For many young adults, faith is not a straight line—it’s a series of detours, collisions, and unexpected restarts. Troy Vaughn knows this journey intimately. A former Marine who experienced homelessness, addiction, and unresolved trauma, Troy’s life today looks radically different from what he once imagined. As a pastor, CEO, and author, his story is not one of overnight redemption, but of long obedience, deep healing, and learning to lead through service. He tells his story in his new book From Skid Row to CEO: Your Past Doesn’t Disqualify You, It Prepares You.
In this interview about the book, Troy reflects on how faith met him in his darkest seasons, why healing requires honesty, and what it means to follow God when the path forward looks nothing like the plan you had.
Maina:
You talked about writing this book for years. What finally pushed you to sit down and do it?
Troy:
When I was released from the Los Angeles Mission, I knew something was changing. I didn’t have language for it yet, but I sensed that God was asking me to use my voice in a different way—not just preaching, not just leading, but telling the truth about my life.
About a year before that transition, a woman from my church—someone who worked in media—came to me and said, “The Lord told me to help you with your book.” At the time, I didn’t even think I had a book in me. But we started talking. She interviewed me, my family, people close to me. I journal a lot, so we collected years of notes, recordings, memories—everything.
Then after leaving the mission, all that material just sat there. And one day my wife gave me a T‑shirt in a box that said Write On. My mom used to say that to me before she passed away. It felt like God saying, “It’s time.” Not because I was ready—but because obedience doesn’t wait for comfort.
Maina:
What happened inside you as you started revisiting your story?
Troy:
It reopened wounds I thought were healed.
I started having dreams about my father. I’d wake up sweating, shaking. Trauma has a way of hiding until you finally slow down long enough to listen. Writing forced me to stop running.
When I left the Marine Corps, I had created a version of events that helped me survive. But as I revisited my records years later, I realized I had been released untreated. That explained so much—why I struggled, why I self‑medicated, why I spiraled.
For a long time, I thought faith meant ignoring pain. I’ve learned that faith actually invites us to face it—with God.
Maina:
A lot of people hit a breaking point later in life after years of pushing through. Did that resonate with your experience?
Troy:
Absolutely. I didn’t understand why I became addicted. I didn’t know I was self‑medicating. I didn’t have language for depression or trauma—especially growing up in a culture where mental health wasn’t discussed openly.
In our communities, millions of people struggle silently. We’re taught to be strong, to push through, to pray harder. But strength without healing eventually collapses.
For me, that collapse looked like seven years of homelessness. Not because I lacked faith—but because I lacked understanding.
Maina:
What would you say to young adults walking alongside family members—or even friends—who are struggling with mental health or incarceration?
Troy:
We have to stop pretending this isn’t part of our reality.
When Scripture talks about disease, it’s not just physical—it’s anything that creates disorder and disconnection. We avoid hard conversations because they make us uncomfortable. But healing doesn’t happen in silence.
If society feels distant or broken, the Church and the community still have power. Faith isn’t passive. It calls us to show up, to listen, and to respond with compassion instead of judgment. That’s not optional—it’s the mandate of Christ.
Maina:
What do you hope young readers take away from your book?
Troy:
I want them to see themselves.
Everyone has a skid row. It might not be homelessness—it could be anxiety, addiction, burnout, shame, or disappointment. A place where life didn’t turn out the way you expected.
This book isn’t meant to be read quickly and put down. It’s a working read. It asks you to engage, reflect, and be honest. Healing requires participation.
You don’t have to share my story to find yourself in it. You just have to be willing to tell the truth about where you are.
Maina:
You use the phrase “turn into the skid.” What does that mean spiritually?
Troy:
When you’re driving and your car hits a skid, you’re taught not to panic or pull away—you turn into it. That always stayed with me.
In life, when things fall apart, we do the opposite. We avoid, numb, distract, and perform. But the way through is actually inward.
Faith doesn’t help us escape reality—it gives us courage to face it. When we turn into the skid, we invite God into the mess instead of pretending it isn’t there.
Maina:
You’ve led organizations as a CEO. What did leadership teach you about faith?
Troy:
True leadership is servanthood.
Jesus didn’t lead by control or status—He led by proximity. He invested deeply in people and empowered them to carry the mission forward.
Too often, leadership in our culture is about being served. But the gospel flips that model upside down. Leadership should heal communities, not exploit them. When leaders forget that, imbalance follows—whether in business, ministry, or society.
Maina:
Seven years is a long time to feel stuck. How did you know you were finally moving forward?
Troy:
I realized I couldn’t do it alone.
Independence is celebrated, but isolation is dangerous. Scripture tells us two are better than one for a reason. Healing happens in connection.
When systems are broken—whether it’s mental health, homelessness, or injustice—you’ll always find division. Agreement creates movement. Community creates momentum.
Maina:
Looking back now, is this the life you imagined for yourself?
Troy:
Not at all. I thought I’d be a cartoonist.
I still draw. That creative part of me never left—it just waited. I’m actually working on a children’s book now called Randy the Red Ant’s Road to Redemption. It’s my story told through illustrations.
I’ve learned that calling isn’t cancelled—it evolves. God doesn’t waste any part of us.
Maina:
So there’s still time?
Troy:
Always.