Ron DePriest Story

For eighty years I rode a motorcycle with the Hell's Angels and the Devil's Disciples.

At a meeting not long ago, a young man walked up to the podium where I was speaking and said, "You don't look like a devil's disciple!"

"Hallelujah," I said, "If Jesus Christ saved me He'll save anybody!"

I  grew up in  an atmosphere of violence. My parents fought continually. Dad never took me out to places or spent time with me like most fathers for he was very paranoid and mentally disturbed. When he was angry he got drunk and beat me with his fists. The persecution at home made me defensive and afraid at school. At twelve I began experimenting with marijuana and barbiturates.

Then my parents were divorced.

Since the age of thirteen I had been 6' 2" and weighed 220 lbs. I was always getting into fights.

Rowdy and embittered  after being kicked out of high school at sixteen,  I joined the Navy. It was during the time we   were stationed at Treasure Island that I began riding with the Hell’s Angels. My wildness grew until I felt like a child of the devil and that violence was my job because he owned me.

The Navy gave me a medical  discharge after one year. Then while working on a construction job at eighteen years of age, a portion of my spine disintegrated. The doctor said it was a result of injuries from my dad's beatings when I was younger. He operated and did the best he could.

After I married Minnie, a girl who had ridden with the Presidents motorcycle club, the Hell's Angels sent several of the Presidents as scouts to find out what I was doing. We got into a hassle and the three of them had to be hospitalized. From this I gained respect from the Angels and they considered me a prospect.

Being a prospect is something like going through an apprentice program. To win approval a fellow has to do whatever he is told, including pouring coffee and other forms of servitude.  They tried to give me orders but I always told them to go do it themselves. I didn’t really want to join the Angels and never did become a full-time member.

The Angel s offered me a set anyway (the colors which are sewn on the back of the jacket), which I wore without fully conforming to their ways. The top plaque says "Hell's Angels," then there is the middle plaque with the skull and wings, and below that is the bottom rocker which tells the name of the chapter. I became Sergeant at Arms of the Nomad chapter, meaning I was not confined to any section of the country and could travel wherever I wanted to go.

The years that followed were wasted in knife fights, motorcycle theft, marital cheating and drugs. I was always in and out of jail for felony and assault. Other club members called me "Loco" because one minute they might be rapping with me  in  a  calm  atmosphere when suddenly I would just haul off and knock  someone's teeth out. After all, I had a reputation to hold up. All of us lived in a world of threatening destruction.

February 9, 1971 was the day of the terrible earthquake in southern California. My wife and I were then living in San Fernando and were pretty badly shaken. Since  the  police  were  hunting me anyway, I told  her,  "I 'm  going  to Santa Clara where my folks live and get the engine and other belongings that are worth  money. Then we'll sell them and move."

I knew that my mother and her second husband had been saved recently, as well as my entire family. We thought they were fanatics.
When I came home Mom was standing inside the door. "How are you doing, son?" She asked.
"Okay. But look, right off the top, I don't want to talk about Jesus. I don't want to talk about the devil. I want to get my stuff and go."
"We aren't going to talk about Jesus to you," she said. But she was very wise and knew I could sense the tremendous change in her.

Saturday afternoon I went over to see my brother Bob, who is eleven years older than I. We had done a lot of drinking, playing pool and getting into trouble together. His every other word used to be a cuss word. I respected him for being a good fighter, for I myself was third degree black belt in Karate and an instructor.

When I walked into the house he was sitting in a chair reading the Bible. There was a look on his face I couldn’t understand.  I saw the peace, joy,  calmness an d  confidence I always  wanted. His leg was in a cast but was later healed by God. We talked but didn't really have anything in common. Bob was truly happy.

Sunday morning my parents said, "If you would like to go to church, we'll take you." I arrogantly went with them to the Fremont First Assembly of God and all through the service sought to antagonize the preacher, Rev. Leroy Cloud, by distracting his attention. His message made me so mad I wanted to punch him in the mouth.

After church most of my family, all newly-saved believers, were sitting  around the house talking  about Jesus. I was in a rocking chair in the corner feeling like a jerk. When someone spoke to me I snapped, "Look, I don't want to hear your Jesus  thing; keep it to your­ self. I’ll do my thing and everything will be cool." But then I'd turn  around and ask a question about  Jesus. I was inquisitive because of my brother Bob.

It wasn't until 11:00 p.m. that these relatives, in between praying, began talking to me specifically about Jesus. Angrily I closed my fist and told them to leave me alone. I wanted to run out but God placed His hand on my chest and would not let me up from the chair. If I could have gotten my hands on someone I would have hurt him.

The devil and the Lord were battling for my soul. As one of my relatives came toward me I raised a hand to hit him but just couldn't. It wouldn't move. I realized what was happening. Someone other than those people in the room was exercising force over me!

"I don’t know, I don’t know,” I began saying. Every emotion I had ever known was actively tearing at my mind and soul. All the family held hands around me and bound the devil in the name of Jesus. As they prayed, God forcefully lifted me out of that chair and threw me to my knees. With my head in Mother's lap I wept before Jesus, "Forgive me, forgive me!" And He did. I knew then I was going to give the rest of my life to Jesus Christ.

"Do you want the baptism in the Holy Spirit?" I was asked.
"Aunt Ginny, if it’s anything like I've got right now, I want all God can give me." She told me to lift my hands and thank God for it. Soon from my mouth came prayers in a tongue I had never spoken before.

Then something else unexpected happened. Since breaking my back several years earlier my left leg had been shorter than the right by a good inch and a half. But as they raised my leg and believed God, He lengthened it until both limbs were even.

Several days later my wife accepted Jesus and was baptized in the Spirit.

After spending a year at Bethany Bible College in Santa Cruz, California, Minnie and I have been traveling and witnessing how Jesus raised me from the pits of living hell and gave me a new life in Him.

Download Ron's Story to Print and Share!

Would you like to start a relationship with Jesus? Check out the Salvation - Coming to Jesus teaching, or our survey to find out for about the Baptism of the Holy Spirit. Also see Mentoring the Joshua Generation.