A couple weeks ago, I was working at a pharmacy in Birmingham. The pharmacist was talking about how excited he was about his trip to Jamaica that coming week. As I passively listened to his itinerary, other technicians chimed in their view point and ideals of Jamaica. A game of word association. Some described endless sugar white beaches with fluffy cushion loungers, with the finest mixed drinks… of course, with a tiny umbrella. One even described a famous tourist spot, Ocho Rios or Dunns River Falls that they read about in a brochure. None of them had been to Jamaica but, had ideals of it.
But, I have. And, I can appreciate their view point; they aren’t necessarily wrong.
But, the first thing I think about when I hear “Jamaica” has nothing to do with a Scandals Resort commercial. My word association that I link when I hear the word “Jamaica” … is Big John.
Long story short, Big John lived in a little village, high in the mountains. He once was the Lord of a drug cartel. He openly admits to murdering over a hundred people, some even women and children-mercilessly. That life style for him was over 30 years ago. Now, he is an older man and has lost his vision. He is still feared in the community. No one would talked to him, no one ever came to visit him. He relies on his niece, Gemaya, to run his errands and gather food for him. However, Gemaya knows that who Big John is today is not who he was. She attends the local church there in the village and has been convincing the congregation to support her… in supporting him.
The church knows they should but, its mostly out of fear that they are hesitant. The church eventually decided to “adopt” Big John and support him and Gemaya. The pastor has even set up a small group with him and they have discipleship meetings every Tuesday.
Fast forward 5 months from then and you have my team serving there in the village with that church. We are doing amazing ministry in that village with key focus on VBS and sports camp.
That Tuesday, I meet individually with the Pastor to go over logistics for the team. We are simply taking a walk together down the rugged path of a road. We come to a house and he just stops talking; our leadership meeting is interrupted by silence. And, I am not quite sure what is going on… so, I just stand there in silence with him… glazing at this house. He looks at me and in his Jamaican accent says, “come, I want to share something with you.”
The pastor then tells me the horrific and gruesome story of Big John. I could hardly believe my ears. I could not believe that these massacres, rapes and just evil acts were done right here in this perfect, quite little village. I was just in disbelief… The pastor goes on to tell me about Gemaya and her heart for her uncle, regardless of his history. The church has “adopted” him, serving his basic needs… both physical and spiritual. The pastor tells me that this is Big Johns house and him and I, are about to go in for a discipleship meeting.
What.
the.
heck….
I am pretty sure Pastor could see the color drain right out of my face. “ummm… alright? Whatever you say boss. I’m all in.”
We walk into his house (mind you, not at all what you would think a serial killers house would look like. There were nice paintings and cute little trinkets and even lace curtains over their open windows! Whaaaat.?)
and, oh, by the way, they call him Big John for a reason. We gathered into the living room area with this mammoth of a man standing there…. Easily 6’7” tall. Hands twice the size of mine.
“ohhhhhh boy” I thought. Pastor reaches out to shake Big Johns hand and tells the blind man that I am there with them that day. Over the next several hours, Big John tells me his life story… and, I was honestly glad that he could not see me squirm during some parts of it. And yet, I was sad at the same time that Big John could not see the puddle he was making of me when he told me about how he came to know the Lord, and the Lord’s forgiveness. A complete snotty mess. Right there in that living room, I was downright broken.
It was one of the most incredible stories I have ever heard.
Leaving Big Johns house… I was just completely speechless. I felt like… I just needed to go huddle in a corner and cry and try to soak in his story. Just…awe struck…
Snap back to current reality and there I am back in the Birmingham pharmacy.
That is what I think about when I hear the word Jamaica.
Big John and his amazing story of rebellion and redemption…
of pure hatred to pure love.
from blindness… to sight.
So… just reflecting on that…
And word association…
it got me wondering…
What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear the word…
“God”?
