Benji slowly surveyed the scene and took it all in.
Everybody was here…how many years had it been? Though the family remained close, overcoming every daunting hill and rising from every inevitable valley, as adults tend to do, they’d all met their own crossroads, made their own decisions, chosen their own paths, and gone their own ways over time. This was the reality of life.
But the family came back together like this for weddings…and also for funerals.
Today it was a wedding. Nikki’s daughter was getting married and the event had brought them all together.
Benji truly loved and appreciated days like today. It would be a day full of big, sincere smiles —the kind that warm hearts and create lasting memories. There’d be tight hugs, constant laughter, and affection born of history, decades of commitment, struggle, and shared triumph; a reaffirmation of loyalties never forgotten and not dimmed by the passage of time or length of absence.
And there’d be food— a veritable feast. He was happy his niece ignored those who said fried chicken was not a wedding food…the menu included country fried chicken with white gravy on the side, pot roast, macaroni and cheese, sweet potato casserole, mashed potatoes, southern green beans, greens, cornbread, rolls, deviled eggs…Benji had no intention of going anywhere near any salad that didn’t have potatoes or macaroni in it and the colorful fruit was likewise safe. But they were there too if anyone was so inclined. The color was pretty and made for a beautiful spread even if no one touched the healthier wedding alternatives.
Benji was normally not a huge fan of wedding cakes; he didn’t think they were sweet enough. But this cake had promise…Nikki had ordered a cake where each piece of the cake was going to be a different flavor: lemon, strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, caramel…Benji was a sugar addict and ready to take up the challenge of getting through each one of the flavorful treasures contained within the sugary temptation.
Then the music and the dancing would come. They would all take turns dancing with the beautiful bride and with each other. It was a family with a wide diversity of musical tastes, which the bride and groom respected—they would all jostle to dance with Mama to Frank Sinatra’s “The Way You Look Tonight”; Benji would grab whichever female relative was nearest when they played his requested, “How Sweet It Is to Be Loved By You”; Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” would be a hit with the family’s women, and everybody would dance with everybody when the ultra-popular “Cupid Shuffle” inevitably got remixed into a fifteen-minute song.
Benji didn’t know how to do that dance yet, but he vowed to learn it today.
All families have stories stretching back to when its elders were adults, when its adults were children, and when its children were infants, stories told over and over, the punchlines and endings known but still told with relish as if it were the first time telling it or hearing it. And they would use the time not just to rehash the old stories and memories. Since everyone was here, there was time to catch up…to fill in the blanks created by the necessity of separate roads dictated by life, fate, and destiny that had been taken by the individual members of the Frazier family.
Almost everyone was there.
Pops had passed away two years ago, and though merriment was in the air, his loss stung and was felt by all. His father was the hardest-working man Benji had ever known. He did whatever was necessary to ensure there was harmony…and food… in the home. Benji marveled at his father’s humor when he overheard his dad and the other men cutting up, but with his family, there was a simple all-encompassing goal—ensure their well-being. Pops was just not a simple garbage man…he’d served during World War II, earning three Bronze Stars and a Meritorious Service Medal. He was a hero, at war and at home. None of them would have been anything without the most influential man any of them had ever known. Nikki wanted to do a tribute to their dad during the wedding, but Mama gently nixed the idea, saying he wouldn’t have wanted it— always humble, he would have wanted to keep the focus on the wedding. But no one could nix the feeling of absence they all felt in their hearts at seeing the empty place at the table Nikki had ensured would be set for her daddy.
Mama was in her seventies now, still alert, strong, and even more beautiful and mentally feisty today than she had been thirty years ago. Her vibrancy was undeniable, and even her gradually diminishing eyesight could not lessen the sparkle in her eye. Watching her play with her grandchildren reminded Benji of the woman who, when asked by her children how the record player worked, had responded, “a red light comes on in the studio whenever we play the record…they have to get up and play when they see the light.” She was also the woman who told her children she was the first woman to play for the Harlem Globetrotters—and they believed her. Benji’s mama had the skill to cook with her girls one minute, then play football with her boys the next. She could still make each of her five children and numerous grandchildren all feel as special as an only child but feel simultaneously like a committed, loyal Frazier family member. Family was everything.
Angela was a professor of sociology now. She’d married in her thirties, and had two sons, ages nine and seven . Benji thought his oldest sister was too driven to ever have a family, plus she shouldered such numerous responsibilities as the oldest, Benji would not have been surprised if she had permanently run away from the responsibility of raising kids. But there she was, doting over her sons just like she had cared for her siblings. Her boys were a little “proper,” but a little time with their uncles would definitely loosen them up. Her husband was plenty boisterous, and it occurred to Benji that his sister married someone who was like her brothers. Benji imagined despite being a professor and all…she missed her siblings.
Marcus was a supervisor with an aerospace manufacturing company, in charge of integrating his company’s component designs with other aircraft. His beautiful ex-wife gave him three equally beautiful daughters aged twenty-two, twenty-one, and eighteen. He was never one to be without a gorgeous lady on his arm, and his second wife added a son to his brood. Though his athletic build had not totally left him, the beginning of a paunch initiated his entry into middle age. Still as bombastic and charismatic as ever, he remained the loudest of the Frazier men, could still be found relentlessly teasing his younger brothers on occasion— but Benji knew he was proud and freely bragged about them every chance he got.
Nikki was living a storybook romance with the man of her dreams in a house a couple of blocks away from where the Fraziers grew up. Benji recalled when they used to play the Game of Life, Nikki was the one who had to give her spouse peg a name; the same peg everyone got when they passed the marriage square, Nikki had to name hers and have conversations with the peg. She named all the children too, always with different names. She never even cared if she won…she was just famous in the family for holding up the game by having conversations with little blue and pink pegs that represented her husband and children while her brothers would yell at her to “Just spin the wheel! Come on, Nik!” But she was such a great mother to her twenty-one-year-old daughter who could have been her twin and to her twelve-year-old son as well. It was amazing how much she was like Mama in that regard.
Sid was a stock broker and a good one…even great. Ever since he’d been a child, he’d been drawn to unpredictable endeavors that offered fun and adventure, and not only did he love his work, but he was also described as having brilliant instincts, even though he could not convince his financially conservative family to invest. He’d married a woman who could almost match his infectious energy—a kindred spirit who shared his love of fun and laughter. They had plans to start their own investment firm together so they could rotate between making money and raising their two sons.
Benji was thrilled his childhood friend Brian was at the wedding. Benji was somewhat surprised that his long time friend had finally curbed his insatiable appetite—he was slimmed down now and in great shape, but he still laughed like a jolly fat man. But to no one’s surprise, he had never curbed his appetite for music. He was going to play today.
Brian’s presence only highlighted Ricky’s absence, though. Benji was devastated a few years ago upon learning Ricky had been shot in the face and killed while defending his sister Lety from an abusive boyfriend. Benji kept imagining his fearless friend charging in to defend his sister. It was like the Ricky he remembered, but Benji’s world was permanently lessened by Ricky’s senseless slaughter. He wished Ricky were here today.
Shante was also absent; she’d ended up joining the military, which surprised Benji when he heard. Nikki said she was still in the navy, with the top rank of master chief officer commander or something like that; he couldn’t keep up with that military stuff. She had a high rank though; was the first woman to do something or other - Benji was unsure what. Tina had been a lifelong friend, ever since that day she’d walked up behind him and started speaking Swahili. She went by her given name of Tatiana now, had moved to another state after college and married, so they only talked sporadically lately, but when they did, it was like they were locker mates all over again.
Thinking about the old days made Benji wonder what had ever happened to his old neighbor Johnny Davis. He’d barely seen him since that day long ago he refused to rob the house across the street with Johnny. He’d seen him around for a couple weeks or so, then he’d just disappeared and Benji lost contact. He finally eased people into not calling him “Ice”; it sent a message he didn’t want sent. He’d heard a rumor about Johnny back then; he hoped it wasn’t true though. It all seemed like a million years ago now.
He gazed with pride at his four beautiful but altogether different children: the supremely talented vocalist, twenty-one - year-old Tabitha, her father’s physical twin, a musical marvel who had already made a popular gospel record as lead singer with her group; the fiercely independent and inventive nineteen-year-old Samara, smarter than her father had ever been with her 3.6 college grade point average and possibly following in her father’s professional footsteps; the tall, physically imposing, and athletic Solomon, six feet six inches tall, already getting notice from several college basketball recruiters at sixteen; and his youngest, Abraham, handsome, intelligent, nearsighted, insightful and intense at age fourteen, and mildly spoiled by his sisters…just like his father had been all those years ago.
And as much as Nikki channeled their mother’s familial spirit, Benji was determined to model his father’s commitment, love, sacrifice, and dedication to his children.
Benji had known his dark-haired wife since they were teens; it all stemmed from that fateful youth conference.
They’d finally met and gotten a chance to talk during the conference, and Benji always swore his future wife was flirting with him— a charge she vehemently denied even until this day. All she would admit later was it was the first time she realized he wasn’t a thug. She’d actually heard him say something funny at the conference and thought he was cute. When Benji said, “See? You had already noticed me!” she calmly pointed out, “Yes, but you noticed me first…I just got tired of waiting for you to talk!”
And she was right. He was totally mesmerized by her from first sight. He found it amusing she knew it and was willing to say it out loud. She found it amusing when Benji tried to use pop song lyrics that he thought she didn’t know to try to sound smooth.
“With a little luck, you think we can work it out, huh?” she had thought with a laugh. He had tried so hard—they were at the Harbor Drive-In when he said it and she had laughed all the way through the first movie. Not because the movie was so funny—it was just so cute how he said it. Even today, he didn’t know that she knew about his penchant for using obscure song lyrics back in the old days…when they first began.
But once initiated, their relationship advanced slowly; Benji found an increasing comfort in her presence. As they went from being acquaintances to being friends, Benji found it easy to make her laugh without trying to and found she had a way of interpreting his actions and emotions that made him feel more comfortable expressing his himself. In return, Benji became her sounding board and her champion and helped her frame her idealism against Southeast San Diego reality.
Their paths diverged after high school. Each chose a different path, but Benji constantly recalled the haunting silhouette of her excitedly waving goodbye on their last day together.
He missed her more than he would admit.
He wrote her a letter one day. There was nothing deep or intimate in his writing; he just explained what happened that day, just as he would have done if she was still there. Then he wrote another…and a postcard arrived from her…then another…then a letter. Secure in the knowledge he was reading the situation accurately, he wrote back, and before he knew it, he was writing every day…every single day. Sometimes twice a day. And though Benji was not what anyone would call romantic, even then…it was Benji who first wrote to her, “No matter how far away you are, remember when you look up in the sky at night, we’re really not that far apart—we’re always looking at the same moon. Don’t forget.”
It wasn’t romantic to Benji. It was simply a fact he was pointing out.
Almost as soon as he dropped the letter in the mailbox, though, he wondered how he might recall it…he thought it was way too sensitive sounding. He immediately regretted sending it, but when the return letter came back from her, it closed with the phrase “Same moon.”
Without realizing it, he’d completely melted her. Each of their letters closed that way from then on. And Benji had accurately defined the couple’s philosophy for life.
Same moon.
Marriage for the two was entirely predictable. And with that, Benji was free to grow into the man he was destined to become with his dark-haired beauty of a wife as his full partner.
As the new Frazier family began to grow and develop, Benji realized that outside of his wife, he was for the most part unwilling to consider the emotions of others—and sometimes he didn’t even consider hers. He found it difficult to even interpret emotions, and I knew why. So did his wife. Like many things in his life, it stemmed from teenage bullying—emotions never helped his situation. Without being able to gauge expressions, he was forced to go by his intuition and the result was a man who sometimes took offense when none was intended. Moreover, Benji was a man who grew to be unconcerned with emotions he could not interpret. His wife earned his trust…but with others, he struggled to respond to their emotional cues and needs even though, thanks to the advent of soft contact lenses, he could now see.
Many perceived Benji as arrogant, and though he was unconcerned, his wife was fully aware of this shortcoming and disarmed a trait that could have ultimately threatened her husband and their family. Using humor, insight, and a growing trust, she gently pointed out things Benji refused to or was unable to see. She helped him to make light of other things, to see the humor in other situations, and bolstered his own self-image in a way that made him more willing to give others the benefit of the doubt. Their intimacies bound them. I thought the way she would randomly pick up a box of dark chocolate, hug it, then suggestively look at her husband with a “What’s my favorite flavor?” comment was genius. She also came to realize her husband was sometimes clueless on romance. Sometimes he got it right, but other times, his idea of romance was eating from her plate or drinking from her cup. She could see it from his view though; she knew Benji would not eat or drink after any other person, not even their children…only her— so that made it an intimacy between them. The sum of what she truly did was to provide an influence that completed Benji, settled him, and resulted in clearer, better, more informed choices in his life.
In short—she made him a better man.
Now she obviously didn’t know quite as much as I did…but her influence definitely made my job easier.
Benji’s natural tendency was toward introversion; I was often concerned for him during those early teenage days— for many young people, the continual attack on self- image often resulted in serious self- esteem issues through puberty, young adulthood, and adulthood. The opposite appeared to be true for Benji—as opposed to insecurity, he’d grown to be unconcerned with anyone’s opinion of him. Though shy is not how anyone would describe him, he would abruptly leave a conversation or gathering with no notice and without comment if he’d decided it had consumed enough of his time. His wife softened that stance too, though—her humor and ability to carry on a conversation with whoever happened to be present allowed Benji the freedom to either observe the situation or get used to unfamiliar participants at his own speed, increasing his comfort during gatherings that did not involve family or close friends.
In truth, Benji often looked on in amazement at his wife’s ability to liven up any atmosphere and to connect with various kinds of people. They shared their private jokes— Benji truly believed himself a great dancer, but his wife, a truly great dancer herself, would humorously point out to whoever was present that as sweet as Benji was, he couldn’t dance to save his life. And Benji would always assert his dancing prowess by showing off the pop-lock moves of his youth, while his wife wryly asserted, “Those are the three moves he knows,” before joining him in a short, spontaneous, musicless dance with her hand resting lightly on his stomach, fingers tapping imperceptibly to help Benji stay on the beat.
Benji still required solitude at times, but because they understood each other so well, each knew when the perfect time came for her to fulfill her own need to be around positive people, and Benji felt no resentment when those times came. And whenever Benji surprised his wife by saying “Same moon” with a kiss and a smile before she left at such times, she often hurried back, cutting the event short, to celebrate the bond she felt with her husband during those special times.
I know you know what I mean. Celebrate…yes…THAT kind of celebration.
But no relationship is a perfect one, of course, and despite their strong chemistry, the two had their inevitable bumps. Benji’s wife was always concerned with harmony and tried to avoid conflict as much as possible, but she took criticism personally. When Benji offhandedly commented he wished she would calm down because he found her enthusiasm draining some times, it was a comment it took her years to forget. Though it was unintentional, there were other times her feelings were stung in similar fashion. Also, they were both extremely independent, a trait that can prove toxic to a relationship if both are not moving in a similar direction.
Benji’s lack of emotional intelligence was also a source of occasional strife; his wife was not only keenly aware of her own emotions and emotional needs, but she also had an instinctive insight into the same for others as well. But it was not a talent that came to her husband naturally. He usually knew what he was thinking…but he either didn’t know what he or others were feeling or didn’t normally consider it significant. Yet these instances served as times to shake things up, which ultimately was to their advantage as each despised the routines that were common in marriage. They were both strong enough to stand their ground when necessary, smart enough to know when to give ground, and focused enough to remember their chemistry and connection when excessive moodiness threatened their bond.
I saw clearly what neither of them consciously realized—Benji relished the familial role his father had modeled for him his entire life: taking care of the family, being its strong protector and defender, sometimes silent, but enabling the connections that kept a family strong. His wife served as the family’s inspiration, giving it excitement and color; she was its heart and soul, making sure love and passion were never far from the forefront. They started with no money, having spent all they had a used blue Mazda 323 and a 19-inch TV; those were their only possessions to start. But they grew together to expertly fit their family roles; and the same thing they did for their family as a unit they did for each other in all areas of their lives. It was a partnership marked by laughter, dreams, loyalty, support, and an almost ferocious defense of each other. And whenever they reminisced about where they first began, Benji wondered where he would have been if he had followed his plan of convincing his mother that he was too sick to participate in the youth conference. He told himself he would have “reeled her in eventually” no matter what path he’d chosen.
I knew differently.
I also knew that he might not have begun a different type of relationship with an extremely unlikely ally—Nick Thomas. The same Nick Thomas who as a youth, terrified Skyline, including parents, teachers, fellow students, and many of his fellow gangsters.
It was a condition of Nick’s probation, his participation strongly recommended by his probation officer. Nick wasn’t required to take part in the religious aspects of the conference, but anxious to have his four-year probationary period cut in half, he agreed to take part in a panel hoping to help the community to understand why its youth were attracted to the gang lifestyle. It was supposed to be a panel of three current gangbangers, but Nick was the only one to show. Surprisingly, he relished the opportunity to have the entire stage to himself, to tell his own story, and to represent gangbanging to the squares. What he didn’t anticipate was the sincere questions and concern demonstrated to him that day; he didn’t anticipate experiencing the strength and positivity that emanated from the event; he didn’t anticipate the standing ovation he received in the aftermath of his session…and he didn’t anticipate the offer to return. He didn’t intend to go back…he shot pool, got drunk, then got high later that evening, in fact.
But something brought him back the next day.
Fate, perhaps.
He was surprised to see Benji there. He knew Benji was a square…a civilian…but he’d never forgotten this little kid blasting Tootie in his nuts. It was funny then—it was funny now— so when he nodded in recognition at Benji, he unknowingly started a conversation and partnership that would extend far beyond the end of the youth conference and would greatly impact both of their lives.
Benji and Nick became extremely involved in the community over time, and they were often introduced as having served the community since they were fifteen years old, a reference to their involvement with the youth conference in ’78. That conference triggered a series of events which ultimately led to a partnership to fearlessly combat Southeast San Diego issues regarding street gangs, drug dealing, prostitution, depressed economics, and the apathetic schools that existed in the community. Both prescribed the best antidote to the issues was to prevent them from becoming issues in the first place. Each recognized the issues were vast and there was no one reason the community’s men and women joined gangs. They realistically assessed they would not solve every issue but every thing they did, big or small, was better than doing nothing at all.
So the issue they focused on was youths who longed for a sense of community, who wanted to feel as if they belonged and were needed— who wanted to feel like they were “home.” Neither Benji nor Nick was a great student, but they enlisted the assistance of those who were to create a tutoring program in Southeast, using boys’ clubs, recreation centers, the Any Boy Can Boxing Club, and any other place that wanted to participate. The tutors were volunteer students, teachers that cared, recent high school graduates, college graduates from their neighborhood and others. Some provided mentorship; others gave free apprenticeships in areas like automotive repair or tattooing. Benji and Nick took turns negotiating with the gangsters who congregated in those areas to ensure safe passage for all participants…Nick spoke the language and was immediately recognized as someone of respect whom the gangsters should listen to. Benji was amazed by the power of his own reputation— he’d had one altercation with a gangbanger, during which he’d been terrified, but over time, that single instance morphed into his reputation as a savage street fighter, which gave him the credibility he needed to talk to gangs or physically break up fights…which he often did without being sanctioned by the gangs involved.
Southeast San Diego had a murder rate comparable to its more well-known neighbor to the north, South Central Los Angeles, but its make up was substantially more diverse. Skyline, the neighborhood, was primarily black, but Barrio Logan was primarily Latino, and the Paradise Hills area was dominated by Asian immigrants. Benji and Nick differed over the perceived importance of attempting to link the various racial factions that existed among the Southeast’s communities; Nick thought it would damage their efforts to curb gangsterism by being seen as weak by the gangs, but in this area, Benji’s focus was not so much the gangs but on the entire community. He recruited and led an army of volunteers to help celebrate significant events in its culture and increase appreciation of the other cultures that existed in Southeast San Diego. Though he and Nick parted ways over his change in focus, Benji created a campaign he coined “I’ve Been There,” where he convinced a sizeable number of Southeast San Diego residents who had been victim of a certain issue to wear a certain non-gang-related color as a measure of community solidarity. He chose different issues: not treated fairly in school, harassed unfairly by police, being laid off and others. The wave of color displayed in the community was Southeast San Diegans telling each other “I see you…I’ve been there too…we will get through this together”…it started slow but became wildly successful.
That and other initiatives gave Benji a voice, so that when a local councilman proposed the city stop using the term “Southeast San Diego” because the name carried a negative connotation, Benji countered with, “No! How can where we live be considered a negative thing? It’s our reality! We…Are…Southeast. That’s not going to change. Instead of trying to erase what’s real, let’s define for ourselves what our name means.” And with that, Benji organized a soon-to-be annual “We Are Southeast” event, complete with T-shirts emblazoned with the term, all the community’s schools represented on the T-shirt, and commitments from store owners and professional athletes to provide shirts for those who could not purchase their own. The community was drowned in the sea of yellow —the selected non-gang-related color for the shirts and the biblical color of joy. Benji considered the councilman’s request for the city to stop using the term “Southeast San Diego” silly and a nonsensical political ploy…but the councilman was successful in convincing the city to adopt a resolution banning the use of the term. Benji was also successful… the inhabitants continued to refer to themselves as being from “Southeast” and celebrated it. Benji found it interesting that as a result of his efforts, he’d been approached to potentially run for a councilman seat representing District Four—the district of his beloved Southeast. Benji didn’t have the professional pedigree of his potential opponents, but he was fearless…and uncaring if he lost. He realized he would get the chance to give voice to some issues whether he won or lost, so…he was giving serious consideration to running for the office.
When that happened, I’d gotten close to Benji’s ear again and whispered:
“Crossroad…”
Then I watched for his reaction.
But that’s a story for another day.
However, taking the youth conference road served as a spiritual springboard for Benji…although it didn’t start out that way. Even though Benji decided not to try to fool his mother, he still didn’t give his all for his presentation. He’d basically read it from a paper without any emotion, and he could barely be heard. In truth, the only reason he went back every day was the girl he met—the teenage girl who would later become his wife. But it turns out he got much more from the youth conference than just the chance meeting with his future spouse.
There was little to no spiritual impact in the aftermath of the conference. In fact, he still went to Sunday School as directed by Mama and remained a below-average student who occasionally got in trouble. His father got him a job at the gas station— he knew the Arab guy who owned it, and Benji was hired to pump gas and check oil for $1.50 an hour after school, but he got fired after a week. The owner claimed Benji stole $140 or the register was short. Benji denied stealing the money. His parents believed him. Well…Mama believed him, anyway. I knew he’d stolen it though…I was with him when he stole it.
You don’t want to know what he did with the money.
Then there was Alonzo Allen, a high school gangster on parole who out of nowhere asked him to come over one afternoon. Once Benji got there, he asked Benji to hide a gun for him…to hold it because his probation officer was on the way. Benji foolishly took the loaded gun, walked home with it, and hid it in his closet, knowing his mother was fed up with cleaning his room and would never look in his closet. Except for that day, of course…Mama was in an extra good mood, so when Benji stashed the weapon and left to play ball, he was paralyzed to find Mama cleaning his closet when he returned. He was amazed she finished cleaning the closet but never found the gun.
I wasn’t. Like I said…sometimes I get lucky with my guardian powers.
It got better…but even as he got older and his behavior changed and he matured somewhat, there was something missing— the something that defines and highlights a person’s core values…not the values instilled by a person’s parents or from watching TV. He knew what his parents expected of him. But what he was lacking were the values defined by a deep, over arching purpose, that unseen thing that powers a person to act in accordance with an enduring purpose even when no one is around to make sure that you do.
It all came together for Benji on a Saturday morning in his twenties.
Benji drank alcohol. He liked drinking it. Like all his friends did. He was trying to do positive things with his days; he had a girlfriend; he was no criminal, but…he liked to drink. He didn’t smoke marijuana, though—he’d occasionally take a puff or two if someone passed him a joint, but he didn’t purchase it on his own…primarily because he didn’t know how to roll it. And he didn’t want anyone to know he didn’t know how to roll it. So when a friend unexpectedly offered him a small bag of marijuana instead of gas money for picking him up way out in Poway one Friday, Benji had no choice but to take it or forgo payment for the ride he provided. Once alone, Benji was perplexed about what to do with the bag. So he bought a burrito from the closest taco shop, poked a hole in the long end of the burrito, filled the burrito with the marijuana, closed the burrito, drowned it in hot sauce…and ate it. And nothing happened.
Until later.
A noise woke him that Saturday morning…a loud one. Benji thought it might be a dream, but…his eyes were open. And the voice spoke to him was so clear he thought that he had left his television on; but the voice was clear with an equally clear message:
“You believe there is one God. You do well. Even the demons believe— and tremble!”
Benji got up and went in to check his television…but it was off. And even if it had been on, church stuff comes on Sundays, not Saturday mornings.
The words stayed with him all day. That night, he couldn’t get to sleep from hearing the words resonate in his mind. He thought maybe it was the aftereffects of the weed, but he’d smoked weed before, and nothing like this had ever happened. Besides—that was YESTERDAY. Of course he’d never eaten it…he just didn’t know. But what he did know…was that he’d heard those words before. Those exact words.
Then it came to him. The youth conference. He’d heard those words at the youth conference while he was wandering around. In the same voice. And in an instant, it all come back to him:
“You believe there is one God. You do well. Even the demons believe— and tremble! Believing in God does not save you…believing in God may be our motivation to study Christian doctrine, go to church, pray, have Bible study, preach sermons about Jesus, give to the poor, memorize scripture, and even come to this conference, but it’s still not enough to ensure our salvation. We can’t think believing in God will ensure we end up in heaven, because James says the devil and his demons believe too! And when the demons think about God and the judgment awaiting them because of their sin, it makes them shudder from fear. If men could but see what awaits them because of their sin and rejection of Christ, no doubt we would shudder, too…but we don’t. Humanity may claim to believe in God, but we have never trembled at the thought of standing before God to give account for our sin.
“It takes more than just belief.”
It may have been several years since hearing that sermon when he was just fifteen. As a child, Benji joked that when he died, he would just be sure to ask for forgiveness right before he died so that he would be ok to go to heaven no matter what he’d done. And as the sun went down that Saturday evening, Benji realized he didn’t remember hearing the sermon those many years ago…or maybe it had taken all those years for the sermon to make it from his subconscious to his conscious thoughts. And with it came a moment of clarity— he was living a pretty good life by human standards. Decent…as in trying to help the community, not committing crimes, still kind of a square, but a pretty good person…and he did believe in God.
But it takes more than just belief.
Benji joined his church the next day.
He didn’t join as a fiery speaker, eager to tell his story and make a difference in anyone else’s spiritual journey. No…as was his nature, he watched, read, learned, asked questions, read more, learned more, and shared, and slowly, over the years, he began to assume greater and greater responsibilities inside the church. He began to put things together in his own mind first, and the result was an inner peace, enhanced focus and well-defined purpose. He had to answer questions in his own mind as he advanced, but he didn’t demand all the answers immediately to questions such as “How could God allow so much suffering?” But as his spirituality grew, his capacity for knowledge and understanding grew.
As he married and began his family, this newly refined clarity, focus, and purpose came to the couple’s great benefit as they struggled through the pangs of growth experienced by all newlyweds with young children. Fights happen in the strongest of relationships, and frustration invariably follows. Rare is the relationship where one or both of the parties does not question the wisdom of their decision to marry and question if they would be better off single once more. Despite his love for his wife and children, Benji found himself at such a point in his marriage and had no doubts his wife was wondering at times whom she’d married as well. But the focus and purpose of his burgeoning spirituality manifested itself in a discipline to wait…and a faith that if he trusted the process and refrained from saying or doing anything he would later regret, his relationship would blossom as it had before.
And once again…an unconscious message from the youth conference that he hadn’t realized was planted in his soul sprouted at exactly the right time. He’d overheard adults discussing something during a session with young spouses—the premise was, “If you can do one thing a day…just one thing…small or big…something that is totally for the other person…and you get no benefit from it or even let the other person know you’re doing it…you will build a relationship to stand the test of time, no matter how young or old you are as long as you do it while not seeking or accepting credit for it.” And when Benji was reminded of the memory, he believed the reasoning to be sound and considered, “Why wouldn’t that work for me?” So that’s what he did: a glass of water…a kiss for no reason…listening when he was busy…these small things and more, Benji did one thing daily. And when a day was ending when he hadn’t done his one small thing, he scrambled to find something to do for his spouse so that he would fulfill his internal vow. And it worked. His relationship strengthened as the small, unselfish acts became second nature to both husband and wife.
And now, Benji was an influential leader not only in his family and community but within his church as well. Normally he wouldn’t speak at his own family’s marriage ceremony, but he’d been granted the privilege and scanned the congregation—smiling warmly, developing a spiritual connection, mentally inviting them all in. His gaze settled on his niece and her fiancé. She was exquisite…and a mirror image of her mother. Benji nearly laughed out loud at the thought of describing his older sister in those terms after all these years— but it was true. Her intended was a good man— he laughed a lot, was of strong spiritual character, and demonstrated wisdom beyond his years. There were never any guarantees, but Benji felt extremely positive the family was about to get even stronger with this young man’s addition.
Comfortable that he’d made the required connection with the audience, he began to speak as he was moved to say:
“Aladdin…had a magic lamp…didn’t he?”
Benji had mastered a vocal delivery designed to keep the crowd enthralled with the words. He literally thundered the first word and stopped…then delivered the rest of the introduction in a soft, gentle tone accompanied by a wry smile, a wink, and an embracing openhanded gesture.
Then he paused— the congregation collectively chuckled and tittered with anticipation. They knew him, both from his speeches in Southeast and from inside the church— they knew he often went off on unexpected reflections, and though some did not truly appreciate Benji’s willingness to freestyle from the norm and wanted him to get to the point, the majority knew there was a method to wherever it was he was going.
“Yes, Aladdin had himself a magic lamp,” he continued.
Then he lowered his voice into a more conspiratorial tone in a manner such that every person in the building felt like he was speaking only to them.
“You know Aladdin, right? He rubbed the lamp or something…then a genie came out of the bottle…all smoky and what not, right? Then he started folding his arms and granting wishes!”
Benji paused to bring the crowd further in to his story before he continued.
“Wait, wait! No, he didn’t fold his arms! He blinked, right? Then he…hold on, y’all…”
The crowd was with him now; some chuckled, some laughed out loud, and all were focused on the charismatic speaker who was addressing them now.
“OK, that’s not no genie, is it? That was the one girl who came out the bottle for the soldier man…right, right…no no, he was in the Air Force…well…I don’t really remember but I know she wrinkled her nose up and made wishes happen, y’all! Wait, wait…no, that wasn’t Aladdin…that was the good witch who…hmmm…clicked her heels three times…aww man…naw, that ain’t it either…”
The laughter of the crowd became more constant as Benji pretended to fumble with the story; the entire assembly literally exploded with laughter when Benji, with fake indignation, loudly exclaimed: “It’s Aladdin! I mean the genie! Y’all know how I’m talking about!”
Benji kept a stern, offended look on his face as the laughter continued and then, with perfect timing, allowed his mouth to form a sheepish grin as he continued.
“Yes…Aladdin…and Aladdin’s genie? He granted wishes…and you could wish for anything you wanted. The genie would blink or wrinkle or do whatever genies do and grant your wish. ‘Genie, make me beautiful! Genie, make me rich! Genie, make that girl love me!’ But…brothers and sisters…let me tell you something.
“Our God ain’t no genie in no bottle.”
Benji paused for effect.
“We don’t need no magic genie wishes to experience the strength and the love of Almighty God…
“We don’t need no magic genie wishes to experience the joy in His only begotten son Jesus Christ…
“We don’t need no magic genie wishes to give us confidence and a spirit of lightness, gentleness, and truth that comes from the Holy Spirit!…
“We don’t need no magic genie wishes to follow the path prepared for us and to use our abundance or our lack of abundance to advance His will and give glory to God!
“So my brothers and sisters— we are not going to make wishes of the Lord our God today…we do not need to wish for marital bliss for this happy couple; we are not going to wish for days of happiness; we’re not going to wish for these two beautiful souls to keep the strength to withstand the inevitable storms…we are going to celebrate what God has already given them and remind them to always share these things with each other.
“Love based on a promise, not on feelings.
“Comfort in each other’s arms and presence.
“Peace in the knowledge that in his eyes there is no better woman in this world, forever his queen…and in her eyes, there is no better man in this world, forever her king.
“Confidence that the words they both hear today will ring forever in eternity and that this day they become each other’s forever legacy!
“The smiling souls who will become one today don’t need wishes. They have God’s promises and they have each other. And as long as they remember God’s promises and let us all remember it in our lives as well…as long as they remember this and that even the memory of looking into each other’s eyes today will remind them of this: with you by my side and you in my heart, home is not what we do; home is not even where we are or where we live. Home is living your core values and following your purpose. Home will never leave you…and you can’t ever leave it.
“So if you can remember these things— wherever you are, whatever results from whatever crossroad you take—that road…will always…lead back to one place:
Home.”
And Benji sat down.
He knew he wasn’t just talking to the congregation.
He was talking to himself.
And in the moment he realized that he too had finally made it. He embraced the thought… it actually gave him goosebumps. He felt it in his spirit and knowledge welled up inside him and seemed to have captured the full essence of his entire being.
In his heart, in his mind, in his very soul he felt contentment in an emotional and spiritual place that worldly success could never substitute for, a place you can’t charm your way into, a place that can’t duplicated, a place money could never buy.
His crossroads had brought him where it seemed he was always destined to be.
I smiled. I knew it too.
We’d made it. Because Benjamin Frazier, Jr’s crossroad had finally brought him to place he’d been looking for and never wanted to leave…Benji’s crossroad had led him home.