Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: COLOR (07/30/20)
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TITLE: The Heavenly Prism | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
08/05/20 -
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The wonder of God’s heavenly prism took a while to connect when I grew up. I still remember a conversation with my friend Tommy about the first non-white students at our high school. Up until that moment he was the most colorful guy I had known. He wasn’t afraid to hook onto the bumper of a car when on his roller skates and go for a spin and he wasn’t afraid to jump off the highest cliffs at the local lake.
Tommy leaned against the locker next to me and jutted his chin out. “Dude, did you check out the new skirts down the hall?”
I took a quick peek and then shrugged. “Someone you’re interested in?”
He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around to look again. “The Ma twins, man. Those chicks ain’t from around here. They’re going to need a friend to show them around.”
“Where are they from, New York?”
“No, man. Malaysia.”
“Where’s that?”
“Don’t know, but it sounds exotic.”
That was the same year Tommy’s family got the first color television in the neighborhood and I was much more interested in football and scanning the three channels whenever his mom let us indoors.
The following year, as we prepared to graduate, Jagmir Singh showed up wearing a turban and Tommy noticed. “System alert. That guy is getting the stare down. We need to step up and lay down the welcome mat.”
“Where’s he living?”
“Who cares. The guy needs a friend.”
I was mesmerized by the Apollo 13 near tragedy, the Kent State riots and the break up of the Beatles. There was so much to think about in the real world without worrying about how one person was dealing with changes nearby. Besides, I had to think about earning a living after grad.
The year after grad hit me like a tsunami. I got a job stocking shelves at the grocery store and Melvin was also hired. Melvin was from Kenya in Africa. His parents were diplomats and he’d graduated from an international school there before transferring to college in my county. He was so different from what I’d been told about black people and I had no trouble liking him.
Tommy dropped by after his college classes, met Matthew Njoroge and immediately invited him over for study sessions. It seems that Matthew had been baptized as a Christian and Tommy invited him to church. Somehow, Matthew already had a church of some kind.
That same month, a black family from Georgia started attending our church. They were young and courageous with two kids who clung to their mama’s skirts while smiling bigger than the quarter moon. They sat right in front of Tommy and me and we did our best to make faces to get them grinning. Tommy’s family was the first to invite them out for Sunday dinner.
I married, had my family, did my work and kept up with my church through the years. Tommy and I went our separate ways until one day I met him in a restaurant with a dozen internationals. He quickly stood to welcome me.
“Tommy, my man,” he started. “Meet Wendy, my wife – you might remember her from high school as Wendy Ma. And my business partners Matthew Njoroge and Jagmir Singh. We’re importing and exporting all over the world.”
I nodded as he introduced me to others from Japan, Korea, South Africa, Egypt, Iran, France, Brazil, Columbia and Mexico. “We’re here getting a taste of heaven and doing a Bible study on who Jesus is when all the world around us is going crazy.”
I looked at the wide diversity of food orders and arched my eyebrows. “What do you mean – getting a taste of heaven? Looks pretty earthly to me.”
He smiled as he wrapped his arm around me. “Take a look, bro. We have people from many different tribes and tongues and nations here. This is what heaven is going to be like.”
So, it is.
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