“Therefore if any man [be] in Christ, [he is] a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” II Corinthians 5:17. 

 

South Side (Jeremiah 1:5.)

 

I was the eighth and last child born, as some would say, out of season! Ophelia, my older sister, was the “last child,” or so they thought, for 12 years! Then I came, the last and fourth son of Daisy, who raised me single-handedly, with occasional help from my older sisters. My father was not a part of my life till I sought him out later in my adult years and put a closure to years of questions and bitterness.

 

The rough side of Chicago is what I called home, growing up on welfare, but this fact did not stop my young mind and heart from dreaming and aspiring. From an early age I showed potential to the makings of a professional basketball player, and my coaches drove me to passionate depths for this sport. This passion paid off in the form of a scholarship to one of the best private colleges in the state of Iowa.

 

Black and White (I Samuel 16:7.)

 

Prior to my college life, my interaction with the white population was minimal, and only out of necessity. I had read little on the slavery and subjugation of the black population, so my opinions and values were based on what was handed down to me by my people. The college that sponsored me was an all-white school, with only three black enrollments prior to my enrollment. Here I was again seemingly out of place; I say seemingly, because it would be realized later that it was part of a plan. 

 

As is often the case, young people are formidable forces when energies are channeled right, and very destructive when the opposite is true. While attending this college, I began to take note of some obvious disturbing observations. This led me to a search that would have been disastrous had not intervention stepped in. My college years were years of an intense internal struggle. I was driven by a desire to excel, not I alone, but with my black kindred. Marxism, Socialism, Zaoism, Taoism, Confucianism, Black Panther(ism), Pan-Africanism and most every other -ism began to run my life. 

 

At about this time, racial tension was rife in the air, and my passions were right there with it. I had two driving passions: 1) to make it “big” in professional basketball, and 2) to free the black population from the stigma that had followed it for hundreds of years. I saw issues through “black and white” glasses, black being right and white being wrong. 

 

It begs to be mentioned that Christianity was coupled right along with the ills of the white man’s world. I saw it (Christianity) as a tool to subjugate and oppress the black man, conclusions I drew after reading writers who perpetuated this theorem. 

 

Scouts were out as usual looking for draftees, and the NBA was not the only agency looking. The Vietnam War was brooding in the horizon, and some young patriots were needed. The former I gladly anticipated, but the army was not a part of my plans at that time. I was a young man with hot blood flowing through my arteries, ready to conquer it all. My health was good, apart from an irritating annoyance of some painful knees I had had from the age of 17. The pains intensified, and the doctors might as well have given me a death sentence when they told me that I was suffering from the number one crippling disease in America—arthritis! They also told me that there was no known cure. However devastating that unwelcome news was, I knew of one thing. I was determined to beat the pain, so I did all that I could to control the pain. I even used various nonprescription drugs so that I could play. The condition was so debilitating that I received the highest rejection from the army: four F. Through the pain and the struggle, I watched as, one by one, my dreams faded away to a land beyond my reach! With my pro basketball career prematurely halted, I slipped into depression for a time.

 

Absent God (Proverbs 22:6.)

 

A mother’s words and pleadings may appear forgotten for a season, but they have a way of showing up when needed the most. Raised in a Baptist home, my mother often talked about God and His power. All along, I actually believed that He existed, but He was not interested in the plight of black people. I picked up an old Bible and began to thumb through it. What began as a casual perusal led to some life-changing choices. Hope revived, and I started back on my other dream of elevating my down-trodden people—blacks. I sought to do this by establishing centers that would lift the black man socially, mentally and economically to a sense of independence and self-sufficiency. Once again my vision was black, for blacks, by blacks. 

 

The word of God has power to change a person. As I continued to study it for answers to life’s problems, I surprisingly found out that man’s health questions have their answers in the same book! I was in for a spiritual as well as a physical journey. My battle with arthritis was about to find its answers—physical as well as spiritual arthritis, the calcification of the heart and joints. 

 

Ballot, Bullet, Basketball, or Gospel (Romans 1:16.)

 

While listening to preachers is important and most assuredly needed, every individual must possess a “Berean spirit.” Up to this point, most of my values and beliefs were formed from mob and sometimes prejudiced mentalities. As I read the Bible for myself and had the Holy Spirit for its expositor, my ten-year battle with crippling arthritis came to an end by simply adhering to health principles taught in the word of God! I also came across overwhelming truths that really shook some wrong foundations that needed tearing down anyway.

 

God was no longer a white man’s God. One story in particular that left a deep softening and change of heart was that of Jesus and Barabbas, as found in the four gospels of the Bible. (See John 18:39, 40.) Briefly recounted, here was Jesus before a people for whom He had done nothing but good to elevate. His hands had daily fed, healed, soothed and touched even the untouchables, yet the cry that came out of their mouths at His time of need was not “Have mercy,” but “Crucify Him.” On the flip, here was Barabbas, a hardened criminal who thought to liberate by stealing, killing, and lying. He performed some of the most heinous crimes. His hands were stained with blood from all the evil done, and the response of, “Release him!” to the question, “Whom shall I release?” is enough to tear at the most calloused of hearts! To my now changing heart, this scenario is unfathomable.

 

I saw in these two men, both revolutionists, the thing that I was trying to bring about to my own society: a revolution. One sought it (revolution) through the language of love; the other through force. From this story, I gleaned one principle. Love is the only power that could bring about true change, heart change. Love is the revolutionary power that works at the heart. Man’s problem is not a skin problem but a sin problem. Love was and is the conquering force that brings about any lasting positive change. The Gospel, as Romans 1:16 states, is the power that changes the heart. It is not the ballot, the bullet or basketball, but the Gospel as it is in Jesus. That power changed my life.

 

 

A Home and a Divine Appointment (John 1:6.)

 

1977 rolled in, and with it more changes. It saw my lovely wife and me go through three American states, north to south, in our quest for what we thought God wanted us to do. This journey finally ended in the state of Tennessee.

 

In Huntsville, Alabama, a blueprint was laid down. A training school was in its beginning stages when a man, an ordinary man, came knocking on my door one day. He was interested in our home, which happened to be among some of the best homes in the city of Huntsville. His visits continued, and a friendship developed that led to a series of exciting changes. 

 

What began as a business interest from one end turned out to be a divine appointment on the other end. God sent a man, Richard Bland, the founder and president of United Prison Ministries International (UPMI). Richard took me under his wing and gently but purposefully led me into the Seventh-day Adventist faith through the reading material he gave me and by watching his lifestyle. True are the inspired words that “a well-ordered life will have a powerful influence for good.” Spalding and Magan’s Unpublished Testimonies, 114. He became a father-figure to me, and showed me the love of God in the flesh. 

 

Having been born into a Baptist home, educated in a Catholic school, ordained as a lay Lutheran minister, and having directed a Methodist community organization, a pattern can be observed here, a common thread. I had been searching after and for truth. The things I was studying and learning under Richard were truly strange, yet true. I could not argue with the truth as it stared me straight in the face. With this new awakening, tough decisions needed to be made. I knew what I was studying was the truth, and so I wanted to share these wonderful truths with my queen. I excitedly told her of what I was learning and embracing. LaVerne, who today is my bride of 36 years, did not share in my enthusiasm and what she termed “strange beliefs.”

 

Is This It? (Joshua 24:15.)

 

She had begun to mark the changes, and she was sure I was losing my mind, but when I announced to her that I was going to profess my faith by the sign of baptism, she put out an ultimatum. “If you go ahead with these crazy ideas, then I will divorce you!” Those words shook me to the core because I loved my wife, and so I sought the Lord in prayer, and He gave me courage to stand for Him. It is then that I knew that my heart and priorities had changed. With fear and trepidation I made my choice. For, you see, I knew that a marriage without God would fail. I had grown to love Jesus, and I wanted to do all that He asked of me.

I prayed earnestly for my wife, and the God who made the ear heard my strong supplications and brought about change in my wife’s heart! Praise God! One warm Alabama spring morning, my wife and I were buried in the watery grave and rose up new creatures in Christ. That was a glorious day. That was 31 years ago, and the journey grows sweeter with each new year. As I meditated on the love of God, it suddenly dawned on me that I had a debt that I owed. “Oh that men would praise the Lord for His goodness and for His wonderful works to the children of men!” Psalm 107:8. It was not the sin debt, because I could never pay for that one—Jesus did it for me—but a service debt. I’ll put it this way: “I owe, I owe, and off to the mission field I go.”

 

3 (Dis) Appointments to (His) Appointments (Romans 8:28.)

 

It’s been 20 years now. God has been with us in the mission field. He founded M.E.E.T. Ministry (1988) on what may have looked like a poor man with a passion to point others to the Helper, but in truth He established it on His shoulders, and for these many years He has steered it aright. My wife and I have been entrusted as stewards of M.E.E.T. Ministry (Missionary Education and Evangelistic Training) where many (young and old) have had encounters with the Gospel through the medical missionary training and work. What may have seemed to be disappointments earlier on in my life, crippling arthritis, premature ending of a professional basketball career, and nonstarter for black empowerment schools were really God’s appointments to lead me on to the path of truth and righteousness. Many more chapters could be written telling how He has led us, but for now, this, I pray, will suffice.

 

All my previous energies and passions, and that which I still have, have been channeled to loving and serving my Savior for over 30 years. I have traded a basketball for a Bible, and instead of going up and down a basketball court, God has allowed my wife and me the privilege of going up and down the earth’s court to spread the everlasting Gospel of Jesus Christ, and the retirement is out of this world. With the hymn writer [Fanny J. Crosby] I end with these words:

 

This is my story,

This is my song,

Praising my Savior …

Because of His Blessed Assurance!