To Hell and Back Again...A Spiritual Journey...

My Name is Steve Funkner, My friends call me Moose.

I was born in a little town of Carrot River Saskatchewan. I was raised in a physically abusive alcoholic home, with my mom and my two brothers, and her boyfriend a Canadian Navy man. I started drinking at the age of ten. I learned how to swear like a trooper, take beatings and pain, and not show emotion, because real men are tough. I thought this was normal.

My first experience with church was in the Anglican church where I attended when I was young where I was baptized and confirmed. This particular church was a religious Anglican High church that preached what God used to do, the miracles Jesus used to perform, and was very works oriented. I remember the huge pulpit that emphasized how distant we were from God and were constantly reminded that the Vicar was our link to Christ. We used to go over to the vicar's house after church and see my mom and her boyfriend get drunk with the vicar. I saw God as a far off entity that I could never be holy enough to reach, and who seemed to take joy in the hellish life I was living.

My mother soon left her abusive boyfriend and I began to rebel. Anything remotely related to God I came at abusively. I became enthralled and learned all I could on the topic of Evolution. It made sense that we were animals because that is all I saw of human life.

I left home as soon as I graduated from high school and moved up to Thompson Manitoba to meet and get to know my biological father. I worked at Inco and my drug life worsened. I met a lady and her daughter whom I raised as my own and had a somewhat normal life except for the drug use. I found that I became just like my mom's boyfriend, in violent outbursts and chronic alcoholism, and I started dealing narcotics. I went through the local dry out center twice, was in AA and NA but to no avail. Every time I got to turning my life and my will over to God as I understood Him, I saw the father figure I grew up with, I projected my ideas of God onto him. Fearing me, my girlfriend left and things got worse.

I lost everything I owned except for the things on my back and was on the street. I lived at friends places but always got kicked out of everywhere because of drugs or my alcoholism. I hitchhiked out to B.C. with a buddy of mine and slept in Laundromats, in ditches, under vehicles etc., stealing food to eat, I was really at the end of myself.
One night as I lay outside Chilliwack, by the river, it was a clear night, a full moon, stars were out, the light from the moon glistened over the mountaintops, as the glacier river trickled by, and as I lay there, hadn't eaten in days, I remember thinking, looking up at the beauty that surrounded me, the this just didn't happen, someone had to have created all this. The moon, the stars, the mountains, it was all too perfect to have been created by chaos. I remember saying to myself, man, there just has to be a God.

Satan comes to kill, steal, and destroy.

I went to check an old bank account to see if I had any money, even a couple dollars to buy a donut or something and to my surprise someone had deposited 25,000 into my old bank account and then removed it leaving me 300 dollars. I knew I didn't have 25,000 and that I didn't have anything owing to me, so I took the money and bought some food, and some drugs to sell.

I ended up back in Thompson Manitoba, and was about to sell my drugs when I got busted and arrested for possession.

When I got out, I found that I had applied for welfare a months before and it had been approved. Apparently I had an apartment that the City of Thompson had paid for while I was gone to B.C. So now I finally had an address.
I got back into dealing and found out that I had UI coming in from my work at INCO so I got back into the lifestyle I had before I was on the street drinking, drugs, but now with a new twist.

My friend had introduced me to Satanism. I was listening to Metallica, Slayer, and a plethora of other bands and became intrigued with the Satan, his power and living my life the way I wanted to at any cost. Jesus told us a new commandment He gives unto us: Love the Lord with all your heart, with all your mind, and all your strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. Satanism's first commandment was Do what Thou Wilt. If it felt good do it. If it hurt anyone so what. I would routinely call on demons to do my will and they always complied with a price. Satan delivered "miracles" fast and in any way I wanted faster than God to keep me in his hand. He furnished my apartment, got me women, and all the drugs and booze I could get my hands on in return for my soul. I became involved with the local gang of bikers called the Mud Brothers although I did not become a member I started hanging around with them, partying with them, and doing and dealing drugs with them. I bought a my first Harley a '77 Sportster and picked up my love of riding again. Satan is the father of lies and had me believing I would reign with him in Hell and we would control this world together. Boy was I wrong.

One night after a black mass, I came home and looked in my mirror. I still to this day do not know if God allowed me to see into Satan's realm, or if Satan got bold enough to show his true intentions. I have never feared any man. I have been able to fight my way out of any confrontation with people. I say this because fear was not a big thing in my life until that night.

Instead of seeing my bathroom in my mirror, towel racks behind me with towels, etc. I saw into Hell. I saw Satan laughing at me. Satan was more than just visible, he was beyond visible, his appearance was lost in the evil that surrounded him. Just as someone had written words in the sand in gasoline and lit them, the words YOU FOOL burned into my mind. I was left reeling. Why was Satan laughing at me? Where did that leave me. I was Afraid for the first time in my life, really afraid. I knew in the back of my mind at night when I was alone and in bed, that if there was a Hell, there had to be a Heaven, for Satan to exist, God must. I knew I was in trouble.
I was running from Satan.

At this time I met a lady named Marianne. She was a backslidden Christian I fell head over heels in love with. She was so totally different than anyone I had ever met. Satan wanted me to use women, but this one I wanted to keep. We fell in love and one day I sat up in bed and decided that I was tired of drugs and alcohol. I still didn't have God.
My Grandfather wrote me a letter to see if I would come visit him in Saskatoon and included the funds to come see him. I went down to Saskatoon, and on the way back stopped in Carrot River to visit my family. I hadn't seen them in years, and the only time I talked to them was Christmas times when I would phone all drunk longing for home.

Turned out that they had moved. I had to find out where they lived and when I found out where they lived I found out in short order they had all become Christians! I was the black sheep of the family and was the only one on the outside. Marianne gave her life back to Jesus while we were out in Carrot River and she persuaded me that we should move to Carrot River to be close to the family. She had ulterior motives so we packed up an old 76 Mercury Marquis and trailered an old 70s van to Carrot River with all of our stuff. Looking back Satan really didn't want us to go. 3 hitch pins and 20 hours later we got to Carrot River on a trip that should of only taken us 10 or so.

Mom had gotten re-married to a wonderful guy who treats her like a king and they graciously allowed us to live in a trailer on their property. Mom has a gift of discernment, is a real prayer warrior and would go through bouts of Satanic attack, she would wake up in the night with invisible hands trying to strangle her. She knew we had been into something. She asked if we would move into our own place as she tried to reach us. She would find articles on "bikers" to show us to try and convince me that bikers could be Christians. I didn't think they could that I was too bad to be a Christian because I was a biker. She would show me pictures of Jerry Savelle with short hair in a Christian Reader magazine sitting on a Goldwing. Now, understand that a real biker sees Japanese bikes as Jap Scrap, only real bikers ride Harleys, then Triumphs, then BMWs. I do not see things that way now. That short hair...I remember saying that's not a biker, that's a nerd Christian on Jap Scrap. That's not a biker! We got in a big fight and I stormed outside. Later, mom came outside and apologized for the fight, and explained she just did not want me to go to hell. She wanted her son in heaven with her. I remember telling her that I was walking down a street with shrines and buildings representing different religions and I know that the little church at the end of the street is there, and I promised her if I ever do go into that little church I was going to do it all or nothing. God told her that I would come to Jesus soon.

My brother meanwhile had been on the road touring with a band called Jack Jackson Ministries. He had been asking everyone along the way, wherever he went to pray for his brother named Steve. I was number one on his "hit list" and as he went he collected testimonies of different individuals he met along the way. He later went on to play with Double Portion in the same capacity.

Kel found two tapes, one of Ed Brouwer, who was the president of I.C.B.A., and Doug Stadnyk, a brother in Saskatoon. I listened to both of them, both from outlaw biker groups, and found out that yes, bikers can become Christians. Doug Stadnyk's tape had a copy of his prison photo and I knew that he was the real deal. The excuse that a biker cannot be a Christian was settled.

I still fought it though, until one day, my dad asked me to come over to listen to a Walter Martin tape. Walter Martin was a real man of God who wrote Kingdom of the Cults which is required reading in most Bible Schools. This is a man of God who died on his knees in prayer, Spirit filled and Holy Ghost empowered.

While I listened, Walter Martin talked about demon possessions. I had never believed that possessions were possible and if they were it was only in Hollywood or that a person who was trying to control a demon may have been to weak and MAYBE became possessed.

As I listened two things warred within me. I felt somehow that this man, his words were the truth. I felt it somehow. I also felt that if this was the truth, I was in serious trouble. I immediately asked my dad to go outside and talk to me.

I was scared. I was running from Satan, but where to? I couldn't run to Krishna, he was there, I couldn't run to Buddha, he is there, Satanism was out of the question, and I had no other options. I asked dad what to do. He said How about Jesus? HOW BOUT THAT JESUS, for the first time it made sense, if He really conquered Satan, He could protect me. I knelt down at the picnic table beside my stepfather because I thought the only way to meet God was on my knees. Out of sheer fear, and need for Jesus to be my shield and my protector, I asked Jesus to come into my life and make me new. I had finally accepted Jesus as my Savior. When I finally opened my eyes I felt like I had been whacked over the head by a two by four, as I hung over the bench, the grass was greener, the sky was bluer, the sun was warmer on my face. My dad asked me if I wanted to renounce Satan's hold on my life and I said yes. He led me in a prayer of renunciation when I told Satan in the name of Jesus I renounce you he started choking me out. My dad started praying and commanding satan to let go of me and then the words spilled out. I felt something tear out of my body and leave. Satan lost a hold that day August 12th 1991.

Mom and Dad discipled us and stuck though all the hard questions, what we should and shouldn't be doing, and really helped us grow. I started going to an M.B. church in Carrot River. It was really hard to get used to people hugging you all the time, I always checked my back pocket in case I was getting my wallet pinched...It took a while to figure out all the christianese, and I found out that I should get married to Marianne if I was living with her. We got married September 9, 1991 in my moms living room attended by dad, and a Justice of the Peace.

About this time, I began to wonder if there were other bikers like me. I tried to get a hold of someone who knew about Doug Stadnyk and hook up with other bikers in Saskatoon. I found out about a group I.C.B.A. in Saskatoon International Christian Bikers Association. I hooked up with them and started riding with them doing ministry and reaching the seemingly unreachable.

We moved to Saskatoon, became members of I.C.B.A. I started work in Saskatoon and in 1993 had a bike wreck. I was mad at God asking Him why this happened. God showed me an through an analogy that I still hadn't dealt with the way I viewed my Harleys. I slept with my motorcycles in my bedroom, they spent the winters in my living rooms, my owners manual was called my Bible. I still saw Japanese motorcycles as Jap Scrap. God wanted nothing between Him and me. Whether God allowed the bike wreck to happen through Satan or not, I found out that God disciplines his children. I now see motorcycles just like other vehicles that God blesses us with, and Japanese bikes as brothers in the wind. Two wheels are always better than four though.

Me, and two other bikers started Open Arms Fellowship, which became known in Saskatoon as "The Biker Church" We had felt the sting of other conventional churches who couldn't relate to Bikers and street people in their churches so we decided to start a church where anyone could feel accepted and loved. We ran that for about 5 years. I presently go to a Victory International Church in Saskatoon.

I was moping around one day and heard a sermon on how shepherds deal with lambs that don't stay with the flock. This is not a common trait but it does happen. The shepherd takes the lamb, or so I am told and snaps their front legs so they cannot walk away. He then nurses them back to health in his arms by the fire, and they will never leave his side again. In my bike wreck, I had only my left leg broken, I should of been dead. God reminded me that He let that happen to discipline me. He had removed the Harley from my life, and He had drawn me close to Himself.
In 1994 I was asking God what to do. My job wasn't going well and I felt spiritually out of sync. I remember worshipping Him on my couch in the Spirit with my guitar and all of a sudden I was in the heavenlies. God asked what was the desire of my heart. I told Him to follow Him and go to Bible College. When I came out of worship the phone rang I had been invited to go to Bible College, the phone rang again and a friend phoned to tell that if I was interested in Bible College he found a place for us. Talk about a miracle.

I went to Bible college for two years, Marianne for three, and with the money from insurance from the bike wreck we bought a house, I bought another Harley and that's where we are today. The motorcycle group I.C.B.A that was in Saskatoon fell apart, and presently we are trying to get another motorcycle ministry going in Saskatoon. God loves bikers and street people and God had impressed upon my heart that we do not have much time to reach the lost. The fields are white unto harvest. Jesus commands us to go. That is where we are at now.

Blessings,

Moose