Rodney's Story -and God's favor

                         Rodney's Story - and God's Favor

Recently, I was asked, "How can I demonstrate my belief in God?" My response, I can only tell you what I know. Your journey will be most definitely different. I can also tell you that God does not talk to each of us in the same manner, or even in the same language. We each, you see, have a unique relationship with God. Mine started before birth, as the doctors advised my mother to abort the pregnancy because I would not survive the birth. Even my father agreed and insisted that she should get an abortion. But I had a praying mother and grandfather, they both joined in prayer and told the doctors God would provide.

I was indeed born, several months later, again the doctors told my mother I would not survive the first 2 years. Epilepsy, specifically grand mal seizures, would ultimately kill me. Again, my mother and grandfather prayed, and again God delivered me. Interestingly, both of my grandfathers were ministers, and my mother raised me to become one. But God had other plans.

At 18, my father had had enough of me and my sarcasm. He declared either his way or the highway. I chose the highway, stubborn as I was. I worked for a bit, living in a rundown apartment, but within a few months, I joined the Army -as the only way I could beat the streets. And from there I found myself in Vietnam.

In Nam, again, my God consistently delivered me while I was stationed in Hue, about 5 miles from the DMZ. Every night we were assaulted with missiles and rockets, and every night God delivered me and many of my buddies. I walked away from Nam and back to the streets of E.ST. Louis.

Now with PTSD, addicted to drugs, and again living from paycheck to paycheck, I was an outcast of the family. Only my mother and God were there for me. My grandfather has passed away.

Strange, when my father drew a gun on me, as I tried to visit my mother, he ultimately had me committed to the Mental Institution. The psychiatrists told me that either I leave the city, or one of us would wind up dead. God led me to the path of education as my escape from the hood, drugs, and PTSD.

Strange thing, learning became an obsession, one that rivaled drugs. And so, a BA, 2 MA's, and a Ph.D. later, I decided to celebrate. How, why, at the local drug den, a 3-story apartment building (where every apartment was a drug store) on Chicago's south side. Sometime around 3 or 4 in the morning, the party was going strong, when the Cops arrived with 3 paddy wagons and began busting down doors and dragging out folks. They cleared the first 2 floors and began on the third one, where I was. Having cleared the entire left side, they began on the right and then, just as they were approaching the door where I was, a shout from the street. "Hey, we gotta go," yelled one of the cops. "But I just got one more to go". We got no room, was the reply. What about them... We will get them next time. Laughing, the cop went down the steps, and I began to cry.

Waiting to be sure that they had gone, slowly left. Shaking, I opened the door of my car, still crying. In my head, I saw the headlines "Newly minted Ph.D. from the University of Chicago, caught in drug raid". God, however, said no, and once again delivered me. And yes, I do tell my students this story.

Now, as I sit here, I face another set of issues. It seems that 70% of Vietnam veterans suffer from prostate cancer, foot issues, and hearing loss. I have all three simultaneously. But, you see, God has always been there for me, and I cannot help but give Him all the glory. And this, too, will be another reason to celebrate his favor.