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Dirt's Testimony

The earth’s magnetic field is a very great blessing to the earth and its inhabitants because it shields living things from deadly solar radiation. The sun is blasting out lethal subatomic particles in great streams called the solar wind. When these deadly particles pass into the earth's magnetic field, they are deflected and turned back out to space and not allowed to penetrate to the earth's surface where it would kill its inhabitants. (Abeca Science;pg.234-235)

       This is the paragraph that initiated it all. My 11th grade teacher continued to read aloud to the students in her classroom, but I was no longer paying attention. Actually, there where many times that I didn't pay attention in my high school classes. This time was different. At that one moment God was revealing himself to me in a magnificent way…

       It is not by chance that the earth has a protective magnetic field; it is by design. This wonderful fact reminds us of a great promise in the Bible, "The Lord is thy keeper; the Lord is thy shade upon thy right hand. The sun shall not smite thee by day, nor the moon by night. (Ps. 121:5) 


       I attribute a lot of my growing up and background to when my mother, my sibling (younger brother), and myself lived in East San Diego on Alta-Dena Street. We were right at the bottom of Colina Park to be exact. If I remember correctly, I was around 7 years of age when we moved there and nearly 11 or 12 when we moved out.

       It was (and even more so now) a dump. It’s a drug infested shame that is prostituted and pimped beyond belief. On a daily basis my companions and I were able to openly witness illegal drug transactions and violence surrounding us in all directions. My school at the time, Jackson Elementary, was built on a hillside and our playground directly overlooked the lunch area of Horace Mann High which was built lower down the hill. We were constantly reminded of our future as we would scarf down our food and run to the playground fence so that we could watch the gang fights at the high school. Soon we'd be down there at Horace Mann in that same lunch area, involved in the same acticities. 

       The violence was not just at school, it permeated every part of our existence. At my apartment complex, as we would be acting out our favorite scenes from "Star Wars" (I loved to be Darth Vader.....go figure), our games would sometimes be interrupted by gunshots capping off nearby. Then we would see some hoodlum running through our "movie set", chased by cops or other hoodlums.


      Sadly, most of our parents didn't care. They were too busy trying to earn the finances to support us or, often more true, they were indulging in the wickedness around us. Our teachers didn't care. They weren't being paid enough to care for us troublesome kids, and many of them were in submission to the negativity of our environment. The police in our neighborhood didn't care. It seemed like most of them were concerned with “protecting” themselves and “serving” some physical pain to offenders and non offenders alike.


       To all of these people we were hopeless, we were often written off, not seen as young persons with talents or as having things to offer. Our growth process was stunted. We weren't being raised to be productive members of society. We were raised to be apathetic and desensitized. When the gunshots capped, and the cops "did their job", and the drugs and filth were consumed, we simply didn't care. We didn't know how to care. Worst of all, we didn't even think God cared.

       But that was our world. We didn't choose to accept it. We had to accept it. Our young eyes witnessed many horrific things. Our young minds had to process these events and our young souls had to accept these occurrences as reality.


       But, even in that evil infested place, we still found the brighter side. It was that nice cool shade, away from the hot tempered environment; it was music.  Yes, good ol' music. Of course, back then I wasn't as open minded as I am now. Back then it was strictly Hip-Hop. Hip-Hop, Hip-Hop, Hip-Hop.


       While others enjoyed shedding the blood of another human being, we enjoyed tearing up old refrigerator boxes and using them as mats to break-dance on. While others enjoyed filling their bodies with narcotic, we enjoyed walking down the street and holding beat-box contests (the making of musical rhythms by using only the mouth). While others were prostituting their bodies in disrespect, we enjoyed trying to outdo each other with catchy, intelligent (as intelligent as a juvenile mind could create) raps which were usually backed up by one of our beat-boxes.


       While the world around us belted out the loud noises of an impoverished society. The huge radios we carried on our shoulders belted out the loud noises of Run-DMC, Eric B. and Rakim, KRS ONE, Biz Markie, and Big Daddy Kane.


       This music and the culture it brought forth was our release from the daily stress that embittered us. It was the way for us to forget the tragic happenings around us, a piece of happiness in our unhappiness. Unfortunately, this happiness was not complete.

       As we pressed our ears against those 20 inch speakers, to hear the lyrics being laid down over the music, it became very apparent, even to us youngsters, that those early emcee's were often times reflecting the trauma that we were a part of every day. Of course we loved it. These forefathers of rap were speaking our language. They were going through the same things we were. We could relate to them and them to us.




       I think that we also subconsciously realized that these songs rarely spoke of any kind of hope. And, if they did speak of any kind of hope, it was usually contradicted with the same underlining message of hopelessness (although this was not true of every song or even every performer).




       When I reflect on those days I realize that, even though we were young, we wanted to be removed from that wicked habitat. We wanted parents that cared. We wanted to walk to school and not have to be on the alert for the drama being played out around us. We wanted to feel like we didn't have to shoplift our next meal. We wanted to receive the necessities that would enable us to grow spiritually, mentally and physically. Of course our young minds and rebellious nature would not allow us to fully understand these things, but we were searching to fill a desire that couldn't be quenched by mortal standards or abilities. No music could quench it. And there was definitely no alcoholic or narcotic substance that could quench it. We had a void within ourselves that was empty. We had a piece of inner being that was lost and needed to be saved. But alas, my youthful mind set and the old "I already know everything" attitude kept me from the truth.  Only God could offer the salvation that we were yearning for.




       I cannot recall the exact day or time that I met God on the crossroad. My religion was getting up way too early on Sunday morning and going to a Sunday school that I didn't have too much interest in while my mother played her role as “Sunday Christian”. I know also that it was not just one person who ministered to me and coached me to the realization of the mercy and fullness that God had to offer.


       Around the age of 13 or 14, the tension in my home was high. My mother was raising me and my brother without any assistance.  My father had left while I was being formed in the womb, and my brother’s father left us shortly after he was born. Mom was often working 2 jobs to support us, and by the time she came home from work, she was far too tired to love us. On top of that, I was not the best example of a young adult. I was apathetic and defiant, I was always getting in trouble with school and law officials, and I constantly insisted on doing things on my own and in my own way.


       The decision for me to leave the home was both my mothers and my own. For her it was, "If you don't like it here get out!" And for me it was, "Screw this place, I can take care of myself!”


       So I left. For the next 5 to 6 years I bounced from place to place; staying here for a couple of months, staying there for a couple of months. No direction. No place to feel at home. Then I would return to my mothers for a while only to eventually decide that I once again could not live under her authority.


       One of the houses I ended up in belonged to Dave and Merle. I was about 16 at the time. They were an emcee (Merle) and a D.J. (Dave) in a group called Mode-X. But more importantly, they were both very serious about their relationships with God.

RapM& Ministry crew ModX, circa 1990.

       So here it was; two men who I could relate to. Not one but two examples for me to observe and draw information from. During the time I stayed with them I re-enrolled myself back into school (I had dropped out of the 9th grade) and I also started to take another look at the way my life was deteriorating. I was finding myself more and more willing to get closer to the God that they called “Father”; this God who defined who they were. The examples that Dave and Merle gave to me through their lifestyles were an immense eye-opener to me. They were upright men of course, yet they appealed to me. Before I met up with them, a righteous man was someone who wore clothes I wouldn't wear and would talk in a way that I couldn't relate to.  It was someone telling me that I had to be just like him to be loved by God. Or, maybe a righteous man was that person who was standing on the street corner in Downtown S.D., yelling God's plan to passing pedestrians, and when he saw me he screamed," Put down your marijuana and follow Jesus!!!" When in reality, at the time I had never bought, sold, or smoked marijuana in my life. I was obviously prejudged because of my appearance, and if that was righteous then I didn't want to be it.




       This wasn’t the case with Dave and Merle. I didn't run from them--I was drawn to them. Although I considered them to be members of my culture (Hip-Hop), that was definitely not the only reason I was intrigued by them. I related to them well because instead of turning God into a Bunch of rocks and throwing Him at my head in the hopes that I would be knocked out and wake up “saved”, they presented God to me in a real and applicable way. I would constantly find myself curious and ask one of them about some spiritual truth that I saw exemplified through their actions. It was this curiosity that led me to a deeper evaluation of myself and my relationship with God. The man on the street corner did not produce this curiosity within me, he only embittered me with his prejudgments and obnoxious yelling.




       As a person who didn't concern himself with God, I was approached by many people who wished for my conversion. But, the Gospel wasn't brought to me in a way that I could grasp. When my curiosity was sparked and Dave and/or Merle (and people like them) shared their faith with me, they loved me enough to understand me from my points of view. Through their faith, a whole new dimension of what being a “God-fearing” person was opened up to me. And the fruit of their love for me is that I am now a firm believer in the full grace of God through the redeeming plan of his son Jesus Christ.




       For years now I have known that the cravings for a fullness and joy that I had while I was younger cannot and could never be fulfilled by the circumstances which surrounded me. My delight can only be found in the circumstances that are within me. That same harsh environment of my younger years could imprison my physical body for the rest of my earthly existence, but the freedom that I have found is within.

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