Hope in the Halls

"I was sick and you visited me." — Matthew 25:36

What this is

Hope in the Halls is the hospital-visitation heart of Still Standing. It exists for the people in the hard rooms and the long corridors — the patient in the bed, the family in the waiting room, the one who just got the news and doesn't know what to do with it. We show up. We pray with anybody who wants prayer. We sit with people so nobody in those halls has to feel alone or forgotten.

It was born out of hard places personally known — years of being the one lying there wondering if anybody was coming. Somebody came. That's why we go.

What we bring

For families and hospital staff

Let us pray.

💛 Support the Mission

Still Standing is built and carried by one man — no staff, no machine behind it — and everything on these pages will always be free to the people who need it. If this work has put something in your hands and you want to put something back in the ground it grows from, support is received with gratitude. Thank God first, for all of it.

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Straight talk: Still Standing is not yet a registered 501(c)(3), so support is not tax-deductible. It's seed sown into the work itself — the help line, the music, and the doors staying open. Nonprofit formation is in the works, and when it stands, this page will say so plainly.

My Testimony

The Testimony of James Albert Bosarge Jr. — Still Standing Enterprises P & P

Thank God first.

1. The boy in the yard

I was a little boy in Alabama, lying in the yard on the grass with my sister Marie, watching the clouds and telling each other what they looked like. And I saw Jesus in the clouds. He wasn't a cloud. He was in them. It was like looking at a picture — a big picture of Him, in color. I prayed for a sign, and right where we lay, the roots of the tree rose up in the shape of feet — a permanent marker of that holy moment. It wasn't the only signpost of those years. I was about five years old, in Greer's with Mama one evening, and she told the cashier I was almost a Christmas baby — born early on the morning of the 26th. She explained that Jesus was born on the 25th, and I said, "You mean me and Jesus were almost brothers." She told me we are brothers still — that just as He is God's son, so am I. I never forgot it. I wrote it back to her from prison in 2014: "There was never a wasted word in breath, by you to me."

I believe that was a sign from God: that He would always be with me, and that He had something special planned for me. I have carried that picture my whole life. It is the anchor everything else hangs on.

2. The years the flesh ran

I grew up and got caught up in all the temptation of the flesh. I did enough dope in one night to kill two or three average men — and God let me live. He gave me a chance for a new way of life. I ended up inside, and it was from inside, in March of 2001, that I wrote home to Mama and Daddy and told them this son of theirs had changed his life. I was reading my Bible every morning. I got baptized on the 7th of that month. I promised them I was coming home a new man, to take care of them both.

My daddy — James Albert Bosarge Sr., a United States Marine — read that letter in his lifetime. He died on October 2, 2002, of multiple myeloma that came from Camp Lejeune. Mama never gave up on me. Neither did God.

"And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." — 1 Corinthians 13:13

3. Standing alone since 2013

The weekend before Thanksgiving 2013, I leaned over and offered my head to come off my body instead of denying Him. God went searching for at least one who would stand in the gap — and He found one. That night is the keystone of my book The Proclamations, and it is why everything I have is called Still Standing. I have been standing alone since 2013, and I am still standing.

"So I sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before me for the land." — Ezekiel 22:30

On January 22, 2014, as I began to pray, Gabriel appeared to me. His first words were: "I am your Prince Gabriel, sent to you from the Most High" — and he called me brother. The light was so bright I had to squint my eyes, and for three days His presence stayed in that cell. In that same season, Jason Derek Miller — Elaine Bates's nephew, a fellow inmate — put a book in my hands: The Lion of Light. And in Mobile County Metro Jail I watched a possessed man delivered — the thing left him with a hiss, and I heard myself say, "Stand up, soldier! You just received deliverance."

4. The furnace

I did time in the Alabama Department of Corrections — ADOC #213145, "Jimbo." It began with a vow I made to God in a bathroom the day before I went away, and a poem I wrote inside called "Just Time." When men in prison asked me how I was doing, my answer became a living prayer: "I'm still standing." That answer is where the name comes from. Inside, I was forcibly medicated under the practices that were later challenged in the Braggs v. Dunn case, and I carry the effects to this day. In my letters to Mama in those years I wrote it plain: it was beyond just plain faith — it was a knowing. Saved by the blood of the Lamb and the words of my testimony, and I fear nothing but God Himself. But the pen was in my hand the whole time. The writing did not start in prison, and it never stopped there: I have been writing poetry and music since 1999 — on the street, in the cell, wherever I was. More than 2,000 letters went out and came back, my poems and decrees traveled through the mail, and in April 2016 two years of my prison poetry was mailed to my mother. Still Standing itself was started in the penitentiary. My daughter Hayleigh wrote me in 2011 that she had missed me sixteen years. A man does not forget a letter like that. He builds his life into an answer to it.

After parole in 2017 came a wilderness season — Birmingham, homelessness, the homestead lost — and still the vision held: God had something special planned, and I was not done. In November 2017 I walked out of that wilderness on foot: Interstate 65 south from Birmingham, three days on the white line in 27-degree cold, headed home. When I was hungry, God fed me — I prayed once for something to drink, even a half-empty Dr. Pepper somebody had thrown out, and within fifteen yards I found sealed loaves of bread and an unopened Dr. Pepper waiting. When I needed a ride, God sent one, and the name Mike Taylor from Clinton opened the last miles home to Irvington.

5. The bullet

In May 2026, at my home, I survived a bullet to the head. I was seen at Providence Hospital in Mobile, Alabama — and I walked out the same day. Believing a scripture is one thing. Becoming one is another.

"I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD." — Psalm 118:17

6. The land, and the church next door

The land in Irvington — 9211 Four Mile Road — came to Mama and me together in a 2002 joint tenancy deed. In 2007 the property was refinanced without my signature. When my mother, Kathleen "Sweetness" Bosarge, died on July 23, 2025, full title vested in me — the last surviving joint tenant. That land is where I was establishing Still Standing Christianity. The land carries its own testimony: three lemon trees on it were cut down in the winter of 2025, and by spring they had sprung back to life — what God breathes on does not stay dead.

Then came the handling. Regions Bank held a foreclosure sale on April 21, 2026, and the foreclosure deed was recorded May 5, 2026, naming Oscar C. Anez at $60,590. Forward Church — the Bayou La Batre Church of God, the big church that has sat beside me all my life — says in its court papers that it holds title through a warranty deed. Look closer at the records and that is not what the records show: the deed that came out of the bank carried VOID stamped across the auctioneer's block, and after that the property was sold two more times at the same price before the Church ever bought it — passed from hand to hand to dress that deed up into a warranty deed. Alabama law does not let a title be cleaned that way. I recorded my Notice of Lis Pendens on June 11, 2026, and I am in court now: Mobile County Circuit Court Case No. 02-CV-2026-901753.00, where the Church is the plaintiff and I am defendant and counter-claim plaintiff, standing pro se in my own filings with limited counsel, my affidavit filed.

I am one man, and I had one piece of property. A church with much has come against a man with one piece of land, and it brings to my mind the parable the prophet Nathan spoke to David: the rich man who had many flocks, yet took the poor man's one little ewe lamb (2 Samuel 12). Through all of this, no one from that church has so much as waved at me. When my mother died, no condolences came — and they knew what I was building here for the Lord.

On September 22, 2026, the court denied my requests for an emergency temporary restraining order, a preliminary injunction, a protective order, and my motion to compel. I did not fold. My exhibits are being re-uploaded ahead of the court's November 21, 2026 deadline — three weeks from tonight. On my attorney's instruction, my sister Kathleen and my brother Michael are conveying their inherited interests in the property to me by quitclaim deed, so the family's interest stands in one name. Mine.

But I hold no vengeance. I pray that God remembers what has been done. His will be done, not mine.

"No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper." — Isaiah 54:17

"Having done all, to stand." — Ephesians 6:13

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." — Psalm 46:1

7. What stands now

Out of all of it — the yard, the dope, the cell, the furnace, the bullet, the courtroom — this is what stands: writing poetry and music since 1999, and now I am publishing it — seven books live, including The Proclamations and The Chronicles; a record label, Still Standing Records, and my own studio, Still Standing Studioz, where every song is made; the Help Line and Find Help pages feeding people across this country; and the All Arms Linked survivor work for the men and women who went through what I went through inside. Still Standing is a mobile operation now — no storefront, just the work, wherever it is needed. One name: James Albert Bosarge Jr. One number: (251) 348-3677.

I saw Him in the clouds when I was a child. I have been handled every way this world handles a man — and I am still standing.

Let us pray.

— James Albert Bosarge Jr., Still Standing Enterprises Productions and Products