It's gotta be the right thing to do. I mean, it's gotta be. We come here every Sunday. Mama seems to like it and everybody's here. I wish Dad would come. If he doesn't come it's not that important right? Well, he never stopped me and Mama from coming so he must be cool with it. Plus Mama told me if I wanna go down there it's fine with her. We talked about it and I get it, I think. So....they're gonna ask me do I believe Jesus died and rose; I believe that. And that's it, right? Grammie and Grandaddy down there too, so if anything happens I'm straight. Wait...I do believe in Jesus, right? And He did die for me? Hold up...me? Back in them days? How did He know me back then? And it was for my sins, right? Is that for what Mama gets mad at me for? He had to die for that? Uhhh.....ok, I'm going down there.
- Terrance Jones, circa 1987
Melicer is en route to establishing herself as her own category in culinary arts. The only other people who have done that are my grandmothers; but my wife is well on her way. And while enjoying one of her rib eye steak and mixed vegetable dinners, we took in some of the news in our wonderful home. The television almost never catches my full attention when dining on the scrumptious, but two days ago it did. I raised my eyes and put down my knife and fork to listen to a story that Melicer had already heard a little about. A man in Spotsylvania mistakenly killed himself by shooting himself in the hip. On just a simple trip to the grocery store to return a rented movie, while in the company of his wife and children, he reached down to unbuckle his seat belt and instead of hitting the button he pulled the trigger on his Glock 40; discharging the bullet. His wife, who went to return the movie came back to the aftermath of the incident, but his children saw it. He was pronounced dead shortly after making it to the hospital. This story of carelessness to some was the base of praise for me.
I used to be a believer of lies. Around the late 1990s to the turn of the century I immersed myself in a lifestyle that was not endorsed or displayed by any member of my family. The choices I made were the product of my perception of my surroundings, the thoughts that formed from these perceptions, and the words that came out of my mouth. To that end, the lies I embraced led me to believe I was the evident black sheep of my clan, that my life was worthless, and that God neither loved nor cared for me. The components of this lifestyle were obvious: consistent drug and alcohol use, reducing women to disposable objects, and weapons. And I had a few [weapons] that I convinced myself I needed to own. And while I was wise enough to know that you don't pull it out unless you plan to fire, I thought I was prepared to live by that philosophy. I came close to getting my chance.
One night in those times, riding completely intoxicated in Eastern Henrico, I was briefly stopped by some individuals who were lie-believers like me. While they didn't hold me to a stopping point, I felt threatened. Along with that, I wanted to return down that street for a rendezvous with a girl I acquainted nearby. And I figured that my return down that same path would offend the others, and I may have to bang with them. Assuming the consequences, I reached under my seat to grab my Lorcin 9mm pistol to put it in my jeans. As I shoved the weapon between my belt and my left hip, I was startled by a loud boom--followed by a warm, wet feeling on my upper thigh. I was too high and drunk to feel the effect of the gold-tip bullet go through my flesh; and I was also smart enough to call 911 (fortunately the weapon was legal and in my name). The police, my friends, and me laughed at the incident. Meanwhile, my parents worried and wondered.
Astoundingly enough, the same wound that killed that husband and father in Spotsylvania, who had everything to lose and leave behind, didn't kill me ll years ago; when I was totally opposed to anything right and of worth. Even after that incident I slow-walked coming to the Christ I had professed believing in at 9 years of age. And while today I can honestly say I'm moving forward, that's only recent progress. The majority of my life was pure covering on God's part; accompanied with very little action from me. Still, looking at that television and hearing that reporter I was captured in silence; mystified that while I was a sinner, pround and active, Jesus' sacrifice saved me without me even knowing I was close to death (Romans 5:6-10). I know that's ultra-cliche', but it's real. And some people may tell you different, but as far as I'm concerned a child can believe with a child's intellect in Jesus and who He is, and it can save his wrecked, ignorant, and troublesome adult life. Of course this doesn't mean that if you say you're a Believer you can do anything your carnal mind desires; but it does mean there is incredible power in the name of Jesus--and it's affective all the time. I can only imagine which foolish incident would have secured me to hell if I didn't confess Christ as a kid.
If you've never accepted the free gift of Jesus Christ...today is your day...
Peace
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