A New Year. A New Life.

     Stanley had his first experience with God upon his best friend’s murder. They were seniors in high school and they were two of a kind; when one was around, the other was not far behind. When one was up to no good, the other was rooting him on—neither the least bit concerned about the consequences. They were the same age, yet Stanley looked up to his friend; he saw him as a role model, though the behavior he was modeling was a far cry from what needed to be emulated.

     This one particular day, they disappeared from school after their first class; they were skipping, as usual, just fooling around and dodging unwanted adult supervision. They were ducking in and out of alleys to go unnoticed by the patrolling police cars in the area when one of the neighborhood thugs spotted their activity. The thug had noticed the brand new shoes that Stanley’s best friend was wearing and came into his personal space demanding that he give them up.

     "Why don’t you give me them shoes, kid?" the thug persisted.

     "You didn’t pay for these shoes so I don’t owe you a thing," the friend spoke up.

     The thug responded, "Well, this is my ‘hood. I can make you give them to me if I want to! You don’t know who you’re dealing with."

     "Man, you ain’t about nothing!" the friend insisted, as he and Stanley started to turn and walk away.

     After the best friend’s final refusal came a rapid barrage of fists and blows to his head and stomach. Stanley tried to ward off the thug but was met with a punch in the face in the process. He got dizzy and whirled around face-first to the pavement. The next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sound of sirens and horns. His head was pounding from the hit he received—which he originally thought to have been from a fist, but was soon miffed to discover a bloody brick lying next to his head. This fool tried to kill me over some mess!—Stanley thought to himself. He became instantly aware that the noise was coming from the ambulance that he assumed was hauling his best friend away. A mob of onlookers had gathered to catch a glimpse of the action. Paramedics were at Stanley’s side to revive him; he rolled from his back to his stomach to push himself off the ground. The paramedics helped him off the ground and his vision had focused and targeted his best friend’s mother in the crowd. She was in hysterics from devastation and screaming at the top of her lungs.

     "Why, God, why?! Why have You taken my baby from me?! Why?! I was faithful to You. I was committed to Your Word and Your way. Why have You done this to me?!" she groaned as she slumped to the ground and wept bitterly. Strangers rushed over to her in an effort to offer comfort.

     Why have you taken my baby from me?—Stanley thought to himself through the throbbing of his head. What is she talking about? Oh my God, is Gerald gone? No, it can’t be…it’s not possible. He wobbled around on his rubbery legs with his eyes wavering from side to side. The motions that he was going through were all surreal to him. He couldn’t believe he had been knocked out; he couldn’t believe that his friend’s mother was actually saying that Gerald was gone. That is the most vicious thing I have heard anyone say. Why would his own mother be talking about his death? I must have fallen out of bed or something; I know—I’m going to wake up on the floor and realize I bumped my head and that is why it is pounding. None of this would have really happened.

     Stanley’s breathing accelerated, and it felt like his heart was going to hammer right through his chest. He knew it wasn’t a dream. His throat was now clogged with the pain that was trying to be expressed. But, despite the emotional turmoil he was suffering, he wanted to know what Gerald’s mother was talking about during her rave session.

     Stanley had heard a lot about the God she was referring to. When he would watch television shows and listen to programs on the radio dedicated to this Supreme Being, he often wondered what the hype was about. He had a semi-belief in God, and he knew that the world and its life forms had to come from somewhere—or someone. He knew there had to be something beyond what the eyes can see that was responsible for every little bit of matter in the universe. But he couldn’t understand why, now, his best friend’s mother was ranting and raving at the One whom he had heard her praising many times in the past.

     As Stanley tried to make the contrasting sentiments add up in his mind, he gradually remembered what had happened before he had regained consciousness: a faint whisper almost seemed to crawl through his soul, telling him that he would be okay and that everything was happening the way it was meant to. Calm came over him in the form of the manifestation that was reaching out to him. Stanley just knew that the God he had been hearing so much about was now communicating with him through his spirit. He was having a spiritual awakening. After this miracle was when he had awakened to the unnerving screams of his best friend’s mother.

     The unexplainable feeling that had relieved the pain he was enduring—in contrast to the pain his friend’s mother was experiencing because of, by her account, the Lord—didn’t complement each other. In Stanley’s mind, there was no way the same God who had communicated with him was also the One who was the cause of the grief of the distraught woman. He was now determined to find out more about the Lord and Jesus Christ.