Introduction
Hi. The following chapters are a true account of what became the reason for my pursuit of God.
I wrote this to explain why I am, the way I am; that in the midst of the images, feelings and thoughts which I share with you that you might see yourself and ponder the answers which have now become my hope, knowledge and concrete purpose beyond any and everything else.
Am I radical? Yes, as the sun is hot. Am I mad? Read on and make your own mind up.
Part 1
Party Time
“On arrival I stepped out the car with my friend Patrick (I call him ‘P’) and adopted the ‘confident’ swagger…”
I just can’t get over this place. No matter how many times I visit it will not sink in: fine leathers, beautiful glass décor, inviting colours all situated in grounds bursting with lush shrubbery…Cor-De-Bleu Club and Restaurant, Birmingham (now called Melody’s) may not be synonymous with national and international clubbers but it’s attractiveness, never fails to ensure a packed house at yet another of my friend’s exclusive parties.
On arrival I stepped out the car with my friend Patrick (I call him ‘P’) and adopted the ‘confident’ swagger as I prepared to make my entrance and join the excited revellers. At the door I was hit by a familiar smell; that curious blend of alcohol, colognes, perfumes and smoke against the backdrop of heavy bass (I mean the type you can feel whether you like it or not). The experience was a familiar one and usually excited me, but this time I was not my usual freestyling, carefree, hot-footed dance-till-my-shirt-comes-off self. Come to think of it, things were changing, and I knew it.
Sidetracked Or Changing Paths?
Being a bit confused as to my presence at the club a quick glance at the video camera around my neck promptly issued an emphatic reminder: “…to FILM, stupid!” Still, part of me wondered how long this cycle of behaviour would continue: drinking, smoking, party, home, drinking, smoking, party, home – the wrestling match was becoming tedious.
No one had to tell me drugs weren’t good for me. For six successful months I gave up the weed until it dawned on me: “I don’t want to give up. It’s my release, my fun, for crying out loud it’s my escape!” Maybe a false and costly comfort but a comfort nonetheless…then the day came when I had enough…I remember it well. Sitting in my first ‘home away from home’ (a humble, no frills one-bed hostel in Lozells) I just lit the roll-up and watched it burn, Rizla paper, weed, and roach alike, cremating like a sparkler on Bonfire Night (although not as extravagant and fancy). What a moment of liberation – although at the time I thought I was a little crazy – but these memories were ticking on someone else’s watch so I quickly collected my thoughts, focused, and with a tug straightened my shirt; I had filming to do.
“Looking sharp was the ultimate and absolute must for any party and my self esteem. Might I add the definitive word here is ‘looking.’”
When I wasn’t embarrassing someone by shining my camera’s powerful spotlight in their face I was throwing my arms around School or College friends, plus those I met along the journey of life, throwing in the generic “Hi” to people who only seemed to know me from ‘road’ or ‘clubbing’, (you know what I’m talking about: acquaintances). Otherwise my hands only had love for the camera because drinking had become as mundane as the weed. Before being T-total or (Courvoisier free in my case) nothing came close to my obsession with the Brandy. I had it in everything: hot chocolate, milk, juice, it got silly.
And yet, the drugs were not the source of my joy…it was my attire. Looking sharp was the ultimate and absolute must for any party and my self esteem. Might I add the definitive word here was “looking”. At a push to spend a hundred pounds on a full outfit I ‘looked’ as though I owned three businesses and had just arrived in my own personal helicopter – the broke man, who never ‘looked’ broke, you get me?
My Way
Struggling with my purpose but proud of my image it proved to be an excellent front. I not only perfected what to wear but how to present my thoughts and feelings to others, despite the fragments of heart I still owned after it was shattered through several different relationships. Not one to sleep around I always preferred one woman but that rapidly grew into idolising her above everything, until it became unhealthy for me and completely draining. Having gone through the pain and drama of an “intimate other” I can say in hindsight that my growing up was full of confusion. What was this all about?
God? He was not even on my radar. Religion? Islam never appealed. Sikhs? The only thing I knew of them was Famous Grouse or Bacardi. Buddhism just seemed like a cop out. Christianity? Ridiculous and got on my ‘last’ nerves. I remember Stacey, (a great friend from my days at Bournville College), who was also a Christian. We would always argue. When God entered the conversation I would say: “If God really ‘exists’ than he knows why I don’t believe in him.” The debate usually ended there with me feeling unshakeably confident. Not in an arrogant way because that was never me. It was more of a sincere surety.
I chose to look elsewhere for depth and the answers to life: Toltec volumes by Theun Mares, The Biggest Secret by David Icke, The Holy Tablets from the Holy Tabernacle Movement led by Malachi York, literature on Masonic Lodges, Zen, Alien abduction, Egyptian history and myth, Channelling…the list goes on. All this sprung from questions that I found most people were too embarrassed to ask, never mind discuss! Personally I had been through so many unexplained experiences that disturbed me – I needed help. My fledging life, views on love, and standpoint of logic had many holes and I knew it.
Part 2
My Way (Continued)
“If nothing is after this life than it’s just a sick joke at my expense”
Countless nights I would lay my head feeling empty and vacant, crying on the inside and if I’m honest, on the outside too. Do you know the feeling? You’ve just returned from a night out with everything orchestrated to impress: clothes, lyrics, weed, friends, music, only to retire to your bed thinking: “That was a complete waste of time?” Even when things were going well for me it was only temporary. Call me spoilt if you want but that’s how it was. I determined: “If nothing is after this life than it’s just a sick joke at my expense”.
I See It But I Don’t Get It!
“The whole thing was bizarre.”
In-between my battle to gain an adequate reason for my existence I accepted my sisters invitation to her church in London. She was part of an African church – a massive African church. Don’t get me wrong, my views had not changed and I certainly was not about to be brainwashed or patronised…so imagine the expression on my surprised face when I ended up at the altar! The whole thing was bizarre. I can’t remember much of it now but I do remember sitting in Nando’s afterwards with a wide, solid smile. Fresh from the church with literature and an explanation on what had happened to me very little of it actually registered in my psyche; I was just full of joy, plus this was my first visit to Nando’s!
“Jesus was incomprehensible and illogical.”
Back in Birmingham I wasted no time trying to find a church but only met with disappointment, or maybe it was just that they were not African enough, huge enough, or as elaborate, I dunno. Add to that the strange things I witnessed: people falling backwards; sermons I could not understand and the whole idea became too suspect for my liking. Plus the unthinkable dawned on me: I was supposed to worship a man. I read my Bible (well the parts I liked, I thought other parts were dodgy) but I was still enjoying the things Christians say are a ‘no no’. As much as I knew my experience in London was real to me, this man Jesus was incomprehensible and illogical.
Back to the clubbing then: party weekenders, smoking, sex, drinking, and soul-searching. I re-embraced my own unwavering opinions and beliefs…or so I thought, until my close friend Herman paid me a visit. “God called me,” he announced. I was stunned. Seldom shocked I listened on (due to respect for Herman more than his topic of conversation). The whole time I sat there thinking: “God…ya smart, because even if I won’t listen to you, you knew I would listen to Herman.”
Altar episode number two – this time in Birmingham. Dejected at the prospect of finding a church (I knew what happened the last time I tried that) this time I vowed to find ‘God’ and test him. So here I am, in church, surrounded by people praying, but it meant nothing to me. I had my own agenda, and it was personal. “If this is really you God, do what you did to me in London. Do it again and I will know.” Nothing. All I heard was the people around me praying. I thought: “What are they doing? Nothing’s happening.” I went back to my seat feeling rejected and to be honest disappointed and annoyed. Whoever God was, he wasn’t listening. A no-show.
“He or ‘it’ could be black, white, green! Who cares? If he is God he is God.”
As for Christianity I still had issues but did not care. I was never looking for Christianity anyway. It was never about that. Despite my flaws I was secure enough and knowledgeable enough to know that there had to be more than what religions were offering. I was looking for God, period! He or ‘it’ could be black, white, green! Who cares? If he is God he is God. If that meant finding him a certain way, (which in this case seemed to be visiting a church) fine, but so far, zilch.
Is This For Real?
The following Wednesday I sat in my flat (I’d upgraded to a one bed flat in Hockley from my bed-sit in Lozells). Listening to a Kirk Franklin song (I loved the song, made evident by my heartfelt karaoke), I suddenly started crying! Why? I don’t know, but this would soon become the most important day of my life. I tried to carry on singing but the pendulum kept swinging between the two until it rested firmly on the side of a third contender: relentless bawling!
This next part may sound crazy but I instinctively began asking questions out loud. I couldn’t see anyone but asked: “Why do you want me to come your way? Why now?” My thoughts spiralled: “I’m not a bad person. In fact I’m quite good.” Brain ticking over to answer my own question I was interrupted by a voice that wasn’t mine and back came the reply: “Meaning.” Instantly it triggered flashes in my mind of all the people who praised me regarding the heights of my accomplishments in past years and I knew through each accolade I was never really satisfied. So what if I played for Aston Villa. So what if I was the fastest boy in Birmingham at under-11’s and beat everybody I had ever raced against in my age group. So what if I was always a captain, admired by others, and got all my GCSE’s C and above. So what if I gained a Degree. I’m not bragging but none of it answered my heart for that something greater than me. The answer “meaning” squashed endless searching and questions in one swoop.
Part 3
Is This For Real? (Continued)
“…I’m glad no-one will ever see it. The shaaame!”
Tissues all over the floor and me on my knees in eye-water (overwhelmed by it all), the dialogue got deeper: “Where have you been all this time? Why weren’t you there for me before?” I asked. The response was heart wrenching: “I was there for you before, you just wasn’t there for me.” OH MY GOSH! I finally realised how open but wrong I had been towards God.
My crying took on new dimensions similar to a person who just heard their nearest and dearest was dying. Feebly I mustered two words to sum up my feelings: “I’m sorry.” I repeated my apology paying no notice to the consoling “It’s OK” which was coming back at me; I felt like the smallest man alive and bawled so hard that in hindsight it is embarrassing to share and I’m glad no-one will ever see it. The shaaame!
“I completely missed the ball.”
Magically I had something that was far more amazing and deeper than having things in black and white. I was clean, light, fresh. With no other way to explain it the invisible but intense heavy pressure that I could always sense was gone. In those 45 minutes I had experienced a miracle: the changing of a man’s heart. Despite social, academic, and recreational success, along with good moral character, this experience gave me a front row seat to witness all of the filth that was in me – it was sickening. Yet He was always there. In fact it is an incredible thing to admit, but instead of condemning me He changed me.
Friends and family would consider me respectable and commendable but my attitude of heart towards the One who made me was as self-centred and cock-sure as it gets…I completely missed the ball.
I Can’t Keep This To Myself
If you’re still reading this (praise God for you avid curious readers) you will recognise that none of this explains why I follow Jesus. After all it could have been anyone in my room. I knew it was him yet I still had hang-ups about Jesus and the claims to his divinity, together with a shed load on Christianity, but studying the scriptures for myself helped fill in the blanks. The Bible spoke about what I had experienced before that amazing Wednesday, the way I was called, and the result: a new person. My animosity, fear, emptiness, and confusion no longer had a hold of me. I was my own worst enemy and left to my own devices taking myself straight to hell and at times experiencing it too.
I needed more. The eventuality of my belief in a God did not save me. It was belief in a name, something personal, essentially, a person, Jesus the Christ. His words gave me life. Little did I know that on top of all that He would come and find me!! ME! Little broke, had not achieved his full potential, discontent, broken-hearted from relationships, me! Trust me, I have plenty to thank Him for.
“Christ revealed Himself to me and can speak for Himself.”
To be frank, all I ever wanted was the truth. I didn’t care what religion, scientific theory, new-age idea or popular thought recommended and still don’t. I battled with Christians then and I battle with them now. Whatever or whoever God revealed himself to be I would have followed. I’m not here to persuade you on the truth. Christ revealed Himself to me and can speak for Himself. When I consider that my God not only watched over me but also came to see me personally, I would be a fool and a liar to settle for anyone or anything less! Yet this encounter in my living room was still to happen.
He either changed me, or I’m crazy?
I bet no one in Cor De Bleu could have predicted this was coming? Least of all me, but it does make me think, why that very night, upon leaving the club I had the urge to decide not to go back to that life. I know now I just wanted another life but God obviously took this more seriously than me after having already orchestrated the imminent change about to come.
The novelty of life was growing thin but due to that night of transformation I am in awe of a new place, because of an even more awesome life, due to even more awesome person, GOD ALMIGHTY HIMSELF!
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