Posted on Sep 05, 2025

Meth Addiction to Saving Lives: How One Woman's Prayer Changed Everything

Meth Addiction to Saving Lives: How One Woman's Prayer Changed Everything

Picture this: a woman sits alone in her truck behind a storage unit, convinced she's worthless garbage. Twenty years of methamphetamine addiction have left her hollow, believing death would be a mercy. In that moment of absolute despair, she whispers a prayer that will transform not only her life but the lives of thousands of homeless individuals across multiple states.

Meet Jen Spencer, founder and executive director of the Turtle Shelter Project, a nonprofit that has created over 6,000 thermal survival vests for people experiencing homelessness. Her credentials today include organizing more than 500 volunteer sewing events, expanding operations across Utah, Colorado, and Oregon, and maintaining ten years of sobriety after two decades of addiction. But Jen's expertise comes not through academic study or professional training - it comes through lived experience in the darkest corners of human existence.

In a recent episode of Why We Believe with host Nathan Gwilliam, Jen shares her journey through addiction, homelessness, and ultimately redemption. Her story challenges everything we think we know about worthiness, divine love, and the possibility of transformation. What makes her account so significant is not just the depth of her suffering, but the innovative solution she created to address one of society's most pressing problems: keeping homeless individuals alive during brutal winters.

The Prison of Self-Judgment  

Jen's story begins not with drugs or homelessness, but with a distorted understanding of spiritual concepts that created internal torment long before external circumstances matched her inner turmoil. Raised in an active Latter-day Saint family, she never doubted the truth of gospel principles but developed a warped view of repentance that would haunt her for decades. Instead of understanding repentance as an ongoing process of growth and forgiveness, she believed it was a one-time event that lost its effectiveness with repeated mistakes.

This misunderstanding created a vicious cycle where every mistake felt exponentially worse than the last. Each time she tried to repent and then stumbled again, she believed the previous repentance became null and void, making her current state ten times worse than before. The weight of this perceived spiritual arithmetic became unbearable, creating a mountain of shame that seemed impossible to overcome. What should have been a source of hope and healing became a source of despair and self-condemnation.

The burden had become so overwhelming that Jen simply stopped trying. She accepted what she believed to be the truth about herself: she was born bad, incapable of change, and destined for spiritual failure. This self-imposed verdict became the foundation for every destructive choice that followed. The tragedy wasn't just the addiction that would consume the next twenty years of her life, but the fact that it all began with a misunderstanding of divine love and mercy. Her greatest enemy wasn't external circumstances or substance abuse - it was the merciless judge living inside her own mind.

The Descent into Darkness  

What began as teenage rebellion escalated into a full-scale battle for survival as Jen discovered methamphetamine at eighteen, marking the beginning of her addiction recovery story that would span two decades. The addiction took hold immediately, transforming experimental use into complete dependency within a single year. The drug that promised escape became a prison more confining than any physical structure, trapping her in cycles of craving, use, temporary relief, and deeper despair. Each day became an eternity of internal debate about whether life was worth continuing, despite her LDS upbringing that emphasized the sacred nature of life.

The lifestyle that some romanticize as rebellion held no party atmosphere for this future homeless advocate. Every moment was consumed by the logistics of obtaining and using drugs, punctuated by periods of wanting to die even while high. The substance that was supposed to provide relief became another source of torment, creating a paradox where she felt equally desperate whether using or abstaining. The physical addiction was matched by an emotional dependency that made sobriety seem more terrifying than continued use, even as her faith testimony lay buried under layers of shame and self-destruction.

Living on the streets during brutal Utah winters added physical suffering to the spiritual and emotional anguish she already carried. The cold wasn't just uncomfortable - it was life-threatening, claiming the lives of seven friends during one particularly harsh season. These deaths served as constant reminders of her own mortality while reinforcing her belief that she deserved whatever suffering came her way, despite her LDS background that taught about individual divine worth. The combination of addiction, homelessness, and self-hatred created what she would later recognize as a hell of her own making, where external circumstances perfectly matched her internal landscape of hopelessness and despair - a far cry from the hope found in Jesus Christ's atonement.

The Prayer That Changed Everything  

After two decades of addiction and countless failed attempts at recovery, Jen reached a breaking point that would become her breakthrough moment. Sitting in her truck behind a storage unit, she made a decision to end her life rather than continue the daily torture of existence. But something interrupted her plans - "GLORIOUS," a song by David Archuleta about finding your part in life's beautiful symphony. The message that everyone has a role to play, even when they can't yet hear it, planted a seed of possibility in ground that seemed barren.

Instead of following through with her suicide plan, Jen decided to try prayer one more time, but with a different approach than her previous attempts. Rather than formal, ritualistic prayers, she imagined God sitting in the passenger seat and began talking to him as if he were her loving father. She confessed everything - every mistake, every hurt she had caused, every source of shame she carried. The honesty was brutal, but it was also the first genuine communication she had attempted with divinity in years.

The response exceeded anything she could have imagined. Rather than condemnation or silence, she felt physical sensations that convinced her of God's presence: a hand squeezing her heart, chills throughout her body, and words that came not audibly but with unmistakable clarity. The message wasn't about her failures or unworthiness, but about divine patience and eagerness to help. She realized that God hadn't been waiting for her to become worthy of assistance - he had been waiting for her to ask for it simply. This single prayer became the turning point that would transform not only her own life but eventually touch thousands of others experiencing similar desperation.

Building a Mission of Warmth and Hope  

Recovery opened Jen's eyes to possibilities she had never considered, including using her painful experiences to help others facing similar struggles. During rehabilitation, she learned about foam clothing technology that could keep people warm even in freezing, wet conditions. The knowledge immediately sparked excitement because she remembered the brutal cold that had claimed her friends' lives and nearly claimed her own. However, when she discovered the cost - nearly $800 for a complete suit - she realized this life-saving technology was accessible only to wealthy outdoor enthusiasts, not the homeless population that needed it most.

Rather than accepting this limitation, Jen felt spiritually directed to find a way to make the technology accessible to those who needed it most. After returning to church activity and connecting with skilled volunteers, she began developing a plan to create affordable versions of the thermal vests. The process required learning new skills, building relationships with suppliers, and organizing volunteer networks capable of mass production. Each vest costs about $30 in materials but requires three to four hours of skilled labor, making the project dependent on donated time and expertise.

The Turtle Shelter Project now operates as what Jen calls a "traveling service circus," bringing materials and equipment to churches, community groups, and organizations willing to host sewing events. The assembly-line process has been refined through divine inspiration and practical experience to allow people with no sewing experience to participate meaningfully in production. The vests themselves have evolved through feedback from users, incorporating features like insulated collars, insulated pockets that make them more effective and user-friendly, and also create insulated face masks.

Key innovations of the Turtle Shelter Project include:

  1. Cost-effective materials: Reducing expensive foam clothing technology to $30 per vest

  2. Volunteer-powered production: Creating assembly processes accessible to any skill level

  3. User-centered design: Incorporating feedback from homeless individuals who test the products

  4. Scalable distribution: Expanding operations across multiple states through local partnerships

  5. Community engagement: Transforming vest-making into meaningful service opportunities

  6. Evidence-based effectiveness: Field-testing products in actual winter conditions

The project's success extends beyond the 6,000 vests distributed to include the transformation it creates in volunteers who participate. Many people want to help homeless individuals but don't know how to make a meaningful impact. The Turtle Shelter Project provides a concrete way to save lives while building community connections and understanding. For Jen, each vest represents more than warmth - it represents the message that someone cares about the person wearing it and believes their life has value.

Choose Your Own Transformation  

Jen Spencer's journey reveals that transformation is possible even in the most hopeless circumstances, but it requires genuine honesty about our struggles and a willingness to ask for help. Her story challenges us to examine our own internal judges and consider whether we're holding ourselves to standards that God never intended. The self-condemnation that trapped her for decades might be operating in different forms in our own lives, preventing us from accessing the very help and healing we desperately need.

Consider whether you've been waiting to become "worthy" of divine assistance rather than simply asking for it. Jen's breakthrough came not when she finally achieved sobriety or resolved her problems, but when she became honest about her need for help. Your own circumstances might be different, but the principle remains the same: authentic prayer and genuine surrender can open doors that seemed permanently closed. The very struggles you consider disqualifying might actually be preparing you for service opportunities that don't yet exist.

Take time to evaluate whether your past experiences, even painful ones, might contain seeds of future ministry to others facing similar challenges. Jen's years of addiction and homelessness became the foundation for a mission that has saved countless lives and created meaningful service opportunities for thousands of volunteers. Your own combination of talents, experiences, and spiritual gifts may be preparing you for impact beyond anything you currently imagine possible.

Sometimes, our lowest moments become launching pads for missions that change the world, one life at a time.

Thank you for reading this week's blog post inspired by the Why We Believe show. If you are interested in more stories like this, you can check out our other blog posts and episodes at WhyWeBelieve.com.

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Listen to "GLORIOUS," a song by David Archuleta

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