A sinner’s story: from death to life

Illustration: DJ Austin at UpperLVL

Four years ago, I was without hope and without God in the world—until I was adopted by the King of the Universe. I pray this story encourages God’s people and stirs faith in His redemptive power, grace, and zeal to pursue His lost sheep. This is the story of how He redeemed my life from the pit and set me apart to proclaim His Son. Originally nearly 7000 words, may this condensed version reveal God’s glory and stir you to worship Jesus Christ — the “friend of sinners.”

Early Life

I was born in 1994 in Sherwood Park, Alberta, the second child of a teen single mother. My biological father left before I was born, and so did my half-brother’s father. With two boys and no support, my mother made the difficult decision to place me for adoption.

At six months, I was welcomed into a loving family. My adoptive parents, who also adopted my brother from another single mother, gave me an incredible childhood. I grew up playing organized sports, exploring my creativity and living a suburban life. Despite these gifts in abundance, I was always a pretty sad kid. I lived in my head and walked to my own beat.

Faith was not central in our home, though our extended family carried Catholic, Mennonite, and United traditions. My parents’ approach was open-handed: “You’ll figure it out one day.” Still, as a child I asked the big questions: What happens when we die? Who is God? Who is this blue-eyed Jesus hanging on my grandmother’s wall? I never embraced atheism—it never felt true.

Sports, especially baseball, kept me grounded while rock and hip-hop music, skateboarding, and friendships exposed me to new influences.

Around the age of 11, curiosity led me into pornography, which soon became an addiction lasting 14 or so years. By 13, I tried drinking and smoking weed. At 14, I tried mushrooms, and remember burying my face in the couch while listening to Ms. Jackson by OutKast on repeat, while flittering colours in my closed eyes came together to form Jesus on the cross, prompting me to cry out to my friend: “Bro, I just saw Jesus in the couch!”

Even then, God dropped breadcrumbs—not of approval but pointing toward redemption.

High school brought average academics, deepened drug use and psychedelic trips that left me convinced there was more beyond the material. I tasted counterfeits of love and transcendence, yet refused cocaine for years, swearing I would never touch the drug I was told my biological father used.

Through it all, baseball anchored me as my friends started drifting further. By God’s providence, it gave me direction and kept me from being completely swept away.

Baseball Dreams and Crisis

In Grade 12, a “BC College Exposure” baseball trip brought me to Vancouver Island University (VIU) in Nanaimo. I fell in love with the city and signed with the team after the coach offered me a spot, having watched a strong pitching performance. The following four years I played university ball, rising from closing pitcher to ace starter.

Those years were full of triumph and wandering. Off the field, away from parental oversight, drugs and New Age spirituality filled the void. I explored mantras, meditation, yoga, crystals, and the “law of attraction.” A couple years into student life, I discovered stimulant medication from some teammates. For an undiagnosed ADHD mind, it felt like magic—focus, energy, inspiration. But what could have been medicine became another drug. I craved the rush and abused it recklessly.

After four years of ball, scouts passed me by and my lifelong dream of professional baseball ended. After my final game I pitched in Kelowna at CCBC Nationals, (our annual league championship), we lost, and travelled home the same day. At a house party with teammates that night, I broke my vow to never touch cocaine. The rush overrode any sense of guilt over the decision.

Finishing my degree, my vices shifted to alcohol, cocaine and stimulants. My “spirituality” faded into a shallow belief in angels that I invoked to protect me before dangerous binges.

Music and Nightlife

With baseball gone, music took centre stage as I tried to piece together my identity. I had been producing hip-hop and electronic tracks since 2012 and DJing since 2014. Gigs grew, doors opened, and by 2017, I had a residency at LevelTwo Nightclub. Free drinks, drugs, and late nights became my lifestyle as I gained a name for myself in the scene.

By day I worked landscaping. My boss, a quiet Christian, saw leadership potential in me and showed me patience and care. Looking back, I see how the Holy Spirit used him to keep me tethered even as I spiralled.

By 2020, I was a functional alcoholic—living for the party at night and grinding through work by day. On March 14, 2020, I DJ’d a packed “Pre-St. Patrick’s Day” party—the last club night before COVID-19 shut everything down. A couple months later, my girlfriend of nearly seven years and I split up.

I moved into a house with seven roommates from the club scene. Outwardly I was “dad” of the house, working hard labour while they stayed home finding ways to turn their CERB money into profit with crypto and stocks. Inwardly, I was drinking heavily daily, binging cocaine monthly and burning out.

The COVID mask for the studio sessions with friends was nothing like the mask I put on over my inner world and numbed by vices. Caffeine, work, liquor store, drink, vape, music, porn, sleep. Rinse and repeat. I was on a fast track to death.

Rock Bottom

In early 2021, I started dating a bartender friend who brought hope into my life. She was worth laying off the drugs for. But I couldn’t quit drinking. In the end, my selfishness and addiction unraveled the relationship, and on June 1, 2021, she ended it.

That was my breaking point.

God used this point in my life to let me unravel—finally done in by the consequences of my self-destructive behaviours.

The shame was unbearable. I binged cocaine, blacked out on Xanax and drank vodka sodas like water. I couldn’t eat, and my weight plummeted. My mom was horrified when she saw me that summer, drinking beer for breakfast and vaping for lunch.

I contemplated ending it all.

I had been fighting so hard. Searching so hard. Grieving so hard. I was exhausted from trying to control whatever it was that was happening to me.

In desperation, I began therapy and was prescribed antidepressants. My boss drew closer, offering early-morning coffees and space to talk instead of condemnation.

Meanwhile, strange synchronicities began occurring daily. Slow at first, but then pouring out like a fountain from some unseen source—repeating numbers on clocks and license plates, strange encounters with animals, songs that seemed to speak directly to me. My old New Age mindset framed these as messages from the “Universe,” but I felt increasingly pursued. These moments provided a sense of hope and assurance that I wasn’t alone.

God’s Pursuit

One day, after therapy, I broke down in my truck. Through tears, I noticed repeating numbers on my odometer and then looked out the window at a Lutheran church sign:

“THE PROOF OF GOD’S GRACE IS THE EMPTY TOMB.”

A strange peace and curiosity covered that moment. I didn’t know what it meant, but Jesus was coming into view.

Soon after, I tried to watch porn for comfort but felt strong conviction—and for the first time in 14 or so years, the chain broke. Days later, my taste for alcohol vanished. On Sept. 18, 2021, I miraculously drank my last beer while house-sitting at my friend’s condo. I was finally free from these soul draining vices.

As our coffee meetings continued, my boss shared his faith with me and stories of his struggles. For him, the “warrior” mentality kept him fighting through his hardest seasons. He shared the “Armour of God” passage with me from Ephesians 6, and whatever that was—I was desperate for it.

Around that time, a hip-hop lyric was stuck in my head:

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”

What was this from? A quick search drove me to Psalm 23, which I clung to and memorized. My language shifted from “Universe” to “God.” Instead of drinking, I spent nights driving thousands of kilometres aimlessly, journaling prayers and crying out.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around Jesus at the time, but “God” was becoming a clear reality as He graciously drew me in and used these moments to bring me to His Word.

I downloaded the Bible app and began to read, and over the next month the Spirit was at work convincing me of its truth and the beauty of Christ.

Fast forward to December 6, 2021, it all came to a head.

Encounter with Christ

That night, staring at a crucifix I pinned on my wall that my friend gifted me, I wept and prayed. I poured it all out. I had been fighting so hard. Searching so hard. Grieving so hard. I was exhausted from trying to control whatever it was that was happening to me.

Then, I heard His voice. It was as if it came from behind me, enveloping my whole being. Through the whole experience my chest strangely burned as if a fire was inside of me. When I reflect on it now, I think of the disciples on the road to Emmaus.

I was suddenly washed over with the word:

“REST.”

I had never known rest. My whole life I had been running to an unknown destination. Then came another word:

“40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS.”

I didn’t know what it meant then, but a Google search showed it pointed to seasons of testing, including Jesus’ wilderness temptation. After this experience, I fasted four days, quit vaping as God gave me strength, and feasted only on Scripture and prayer. On the last morning of the fast, while starving and tired I prayed in the shower:

“God, I just want Your wisdom.”

He delivered. That same day, a single letter typo in my web browser (hotmaik.com instead of hotmail.com) led me to an old dispensational website full of Bible studies and a clear call to repent. Fear of God gripped me. I confessed every sin, pleaded for forgiveness, and fully surrendered my life to Jesus.

The bar miraculously no longer tempted me. I saw partygoers differently—not as objects or annoyances, but as sheep without a Shepherd, like I once was.

Between the thousands of pages of doctrine and topics—from spiritual warfare to picking a church—God’s word was illuminated with clarity and power. I downloaded the Dwell Bible App and devoured audio Bible books every hour of the day.

For the record, my eschatological framework is now amillennial—but you can’t fault the dispensationalists for going hard in their early 2000s evangelistic website game.

Weeks later, at Christmas, my family saw the change. Their broken addict son was now praying at the dinner table and invoking the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

New Life

On January 16, 2022, I walked into St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Nanaimo, a week after I baptized myself in the ocean by full immersion while invoking the Triune name. The website was insistent on immediate baptism and I didn’t want to miss a beat. Not knowing “protocol”, I did it myself in the fear of God. (Later I would be baptized by the church in the same spot in April 2023.)

That first service, Rev. Jeremy preached on John 3 and the new birth. He spoke of God meeting people at rock bottom. He wove in the 12-step program that supports addicts. I wept through worship. Afterward, I told him I had a story to share. Over coffee, I poured it all out. He prayed with me, and for the first time, I came under true pastoral care.

And here’s the thing:

A couple weeks later the Spirit nudged me to look at my calendar.

40 days after my December 6 encounter, I walked into church. I couldn’t make that up. That Sunday morning marked day 41: a new beginning and a call into ministry.

I felt like I came home for the first time. First into the arms of Christ, and second, into the arms of His people. His love poured into me and daily I begged the Lord to do whatever He wanted with me, for His glory until the day I die.

Back Into the Fire

Fast forward to Spring 2022 – clubs reopened, and my manager invited me back to DJ.

There were two things that made the job offer a struggle to accept. The first was my commitment to follow Jesus in sobriety and in the church. The second was that my ex-girlfriend who I hadn’t spoken to since the breakup was also returning to work in the same club, which scared me.

After prayer and discerning with Jeremy, I felt strongly that God wanted to throw me back into the fire. But this time it would be different. This time it would be for Him.

Most of my friend group consisted of unbelievers in the club scene or that were connected to it. My ex and some gay friends were also hurt by the church and I had a deep desire to show them the love and beauty of God. I didn’t know how I would do any of that, but I sensed returning to the club had a role in it.

From the same booth where I once glorified sin, I now proclaimed Christ.

Back in the booth, I played new music, free of degrading tracks. The bar miraculously no longer tempted me. I saw partygoers differently—not as objects or annoyances, but as sheep without a Shepherd, like I once was.

As the gigs continued, I was increasingly driven by a burning desire for my friends, and clubbers to know God.

While praying with Jeremy about what the club offered regarding God’s call, we discussed a “Gospel Theme Night” mixed into the club’s many themes, to hosting Bible studies for my friends. We marinated in the discernment process for weeks.

One night while in prayer, I saw an ad for “church planting” resources on my phone. I had never heard that term and I investigated it with curiosity. The next day, Jeremy and I were praying in the church’s quiet room, and during our discussion we both had the same word: “Church plant”.

We were both trying to wrap our heads around the concept. How do we plant a church in a club? What would we call it? What would it look like?

The Spirit was at work. I began drafting the pitch, and Jeremy reached out to some PCC connections. We got in touch with Andrea Perrett with Cyclical Vancouver, whose organizational ethos was “leveraging shrewd risk-taking opportunities”. How fitting.

Doors blasted open from there. We got the pitch ironed out: every second Sunday at 6 p.m. in the club. DJs, Christian dance music, hip-hop and a Christ-centred sermon in the middle. Club staff running the bar for those who want to responsibly consume a drink or two. A space for those who left the church, were hurt by the church or never been. It almost sounded like a youth group for adults.

I asked my club manager, a long-time friend, if he was willing to meet so I could discuss our idea. In the pitch meeting my manager’s response was: “Dude, yes. How can we support you?”

In God’s favour, providence and wisdom, we nailed down a venue agreement, a rough launch date, and the ministry name. My friend from the condo and I designed the logo, I roughed out a website, Instagram account and invite list for the launch while Jeremy poured in his wisdom, connected us with funding sources, and Andrea coached us all through it.

We were really doing it.

By September 18, 2022—exactly one year after my last drink—we launched UpperLVL Worship in the club.

From the same booth where I once glorified sin, I now proclaimed Christ. Now, three years into it, God has brought forth several baptisms, young adults coming to faith, prodigals returning home, new emerging leaders, Christian DJs, and bartenders and clubbers alike going home with Bibles.

The Spirit has expanded our efforts with a nightclub evangelism “Care Team” that serves their peers with water, Tim Hortons goodies, and prayer outside bars, and now a fledgling street ministry to the homeless.

My DJ experience and music production skills now given to Christ, have created a unique signature sound full of custom worship DJ mixes. By God’s grace, I pray to one day blast them all at festivals full of thousands of people who need to hear the Good News, in the bass-infused language they can understand.

Through this ministry, Kingdom Kids who were once slaves to sin are now serving their friends on the other side—beckoning them to enter the narrow gate.

This is Spirit-led, Gospel contextualization.

Expanding the Call

As UpperLVL grew, God opened doors through University Christian Ministries (UCM) at VIU. Soon, I began ministering to students, launching Red Frogs in Nanaimo (a global harm-reduction ministry), and became employed by Mission Canada of the PAOC. They graciously recognized my call, even as I remained rooted in the Presbyterian Church.

Despite my past, Jesus called me to minister to the club scene with a growing nightclub church plant. He’s called me to minister to students at VIU where I am an alumnus—now one of the most liberal institutions among BC universities with an anti-Christian sentiment among some of the most prominent gatekeepers.

It’s hard ground to plow, so please pray for us.

Now, by God’s grace, I’m pursuing my Master of Divinity and am a candidate for ordination in The Presbyterian Church in Canada.

In long seasons of loneliness since coming to faith, a daily prayer of my heart was to become a husband and a father. In the meantime, I was praying and searching for a cat to keep me company at home.

In April of 2024, after another night of tears asking God for a wife that I could serve Him with, the next morning I got a text from a church friend asking if I’d like to meet her friend Heidi, who was raising her five-year-old son alone.

God placed His hand on us and brought us all together. In March of 2025, Heidi and I were married, and when she and her son moved in, they brought their cat too.

Now: Husband. Father. Cat-owner.

God has a way of bringing things full circle.

If you told me five years ago that this would be my life, I honestly don’t know what I would say. If you saw me five years ago, you likely wouldn’t believe it. But this is grace.

I deserve none of it. God doesn’t owe me anything. But the heart of the Son of Man is “to seek and save that which is lost.” (Lk. 19:10)

Conclusion

My entrance to ministry has taken me through the messy parts of the church: denominational debates, unbiblical extremes and painful divisions. Yet through it all, Christ’s Spirit has kept me grounded in His Word, zealous for truth and compassionate for the lost.

In my personal time over the years of devouring Scripture and teaching from Keller, Spurgeon, Sproul, Piper, MacArthur, Washer, Edwards, Luther, Augustine and many others, I’ve wrestled with theology—Calvinism and Arminianism, spiritual gifts, eschatology, gender roles, human sexuality and church unity.

Now, if I had to describe where God has led me in theology and practice: Reformed, theologically conservative, a moderate egalitarian, charismatic but not chaotic, evangelical but not “political”, missional but not forceful . . . I could go on. But this reflects His shaping of me, working in me a love for sound doctrine, Spirit-filled life, and compassion for Gen Z in clubs and campuses.

I sense a call to the mainline church: to preserve truth, to be part of renewal and to preach the unadulterated gospel in a world opposed to it, within a modern church that at times is afraid to stand in opposition to a culture in decay.

I once lived a life revelling in sin, pleasure, and deception, but with cords of love, He called me to repent. He loved me even when in the mud. He cleaned me up and sent me to witness for His Son in the places I once served the flesh—now awakened to the reality that sin is awful, and this world is full of lies from the pit of hell.

Our glorious God is a calling, cleansing and sending God – and my testimony affirms that. He sends me—and us— out there with an unchanging Gospel that can change the most vile and wicked sinners like me, into a servant of righteousness through Jesus Christ.

My task—and ours—is to walk in total submission, working out our salvation with fear and trembling, as the Spirit leads.

God is shaking up the church. Through it all, we can be reminded that Jesus promised to build it, and the gates of hell cannot prevail against it.

And by God’s grace, we are shaking up club culture. I’m honoured to be on the front lines where God doesn’t need me, but He is choosing to use me: His adopted child.

Glory be to God alone.

***

Ministry Info:

UpperLVL Worship:

• Web: upperlvlworship.ca/
• Instagram: instagram.com/upperlvlworship
• DJ Music: mixcloud.com/UpperLVLWorship

UCM/Red Frogs:

• UCM VIU: ucmviu.com
• Red Frogs: redfrogs.com
• Newsletter Sign-Up: https://mailchi.mp/e7b1ef47f093/ucmviu/

Give: My ministry (especially UCM) is dependent on gracious donors who sense the call to support the work God has called me to. With gratitude, I extend the opportunity below to give if God leads you to.

UCM/Red Frogs Ministry (donor-dependent, pays my wages):

• paoc.org/donate/austinpenner/

UpperLVL Worship (toward ministry expenses, including my position):

• https://www.standrewsnanaimo.ca/give/ (card, e-transfer or cheque with note: “For UpperLVL Worship”)