The Gangster Life

So I was 14 when I recommitted my life to God. Still a child by definition, but old in some regards. Growing up, Grandma tried to cheat me out of myself, kind of like the military does with soldiers in boot camp - reprogrammed to follow orders. She wanted to kill my ability to think independently. I understood what she required. Played along until she’d get a rise out of me, and it was on. I couldn’t help fighting back. My spirit was all I had. I hung onto it for dear life. We were dirt poor but somehow survived. Grandma took meager savings family gave her and lent money for interest. Guess you can call it loan sharking.

Grandma and I went out on a job one night. This guy needed a loan. The building had no elevator so we walked up five flights. Already at age eight, I had keen instincts from everything we’d been through. I rehearsed a mental plan in case we ran into trouble. Run. The door opened and a Dominican fresco smiled in Fruit of the Loom underwear. Friendly enough. His girlfriend stood behind him in a thong wearing a sheer baby doll. She came over and smiled. I gotta admit, I hesitated. Never seen customers like this in all my life. Grandma flinched for a sec. He motioned us in, heading into the bedroom for some clothes.

The apartment didn’t smell like it was lived in, no food scents, detergents or fragrant candles filled the air. The place felt empty, without the usual collection of ornaments families gather from shopping sprees or travel souvenirs. When he returned to us, he told his story. Explained why he needed the cash. I relaxed knowing he wouldn’t harm us. It was stressful work but I developed a sixth sense, learned to read cracks on the wall. We made the deal and made money off the transaction that night.

But the kicker was, it took 20 years before I realized my relationship with God felt a lot like that empty apartment. I was empty inside because I fought my heavenly Father, just like I had fought my Grandmother when growing up. Somehow felt God was cheating me out of myself if I surrendered everything. Thought giving my heart would be good enough until God caught me one night, pondering my miserable state. I wasn’t happy. My life played before me like a movie trailer and I understood that’s not how God wanted things between us. He is a living, breathing, personal God. A full time God. He requires first place in our lives for the relationship to work. Not just an occasional Bible reading while it mostly collects dust on a mantel. Or church on Easter. Can’t meet Him on our terms. The day I surrendered, was the day I experienced life.  Jesus is the Truth, the Way and the Life.