by Billy Webb, as told on the Story Partners Podcast
I used to be known by a number—746746. That was the name the prison gave me. But today, I know who I am. My name is Billy Webb, and I’m a son of God.
Growing up, I let the bitterness and pain of my childhood shape me. I became cold. My heart hardened, and before long, I fell into addiction. I became an IV drug user, a thief, and a pervert. I chased the wildness of rock and roll, thinking freedom was doing whatever I wanted. But that life ruined me. When you’re strung out, addiction wants only one thing—your life. I knew that death was the last stop, but I couldn’t stop running toward it. When I ran out of ways to pay for the drugs, I started stealing. My dad had been an outlaw, and in my twisted thinking, I thought I was following in his footsteps. Eventually, I got caught. When the police finally arrested me, it almost felt like relief. They gave me a seven-year sentence for second-degree burglary. On top of that, I had three more pending felonies from another county—seventeen more years hanging over my head. I was tired, angry, and alone.
Encountering God Behind Bars
Prison was full of hate, violence, and darkness. It reminded me of my childhood—no love, no safety. I was on heavy doses of methadone when I got there, but the guards didn’t care. They threw away my doctor’s note and let me suffer through withdrawal. I remember beating my head against the wall, desperate to escape the pain. But in that moment, something began to stir inside me—a small voice that said, Get up. Don’t give up. It wasn’t a dramatic rescue; God didn’t take the pain away. Instead, He walked with me through it. I encountered Him in the middle of my suffering, and He became so real—so tangible. That’s where my relationship with Him began. I told Him, “God, I don’t know how to love You like a son loves a Father. I don’t know how to be anything but what I’ve been.” But His Word started to speak to me about sonship, about being grafted into His family. I clung to those verses like my life depended on it—because it did.
Learning to Live Free
When I got to prison, I met a group of men who had been locked up for years—men who loved Jesus. They told me, “We’re going to show you how to do time with the Lord.” They taught me that sanctification isn’t about being perfect—it’s about growing, repenting, and learning to deny yourself daily. We had Bible studies in the middle of chaos. Sometimes, while we prayed, someone nearby was getting beaten or high. It wasn’t your typical church setting, but the presence of God showed up anyway. Carrying light in a place that was dark, was hard. I wanted to save everyone, but I couldn’t. I had to learn to trust that God was working in ways I couldn’t see.
From Burglary to Worship
One of my charges was for breaking into a church and stealing a guitar. That conviction ate me alive. I told God I’d be okay if He never let me touch an instrument again. But then I was transferred to a minimum-security unit, and suddenly, I had access to guitars. I started a band with a few other inmates, and God began drawing men in. We wrote songs, led worship, and saw hundreds of men encounter Jesus in that place. I couldn’t believe that the same God whose house I robbed would let me lead worship inside a prison. That broke me. It still does. Because even while I was still a sinner, He loved me.
A New Name, A New Life
God walked with me through the rest of my sentence. Every day, I could feel His presence. He broke the chains of addiction and set me free from the inside out. I’ve been out of prison for four years now, sober for five. No needles. No drugs. Just grace. I stay in touch with many of the men I met inside—some of them are free too, and they’re walking with the Lord. These days, I get to lead others in worship and walk with men through prayer and faith. I’ve seen hearts soften and lives change. And my dream? To see the most hardened people—the ones who think they’re too far gone—turn to Jesus. Because if He can change me, He can change anyone.
746746 is not my name.
I’ve been given a new name and a new life—and it’s only by Him.
