My enemies stiffen as I casually stroll into their camp, alone. I ask for that which they have taken away from me. My words are soft and quiet, yet they are a veiled threat, the quiet predeeding the storm. My request is met with resistance, which is what I expected. I slowly remove my whetted sword.
My enimies lie stiff and in peices at my feet as I causally stroll out of their camp. Their leader, satan, glares at me with a face full of hatred, anger, and death. His blood soaked eyes asking "why did I let him live, why"? Without giving him a second glance I reply to him..."You are not my kill".
Friday, November 20, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Dream Spy
Chills run down my back and shoulders while I am seated under the AC vent. I shudder as Louis Armstrong's worker drones scurry mindlessly around me cleaning that which is perfect already, and she comes to mind. I see her clearly curled up in a little ball reading a book all alone. Suddenly she's startled and staring into my eyes. That blush and smile is replaced with a thousand yard stare. She shrugs and keeps reading but is distracted because I have invaded her thoughts...she remembers, as if from a dream, me sitting in the airport and then suddenly staring into her eyes...I shudder from the cold.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Ties That Bind
The ties that bind the soul and mind cannot be understood,
The mind that binds the soul with ties, is eternally divine,
Exists beyond the reach of time, a petrified piece of wood,
To find the time to bond and tie, every father should.
Author: Rynal Grant
The mind that binds the soul with ties, is eternally divine,
Exists beyond the reach of time, a petrified piece of wood,
To find the time to bond and tie, every father should.
Author: Rynal Grant
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
I Remember
I remember where I was on 9/11/01 (in Bible College, going to work) and that morning came alive to me all over again. I remembered the fear, the anger, the pride, and the resolve that washed over me. I was a student minister, but the Marine in me wanted to go back and smack some terrorists around.
I looked to God for guidence. Should shelve the work og God and go and fight? God didn't answer me directly on this. Instead when I would think about going back, I felt His restraints. I felt Him goading me to stay the course. Rather than fight God, I finally settled on this one thing: If the USMC called me back, I'm packing up and I'm going back to fight. If not, then I'd stay the course.
That was 8yrs ago. The USMC never called. I stayed the course.
I support our cause by fighting, not as a Marine, but as an ambassodor for Christ. I prayed (then and now) for our troops, for our country, and for our president. My prayer is, that they will all come to know God as I have. To know his love for them, His faith in them, and dedication to them. God bless our country, our troops, and our leadership.
I looked to God for guidence. Should shelve the work og God and go and fight? God didn't answer me directly on this. Instead when I would think about going back, I felt His restraints. I felt Him goading me to stay the course. Rather than fight God, I finally settled on this one thing: If the USMC called me back, I'm packing up and I'm going back to fight. If not, then I'd stay the course.
That was 8yrs ago. The USMC never called. I stayed the course.
I support our cause by fighting, not as a Marine, but as an ambassodor for Christ. I prayed (then and now) for our troops, for our country, and for our president. My prayer is, that they will all come to know God as I have. To know his love for them, His faith in them, and dedication to them. God bless our country, our troops, and our leadership.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Ballerina On A Sea Of Red
Ballerina On A Sea Of Red
What could you have been?
A mother putting her beloved to bed
Placing a kiss upon their heads
Slipping silently into their dreams.
Oh my darling, darling child
Had death only waited awhile
To let you walk another mile
To escape the treachery of the vile
Alas never more to smile
The Great Eternal one to see
There could never a word be said
The hurt the anger and the dread
Forever engraved upon my head
‘Til I rest upon my eternal bed
oh ballerina on a sea of red
Dance no more for me.
What could you have been?
A mother putting her beloved to bed
Placing a kiss upon their heads
Slipping silently into their dreams.
Oh my darling, darling child
Had death only waited awhile
To let you walk another mile
To escape the treachery of the vile
Alas never more to smile
The Great Eternal one to see
There could never a word be said
The hurt the anger and the dread
Forever engraved upon my head
‘Til I rest upon my eternal bed
oh ballerina on a sea of red
Dance no more for me.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Passing Of A Close Aquaintence
Tonight I'm not ranting. Tonight I'm disturbed. Tonight I found out a woman I worked with for a couple months died. Shante (Tay) Epps. She was only a year older than me. I first met her when I moved here to Hattiesburg, MS back in October 2006) at Kohler Engines. I got moved around a little bit and finally I worked beside her. We butt heads at first but eventually we learned to work together until neither of us wanted to work beside anyone else. We were a team. Shortly before I left for a higher paying job, they took Tay away from me and gave me another woman who seemed upset all the time. I missed Tay. Turned out she missed working with me as well.
I worked at my new job for a year and a half. Then I was laid off and worked at Kohler Engines again, as a temp, for another company. I got the opportunity to see her again. She remembered me. We talked a little for the few days I worked there off and on. I invited her out to my church many times. She even said she would come, but that promise never materialized. I worked my last day as a temp at Kohler Engines April 2009.
July 2009, Tay was at an intersection. She had the right of way. The guy on the motorcycle did not. He plowed his motorcycle into her door ending his life and hers. It never occured to me that from the time I met her, I had only 2 1/2yrs to impact her for God. After the disagreements, the laughs, seeing each other day after day, that the clock was quickly ticking. I don't even know how much time I have left. Oh the things I would have done differently had I only known 2009 would be her last year upon the face of this earth. Lord, have mercy on me and help me to work in concert with you and to always follow the lead of the Holy Ghost, that I may be a blessing to those held captive by the enemy of their souls.
I worked at my new job for a year and a half. Then I was laid off and worked at Kohler Engines again, as a temp, for another company. I got the opportunity to see her again. She remembered me. We talked a little for the few days I worked there off and on. I invited her out to my church many times. She even said she would come, but that promise never materialized. I worked my last day as a temp at Kohler Engines April 2009.
July 2009, Tay was at an intersection. She had the right of way. The guy on the motorcycle did not. He plowed his motorcycle into her door ending his life and hers. It never occured to me that from the time I met her, I had only 2 1/2yrs to impact her for God. After the disagreements, the laughs, seeing each other day after day, that the clock was quickly ticking. I don't even know how much time I have left. Oh the things I would have done differently had I only known 2009 would be her last year upon the face of this earth. Lord, have mercy on me and help me to work in concert with you and to always follow the lead of the Holy Ghost, that I may be a blessing to those held captive by the enemy of their souls.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Mental Scars
You know, no one likes to be picked on. No one likes to be made fun of. (There is nothing like making your point twice in the first paragraph. I could totally end this rant right here if I chose to…booyah!) I know what it’s like to be picked on. At the same time I know what it is like to pick on other people. But it is different when it is you.
I’ve been black all my life. Unless I develop vitiligo, I suspect that won’t change. Point is this, I’m not just black. I’m very black. Not blue. Not purple. Not blurple. But I am darker than the average bear. Kids in their cruelty have no problem telling you this. There is nothing wrong with being black. However I’ve noticed things in our society I’ll bring up later. Things that have filtered down through the years that simply isn’t true.
As a child growing up in South Carolina, I was the butt of many black jokes and taunts. At school was the worse. Children are merciless. The worse year I had in school was 3rd grade. It seemed like that particular group of kids was the liveliest. From this group I developed insecurities with my skin color and my ability to make friends. I was an outcast the whole year. To add insult to injury, I had a teacher that had a personal dislike for me. So, the taunts were ended so she could continue teaching, not because she cared. To this day, I hate the 3rd grade. I feel this way simply because I have little to no good memories about it. Just being honest.
Now, I go home. At home there is food, water, and shelter. Sympathy for the bullying at school was nowhere to be found. In fact what I did find was a curious thing. My own family made fun of me because of my dark skin. I remember times hating being born black. What? You want me to lie? I hated it. I even wanted my skin to at least be lighter. That way I wouldn’t have to be like *Vua Rapun, and stand among the shamed ones.
(Vua Rapun is a Star Wars character. He was a noble solider in the Yuzong Vong race whose implants were manipulated to fail. When this happens to a Vong, his whole race disowns him because they believe that the gods hate him. He is then numbered among “the shamed ones”.)
It is also because of this that I discovered that I could not hang out with black people. I got along better with the white kids (this would continue into my adult life). To them, we’re all black. They never made fun of me (not to my face) because I was black. In fact I made and befriended one kid named Tim. We became like salt and pepper around school. With him, I felt considerably normal. We were friends from 4th grade until 7th when I moved away. There was an interesting occurrence in the fifth grade. We went on a field trip to a historic battle sight in Charleston, Fort Sumter. At this time I primarily hung out with the white kids. On the way there we sat in the back. Someone brought wrestling magazines. A certain girl’s uncle chaperoned her on this “eventful” trip. Yes, they were white. While looking at the different wrestlers, I remember pointing at “Sting” and saying, that’s me. I wanted to have big muscles like he did (in his early wrestling days, I might add). Then I heard this uncle say: “You’re not white. I know you wish you were white but you’re not”. Those words were so embarrassing to me and to everyone who heard him. I looked and all of the white kids hung their heads and everyone had that uncomfortable look and posture. No one said anything. I wanted to explode as I sat there holding yet another scar for life.
All of these things and many other things carried over into my adult life. Salvation cured much of it. But still no one likes to be picked on. So when you come up to me to tell me your black joke, consider some things:
1), I’ve already heard it.
2) If I do not laugh, it’s not because your joke is not funny, I just didn’t find it funny at the time.
3) I just may have something more interesting to talk about than the color of my skin.
I know, I know…they that love the Lord, nothing shall offend them (Psalm 119:165). If this is your basis for making fun of me then maybe you should rethink your position. I was riding with a friend who is white. He told me he was glad to move from a “certain” place. Everybody had a redneck joke for him. He got so sick of it. While he sat there and expressed his annoyance I had thoughts of my own. I told him, you just articulated how I feel about black jokes. Some are funny to be sure. But telling a black man black jokes won’t endear him to your heart anymore than telling a fat man a fat joke. Or a redneck a redneck joke.
My diagnosis is this. Don’t stop telling jokes. Just realize that it may or may not be welcome. And from one comedian to another, “Timing is everything.”
I’ve been black all my life. Unless I develop vitiligo, I suspect that won’t change. Point is this, I’m not just black. I’m very black. Not blue. Not purple. Not blurple. But I am darker than the average bear. Kids in their cruelty have no problem telling you this. There is nothing wrong with being black. However I’ve noticed things in our society I’ll bring up later. Things that have filtered down through the years that simply isn’t true.
As a child growing up in South Carolina, I was the butt of many black jokes and taunts. At school was the worse. Children are merciless. The worse year I had in school was 3rd grade. It seemed like that particular group of kids was the liveliest. From this group I developed insecurities with my skin color and my ability to make friends. I was an outcast the whole year. To add insult to injury, I had a teacher that had a personal dislike for me. So, the taunts were ended so she could continue teaching, not because she cared. To this day, I hate the 3rd grade. I feel this way simply because I have little to no good memories about it. Just being honest.
Now, I go home. At home there is food, water, and shelter. Sympathy for the bullying at school was nowhere to be found. In fact what I did find was a curious thing. My own family made fun of me because of my dark skin. I remember times hating being born black. What? You want me to lie? I hated it. I even wanted my skin to at least be lighter. That way I wouldn’t have to be like *Vua Rapun, and stand among the shamed ones.
(Vua Rapun is a Star Wars character. He was a noble solider in the Yuzong Vong race whose implants were manipulated to fail. When this happens to a Vong, his whole race disowns him because they believe that the gods hate him. He is then numbered among “the shamed ones”.)
It is also because of this that I discovered that I could not hang out with black people. I got along better with the white kids (this would continue into my adult life). To them, we’re all black. They never made fun of me (not to my face) because I was black. In fact I made and befriended one kid named Tim. We became like salt and pepper around school. With him, I felt considerably normal. We were friends from 4th grade until 7th when I moved away. There was an interesting occurrence in the fifth grade. We went on a field trip to a historic battle sight in Charleston, Fort Sumter. At this time I primarily hung out with the white kids. On the way there we sat in the back. Someone brought wrestling magazines. A certain girl’s uncle chaperoned her on this “eventful” trip. Yes, they were white. While looking at the different wrestlers, I remember pointing at “Sting” and saying, that’s me. I wanted to have big muscles like he did (in his early wrestling days, I might add). Then I heard this uncle say: “You’re not white. I know you wish you were white but you’re not”. Those words were so embarrassing to me and to everyone who heard him. I looked and all of the white kids hung their heads and everyone had that uncomfortable look and posture. No one said anything. I wanted to explode as I sat there holding yet another scar for life.
All of these things and many other things carried over into my adult life. Salvation cured much of it. But still no one likes to be picked on. So when you come up to me to tell me your black joke, consider some things:
1), I’ve already heard it.
2) If I do not laugh, it’s not because your joke is not funny, I just didn’t find it funny at the time.
3) I just may have something more interesting to talk about than the color of my skin.
I know, I know…they that love the Lord, nothing shall offend them (Psalm 119:165). If this is your basis for making fun of me then maybe you should rethink your position. I was riding with a friend who is white. He told me he was glad to move from a “certain” place. Everybody had a redneck joke for him. He got so sick of it. While he sat there and expressed his annoyance I had thoughts of my own. I told him, you just articulated how I feel about black jokes. Some are funny to be sure. But telling a black man black jokes won’t endear him to your heart anymore than telling a fat man a fat joke. Or a redneck a redneck joke.
My diagnosis is this. Don’t stop telling jokes. Just realize that it may or may not be welcome. And from one comedian to another, “Timing is everything.”
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