From suicidal star to servant of Christ

I was raised in the Jewish faith. My grandfather had changed our family name from Merowitz to Mero, but our heritage remained deeply rooted in Jewish tradition. My mum converted to Judaism for my dad, but they divorced when I was eight. After that, we moved to the west side of Buffalo, New York – one of the most dangerous, gang- and drug-infested areas in the city. 

The local school was rough, so when I was ten, Mum enrolled me and my siblings in a nearby Catholic school. In order to attend, I had to be baptised and take my first communion. I didn’t understand it. I was just doing what I was told. There was no epiphany, but I do remember the stories.

In class, they talked about a man who healed the sick and walked on water. At home, my mum began reading bedtime stories about him – how he gave sight to the blind and calmed the seas. To me, Jesus sounded like a superhero. I was intrigued but I don’t know if I ever truly gave my life to Christ. Then, as I got older, I drifted. 

Heaven and hell

At 21, a friend invited me to a charismatic church. The preacher spoke about hell, judgement and what happens to people who don’t know the Lord. It scared me. I walked to the front, prayed and professed faith in Jesus Christ.

For a while, I was on fire. I read the Bible every day. I wanted to know God. But I let the world pull me away. As it says in 1 Corinthians 15:33: “Do not be misled: ‘Bad company corrupts good character.’” I became like the people I surrounded myself with – caught up in drugs and addicted to cocaine.

At the same time, I was still chasing my dream of becoming a professional wrestler. I knew I had to clean up. I threw myself into training and made it into World Championship Wrestling (WCW) under the name Johnny B Badd. 

Fame and money came fast. From the outside, it looked like I had it all. But inside, I was living a double life. I was still using drugs and drinking heavily, even as my career soared. Then in 1995, everything fell apart.

The tallest I’ve ever stood was when I got down on my knees

I was on a wrestling tour in Japan when the promoter knocked on my hotel door in the middle of the night telling me I needed to call home. My then-wife answered, barely able to speak. Then came the words: “Marc, your mum died.” I ran through the hotel lobby and into the street, screaming. Two weeks later, my younger brother collapsed at the doctor’s office, hit his head and died from the injury. He was only 21.

For a brief time before that moment, I had cleaned up. In 1994, I married, got back into church and rededicated my life to Christ. But eventually, my marriage ended. She left me for another man and I spiralled again. We split the money in a divorce, and I wasted my share flying friends everywhere, partying, chasing highs. It was a horrible life.

By Christmas 2003, I had no money, no job, no family. My mum, dad, brother and sister were all gone. I’d lost more than 30 friends from the wrestling world – most to drug overdoses. I was completely alone and depressed. I drove to Cocoa Beach, Florida, and sat under a pier, watching the waves. I thought about how I once had everything – fame, money, attention. Now I had nothing.

Standing tall

I drove back to my house, went into the big, walk-in shower and placed a gun to my temple. I stood there, heart pounding, having visions of my loved ones. I missed them so much. I just wanted to see them again.

Then I remembered the sermon I’d heard aged 21. A vision of hell. People, each in their own torment, screaming, alone, cut off from everything. That fear returned. I couldn’t do it. I dropped to my knees, crying out to God, begging him to forgive me and asking him to change my life. And I’ll tell you this – the tallest I’ve ever stood was when I got down on my knees. Because everything changed. I’ve not touched a drug since. And God began opening doors.

I had no money, no career and no idea what came next. I got my first job training people at Gold’s Gym. People would walk in and say: “Oh my gosh, Marc Mero – what are you doing here?” It was humbling.

Then, in 2007, I got a phone call from Melbourne High School. They asked if I could come speak to their football team about the dangers of drugs and steroids. What I didn’t know was that their coach called another school afterwards and recommended me. That coach said: “Don’t just speak to my players – speak to the whole school.”

And it snowballed from there. Since then, I’ve averaged 230 events a year for 18 years!

It’s incredible what God can do when you hit your knees and cry out to him. When you accept Jesus as your Lord and saviour and believe that he died for your sins, he truly can change everything.

I’m about to turn 65 and I feel like my life is just beginning. The rest of my life will be the best of my life. 

Marc Mero was speaking to AJ Gomez. For the full story see Badd to Good: The inspiring story of a wrestling Wildman (Independent) marcmero.com