Some people called him a genius. He was innovative. A pioneer in the music industry. An icon. He sang and danced his way into hearts, and into history books. He broke sales records, tore down racial barriers, and blazed a trail across previously uncharted entertainment territory. He was emulated and often imitated. Some people worshipped the ground he “moonwalked” on.
Other people had a vastly different view of him, and, therefore, much different names for him. Wacko Jacko. Freak. Dysfunctional. Pervert. Pedophile. He was mocked and ridiculed. He was ostracized. He was persecuted and prosecuted. He was vilified.
It was great PR for the Nation of Islam to take him in. He was greeted with open arms, and given shelter and protection. He and his children were given sanctuary in Bahrain. But, the Nation of Islam could not give him the one thing he really needed… the one thing his money could not buy.
He needed a relationship with the only One who could see through his carefully constructed façade to the real person inside. He needed to know the only One who could feel his pain and understand the depths of his despair. He needed to be delivered from the demons of his past and be set on a decidedly different course for his eternal future.
How different would his life have been if just one true believer had shown him the love of God? How different would the lives of his children be if someone had introduced their daddy to Jesus? How many lives could have been touched for God’s kingdom if his music had been inspired by a relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ?
He was called by many names during the course of his life. Only one of them mattered. God called him Michael.
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