Hades' Melody. JD Belcher

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СКАЧАТЬ up, he was there. On a regular basis, he made phone calls to everyone affiliated with the program to see how they were doing at home and in school, and went out of his way to make personal visits whenever he thought it necessary.

      When I transferred to Pitt—after I arrived back in town from my two years of undergraduate study at UAB—the big brothers offered the opportunity for me to become a big brother and to have my own class of eight to ten-year-old boys to teach. I gladly accepted, and when Brother Gil took me under his wing, I began to learn the fundamental principles of godly living and spiritual war-fare from a master. I was honored to stand in front of a sea of predominantly black faces, many of whom were underprivileged youth, and to have the chance to serve a community that was in dire need of help.

      I truly believed that my training under Brother Gil was ordained by God. Back when I first entered the program as a shy teenager, Brother Gil would often pick me up and give me rides to the meetings when my mother was overloaded with the domestic duties of raising four sons alone. He once made the statement to me that out of all the young men in the program, I seemed to be the most spiritual. He had an excellent skill with words and a knack for assessing an individual’s talent. I never forgot what he said. Spirituality was a quality I desired, and coming from Big Brother Gil, one of the most spiritual people I had been blessed to know, his comments carried a lot of weight in my impressionable, young mind.

      Though Brother Gil considered himself an African American, he looked like an Arab and walked with a limp. As a child, he was involved in a car accident that permanently deformed the structure of his left leg. This handicap didn’t take away from his charm, but rather added to it. He was like the Christian Professor X—an apostolic, spirit-filled, superhero. He was by no means ashamed of his relationship with Jesus. Prayer seemed to be his God-given gift, and he used it every opportunity he had—praying anytime, anywhere, or under any circumstance. Like Brother Leon, he was always very well dressed, and I rarely saw him in anything less than a suit or dress slacks and a sports coat.

      As a result of my investment into the program, Brother Gil and I began spending a lot of time together. Instead of taking the bus to the church, something I could have easily done due to my location—the bus ran every five minutes a block away— Brother Gil offered to pick me up after he got off work because he had to pass near my apartment on Louisa Street in Oakland to get to Wilkinsburg.

      The rides to the BK meetings with Brother Gil became special times in themselves, but similar to attending Sunday morning worship services, I sometimes felt as if I’d rather stay in bed. Mostly, I think, because I was a cigarette smoker. I never felt totally comfortable attending church-related activities with this habit. Often, there were times when I’d sneak one before Brother Gil arrived, and then unnecessarily fumigate myself with cologne and deodorant, knowing he probably could smell right through it.

      Once I was in his car, he’d do most of the talking.

      He covered topics for group discussion and the order of events for the evening. He encouraged me, and I later found out also himself, about the mission of BK and why we were doing what we were doing, often reflecting upon how God would bless us for our service. On the way home, we’d evaluate how the night went and discuss any issues and concerns that needed to be addressed for future meetings. Working in this ministry wasn’t an easy task for any of the leaders, but Brother Gil had a way of revivifying until the feeling of not wanting to be there was replaced with the rallying cry of I’m ready to be a BK soldier. I always believed it was the presence of the Holy Spirit I felt in his car, and I later gave the time we spent talking there a name— Heavenly Places.

      It wasn’t only because of the spiritual empowerment I often felt there, but also because when the night was over, I was always glad I came.

      As with any program of this magnitude, keeping it alive and functioning required very thorough prepara-tion. Twice a year, all the big brothers gathered together for what was called a core meeting. It was an overnight retreat of prayer and planning for the upcoming BK year where the members of the board of governors—the exclusive nucleus of the original BK founders—were required to attend. When I was told that my presence was requested, I was terrified.

       No smoking for two days straight? No way!

      My first core meeting took place in Brother Gil’s home. He picked me up on a Friday evening and drove me to Wexford, where he occupied the bottom level of an enormous house he shared with his parents. This was no ordinary basement apartment but rather an exquisite sublevel quarter unto itself. That evening, Brother Gil and I found ourselves in a room with two black men and two white men. On one hand, there was Brother Leon Haynes, whom Brother Gil always called the chief overseer, and Robert Sumpter, another one of the original, wise men of the ministry. On the other was David Baird, the ruddy Youth Pastor at CCOP, and Jim Ward, a loyal big brother since BK’s inception.

      Light inspirational music filled the room, and I followed the lead of what everyone else was doing by performing quiet meditation and silent prayer. Some sat on sofas in the room, and some lay on the floor. Brother Gil walked around and anointed our heads with oil. After prayer, we gathered in a separate room for a foot-washing ceremony while verses from the Gospel of John, when Jesus washed his disciples’ feet, were read.

      When it was time to pray again, we took turns minis-tering to each other out loud, and I could feel a powerful, overwhelming presence of peace rising in the room. I always became very nervous when it was my turn, for fear of nothing coming out of my mouth, saying something silly or just outright laughing. But that night, I ignored the doubt, gave in, and trusted God to do the rest, as I, the youngest and most inexperienced participant, began to intercede for the other men. I let go of myself and spoke from my spirit in total faith. As the presence in the room became stronger, we all began to cry.

      Next, it was time to prophesy. We took turns gathering around a brother, one at a time, to lay our hands on him, pray for him, and to speak if God had placed something on our hearts to say. When it was my turn to be prophesied over, I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the men’s hands as they were pressed on my head, my arms, my legs, and my chest. The commanding tranquil-ity in the room continued to overwhelm me, and I cried again.

      Among the many prayers and prophecies given before God in this huddle of men, one stuck with me. While I was being prayed over, I heard the voice of Brother David. He prophesied that I would one day write a book, and the title of the book would be called They Have My Heart.

      After prayer, we gathered at a table and discussed the planning options for BK over the next year. Ideas, comments, and suggestions were taken by all until a picture of what the next season would look like came into focus. Some of the men went home that evening, and some stayed the night after the meeting had finished. A part of me wanted to leave and return to my apartment like the others had done, but since I didn’t drive myself, I thought it might have been too much to ask Brother Gil to take me back to Oakland. So, I stayed.

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       Hades’ Melody When I returned home in the morning, I noticed how I didn’t feel the same as when I was first picked up—a significant change had taken place within me as a result of all of our prayer. Though at first I dreaded attending the core meeting and had made several excuses within myself not to take part, once again, when it was all said and done, I was glad I’d gone.

      As I became regularly involved in BK activities as a big brother, Brother Gil challenged me by asking if I’d be interested in praying with him once a week.

      Initially, I thought he meant after the BK meetings on Wednesday nights, which wouldn’t have been a problem at all. I thought that at the end of each night, we would pray, and then I could go home. But he suggested that we pray early in the morning by telephone. I hesitantly agreed, СКАЧАТЬ