I often wonder if some black people fantasize about the times of Slavery before and after the Civil War?
Heads up, I’m going to say a lot of things in this provocative essay that might be deemed insensitive or disrespectful. You don’t have to read this. I bow humbly when I say my intentions aren’t to offend. Picture this as me giving a dissertation in the center of some 18th Century university. I have the floor and I’m about speak theories. They may be stupid. They may be wrong. But if there’s one thing I’ve gotten use to in my old age…in saying stupid, wrong things, I’ve come out better enlightened by all those who are so eager (too eager) to correct me. Let’s begin.
In 7th Grade…I wasn’t a good person. All of middle school was a jungle, but 7th Grade was the worse. In 2010, I discovered “Worst,” a manga about a fictional high school filled with delinquents who liked to fight. I think the reason why I was so drawn to those stories was because it reminded me of my own middle school. It felt like my entire class was a gang and honestly…it was ridiculous.
In 7th grade, I cultivated a reputation that I’m not exactly proud of…and yet it served me well. I barely passed, and the main skills I learned was to lie, cheat, and get my way. It was fun at first. But then, things got really bad.
So let’s back it up for a second. Let me take you all the way back to 1999. Think Limp Bizkit’s “Nookie” or Juvenile’s “Back that Azz Up” and you got it. In 1999, I was living in a place called Augusta, Georgia. This is like Atlanta’s more down-south distant cousin, spread out with a lot of woods, flannel, 3XL shirts, and its own state of mind. Here, the culture wasn’t dictated so much by New York or Los Angeles, but by South Park, Power 107 and Y105. This was the true Dirty South. And they were proud. This song was our 7th Grade Anthem.
And the racism…Don’t worry, this isn’t to complain. I don’t know about the other kids, but at thirteen, I never knew the racism was racism. Is self-segregation racist? Because that’s more or less what happened. It’s like if you were born in the sweltering heat of Africa before you knew what air conditioning was. You just accept it as a way of life. We didn’t complain. We truly co-existed. Some blacks were racists against whites. And some white kids were racists against blacks. I had two white kids throw a big ass rock that almost hit me in the back of my head, but instead banged against the dumpster. Almost like a prison, in fact, a lot like a prison, everyone seemed to stick to their own.
Except if you were in my class. The arrow is pointing at me.I’m not kidding. If there was any racism from my classmates, none of us showed it. The blacks got along with whites and vice versa. Like I said, we were like our own gang and we took care of our own. I think that’s one of the reasons why we had so much fun. Team 7B’s Ms. Thompson’s class was the place to be. Even other kids were trying to get transferred to ours.
You see, middle school was a place where money doesn’t matter. No one was driving cars. No one had a job. You’d think this’d give us room to focus on things like grades and studying…but for us guys, all we cared about was our reputation. Whether you were a punk, whether you were cool, a baller, a wanna be gangster…or whether you could fight.
All my life, I believed that Jesus Christ was the son of God. Two years ago, I was told something different. I was told that Jesus was not only the son of God the way I think of a father and his son…but that Jesus Christ was God himself in the flesh, that Jesus Christ and God are the same person.
In this essay…I’m going to break down my pursuit of the truth. And mind you, everything I’m about to reveal is just my interpretation of the scriptures. I could very well be wrong. However, as a Christian, I believe it’s my responsibility to learn and make a decision about what I believe is the truth. Thus, when I stand before God, it won’t be with this indifferent attitude of “…well, I heard this and that…But I’m not sure what I believe.”
On that note…before you begin, I encourage you to pray. Remember, it’s by the grace of God that we receive our understanding.
Just to give you a little background about who I am. I’m a black 33-year-old Christian Conservative born and raised here in the States. I’ve never been to any Christian College or Theocratic School. I’m not a member of any church or congregation. I have no denomination. That isn’t to slight organized religions. I know God loves assemblies. I’m just a man who decided to pick up the Bible and read it cover to cover. To learn for myself why things are the way they are? How did it come to this? Is there any hope? What should I do? What is right? What is wrong?
So why am I questioning who Jesus Christ really was?
Because of a Lutheran.
Haha, so…at the age of 30 (in 2017) and having already read the Bible once in its entirety, I made up my mind to find a wife, a woman who also endeavors to do what’s good in God’s eyes. That’s easier said than done in today’s woke secular culture, unless you’re part of a congregation. I am not.
I attend the Jehovah’s Witnesses Memorial every year, but I couldn’t attend their meetings on a regular basis because it reminded me of the turmoil of my youth. They study these articles in magazines called “Watchtowers,” where a lot of the substance is about how to be a better Jehovah Witness. Since I’m not a Witness, I felt like an outsider. Alone, despite surrounded by others. Continue Reading