The Things He left behind Pt 4

That book was special to me. Losing him, and listening to the messages on those cassette tapes, was pulling me closer to God and shifting my whole perception. I used to think spirituality was something you either had or you didn’t. But through that process, I began to understand there are levels to it. It’s more like a muscle. The more consistent I was with praying, bringing God my questions, listening for His voice, and aligning myself with His words, the more the Spirit guided me to the answers I sought, exposed truth, and began to teach me its ways.

At first, I didn’t do much with the book. I ran my hands across the cover, taking in the smooth feel of the case. I thought the feeling was the book itself until I opened it and realized it was a Bible inside. As I worked through the tapes, there was this strange sense of serendipity. The timing and order of the messages lined up with what I was experiencing in life. I felt almost as if I was walking in a space between worlds, separated from all the conversations and drama around me, simply getting closer to God. I was constantly flipping between the cassette tapes, the Bible, and my Koran, expanding my understanding and finding answers as quickly as the questions came.

Several months later, I was separated from the book along with a few of my prized possessions. At the time, I got around the city on a mountain bike, another gift from my father while he was still on this plane. I was riding through downtown when a friend called about an event she was DJing. She didn’t expect anyone to come, and I knew that feeling well. I also knew I didn’t have my bike lock, but the only way I was getting there was by going straight in the moment, so I didn’t think twice.

I arrived, tucked my bike and bag in an alley where foot traffic was unlikely, had a random conflict with a junkie, and then slid into the event. I ended up having a great time and even got a surprise chance to perform. But when I returned, everything was gone, and the hurt hit me hard. Even if I left the bike, it would’ve been wiser to keep the bag close, but in my mind I thought, there’s nothing in there the average person would consider valuable. Just a change of clothes, a book on leadership, the Bible, and a journal.

I beat myself up at first how could I lose such a vital piece of his legacy? But in hindsight, I consider the whole experience fated. What’s wild is how much that day mirrored and foreshadowed another major, cannon event a few years later. I was hurt, but I couldn’t change the outcome, so I decided to flip it into something positive. I doubled and tripled down on the power of prayer. This time looking beyond my personal world.

I prayed that whoever found the book didn’t throw it away. I imagined a timeline where someone stole it, realized it was nothing but God and community spirit, and felt compelled to keep it. I dreamed that the book became my connection to this unknown recipient and a transponder for my prayers. I visualized the book intensely: the color, the cover, the sound and feel of the pages. I prayed over that image. I prayed for protection for its new possessor. I prayed that my words and energy would reach their spirit, that they would be blessed and guided into their own awakening. Sometimes I prayed more specifically, following where I felt God was leading me. Other times I just pictured the book glowing like a beacon, radiating warmth, calling out to whoever held it now.

I rarely make direct requests of God. I usually just ask Him to move me according to His will, but I made an exception here. Knowing God’s sense of humor, I asked that if I make every sacrifice and follow His voice without question, maybe one day He might let that book find its way back to me as a small token of thanks and acknowledgment. Maybe a little silly, but it felt good.

Three years later I lost the sash as well, but I took it in stride. That sash marked his recognition as a pastor just before his passing. I couldn’t be more proud of him for beating his addiction, renewing his spirit, and returning to preach in the very same streets that once trapped him. I began to see these items returning to the streets as a continuation of his journey.

I still have the cassette tapes, his certificate of completion for his addiction program, the document recognizing his spirit being saved, one tie from his collection, and a small sampling of his writings and journals.

I intend to safeguard this legacy, add a few things of my own, and make sure they are passed down to the generations after me.

These are the things he left behind