Discovering the Darkest Part of Identity

As I walk through my living room, I catch a glimpse of a police car pulling up in front of my house. I freeze and think, This is it. They found me.

I run upstairs to my bedroom and open the closet where I keep my guns. I grab the 12 gauge shotgun and jam my Glock 9mm into the back of my pants.

I also pick up two boxes of ammunition, one for each of the guns. Running downstairs to the living room, I look out my front window. I see the cop car but don’t see the cops.

Cops in the Backyard

They must be approaching my house from the rear. Where are they? I ask myself in terror.

As I pass through the dining room, I see them walking between my house and my neighbor’s house. They are coming around the back.

I position myself in the kitchen where there is no way they can see me from the yard. I carefully put the shotgun in a place where I can grab it quickly. I plan to use it if the cops start on to my back deck. I have a better chance of killing them with a shotgun blast than hoping to be accurate with the handgun.

All I am thinking is, If they take me alive, I’ll be in jail for a very long time. I had packages of marijuana stashed all over the house, ready to be sold.

My California Connection

Nearly a decade ago, I heard this gripping story from a friend I met in California. Now this one-time drug dealer is a charming and respectable man in his fifties.

We had just met and I asked him about his background when he told me he used to grow and sell marijuana in, what I soon discovered, was very large quantities. Looking at him now, I could hardly believe my ears. But my curiosity got the best of me. I started peppering him with questions.

  • Where did you grow it? In a rented warehouse space.
  • How much did you grow? Crops the size of half a football field.
  • How did you establish distribution? Tough to do as he never wanted anyone to know the size of his operation. He wanted to look really small even though he was really big.
  • Did you have a drug dealer lifestyle? Never. No one ever knew he had money.
  • Why did you leave the business? That’s when he told me the story I’m telling you now.

Rest of the Story

I watched the cops turn to look at the back of my house. Then they looked at the houses on either side of me.

I thought to myself, If they come to my back door, I am going to kill these two men. My adrenaline was pumped. I was ready for them. I figured if they got within three feet of the back door, that’s when I’d have my best shot. I waited. I looked down at my hands, and I was completely calm.

I peeked out again and saw the cops walking away from my house. They started walking to the house next door. I didn’t move. I didn’t hear or see anything for what seemed like forever. Then I heard them talking on the side of my house. They were moving toward the street. I repositioned myself in a secluded spot in the living room and waited.

Shaking, Crying, and Sobbing

I heard car doors open and slam. I looked out the front window. The cops were in their car. I heard it start and drive away.

Shaking uncontrollably, I dropped to all fours on the living room floor. I was crying, no sobbing. I kept asking myself, Who have I become? I am ready to kill people. I’m a drug dealer. This is what it takes to be in this business.

That was it for me. No more. I was done. I prayed right then and there for God to get me out of this business. I had given up all real relationships. No friends, no companionship, and no family. I traded everything for the money, everything. Finally, I traded who I was. I was ready to commit murder. I was a drug dealer and murderer.

Answering: Who Am I?

He grew up in a Christian family and knew about Jesus but never submitted to him. This incident was the catalytic event which had him confess and submit. He destroyed the marijuana and gave away the money.

He never got caught, but he discovered something few ever know. He knew the evil he was capable of doing, the darkest part of answering, Who am I?


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