Content note: This story discusses suicide, childhood abuse, addiction, and allegations of sexual violence.
Rob Decker remembers lying on the concrete, looking up at the third-story window he had just jumped through. His body was broken, his breathing was shallow, and he was in tremendous pain. Yet the question running through his mind was not whether he would survive.
It was why God had allowed him to live.
In 2007, Decker had reached a point where years of childhood trauma, substance abuse, broken relationships, and personal struggles had become overwhelming. According to his account, police had arrived at his girlfriend’s apartment after she accused him of rape and attempted murder. Decker denied the allegations and, overcome with fear and despair, ran headfirst through a third-story window.
He believes his foot clipped an awning, changing the direction of his fall and saving his life.
The injuries were extensive. Decker described a severely damaged lumbar vertebra, broken arms, a collapsed lung, and multiple surgeries. He would spend weeks hospitalized, facing uncertainty about whether he would walk again.
He also faced criminal allegations that he says were eventually dropped. Decker acknowledged during our conversation that he never learned precisely why the case was dismissed. His account is important to his story, but the conversation did not independently establish what happened or the legal basis for dismissing the charges.
For Decker, however, surviving the fall was not the end of the struggle.
It would take approximately five more years before he walked away from the addiction that had dominated much of his life.
A childhood shaped by instability
To understand what brought Decker to that window, our conversation went back to his childhood.
One of his earliest memories was returning home from kindergarten with a graduation diploma bearing the surname of the man he believed was his biological father. That day, his parents explained that the man raising him was not his biological father and that his last name would change.
The revelation was difficult for a young child to process. But the challenges inside his home extended well beyond questions about his identity.
Decker described growing up around domestic violence, alcohol abuse, and family instability. He also recounted experiencing sexual abuse as a child and witnessing another disturbing incident involving his teenage girlfriend and an adult.
Eventually, alcohol became a way to escape the feelings he did not know how to process. Drugs followed, and his behavior grew increasingly reckless.
He estimated that he had been arrested at least 12 to 15 times in cases that required court appearances. He described losing jobs, getting into fights, and damaging relationships despite often performing well professionally.
What interested me about his account was the connection between the experiences he endured and the decisions he later made.
Childhood trauma can help explain how destructive patterns develop, but it does not eliminate personal responsibility. Decker does not pretend that his behavior was harmless simply because he had been hurt.
He recognizes that his choices carried consequences.
At the same time, his experience illustrates why helping someone overcome addiction often requires more than addressing the substance itself. The pain, relationships, habits, and circumstances surrounding that addiction matter, too.
Surviving did not mean recovering
There is a temptation to tell redemption stories as though one extraordinary moment changes everything.
A person reaches rock bottom, encounters God, and immediately begins an entirely new life.
Decker’s story is more complicated.
He described a powerful spiritual experience at a Bible study before his suicide attempt. He believed God was beginning to work in his life, even though his destructive habits continued.
After surviving the fall, he experienced moments of spiritual reassurance during his hospitalization. Yet when he eventually returned to everyday life, the addiction remained.
Now he was also dealing with chronic pain and prescription pain medication.
For approximately five more years, Decker continued struggling with alcohol and drugs.
That distinction matters because recovery is not always a straight line. Surviving a crisis, recognizing a problem, or making a sincere commitment to change does not necessarily resolve the underlying struggle.
Decker’s account of his turning point came on January 8, 2013.
After crashing his girlfriend’s vehicle and fleeing the scene, he found himself hiding beneath a house. There, he said, he surrendered his addiction to God and promised to stop drinking and using drugs. He also promised to marry his girlfriend, who is now his wife, and dedicate his life to serving Christ.
He described feeling an immense weight leave him.
From that point forward, he says, his life began moving in a different direction.
It was not that the past disappeared. The injuries remained, the memories remained, and the consequences of earlier decisions did not simply vanish.
What changed was how he chose to live with them.
Forgiving the people who hurt us
One of the most meaningful parts of our conversation involved Decker’s relationships with the two men he called his fathers.
Steve, the Marine who raised him, had been a difficult presence throughout much of his childhood. Decker described a man shaped by toughness, discipline, and personal struggles of his own.
Their relationship carried considerable pain.
But years after Decker’s suicide attempt, Steve called him and acknowledged the damage he believed he had caused.
Decker remembered his father saying:
“I don’t know why you talk to me. I don’t know why you love me.”
He went on to express regret over how he had treated his son.
Decker’s answer was remarkably simple.
“Dad, I love you.”
Only days later, Steve died.
Decker also eventually reconnected with his biological father, Michael, who told him he had approximately six months to live.
Near the end of his father’s life, Decker traveled to Washington to see him. He described holding his father’s hand, telling him that he loved him, and assuring him that he had been forgiven.
For Decker, both experiences became powerful expressions of God’s grace and the importance of reconciliation.
Forgiveness did not require him to pretend that his childhood had been healthy or that the adults around him had always acted responsibly. It meant refusing to allow the past to dictate every relationship that followed.
That is an important distinction.
Forgiveness does not erase accountability, excuse abuse, or require someone to remain in an unsafe relationship. Reconciliation involves additional questions about trust, responsibility, and what is possible between the people involved.
In Decker’s case, he found opportunities to offer forgiveness before both men died.
Not everyone receives that opportunity.
The meaning of generational wealth
During our conversation, Decker began listing the relationships that had been restored throughout his life.
He had watched his mother become sober. His relationship with his sister had improved. He had reconciled with both fathers, married, become a father, and experienced the privilege of baptizing his sons.
I stopped him because I wanted to explain what I heard in those accomplishments.
I call that generational wealth.
We usually define generational wealth through financial assets: homes, property, investments, and the money parents can leave their children.
Those things have value, but there is another inheritance that matters just as much.
A child who grows up knowing love instead of constant fear. A family that learns forgiveness rather than passing resentment from one generation to the next. Parents who choose to address destructive patterns rather than handing those patterns to their children.
And, from my Christian perspective, there is no greater inheritance than a family grounded in faith and the hope of eternity through Jesus Christ.
Decker’s experiences with his sons and his fathers brought that idea into focus for me.
His childhood was filled with circumstances he could not control. As an adult, however, he began making choices that could influence what the next generation would experience.
That does not make him a perfect husband, father, or Christian. He would be the first to acknowledge that he is still learning.
It means the story his children inherit does not have to be identical to the one he lived.
Rise As Lions: Turning recovery into community
Decker’s experiences eventually led him to establish Rise As Lions, a nonprofit organization rooted in recovery, faith, physical activity, and community.
Its origins were surprisingly simple.
Decker had friends who were military veterans struggling with post-traumatic stress. Some were participating in recreational softball leagues where alcohol and drug use were common. He wanted to provide a healthier environment where people could compete, build relationships, and enjoy themselves without the same pressures.
That idea became the Recovery Rebels softball program.
According to Decker, the organization has since grown to include five teams, including a team specifically for military members and veterans.
Rise As Lions developed as a broader organization intended to support additional activities, outreach, and opportunities for people dealing with addiction, trauma, and isolation.
Although Decker’s motivation is deeply Christian, he emphasized that participation is not limited to Christians.
Faith is central to his work, but he does not require everyone who participates to share his beliefs.
There is something important in that approach.
People recovering from addiction or dealing with trauma often need connection, healthy routines, and opportunities to rebuild trust. A softball team does not replace professional treatment when treatment is needed, but it can offer something that isolation cannot: belonging.
Decker also described working with people experiencing homelessness and using his personal training background to build relationships with those who are struggling.
He understands the importance of meeting people where they are because he remembers what it felt like to be there himself.
The story behind God’s Awning
Decker also documented his journey in his book, God’s Awning, published in December 2024.
The title refers to the awning he believes changed his fall and spared his life.
But the book is not intended simply to recount an extraordinary survival story.
Decker explained that its chapters combine personal experiences, biblical reflections, and practical applications intended to help readers examine their own lives.
He originally planned 24 chapters. After reconnecting with his biological father near the end of his life, Decker realized that experience needed to become the book’s final chapter.
It gave the story an ending rooted not only in survival, but in forgiveness.
And that might be the more important achievement.
Redemption is what happens after the turning point
Near the end of our conversation, Decker reflected on the difficulty of carrying his faith into places where people are struggling with addiction, homelessness, and trauma.
He talked about the importance of being present for people who may have lost hope and about the possibility that someone hearing his experiences could recognize a part of themselves in his story.
I think that is where the heart of this episode rests.
We often become fascinated with the dramatic moments in someone’s life. The arrest, the addiction, the suicide attempt, the extraordinary survival, or the moment they say they found God.
But redemption is not confined to a single dramatic event.
It can be seen in the work that follows.
It appears in the person who stops drinking and begins repairing relationships. In the father who chooses to raise his children differently. In the son who finds the courage to forgive. And in the person who remembers being isolated and decides to make room for someone else.
Decker’s life did not become free of pain after he survived that fall. He continued to struggle, and he still lives with physical consequences.
But the man who once lay on the concrete asking God why he was still alive now spends his time trying to give other people reasons to keep going.
That is a story worth hearing.
And perhaps it leaves us with a question worth considering:
What if the greatest evidence of redemption is not the moment someone survives, but what they choose to do with the life that follows?
Listen to the full conversation
In this episode of The Redemption Project, Rob Decker joins me to discuss childhood trauma, nearly two decades of addiction, his suicide attempt and recovery, his journey to faith in Jesus Christ, reconciliation with his fathers, and the mission behind Rise As Lions.
We also explore his book, God’s Awning, the role of forgiveness in breaking destructive family patterns, and why he believes community can help people rediscover hope.
Listen to or watch the full episode: [Insert episode link or embedded podcast player]
If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts in the United States, call or text 988 to connect with the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.
The Redemption Project explores the intersection of faith, accountability, and second chances through conversations with people whose lives demonstrate that our past does not have to dictate our future.
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I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets.
