frustrating and isolating. I didn’t want to live that way. When I finally learned sign language, everything changed. I found friends. I found a community. I discovered my deaf identity—and, even more importantly, my identity in God. I can honestly say now: I thank God for being deaf. It has shaped who I am and how I see Him.

But the journey wasn’t easy. There was a season when I was deeply depressed because I couldn’t find a church in Monterey County that provided interpreters. I called everywhere. My parents called too. The answer was always the same: “No, we don’t provide that here.” Every “no” felt heavier than the last.

Then a friend told me about Compass Church.

As soon as I heard, I drove here right away. I walked into the office at the Padre campus, not knowing what to expect. That moment was the beginning of something beautiful—open doors and a warm welcome for deaf people at Compass. We’ve been coming every Sunday ever since. It has been wonderful.

I can’t imagine my life without God. He truly is the center of my life—my compass.

If you know someone who is deaf, hard of hearing, or deaf-blind, please tell them about this place. I would love to meet them. Deep down, I want them to know what I’ve come to know so clearly: God loves all of us so much. He sent His only Son, Jesus, to die for us. There is something incredibly special about that kind of love.

Let your story become part of God’s story. There’s a place for you—and for the deaf community—here at Compass Church.

From Prison to Purpose-Turning a Mess Into a Message

Mon, 17 Nov 2025 03:59:00 GMT

Your story matters at Compass Church of Monterey County. No matter where you’ve been, you belong here, and your journey is part of God’s bigger story. If you feel moved or want to talk with someone, we’re here for you.

Need prayer or want to connect?

Reach out to us here —we’d love to listen, pray with you, or answer your questions. There’s a place for you in God’s story.

Connect Your Story to God’s Story

From Prison to Purpose

Life was chaotic from the very beginning. I grew up surrounded by domestic violence, gangs, drugs, and crime—it was just a lot for any kid to handle. I never wanted to be part of that world, but when my parents divorced at six, the violence and brokenness at home left me feeling shattered and alone. As I got older, I started drifting toward the streets. If my family couldn’t give me the love and acceptance I craved, I was determined to find it somewhere else. I told myself, “I’ll make my own family now, and we’ll take care of each other.”

I was living in Salinas, but my roots were tangled. My grandfather was a pastor, and I stayed with him for a while. Even then, I was living a double life—selling drugs, hiding guns and drugs right under his roof. My family had no idea. Before I left Paso Robles, my grandfather pleaded with me, “Don’t go back.” But I was stubborn and hard-headed. I left anyway, thinking I knew better.

The first week back, trouble found me fast. I got into a big fight, and one of my best friends was stabbed four times. In the confusion, I thought I knew who did it and went after them, but someone else ended up getting stabbed. I was about to leave the scene, but when I saw my friend bleeding out, something in me made me stay. I stayed by his side, and in the end, the doctors said that if I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have made it.

But chaos has a way of compounding. Within two months, I was arrested—charged with first-degree murder, gang enhancements, assault, weapons charges, you name it. I was just 17, a few days shy of my 18th birthday, staring down a possible 28 years to life.

On my 18th birthday, sitting in juvenile hall, a group called Many Broken Vessels came in. They were all ex-prisoners, sharing their testimonies. For some reason, their stories made more sense to me than anything I’d ever heard. I could see myself in them. When they gave an altar call, I found myself responding. I told God, “I don’t know how to change, and honestly, I’m not even sure I want to. But if I’m going to change, You’ll have to do it. You’ll have to fix this because I can’t.”

The legal battles dragged on. I was facing the possibility of being tried as an adult, and the weight of it all was crushing. My attorney told me that nobody with a life sentence gets out unless there’s a miracle. I wrestled with the plea deal, but eventually, I took it and ended up serving 12 years in prison.

Prison was its own world—a place where hope is hard to come by. But even there, God was working. I started praying for things I never thought I’d want: a good job, a chance to help people, a new start. I told God, “If You get me out of here, help me do something good with my life.”

I was released on June 26, 2011. Looking back, I can see how God was preparing the way for me long before I walked out those gates. Now, I get to help people break free from addiction—heroin, fentanyl, meth. I lead a team of 14 to 20 people, all with their own stories of struggle and redemption. The things I prayed for in prison—meaningful work, a chance to make a difference, a supportive community—God has answered every one.

There were dark moments, even at 17, when I thought about ending my life because I didn’t think anyone would believe I really wanted to change. But if I had given up, I would have missed out on everything God had planned for me.

No matter how bad things have been, or what you’ve done, God can flip your mess into a message. He can bring hope out of the darkest places and turn your pain into a purpose.

From Murderer to Messenger: Vietnam Veteren's Redemption Story

Mon, 17 Nov 2025 03:58:57 GMT

From Murderer to Messenger

My name is Greg Hamilton. Looking back, I never imagined my journey would take me from the battlefields of Vietnam to the inside of a prison cell—and finally to real freedom and purpose in God.

I grew up in Cleveland, Ohio. My home was a place of high expectations and low encouragement. My father always wanted more from me—go to college, be a doctor—but rarely offered support or praise. I can count on one hand the times he told me he loved me. Still, I wanted to make something of myself, so I joined the Marine Corps. Before I left for advanced guerrilla warfare training and then Vietnam, my dad told me he loved me. It was the first time I really remember hearing those words.

I survived my tour in Vietnam, wounded but alive. Someone once asked if I was wounded, and I said, “Nobody goes to war and comes back unwounded.” The physical scars faded, but the psychological ones stuck with me for years.

When I came home, everything changed. I was the kid who never touched alcohol or drugs, but suddenly I was doing every drug, smoking every cigarette, just trying to numb the pain. I became a hippie, then drifted back to Ohio, finished my degree, and started working for Budweiser. Eventually, I launched my own businesses—three in total. Outwardly, I looked successful, but inside, I was a philandering husband and a ruthless businessman. As long as life was about me, I thought I was doing fine.

But it all unraveled. My first marriage ended. I jumped into a rebound relationship, only to be betrayed again—my new partner and my business partner together, in my own home. That was rock bottom. Everything I built came crashing down. I ended up serving two life sentences and spent 38 years in prison—31 of those years in solitary confinement. My money, my influence, my smooth talk—none of it could save me. I was even facing the death penalty.

It was in that darkness that I remembered what my grandmother and mother taught me as a child: trust God. In prison, when I had nothing left, I finally surrendered. God delivered me from the old man I was and began to transform my heart. I realized it’s the condition of your heart that shapes your actions, and my heart had been dark for a long time.

Before I even left prison, I made up my mind: I needed to find a church where God wanted me. Just two days after my release, some guys invited me to Compass Church. They told me there was a whole group of veterans here who’d also done time, and that I’d find a place to belong. When I walked in, I was welcomed with open arms. I knew right away—I’d been divinely delivered to this place for a purpose.

Now, I truly believe God is a healer and a deliverer. He promises never to leave us or forsake us. If He can redeem my life after everything I’ve been through, He can do the same for you. All you have to do is trust Him.

It’s all because of Him.

From Addiction, Gangs, & Second Chances: How They Turned Their Life Around

Mon, 17 Nov 2025 03:58:55 GMT

Addiction, Gangs, & Second Chances

(Chianne) I’m not sure where to begin, except to say that my life has been a wild ride—one I never could have survived without God showing up when I least expected it.

I grew up all over California, but spent most of my years in Yakima, Washington. My story took a hard turn early on: I started using drugs at just 11 years old. Addiction had its grip on me from the time I was barely out of childhood until I was 24. That kind of struggle brings its own set of heartbreaks. I have three older children who were adopted out, and losing them was a pain I can’t fully describe.

(Juan) I was born in Monterey, but once I got old enough, I ran with the wrong crowd. School didn’t interest me; gangs, drugs, and trouble did. I ended up getting shot—shattered my femur and hit an artery. That was a wake-up call, but I still hadn’t hit bottom.

(Chianne) Somewhere along the way, I met my partner. We were both in other relationships that were clearly not meant to last. Soon enough, we found ourselves together and expecting a daughter. But the life we were living in Yakima wasn’t one we wanted for our child. So, we packed what little we had into a car, drove as far as we could, panhandled for gas and food, and eventually landed in Salinas.

We were picked up by the police. And honestly? That turned out to be one of the biggest blessings of my life. Getting arrested gave us the break we needed—a chance to get clear-headed, to start over, and, looking back, a moment where God finally got a hold of us.

We started going to church, walking from one side of town to the other just to be there. In 2016, we found Compass Church. But even after getting saved—even after people told me, “That old you is dead and gone”—it didn’t always feel that way. The old me kept trying to crawl back, whispering, “You’re not going to get through this. Remember what you did? Remember who you were?” But then I’d remember: God’s got my back.

(Juan) Before all this, I’d never had a relationship with God. Never opened a Bible. Never been to church. But when I centered my life in that men’s home, when people prayed over me and laid hands on me, I just broke down and cried. God met me there in my brokenness.

(Chianne) God has brought us from the depths of despair. I’m so grateful He’s making good on His promises. We’ve had to keep our eyes up, and it hasn’t always been easy. But I’m thankful for what God has done, and I’m ready for whatever steps He has for us next.

(Juan) If you’re reading this and feel like there’s no way out, just give God a chance. Really. There’s nothing to lose and so much to gain. If He can redeem my story, He can do it for you, too.

A Homicide Detective's Journey Of Faith: From Crime Scenes To Devine Intervention

Mon, 17 Nov 2025 03:58:53 GMT

A Homicide Detective's Journey Of Faith

Hi, my name is Rick Jorgensen, and this is my story—a journey through the darkest corners of life and into the light of faith.

Ever since I was young, I dreamed of serving in law enforcement. That dream became real in 1988, when I joined the Monterey County Sheriff’s Department. My early years on the force were busy, and at home, my wife and I were blessed with two beautiful daughters. But beneath the surface, we faced struggles that eventually led to divorce—a painful chapter that left its mark on my heart.

My career took me deep into the world’s brokenness. After six years, I became a detective, starting out in Narcotics and working undercover for about eight years. I even spent time in the sex crimes unit, investigating terrible offenses against children—cases that haunt you long after they’re closed. Eventually, I was assigned to homicide, spending eight more years investigating some of the most difficult and heartbreaking crimes imaginable. I’ve seen firsthand that true evil exists—evil so deep that the only explanation is that the devil was at work.

Those years left scars I carried with me, even after I retired in 2018.

Life moved on. I remarried in 2003—a longtime friend became my wife, and together we built a new life. Church was a distant memory for me. Things seemed good, and I honestly didn’t see a reason to go back.

But then, everything changed. My wife found a lump in her breast, and soon after, we heard the words no one wants to hear: breast cancer. It was like a punch in the gut. I promised to walk beside her, but deep down, I knew I couldn’t do it alone. We needed something more—someone bigger than us.

Then, in February 2023, while running errands, I felt a nudge that I can only describe as God’s voice. Driving down South Main Street, I suddenly knew I needed to go to church again. I turned into the Compass Church parking lot and walked in. It was my first time back in church in about twenty years.

From that day, I kept coming back. When my wife started chemo and radiation, our Compass family surrounded us with prayer. I truly believe that hundreds of people were lifting her up. Through every treatment, God gave us strength. And then, just last month, we got the news we’d been praying for: she was officially cancer-free. That was a day of pure gratitude and relief.

Wanting to grow deeper, I asked about small groups after a Sunday service. By Tuesday, I was at my first Bible study—welcomed in, encouraged, and reminded that I wasn’t alone. Getting involved in church has changed everything for me.

If you’re reading this and wondering if there’s hope, or if God can reach you no matter where you’ve been—let me tell you, there is, and He can. I’ve seen the worst of humanity, but I’ve also seen the power of prayer, the strength of community, and the faithfulness of God.

Don’t wait. Get involved. Let your story become part of God’s story. No matter what you’ve faced, there’s hope, there’s healing, and there’s a place for you here.

My Road to Recovery from Domestic Abuse: From Victim to Survivor

Mon, 17 Nov 2025 03:58:51 GMT

Connect Your Story to God’s Story

Need prayer or want to connect?

Reach out to us here —we’d love to listen, pray with you, or answer your questions. There’s a place for you in God’s story.

From Victim to Survivor

Hi, I’m Mary Alice Victorino. I was born right here in Salinas back in 1946.

Honestly, I grew up a pretty happy-go-lucky kid. Some of my favorite memories are going to the rodeo with my grandparents—just pure joy. And I loved skiing! I spent so much time up at Dodge Ridge, past Sonora. I felt free up there.

One night after work, I stopped by a ski shop in Sunnyvale. I walked in and saw this guy—something about him just caught my eye. I’ll admit, I ended up buying a new pair of skis I probably didn’t need, just because he was the one selling them! Not long after, we eloped in Reno on a ski day. I really thought I’d found the man of my dreams and that we’d live happily ever after.

Looking back, there were red flags. My parents didn’t like him, but I was convinced I could fix him—help him become the person I pictured in my mind. Instead, he started to isolate me from everyone I loved. He moved us out to Montana, where I didn’t know a soul. I was pregnant, but I kept it a secret because I was scared of how he’d react.

One day, after an argument (I can’t even remember what it was about), I told him, “My baby and I are going home.” He threw me into a wall and told me to get out. I was devastated. Being a mom was the one thing I was excited about, and he just… didn’t care. Over the years, he kept telling me, “No one will ever want you. You’re worthless. You’re stupid.” And after more than 20 years, I started believing it.

I remember one morning, after dropping the kids off at school, I walked into my bedroom. The sun was shining through the window. I got down on my knees and just cried out to God, asking Him to take my life. I was so empty.

But you know what? God heard me. Not in the way I expected—He didn’t end my life, but He did take it in a whole new direction. Looking back now, I can see that every step I took, I didn’t do it alone. God was holding my hand, even when I couldn’t feel it.

Later, I met Bill—my husband now—and we just clicked. We haven’t been apart since. We found Compass Church of Monterey County and, honestly, we never left. I don’t think I’d be here today, sharing my story, if I hadn’t found that personal relationship with Jesus.

I am so blessed to be a Christian and to be part of this church. If you’re reading this and you feel hopeless or alone, please know: your story isn’t over. You matter. You belong. God can take your life in a whole new direction, just like He did for me.