I was adopted by missionaries, and I grew up in Africa and Lebanon. When I came back to the United States, I started hanging around with the wrong crowd, and I’m now in prison for something I’m not responsible for.
The prison assigned me to work in the kitchen. Another inmate – a big man – also worked there, and he didn’t like me. One day he told me that if I came back to work the next morning, he would beat me up bad.
Later I told my cellmate and another inmate what had happened, and they asked me what I planned on doing about the threat. I said I didn’t know, but I did plan on going to work. My cellmate told me I had better take his shank (knife) to work for protection.
I thanked him, but that night I had a dream that gave me the impression I should pray about the situation. I wasn’t much for praying, but I did anyway. The next morning when I got up, I was feeling pretty good until my cellmate gave me the shank. Instantly I had a strong feeling that if I expected God to help me, I should trust Him. And what better way than to go to work without the knife? So I gave it back. My cellmate warned me that I was being stupid.
I was scared when I went to work. When my persecutor caught me alone, he asked why in the world I had come back after what he had said. Trying not to show my fear, I looked him right in the eye and said, “You are a bully, and me and bullies have never gotten along very well!”
He looked like somebody had just whipped him. I learned that day that I did not have to resort to violence. All I had to do was ask for help from “the Man upstairs.” Now I thank Him every time I pray.
________
Source: Signs of the Times, Copyright (c) February 2005, Pacific Press, http://www.signstimes.com
*