I sought peace from the ghetto to write. Instead I found a piece of Light in the ghetto.
“Would you like a free coffee?" a man asked. "Home-made chocolate and cheese biscuits are free too."
That's different. Yummy, yummy! “What do you do here,” I asked.
“We help people's lives. With community work and counselling.”
Christian symbols were dotted around. Hmm... I've seen countless “community centres” that are more a way to bring lost people into a religion. I thought it best to be frank. “Do you mainly help people's lives,” I asked. “Or do you mainly help people find your version of God?”
“Perhaps you should speak to John...”
John lumbered towards me, a large, 50 year old skin head. Scars on his forehead looked like he'd fought ghetto wars. Tattoos bulged as he flexed his muscles. A bullet-proof vest wasn't needed. But by John's looks, I would have worn one in his past.
For two hours we discussed souls, pathways, religion and so on. One gist of the conversation was this.
“I was a nightclub bouncer,” John said, “then progressed. I protected the Rolling Stones at concerts. Then became a personal body guard. Then a debt collector. I collected debts my gang was owed by rival gangs.”
He spoke with a sort of guilty, embarrassed pride, as if he'd reached the top of his profession, but now knew better.
“I made sarcastic comments about God. I ended in prison. Lost my money, house, everything. One day, a Christian preached in the prison about Jesus. It changed my life. Now I've found Jesus.”
Ooh, great! I love knowing how people find God. “What did you experience when the Christian preached with you? What did you feel inside you?”
“Nothing.”
Ooh, unusual... “Most people's God enlightenment, epiphany, is blinding white Light, a voice of wisdom, a feeling of heat, or electric, or movement in their soul. Or something cataclysmic that jolts their inner core. What did you feel as the preacher spoke?”
“Nothing," John repeated. "But, days later, I found myself talking to druggies I'd avoided, asking about their lives. I discovered their terrible families and upbringings, and felt called to help prisoners.”
“I used to train therapists to help prisoners,” I empathised.
John ignored me and continued. “I now travel to African countries preaching the gospel in prisons. Look,” John said. “Here's a photo I took of men asleep in an African prison. After they woke I asked them to close their eyes, and put their hand up if they'd like Jesus within."
John has found his calling. His enthusiasm for bringing prisoners' lost souls to God was wonderful. Although some may think his religion is a fundamentalist religious sect, I enjoyed how he shared love with the world.
The fact that a rich Christian had just given him a brand new £20,000 car was irrelevant. If we tread a path of Godliness, rewards come naturally. There's always a payback time for fraudsters (which John isn't). Their souls may not experience bliss after death. Soul lessons can be learned in this world's prison, or the next.
Ghettos are everywhere, including Europe and Africa. And everywhere, souls are in need. In John's eyes, Jesus provides spiritual bullet proof vests.