Common Denominator

The common denominator of every failed relationship I've had: Me.

One day, I will have to take responsibility for my failed relationships. The problem is, I'm really confused as to what parts are my fault. 

You see, it's easy to point out all the reasons my exes were not right for me and why I've lost friends over the years, (not spiritual enough, not strong enough, not independent enough, etc), but it's a lot more difficult for me to discern what my part was in our failure. Did I expect too much spiritually? Do I lack so much empathy that I don't allow others to have moments of weakness? Is having a relationship with two independent people irrational and implausible? Where is the line drawn between having standards and having unrealistic expectations?

These are all issues I've had in the past when evaluating my relationships and friendships. It gets to the point where I even question my own worth or value to someone else because, like most people, I don't think I ask for a lot. I don't think it's a lot to want someone who loves God and His work as much as I do; someone who believes that ministry is a priority above all others. I think it's reasonable to expect someone to be able to overcome hurt, disappointment and problems to still complete the work that needs to be done because, truthfully, it's what I do. And I really don't understand the necessity to "be there" constantly because I can take it or leave it. Do I prefer that you are there? Of course. But if you aren't, it will not ruin my day because I have other things to worry about.

The problem is, however, that I don't have the option to date, marry or befriend myself, (well, I do but that would also call for an eternity of isolation and that's not preferable). Either way, if I ever want to be in a relationship with another human being, the undeniable truth is they will never be me. Which really means, I have to also understand that they will have different expectations and standards for me than I have for them. 

So what does that mean for my part in failed relationships? It's simple. In any relationship, I have as much of a responsibility to live up to their expectations for me as they do to live up to mine. And I know that can become complicated because, naturally, I want fairness in life and relationships. But true love is unconditional and not reliant on what I get back in return. In short, I can only control me and how I act. After that, the rest is up to God.

All of this reminds me of a scripture in Ephesians 5 that many of us men like to quote in marriages because it tells our wives to submit to us. It's the perfect ammunition for any disagreement we have in our relationships and we use it as often as possible. However, the part that I'm reminded of follows these verses immediately and starts in verse 25 where Paul instructs us as husbands to "love our wives as Christ loves the church." I've always been challenged by this verse because I believe Paul gives us men a greater responsibility than he gives the wives. Because when I think of how Christ loves us in spite of our sin, stubbornness, disrespect and mistakes, I can't help but feel like it's almost impossible to replicate that. Christ loves us even when we take advantage of his grace and mercy. Christ loves us even when we completely disregard his feelings. He loves us no matter what, and that, in it of itself, is incredible.

I know there is no such thing as a perfect relationship, and I honestly don't think I'm looking for one, but I do know there is a perfect Christ who I can model my relationships after. It's for that reason that I refuse to be the common denominator of another failed relationship. Not because I won't be involved, but because...

The common denominator of every relationship I will have: Jesus.

Sex Slave

Some time ago I had to admit to my Self: I can't live celibate.

I'm not strong enough.
I don't have enough discipline.
I don't have enough self control.
I don't see the consequences until it's too late.

The moment I came to this realization was not a pretty one. It was hopeless. I had failed again for the umpteenth time and I had given up on believing in my Self to be able to stay pure. I even went as far as blaming God for the lust that burned in me and questioning His, "won't put more on you than you can bear" promise. At that point, all hope was lost in my mind.

The crazy thing was, though, it was probably the best realization I could have ever come to.

You see, before then I believed I had all the answers to living pure; just stay in my Word and avoid one on one situations alone, sexual images in music, television etc. I even figured dating someone who was celibate was a full proof plan. It all seemed so easy that I was convinced it was more about me not wanting to live pure than it was me not trying to live pure. But even after trying, it didn't take long for me to realize that I still was not capable of living pure.

Now that I've raised your eyebrow, please pay attention to what I'm saying. What I came to understand is that it is absolutely acceptable for me to admit that I can't do it. Because the truth is, I'm merely a man and depending on my Self to be faithful to just about anything is foolish. I believe that too often we as humans try to do things on our own and take control of our sin when in essence, that way of action is blasphemous. Thinking that we can save our Self, fight temptation or control our sin means we believe our natural self is stronger than our spiritual adversaries. And the reality is we aren't, and that's absolutely okay.

I gave up trying to depend on my Self to live pure. Instead, I depend on God. That night, that time I realized I can't live celibate, I didn't give up on being pure, I just gave up on trying to do it on my own. I gave my purity to God and now it's in better hands. Now I don't have to hold my Self accountable because God does. I still take natural steps to maintain my purity but when the natural fails me (as it's always bound to do) the Supernatural steps in and saves me.

Before that night, I was a slave to sex whether I wanted to admit it or not. It could and would make me do things out of my character and often times left me feeling terrible. But ever since I gave control of my purity over to God, I've been free.

I may not be strong enough to live celibate, but He is.


Jesus replied,  “I tell you the truth, everyone who sins is a slave of sin.    A slave is not a permanent member of the family, but a son is part of the family forever.    So if the Son sets you free, you are truly free. John 8:34-36

Murder Ink

I have tattoos and I'm not afraid to say it!

Honestly, I specifically chose the locations of my tattoos so that most won't ever see them so, maybe I'm a little afraid.

Well, if I were really honest about my tattoos I'd actually say I regret them. 

Not because they no longer mean anything to me because they both have deep meanings that reflect my journey in Christ as I've grown into the person that I am now. Nor because I don't like the way that they look because, I mean, I drew one and the other was kinda my idea too so they couldn't be more my style. So why then do I regret my tattoos?

Because they're permanent. 

You see, it's more than the way I feel about things that last forever, (I feel forever should be reserved for God and God only. He's the only person, place or thing we can truly count on to always remain the same. Everything else is temporary) but it's the fact that it's a decision that I have to live with forever no matter what. I mean, I know there are some permanent decisions that I will make in my life like getting married or having kids but a tattoo is different because whether we want to admit it or not, getting a tattoo just might be a sin. 

Now let me pause here and say to all those who like me have one or more tattoos, I am not trying to condemn you. This is not to make you feel bad or say you are living in sin because you have a tattoo. A tattoo doesn't make you a bad person or mean that you're going to Hell, I'm simply presenting a perspective for those who may be considering one in the future. Likewise, anyone who judges someone that has a tattoo is wrong. Well, judgement in general is wrong but tattoos are not reserved for any type of person in particular so don't come to any conclusions based off of a person having one. That's straight ignant, dog. 

What I've discovered is that as we grow in Christ, things are revealed to us that we may or may not have understood, recognized or acknowledge before we knew Him. It's part of maturing in Christ. Paul even says "When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways," 1 Corinthians 13:11. That implies to me that your perspective and feelings towards things will change as you get older and experience more. An example I like to use from my life is that I used to have a couple pictures on my Facebook of me with my shirt off that were from a fashion show I walked for in college. Now, to me the pictures were tasteful and therefore I didn't feel convicted about having them up. However, with the help of one of my student's parents, God revealed that even those tasteful pictures were an issue because of the influence that my position as Youth Pastor naturally holds. In my case, it made a student feel it was okay for them to post pictures of them shirtless on their social media sites and seeing as God's Word tells me not to put a stumbling block in the way of a brother, I was sinning. 

And to me, the same concept applies to tattoos. The problem with tattoos, however, is that you can't just take them down. You can't just stop doing it like you would with drinking or smoking or cussing but instead, it's on your body forever. And if you decide you made a mistake or you simply just don't want it anymore, it's not a simple fix to get rid of it. 

And moreover, I'm starting to be more convinced that mine were a sin as I was aware of what the Bible says about them prior to me getting them. And as I'm reading the Old Testament, I'm understanding why it was referred to as marks for the dead. For me, it's an eternal reminder of the the Self that died over 4 years ago and no matter how much I try to let that Self go, he will always be on my back. And it's that truth that has made me regret getting it in the first place. 

And maybe regret is a strong word since my tattoo has served as a conversation starter and an opportunity to share my testimony. It's also been a reminder of how far I've come and a symbol of God's faithfulness to me. The one on my back says Jehovah Nissi and reminds me of my renewed vows with God and that as long as I keep my hands raised towards God in worship, He will always have my back but the truth is I shouldn't need ink on my back to remind me of any of these things. Because I have God in my heart, neither of my tattoos are necessary. Instead, they're just reminders of my dead Self. Because of that,

I have tattoos, but I kinda wish I didn't. 

Male Privilege

I have a confession...I might be sexist.

Ray Rice and his wife Janay have been on everyone's timeline, newsfeed and television for too long now so I won't even begin to explain what happened, there's no need. I will say, however, that this whole situation has taught me something about my Self.

Before I dive into what I learned, let me explain what I already knew. I knew how I felt about men hitting women. That is, men should not hit women but women should also not hit men. You see, I come from a pool of thought of what I like to call True Feminism. I am all for equal pay, equal rights and equal treatment of women. Just recently, I was one of the first people to share the video of Mo'ne Davis striking out 8 in the LLWS just because I was so excited to see her competing at such a high level. I even believe wholeheartedly that women are better than us as men in a lot of key areas including but not limited to organization, discipline and persistence.

But I also believe that equality should cover everything. That means a woman shouldn't ask a man out on a date and then expect him to pay when I KNOW if it were the other way around he wouldn't get a second date. (Sorry, that's a touchy subject) And that also means if a woman hits a man they should not be surprised if they get hit back. Now please understand two things because I can see your eyebrows furrowed from here.

1. First and foremost, I am not condoning violence in anyway! Nor am I blaming anyone (including Janay Rice) for the abuse that they received. I wholeheartedly believe that what Ray did was wrong and too often men don't exhibit enough self control to restrain ourselves in those situations.
2. And secondly, how I think and how I act are often times two very different things. I believe that a woman should be able to pay for a date is she likes but I was raised to pay for EVERYTHING. (My Dad always taught me never even go with a woman anywhere you can't afford the most expensive thing on the menu...great advice btw) If you want to open your own doors, I will only fight you for so long but it will be a fight because it's so natural to me I even do it for friends and family. And lastly, although I feel the way I do about women hitting men and vice versa, I haven't hit a woman since the 3rd grade (I fought a girl who was bullying my little brother) and I don't ever plan to.

But ultimately I do believe that statements like, "There is never a reason for a man to put his hands on a woman" are innately sexist and should anger a feminist. The argument is usually that men are naturally stronger than women but that separates us and gives different rules to one versus the other. And if you apply different rules there, what stops us from doing it elsewhere? What stops us from saying you shouldn't get as much money as men do in college sports because it brings in less revenue? Or women should not be allowed to work in positions that require physical labor because a naturally stronger man could perform the job better? I don't believe either of these statements to be true, but I do believe equal means completely equal and should be treated as such.

That's what I knew about my Self.

Here's what I learned:

I have male privilege

I realized that some of the same things I say about gender equality are said about racial equality. Just look at the first half of my post and imagine all of the gender statements were racial statements. I started by making an easily agreeable statement (duh everyone should be equal), cited one situation in which I supported the "out" group (as if it would make up for anything I said after), and then added a few backhanded compliments to show my admiration (as if women aren't supposed to be organized, disciplined and persistent). That first paragraph alone was "I'm not a racist," "I have a black friend," and "You speak so well" all wrapped in one.

Then I go on to say don't be surprised if there's a consequence to your actions. We hear this too often when black men are locked up or murdered as if Mike Brown robbing a convenience store justified being shot by a police officer. Yes there are consequences but often times the time (or in the case of Ray, violence) doesn't match the crime. Or the fact that I tried to justify my sexist thoughts by explaining my chivalrous actions not realizing that how I think is who I am. You can go scripture (Proverbs 23:7 For as a man thinketh, so is he.) or worldly (I think therefore I am. -Rene Descartes) and it's clear that my actions, though noble, don't excuse my thoughts. And lastly, I should be ashamed of my Self for trying to make the "out" group the oppressor by calling those who are crucifying men who hit women sexist. Sexism is as systematic as racism and can't be reversed until there is a new "in" group.

All of this to say, I am Self Conscious enough to be honest and say I have some growing to do. I understand the struggle of women because gender, like race is something that they cannot hide about their identity. They were born into a history of oppression that they must fight every day to overcome whether we as men want to admit it or not. It wasn't too long ago that women weren't allowed to vote, file for divorce or even report domestic violence because the law didn't allow for it and many of us still have the same mindset as our predecessors. That is a problem that I do not want to be a part of.

So ladies, if you want to make more money than me AND get treated every time we go out, I support you (but may not date you, that's just selfish). Because feminism is not about everyone being treated the exact same way but it's about women having the choice to be treated however they decide. Because what we truly experience with Male Privilege is the option to live whatever kind of life we desire and not be judged because of it and women deserve the same privilege. And the biggest issue with domestic violence is it takes that privilege away by using fear and violence to rob someone of their freedom of choice.

So as I disagree with the coverage of Ray and Janay Rice due to how insensitive it is to their privacy, I thank the both of them for changing my Self and I pray they do the same for others in this country. Because now I can proudly say,

I'm still growing, but I refuse to be sexist. 

Glory Days

"No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead," Philippians 3:13

 

When I look back on all God has brought me from, I miss it...

Last week, I had a friend from college and his girlfriend in town from DC and Boston, respectively. We took her to Roscoe's for the first time, they visited my church on Sunday (which I truly appreciated) and we spent a night on Hollywood Blvd just catching up. It was great to see my friend doing well and to know that life was going the way he wanted it to.

And every time my friends from college get together, it's a must that we spend a few moments reminiscing on some of the stupid things we did during our four years together at Morehouse College. It's one of our favorite pastimes to talk about the past times and wonder how we made it out of that school in one piece. I won't begin to share all of the reckless and irresponsible things we talk about but I will say I noticed a slight difference this week when my friend and I shared stories; it wasn't as much fun as it was embarrassing.

You see, prior to this instance, I loved talking about my Self in college. I used to wear stories like #IfTheyGunnedMeDown on my chest like an "I Survived <insert random intense rollercoaster here>" shirt. I got excited, riled up and down right boastful as I shared about my close calls with alcohol, women and violence. Those were the glory days of my life; those were the days when I had friends, I had fun and I fit in.

Even when I first told Jesus "I Do," I looked back at the glory days with envy. I missed them. I missed the freedom from conviction, the lack of responsibility and the stories I could tell the next day. If you can't tell already, I love telling a good story and people seemed to pay more attention to me when I talked about the crazy things I did versus how God changed me. But even as I write this I feel like I'm deflecting if I credit the attention others gave me for my love of the glory days. Deep down, I think my Self truly wanted to go back to living the way I did back then.

But boy, is that stupid. You see, before this week the enemy had my Self confused about how "glorious" those days really were. Because although I had fun times and crazy stories, I had to remind my Self that those same "glory days" were also some of the worst days of my life. It seemed My Self had forgotten that I was homeless from March through August of 2010. Or that I was poor and dependent on parents and roommates to survive almost that entire time. Or that I wasn't even allowed to vote in the 2012 Presidential election because technically I was a convicted felon while going through my pre-trial program. My Self also forgot the times when we battled depression and went days without getting out of bad, let alone the house. I could go on and on about the nadir period of my life that I called my glory days but the point is, I was lied to.

But thanks to no one else but God, I now live in the true Glory days. Now that I live for God's Glory, life has never been the same. My life isn't perfect, but when I renewed my vows with Christ, my behavior wasn't the only thing that changed. I immediately began to see God bless me in both the Spiritual and the natural and He hasn't stopped yet. If I just consider the last two months alone since I've moved to California, I realize that life with Christ is better than it ever was during the glory days.

So, it's for that reason that I no longer envy my college Self. He can keep the women, the parties, the alcohol and the stories. I don't want any of it because as long as I have Christ, I know I'm living the real Glory Days.

When I look back on all God has brought me from, I praise Him!

Soul Food

I'm not gonna lie, I'm not exactly excited to be giving away $400.

On July, 4, 2014 I walked into my parents house after spending the day with my favorite family in Yorba Linda, the Straughters. My brother was sitting downstairs watching the Wawa Welcome America 4th of July Jam on television and we began talking about music festivals in Philadelphia. One thing lead to another and in a spur of the moment decision, I bought two tickets to Made In America Music Festival in Los Angeles for Jameel and I to attend Labor Day weekend. Excited, we spent the rest of night going through the lineup and discussing how we would approach the weekend and it looked like another brotherly adventure was in the works.

Then I woke up the next morning,
Was I dreaming?
realized I had just spent $400 to go see a list of artists I don't even listen to when it's free,
What was I thinking? What a waste of money? 
and I immediately started trying to justify why I would still go anyway.
I mean, I'm not gonna throw away $400. At least it will be some quality time with Jameel. I know it means a lot to him. 
But ever since then, I haven't been able to shake the feeling that I shouldn't be going to Made In America.

See, music and I have a complicated relationship. I love her, but she has an influence on me unlike anyone or anything else in this world. I mean, I'm about as whipped as they come because I'd pretty much do anything she tells me to. Even when it doesn't make sense, I tend to follow her lead and mimic her ways. And it's always been that way. I still remember being 5'6", 145 pounds wearing 3X Tall Pro Club White Tees just because Dem Franchize Boyz told me to. Foolish, I know.

But it took me awhile to realize that music had me wrapped around her finger that way. I didn't quite get that I started cussing shortly after getting to college and downloading the unedited version of every club song I could find. I didn't always associate what I wanted from women with having a playlist full of artists like 112 and Ne-Yo. Nor did I understand that I was significantly more hostile after adding a variety of Philly rappers to my library. It was only through some honest Self examination that I came to the conclusion that music does more than speak to my soul, it feeds it.

It's for this reason I don't willingly listen to secular music. Obviously, I can't avoid it all but I'm very conscious about what I feed my Self. I found it's easier to avoid sin when I continually feed my soul with godly music. I always tell my teenagers when the conversation of sex comes up, if you really want to kill 'the mood', start playing Jesus Be a Fence. If you want to avoid road rage, listen to Happy by Tasha Cobbs while you drive. If you want to fight the temptation of smoking weed, listen to Lecrae's Blow Your High next time you want to roll up. By feeding my soul with God, it leaves little room for Satan to reside.

But not only does this Soul Food keep me away from sin, it draws me closer to God. I've found it's easier to be obedient when I spend my morning listening to Say Yes by Shekinah Glory. It's easier to be humble when I meditate on What Can I Do by Tye Tribbett. And to remember God expects me to choose a side, I listen to Da' Truth's Gray. So music and I have an understanding that what she feeds me has to be positive because it's been proven I am what I eat. Any other message she feeds me contributes to the high cholesterol that is the sin living in me.

And that's why I won't be attending Made In America this weekend. Not because it's a sin to go or because it will make me sin; I don't believe either of those to be true. But because if I go and indulge in the soul food that these artists have to offer, it will be a step backwards and I'm determined to keep Moving Forward. 

But I won't lie, I'm still not exactly excited to be out $400.

#IfTheyGunnedMeDown

"For I know the plans I have for you,” says the lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope."  Jeremiah  29:11

Before I was a man. Before I was a preacher. Before I told Jesus, "I do," I was a dumb college kid.

March 9, 2010 I was on Spring Break in Daytona Beach, Florida. My group of friends and I were determined to "make a movie" that week and were well prepared with alcohol and ill-intentions. I was one of the worst ones, abusing privileges and grace to purchase liquor at a discounted price and stay in a two-bedroom resort-style hotel using my Mom's timeshare points with a mindset about as far from Holy as possible.

I need to pause for two points.

1. Mom please forgive me for the entire tone of this post. I apologize for the way that I abused your generosity and even lied to you in some regards about this story. I pray that you know I've grown a lot from that day and will never do anything like it again. I'm truly sorry.
2. I want to take a moment to celebrate the Little League World Series team from Chicago for winning the United States Championship! It's great to see young black boys from that city shown in a positive light. But I digress...

On Tuesday, March 9, 2010, those ill-intentions reared their ugly head as we prepared to go out to the club that night. Well intoxicated, we caught a taxi to The Coliseum for the Girls Gone Wild party. Excitedly, we walked into the packed club ready to enjoy ourselves and enjoy ourselves we did. I, however, wasn't satisfied with a typical night and decided to take it up a notch by jumping on stage to dance with the girls who were performing. I quickly found out that wasn't allowed as I was dragged off stage and out the backdoor. Again, well intoxicated, I wasn't phased by it one bit so I walked around the building and back through the front door.

A few hours later, I was ready to go so I drifted to the back of the club where there was less commotion. I immediately sent a "Ready?" text to the homies and started talking to a couple friends who came to the party with us. Shortly after, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and immediately recognized them as the bouncers who threw me out hours earlier. After a short back and forth in which I pretended I wasn't me, it became obvious to me that I was going to be thrown out again.

The next 5 minutes of this story are still very blurry. I know that I was snatched up, I know I didn't like it, and I know I began to get violent with the bouncers. I know shortly after that I was face first on concrete outside of the club being choked out. I know shortly after that I was flat on my back and someone was trying to break my finger. And I know after that I was being tazed...twice. Everything in between that happened so fast that I still can't explain how it escalated so quickly but once I was tazed it finally hit me that I may be in trouble.

In short, I was. I quickly surrendered, and was placed in the back of a police car and later charged with disorderly conduct, resisting arrest with violence and battery on a law enforcement officer (two felonies and a misdemeanor). The story about God's unmerited favor and how I avoided conviction is for another day but watching what's happened across this country to young Black men made me think...

What if they gunned me down?
What if instead of a tazer, they used a gun?
What if they claimed they were fearful for their life?
What if they believed lethal force was the only way to subdue me? 

If they gunned me down, the man of God that I've become from my experience that night would not be sitting here typing this today. That night singlehandedly changed my life but it also could have ended it. I never would have graduated Morehouse College, accepted my calling to preach or become the Youth Pastor at both Destiny World Church and Friendship Baptist Church. My parents would have that night as their last memory of me, not to mention all of the dishonorable acts that took place in the months leading up to it. They would have never been able to see me truly grow up, turn my life around and become the man they believed I would be.

The worst part of each of these young Black men's deaths is that they'll never have the opportunity to turn their life around the way I've been able to. We'll never know if they could have been teachers, preachers, business men, lawyers, fathers, mentors, coaches, doctors or just better men because that opportunity was taken from them when others took their life. Regardless of the circumstances leading up to it, not one of the these young boys that we fill our timelines with deserved to die. Actions have consequences, I know, but taking someone's life is beyond cruel and unusual punishment. Let's continue to fight until every human being's life is valued because we never know what that life could become.

#IfTheyGunnedMeDown I would have never become the man I am today.