His arms preserve the telltale scars of habitual drug abuse. Only Will Segraves was both the abused and the abuser. For 17 years he force-fed his body a venomous smorgasbord of narcotics that collapsed his veins, strangled his organs, devoured his energy, and scrambled his mind. His bludgeoned body cried out in every way it knew how ­ through vomited blood, wracking infections, hallucinations, excessive weight loss, tremors, chills, skin discoloration. But while his body literally ached for relief from the drugs, it also craved them, reacting just as brutally when denied the very toxins attacking it. Such is the perverse nature of drug addiction.

Like other tools of sin, drugs initially tease with a taste of pleasure ­ the burst of energy; the thrill of shed inhibitions; the spiked sensations of sights, sounds and smells. Or, on the other end; the protective calm in the midst of life¹s storms. The lure of being ³in control.² Will feared people¹s rejection. ³I wanted to fit in, but I thought I would never be a part of anything. It was like I had no control, so I did the one thing I could control. I could be a drug addict. That way I could feel good about myself.² The drinking and drug use started early on, and soon after high school graduation, Will moved from Columbus, Georgia to Atlanta with some buddies who shared his ravenous appetite. Their house stocked a ready supply of marijuana, LSD, cocaine, amphetamines, barbiturates, beer, wine and whiskey, which they tried in any combination. And when he couldn¹t find anything else, he downed cough syrup, mouthwash ­ anything with alcohol to keep from going into the DT¹s; the frightening delusions and seizures of withdrawal.

One December evening in 1973, the guys headed out to a satanic rock concert, primed with Qualudes ­ sedatives ­ and a case of Schlitz malt liquor. But instead of the expected relaxed euphoria, Will felt an uneasy vigilance. As the concert began, an inner voice he recognized from a long-ago church youth retreat ­ a voice he had then rebuffed ­ returned with a frightening urgency, ³If you keep on going the way you are going, you will die and burn in hell,² Will heard. ³If you don¹t give your life to God, you may not get another chance.² ³I was terrified,² Will recalls, ­ especially when he turned to one of his roommates and saw a demonic image in his face. Abruptly, Will leaped out of his seat and raced to the concert-hall foyer, where he fell to his knees and asked Jesus to forgive and save him from his sins. His conversion brought ridicule and scorn from his roommates. Despite the temptations all around him, ³the power of God had come into me,² Will describes. ³I no longer wanted drugs, not even a cigarette.² Realizing the unequal union wouldn¹t work, he moved out and headed back to his hometown. Over the next several months, with no Christian fellowship or teaching, Wills initial fervency cooled to a lukewarm disappointment. ³I didn¹t know that Jesus said, ³I am always with you. I will never leave you or forsake you.² ³I thought that when the feeling had left me, He had left me.² So Will returned to the old familiar ways.

For a while, ³I was good at hiding,² he says. He got a job as a jewelry store salesman, working his way up to store manager. He married. But on weekends when others went to parties and nightclubs, ³I went to the hospital² ­ complaining persistently of severe, but nonexistent headache until emergency room doctors gave him a shot of morphine or other narcotic painkiller. Alternating among several different hospitals and physicians in the area prevented exposure of his ruse ­ for a while. But the tyrannical cravings grew more demanding. Will once sold his pickup truck for a case of liquid morphine. ³I didn¹t have a way around, but I had my drugs!² His sideline as a nightclub musician fell prey to the recurrent need to pawn his guitar. His ³social life² consisted of shoplifting and burglary with friend ­ anything to get the money to feed his extreme hunger. ³I had to have drugs every day. Every nerve ending in my body was screaming at me, every minute of the day. I would take $60 worth of the hardest drugs I could get, inject it in my veins, and it would only make me feel Œnormal¹ for about 30 minutes. I was no help to my wife or children. The drugs had such a hold on me.² He lost his jobs. Two marriages crumbled. He lost all contact with his two sons. He bounced in and out of jail, as well as in and out of the state mental hospital. When he still had a home, he sold off all his appliances ­ ³since the electricity had been shut off and I couldn¹t use them anyway.² When he lost his home, he lived in the woods. He tried to kill himself. The old ³high² was long gone, as was the sense of control. ³I couldn¹t function. I hated life; I hated myself, I was miserable.²

Will went to the Valley Rescue Mission where he publicly confessed Jesus as his Lord and Savior. The chaplain set him up in a program in the country, where for six months ³I learned about the Lord² in the tranquil environment of farm life. Then he relapsed: His ³one more shot² of drugs spread into four months of smoking and injecting crack cocaine, filling his body with tormenting sensations and his mind with tormenting guilt. He returned to the farm, suffering withdrawal symptoms and begging God to help him because he plainly couldn¹t help himself. Since then Will has become an accomplished musician and traveling evangelist and hasn¹t touched a drink or a drug in nearly 14 years. ³No it hasn¹t been easy,² he admits. ³But prayer, life in the Word, fellowship with Christians, the power of the Holy

Spirit ­ that¹s what changes you.² I am not perfect. But I am an