Yesterday, at 7:37 PM (CST) a man was pronounced dead. His name was Don Johnson, and he was an elder within the Seventh-Day Adventist Church. Johnson was scheduled to be executed by the State of Tennessee. One of my best friends, a man I call “Twin” has been leading the call to support Johnson in a battle to end capital punishment. Now the reason while I call him “Twin” is for 3 reasons. (1.) We’re both Geminis, and our birthdays are 17 days apart. (2.) We both have genuine hearts for the people in our world. (3.) We are so different in so many ways it's hilarious we’re friends. Most twins do not have the same personalities. The way I see it “Twin” and I have separate God given gifts and talents, but when we come together we are much more powerful with the purpose God designed for both of our lives. I love my twin. I hope you’re reading this.
I’ve watched Twin spend countless hours and time rallying local diplomats, pastors, ministers, elders, people from all walks of life together to help save Johnson’s life. I found myself troubled as I had conflicted feelings about the entire ordeal, but I wanted to support my brother. It wasn’t until last night as the hour drew near to Johnson’s execution that I realized how important it is for us as human beings to love and forgive. I sat in a prayer service and watched countless people weep over the life that would soon be taken from this world. It broke my heart. My adopted grandmother with whom I call “Grams” cried and cried as she had a close bond with Johnson. This loss affected so many people, and it was then that I realized how significant this battle had been. Johnson truly was a man of God. Regardless of the mistakes he made in the past, the fact that he allowed God to change him and to see that change manifest itself into ministry is nothing short of a miracle. As I supported my loved ones through this loss, I found myself shedding tears over the loss. I began to reflect on “what if that was my brother” or someone I deeply cared about. I then wept because “my God, how blessed and highly favored am I to be in the position I am in.” When my pastor exclaimed that Johnson gave his last meal to the homeless, I screamed inside. I wept.
I find it interesting that it is in peaceful, serene, quiet moments like the prayer service held Thursday night when the true presence of the Holy Spirit dwells among the people. Now this is not to say that the Holy Spirit doesn’t dwell on Sabbaths or Sundays, but it always baffled me at how so many of us get caught up in the dogma of our Christian denominations that we forget the intimacy of being a Christian. We lose sight of the importance. We forget about the fruits of the spirit. We forget about the power of love and forgiveness. Most importantly, we forget all of these things each moment we step foot off of church ground. Why? Why is it that “Sally Shouter” and “Danny Dancer” can shout and dance all Sabbath long, but when Monday hits. Sally is rudely shouting at her co-worker wishing she were dead. Danny is sleeping with his wife’s sister, and Tiffany “Speaking” Tongues is spewing lies among her social circle about another human being. The reason is the conviction isn’t prevalent. The heart hasn’t been changed. The exterior nature of who we are appears to be that of Christ, but the interior nature is not. Talk about true transparency. At this prayer service, none of that was present. Yet, the room was full of tears. People praised God in their own ways, and I surprisingly felt encouraged as I left. A Godly man just lost his life, and I’m leaving what turned into a memorial service at peace.
In 2014, I was a student at Howard University. I lived in student housing. The student apartment towers were run by a nationwide company. I will never forget the day that a swarm of police officers stormed my apartment building. I had stayed home sick from class that day. The officer broke down the door and shouted “YOU GOT TO GET THE HELL OUT. YOU’VE BEEN EVICTED.” At that moment, my heart froze. I wasn’t dressed so I politely asked the officer if I could change my clothes in private. He has my bedroom door busted wide opened with 5 other cops standing in the doorway staring me down like I had just set a bomb off at the nation’s capital. Disclaimer: Every single officer was black like me. The pushy officer then said “forget changing in private, you ain’t got nothing I’ve never seen before.” How degrading? How humiliating? As I exited the building with only my laptop and phone, I immediately confronted the housing manager. She carelessly said, “oh, he’s not one of the one’s that’s supposed to be evicted.” Well, according to the law that would have to be decided by the company and their legal team as it was out of her hands. I called my mom who was recovering from a near death experience in the hospital. I called my dad. I called my sister. I called everyone I knew from church. Do you realize no one came to my rescue? I found myself sitting in the snow waiting for all of my belongings to be thrown into a dumpster. When you are evicted, you’re not allowed to grab your stuff. You have to wait for your belongings to be thrown out. It was at this moment that I reflected on my measly 20 years of life. I had a fantasy fallacy about people. I had a fantasy fallacy about church. I quickly found myself knee deep in reality, but the one thing I decided at that moment was no matter how angry I was I would still love. By God’s grace, a distant elementary school classmate of my mom’s convinced the housing manager to allow me to move back into my apartment. They apologized for the mishap. My friends Shavon and Yasmine helped move all of my belongings from the dumpster back into my bedroom.
It took me several years to forgive. I was so angry. I was angry at my dad. I was angry at my sister who carelessly said “see, that’s why you never should have went to Howard in the first place.” I was angry at the community outreach pastor who suggested I go to the welfare office. Just a side note, most African-Americans are unable to get on welfare. I did go to the office, and I was told that because I was in school I did not qualify for benefits. I was angry all around because my entire world had been shaken. My entire belief system had been rocked to its core. It was around this time that I hit my rock bottom. Benadryl makes me extremely drowsy, or well it used to. One night, I was in my apartment depressed. You’d think I’d be happy. I moved back into my apartment, and life was normal again. It wasn’t. Somehow that ordeal changed me. I began questioning the very same group of people I once was and our motives. I was apart of the praise team clique. I was sanctified, holy ghost filled, and ready to speak God’s word in a minute. But my heart was not 100% changed. Someone once told me that God has to break your heart in order to blow your mind. My emotions were at an all time high, and I had no idea what to do with them.
I bought a large container of Benadryl, and I took 400 capsules by mouth. I was ready to end my life. I was conflicted and confused about my walk with God not realizing God never left my side but I was choosing to stay stuck in church dogma and not walk outside the doors to my purpose. When I came to that realization, it was an even bigger pill to swallow than those 400 capsules. Hello Lights! Needless to say, those pills had no affect on my body whatsoever. It was as if to say I never took them. However, I knew I had a problem. Through much prayer and nagging from my mom, I went to the psychiatric hospital and I was officially diagnosed with Chronic Depression. That day in the hospital was my first day of life as the “Bobby” you love and now know. Over the course of the next few years, I started making changes, positive ones. I had a therapist. I was on medication. I worked out. I was writing new scripts. I was making positive progression, but the one thing I couldn’t shake was my ANGER. The anger and rage ruptured my spirit for a long time.
It wasn’t until 2016, when my anger took a drastic toll on my life. I suffered several minor heart attacks. My blood pressure was sky high. By this time, I had tried to commit suicide 3 times. My depression and feeling of self-worth was in the toilet. It was then that God woke me up in my sleep and said “contact Aunt Dee.” Aunt Dee is my mom’s big sister. The two of them have been best friends for many years. Aunt Dee is a true woman of God with spiritual wisdom out of this world. For the first time in my 23 years of Christian living I realized just how lost I was as a Christian. Aunt Dee proposed we start bible study. Now at first I was quite apprehensive about it. I kept thinking “this is a waste of time.” Aunt Dee opened my eyes to so many powerful things. It was through consistent weekly bible study with Aunt Dee that I learned how to purge the anger. I learned how to truly forgive as a Christian. I learned how to love those who despise me. Through Aunt Dee’s guidance I learned how to be a mature Christian. Boy, it was hard! But as I sat in that sanctuary last night reflecting as we prayed over Johnson’s life, I remembered that there was a time I found myself caught in bondage. Yet, I had someone loving me to the core, weeping over my life.
As Aunt Dee eloquently says, we need each other. It is important to share our burdens with one another. The most important thing is we must love. But you cannot truly love if you can’t forgive. The two are married. They’re intertwined. While I’m in a much better space these days, I still have my moments. But then I think about the other person and how miserable their life must be for them to behave in such a demonic, malicious manner. I immediately start praying for them, and when I do the anger turns to sorrow as I weep because that soul is lost. When you put things into spiritual perspective you begin to understand how people operate. It isn’t science. It doesn’t always make sense ,and guess what? It doesn’t have too.
