Out of the Two comes One . Part Nine:

I guess the only struggle—the one worth actually fighting about is the one we most often overlook: the human struggle. I saw it first while growing up in the dusty red dirt streets of my Selma, Alabama hometown, but in child-like innocence failed to recognize it as such. I saw it again when I joined the U.S. Marines, but thought it was just boys being boys.  Then in becoming a peace officer, I saw this struggle in a whole new light.

On becoming a police officer, if you will remember my mentioning in an earlier post, one of the first things you experience is the heavy badge. You get this belief that you’re great—that you’re awesome. Not unlike the young Marine who believes he can take on the entire U.S. Army and Navy alone, with one arm tied behind his back just to make the fight fair. Well in transitioning into that world of good guys verses bad guys, cops verses robbers, I saw this human struggle again. This time in the faces of the wives, husbands, children, mothers and fathers who were left to try to put life into some form of normal once their loved one had decided to cross that line.

I watched as young brides kissed dirty glass windows, because the lips of the person they loved were on the other side. Women exposing themselves to hands that would never caress them, and children crying for a daddy they might never know.  This was the same struggle seen in the faces of the empty-eyed deputies who slept in the bunkroom because he or she could not face going home to the person they vowed to love forever. Or hearing the latest gossip of two married officers caught having sex in the parking lot just outside the HQ. 

This…is the human struggle.

My point—it wasn’t until truly seeing “people” in the light, or rather the darkness of their fallen condition, consumed and blinded by sin and its effects, was I really able to see myself in the proper perspective. For after all, I too am human and have my part in the human struggle. Think about it….Just saying.

Out of the Two comes One: Part Eight

As a peace officer, as part of the job, I am constantly asked to make moral decisions, decisions where my judgment is the sole basis on what action I should or should not take in the query of taking a human life. 

For a basis of discussion, on a routine traffic stop, - and there is no such thing as routine- do I issue a citation or do I give a warning? Even in the matter of a misdemeanor arrest, do I take my arrestee to jail or do I issue a summons and release them in the trust that they will show up for court?  These are all to some degree a moral question, what is right? What is best?

A misdemeanor is a secondary level offense where the punishment is limited to a maximum of one year in county jail and up to $1,000 in fines. On the other hand, a Felony is the highest level of offense where the violation is punishable of any fine amount and can result in sentencing of a minimum of one year in State Prison up to life, and or death as deemed appropriate by the court. The lowest level is an infraction and is only punishable by a fine. So there it is the three levels. 

In my 25 plus years of service, I have never had to shoot anyone in the line of duty---but I have come very close and been close to being shot as well. I was never hit and the suspects were taken into custody.  But, with that said, to shoot or not to shoot is a question I had to answer over two decades ago. This, like any other, is just one of many moral decisions I have to make on a daily basis. If you think about it, it is not too unlike what each of you are called everyday to do: to decide the right or the wrong of any given matter. Think about it….Just saying.

Out of the Two comes One

After a short detour to the question of wisdom, I thought we'd return to the exploration of my two worlds the pulpit and the pavement; the life of a cop that's a preacher. 

Part Seven:

The question of the spiritual is one that often comes up. Let me assure you, it is very real. This is perhaps the one juncture where my two worlds have their greatest overlap. When you think about it, aren’t all the moral questions, the questions of right and wrong, questions of the heart— not the heart in the romantic sense, but in the sense of judgment, of truth—of what we see ultimately as being truth.  

There was an occasion when a gentleman had been booked in for a rather heinous crime involving the rape and torture of a child. This man was demon possessed. He would often sit in his cell and have conversations with his unseen host. Now, I know there is such a thing as being mentally ill, but a person who is truly enduring a psychotic episode does, not respond to the verbal command to stop.  Verbal commands have little effect in derailing either auditory or visual hallucinations. 

This particular inmate was self-destructive and violent. He was known to cut himself and use his own blood to paint his cell and write inscriptions on the walls. On this particular day in question, he had taken his reinforced plastic lunch tray and snapped it into several pieces—pieces that could be used as a weapon. It was my job to escort the doctor into the cell in order to administer his medication…i.e., something that would make him sleep.

Because it was my job and pleasure to be the one wearing the badge, I entered the cell approximately three minutes before the doctor. When I entered, this man was growling and cutting himself with a shared from the tray. I stood a safe distance away for him, which was only about five feet in this small cell, and addressed him. I began by saying, “I know you know who I am, and I know you know who Jesus is.” Then I told him that because he knew who Jesus was, I knew he knew he could not touch me. I then told him that he was bound by the power and authority of the name of Jesus, and that he was not allowed to speak or interact as long as the doctor was in the cell…that I only wanted to hear from and speak to the real person whose body it was. 

He immediately sat and the growling stopped. He then looked at me with the most pitiful eyes I’d ever seen. Just about that time, the doc walked in and did his routine. On the way out he thanked me for my ability to work with the mentally ill.  I laughed and told him the same story I just told you.  He nodded, giggled, and walked away shaking his head. 

I turned and looked back up at the cell I had just secured behind the doc and myself to see that same inmate raging at an unseen guest, cursing at the world. Of course a few minutes later, he was sound asleep, curled in a ball on the floor. But the point of the story is yes…oh yes, the spiritual is very real ….Just saying.

It’s a Question of Wisdom: Part Three

Now comes the question of the relationship between pain and wisdom. Consider the perspective that they are linked, two sides of the same coin. Remember how I said wisdom is acquired over time, one day at a time, and one experience at a time. And due to the pleasure-seeking bend of our natures, suffering is one of the only things that cause us to draw back and contemplate our choices.

Now, for argument sakes, let’s not confuse suffering with pain. Suffering can come in many forms: loss, being overlooked for promotion, realizing you have to save before you make a certain purchase…etc. These forms of suffering are as valuable to the development of the character of the man as are the weights and the cardio training is to the Olympian.   But while they represent suffering, they may not truly be pain.

The suffering or pain experienced, if surrendered to the knowledge and wisdom of God, will produce wisdom in the person. The key to this transition is to not confuse the acquisition of information with wisdom. Wisdom, therefore, is not just gathering information and knowledge; it is not even using that information in a productive manner; wisdom ~true wisdom~ is then defined as the proper submission and use of information and knowledge to the will of God.  Think about it.

It’s a Question of Wisdom: Part Two

One of the wisest people I’ve ever known was my great-grandmother, Viola K. Johnson.  She couldn’t read or write, never used a telephone, or drove a car; and I have no memories of her with anything other than silver hair. But Grand-mama was wise. She understood people and the roles they played in the schemes of life. She understood power and the perception of power and the value of hard honest work.

I remember one day in particular when this wisdom rose to the surface; remember what I said about integrating knowledge/information into the life at just that right time. Well here’s an example of one such event. As you know, I was raised in the South in the 60’s. My hometown was a hotbed for of the Civil Rights movement where Klan marches were not uncommon.  On one muggy summer afternoon, this white man was lost in our neighborhood and being a child I was somewhat fascinated that a white man would be in our part of town…that usually just didn’t happen.

On this particular day, I walked out to the man’s car to say hi and to introduce myself as a child of four or five might. This man, who I later came to understand acted out of fear, cursed me and call me a nigger among several other derogatory epitaphs. This made me angry to the point of hot tears streaking my dusty face.  My great-grandmother, who had watched the scene from her rocking chair just inside the front door, called me in and pulled me up on her lap.  After making sure I was comfortable, she began to rock and hum her favorite song, Precious Lord. 

She was waiting for the proper timing.

When a few minutes had passed, she asked me about the experience. I sat up, and looked at her wrinkled face and said, “Mamma white folks are evil.”

She smiled and pulled me back against her bosom and said in response, “No baby, that white man was evil. He was just scared and acted out of his fear.” She went on to tell me, “In your life you will meet some good white folk and some bad white folk, some good black folk and bad black folk.” Then she looked at me and said, “Baby, people’s people. Everywhere you go people’s people.”  Now that was wisdom.

It’s a Question of Wisdom: Part One

Wisdom, as I see it, must have as its foundation truth in order to qualify as true wisdom. There is a marked difference between wisdom and the mere accumulation of knowledge or information, as there is a vast difference between wealth and riches. For instance, if a person had as much as $22,000,000.00 but a debt of $25,000,000.00, then we could not call him rich in spite of his obvious wealth. Compare this to the man with $22,000.00 but a debt of only $18,000.00, who would then be the far richer person? The same is true of wisdom. Some have said that wisdom is the proper use of knowledge. I guess to some degree that is correct; as long as one has the right standard for what proper is and what it is not. Wisdom, therefore, then cannot be separated from its root in Christ. In any persuasion and in any application where one diverges from the pattern of Christ, it cannot be said of him or her that they are wise or are using wisdom. Therefore, as we began to search for the elements of wisdom in a man’s character, we must first see the traits of Christ in him. This person would be one who listens more than he speaks, one who studies and says less than he knows, and one who loves with the purpose of seeing God’s will revealed in another person’s life. However, unlike mere knowledge/information, wisdom cannot be compiled in a cram session but must be acquired over time. Even when one knows what is right, understanding the true integration of the correct knowledge into the life, and proper timing into the life, is where and how wisdom is matured. So the slow acquisition, one day at a time, one incident at a time, being properly compiled and submitted to the revealed will of God, results in the production of wisdom. ...Think about it.

Out of the Two comes One

Part Six: The one thing that is always true of my duel professions is that there are always intersections where the two worlds are poised for conflict. (You know what they say about phrases with the word always in them…they are always false. Smile.) The experience that gives substance to the lie is my working in the jail. Whenever a new inmate arrived, especially when that inmate was charged with a particularly horrible crime, I was challenged to be something different than that which was common around me. Where my fellow deputies might give into a lower impulse…nothing illegal, but still lower than what would be acceptable to the Lord, I would have to forgo that impulse. There was an occasion where on one night an inmate came in and was offensive in almost every way you might think, even to the point of his attacking a fellow deputy. At this point, it was my duty to stop the threat while assisting my fellow officer. The hard part came in having to stop myself. The impulse to give into anger, to become the punisher rather than the administer of justice. Conflict. The question of how to institute the higher law of grace and mercy where doing things “the normal way” would not be questioned. On most of these occasions this conflict did not register with anyone else, for the battle was solely within myself. Do I apply that control-hold for that one extra heartbeat; do I ignore that inmate’s reasonable request just because of what he’s done or who he might be? These are the battles I fought and still fight. But then again, in reality, it is the battle we all fight: Will we do the right thing when it is time for the right thing to be done? Conflict….Just saying.