Call Me Kanye?
A long, heavy silence filled the air. Two strangers filled the space. The silence was so awful that the dead night, appeared alive. Hakeem noticed the wind had dwindled from a howl to a shy whisper and, then, to stillness. The humidity settled in the air at the cessation of the wind, and it clang to the sweat that was beginning to form on his forehead. Gravity would soon reveal the fear and bewilderment that raged within him. All the nocturnal animals refused to leave their beds. Not even their hunger, nor the moonlight could entice them from their hiding place. It is as if they sensed an approaching natural disaster. To Hakeem, the Earth stood still. Tick…tick… tick. His watch caught his attention. He looked down and it read 10:57 pm. Ba-dum… Ba-dum… Ba-dum, he became aware of his heartbeat for the first time in years. The silence made him privy to noise within. He was anxiously awaiting the remaining words of the stranger. The stranger, whose face was hidden in the shadow of his hoodie, paused to take a sip of his water. Whenever he spoke or did anything else humans do, he looked straight ahead never giving Hakeem eye-contact. He stood firm like a pillar with the discipline of a soldier. His gaze remained straight as a bullet.
The bus that dropped them off departed ten minutes ago. Hakeem and the stranger stood underneath the covered bus stop. Hakeem watched the stranger and the stranger watched the darkness as if he saw something and was awaiting its arrival. But, Hakeem, stood, paralyzed with humility. He was obsequiously enthralled by the strange man like when Mary and Joseph birthed Jesus. So far into their conversation, Hakeem felt his emotions lightning and thundering within. In his heart he felt awe, but in his mind, he grazed upon the pasture of conviction. He was convicted because the stranger spoke with the confidence of an aged parent. Hakeem’s memory reminded him that each word, idea, or phrase was once spoken to him in the past. Hakeem thought back over the years as to how every conflict, contention, and conversation brought him to people who all preached to the unhearing walls of his house. Yet, as the soil absorbs the water, Hakeem absorbed everything this stranger had just told him in fifteen minutes. For to be graced with the oratory of such a speaker was as memorable and vivid as being healed by Jesus Himself.
The stranger, with a stare that could pierce a diamond, gracefully broke the silence, “Don’t let the excitement of youth cause you to forget your Creator. Honor him in your youth before you grow old and say, ‘Life is not pleasant anymore.’ Remember him before the light of the sun, moon, and stars is dim to your old eyes, and rain clouds continually darken your sky. Remember him before your legs—the guards of your house—start to tremble; and before your shoulders—the strong men—stoop. Remember him before your teeth—your few remaining servants—stop grinding; and before your eyes—the women looking through the windows—see dimly. Remember him before the door to life’s opportunities is closed and the sound of work fades. Now you rise at the first chirping of the birds, but then all their sounds will grow faint. Remember him before you become fearful of falling and worry about danger in the streets; before your hair turns white like an almond tree in bloom, and you drag along without energy like a dying grasshopper, and the caperberry no longer inspires sexual desire. Remember him before you near the grave, your everlasting home, when the mourners will weep at your funeral. Yes, remember your Creator now while you are young. For then the dust will return to the earth, and the spirit will return to God who gave it.”
Hakeem ingested and tried his best to digest the stranger’s thesis. This he did in silence. Now, that all this has been said. Both men went one way. Hakeem and the stranger went the opposite direction. The stranger lit a cigarette and walked into the darkness that held his stare. Hakeem, pensively thought about dinner tonight, no longer distracted by the eccentric stranger, he returned to the worries of the day. But it was the little child, in the window who heard this entire conversation, who pondered these things. Only he had enough courage to entertain the mighty exhortation.
“I am more misunderstood than the Bible.”
