I was born April 12, 1960, a fourth generation apostolic. My mother had been praying and fasting for me for more than a week, when I received the Holy Ghost at age 17. At this time in my life all I thought about was the most ungodly things one could have imagined. I loved God, but only from a distance. My life was full of perversion, drugs and violence. Despite my life style, and no matter how late I was out, on Sunday morning, I was in Sunday school.

I started smoking pot (marijuana) when I was 10 years old. I was taking my grandmothers pills a short time after that. At the age of 13, I started shooting dope. To my folks and my friends’ folks, I was a good kid. I was never in trouble, but undercover, I led a very crude lifestyle. I quit high school just six weeks before I graduated. I was 18 years old at that time. I started my affiliations with the 1% motorcycle world. In 1983 a barge blew up with me at the Chevron oil refinery in Pascagoula, Mississippi and I spent 21 days in a burn unit. At 28, in 1988, I was
convicted of two felonies and received a 15 years for each. While in prison, a free world electrician asked me if I went to church. I said no, they do not preach what I believe. He said, “You must be one of those Pentecostal boys.” He was a United Pentecostal preacher, Brother J.E. Lane from Montgomery, AL. And as God would have it, he knew my pastor, Brother Earl Bodiford. After getting out of prison, my life continued going nowhere. I hurt my back and four back surgeries later, I was a for real clinical drug addict. This led me from one failed marriage to another. I sold so much marijuana, cocaine and narcotics that if I put an amount on it, most people would think I was a liar. When I look back at all the things that have taken place in my life, like getting my neck broke three times, two crushed vertebrates and two steel rods in my back and a broke pelvis, I can only see the hand of God!

In 1999, Brother Larry Hoyt told me about Azusa StreetRiders. I wish I would have listened to him. I later shot a man and was arrested for attempted murder. The first district attorney was doing all she could to get me a sentence of Life Without Parole, but she got sick! The second D.A. was trying to get me a Life sentence, but she had a baby. The third D.A. said, “Pick a double digit number.” I said, “10, he said 20.” I said, “You're crazy.” He then said, “15 and you get good-time.” By all rights and my past record, I should have received a life sentence. I did 4 years and 8 months and was renewed in the Holy Ghost in April of 2004! God did not set me free from the wrong that I committed, but HE walked every step of the way through the Alabama Department of Corrections with me. I was able to teach Bible study and minister to many men. Eight men were baptized in the wonderful name of Jesus, and three were filled with the Holy Ghost while I ministered in prison. I became an Azusa StreetRider, thanks to my Pastor and Brother Fred Beall, while incarcerated.

All to the glory of my Lord and my God, Jesus Christ!
Bro. Marcus Sikes

An Old Frail Angel
A Poem by Marcus Sikes
August 12, 2006
One night I had a dream behind these cold prison walls. It left me a tale to tell.
I dreamed I saw an angel, poor thing he wasn't well.
His body bruised and battered, his wings were ripped and torn.
I walked right up to him and said, “Angel, how can this be?”
He turned around and paused a bit. These words he spoke to me.
“I’m your guardian angel. A great task as you can see.
You’ve run amuck all your life. Look what you've done to me.
The bruises are from shielding you in your times of dire need.
It all started with an old Ford van and a pill bottle in your grandmother's dresser drawer.
A needle in your arm at a very young age, those wings worn on your motorcycle jacket
were symbolic of the insurmountable will God put on me.
From the shooting galleries in Houston, to the burning barge in Pascagoula,
those high speed adventures down Lott Road, the twisted metal,
the gunfights and things that only God knows. I've often paid the fee.
My wings are ripped and torn, a model badge to be worn.
They've made me wish more than once, that I was unemployed.
If only you could make it on your own…
But please don't fret or worry, you are never left alone.
I'm here to watch over you, until you come home.
But just always remember, your mother sent me, and I'm getting old and frail.”