September 26, 2016

Subject: Cooling Cement Adventures

While traveling through labyrinths of apartment complexes and knocking hundreds of doors, we ran across experiences I feel like I should tell. One old man invited us into his cluttered home, sat us down on a couch, then spent twenty minutes ranting to us in mad claims trying to convince us that Christina Agulara is his fiance. One woman yelled through her door asking who was there. It was apparent there were screaming children inside, but we still answered, "The missionaries!" After a long pause of silence the door opened to a crack, her face peaked with an alarmed look on her face, she held out an extended arm through the way and said, "My kid's are sick." I kid you not, there in her clutch dripped a hand full of vomit all over the hallway floor. She retreated before either of us could return from our shock trips and she slammed the door.

Perhaps the craziest experience occurred while returning from an appointment in a complex. The early Autumn dusk rolled its way over the sky, cloaking the already dark courtyard with a clouded haze. Another source of the haze presented itself when we turned the corner and a gang of eight guys in their mid 20's lay/sat around a green electrical box passing around some smokes. In the dim light all we could see clearly were their over abundance of bling and their golden grills grinning to each other. As soon as they spotted us they chucked the blunts into the bushes and stared at us walk by. Just about everyone knows we're "the Jesus Boys", so we don't have to worry too much about getting hassled. Still, this was an incredibly sketchy situation with no street lights or cameras around, so I said a quick prayer and walked on pretending to pay them no heed.

Sure enough, the guy in the middle of the possy called out to us, "Hey! What are you guys doing around here?" We told them we were missionaries for Jesus Christ and he said, "Hm...teach me something about him." A couple homies listened in, but most stared off into their own galaxies of haze with half-shut eyes. We told him that Jesus is the Savior of the world, that His teachings are the only sure way of finding lasting happiness in life, and that we have devoted all of our time and money to serving the Lord for two years.

He asked, "What color was his skin?"

.....you know the conversation is going to get interesting when someone asks that off the bat.

I replied, "Well, he was born and raised in Israel in the Middle-East, so most likely he had olive skin and dark hair. I don't think the color of his skin matters so much, but rather who is is and what he does for us."

"Oh, it matters," he quickly retorted. He cracked a smile then said, "You know Tupac was black Jesus, right?"

Both Elder Ashby and I thought he was joking, since of course no one would rightly believe that the rapper Tupac in the 1990's was the Messiah of the world, and we immediately broke out laughing. He sat up straight flustered and said, "No, no! I'm not trippin! I'm telling you the truth." 

The conversation digressed even further as he told us of his hustling and how Africa was the original continent, and how America stole Africa's name. "The two sound the same...coincidence? Nah. We were the first. You just stole our name," as if Elder Ashby and I represented all of the colonists and even the investors of the English language.

Yet, we ended up making friends with the crew and they said they'd look out for us in the neighborhood. All we had to do was ask about the black beanie baby key chain attached to his belt buckle. He was the father of three little girls. "Hustling" is how he provides for them. We also made a deal that we'd talk to the management to get the basketball hoops fixed. 

Among all of the mosh pot of people we meet on a daily basis, we crossed paths with a man named Troy. At age 24 he was playing street basketball in Philadelphia when he was eye-gouged, detaching both of his retinas. For the past twenty years he has lived 100% blind. 14 of those years he has raised his daughter, Adaja, by himself as a single father. The mother ran away when Adaja was one year old. Even with the most trying and difficult of life situations, Troy is one of the most optimistic people I've ever met. He told us that for the first couple years blinds he was rock bottom alcoholic and depressed. But over years of experiences and humbling he has noticed small and siple things in life that he never paid attention to before. A cooling breeze on a hot day; the sweet song of spring bird ushering away the winter; the embrace of his daughter when he feels no one else is around. In his humility he has opened himself to God and has found meaning and guidance through prayer and having the Bible read to him. The day before we knocked on his door he had prayed with Adaja for "messengers of God to give them more of His word." He has began reading the Book of Mormon with the help of his daughter and welcomes us every time we meet him with a bright smile and open arms.

Surely in the thousands of doors in this area we were led by God directly to this man's plea. It is the reality of whom we represent and the people that we encounter that inspire me to take this place on one day at a time.

xoxo

Elder Burgess