Journey Two Light
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About this ebook
Journey Two Light. The word two is a play on the before and after aspects of life without Jesus and with Him; two being the second phase of life after he gave me the free gift of salvation. My journey has been one of following what I thought was right for me without understanding that was darkness. The light of life came about after the slow dawning of my true condition was being brought to my attention and the truth started seeping in. Only after the light awakened me was I able to begin living as God intended. Even as this book is a work of my hands, the inspiration is truly from God. I can only take credit for saying yes and being obedient in completing what will bring glory to Him. Herein is my journey to light (1 John 1:5 and John 1:12-13). Hopefully, you will be encouraged.
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Journey Two Light - Montrell Spence
Journey
Two Light
Montrell Spence
ISBN 978-1-64114-337-0 (Paperback)
ISBN 978-1-64114-338-7 (Digital)
Copyright © 2017 by Montrell Spence
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.
Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
296 Chestnut Street
Meadville, PA 16335
www.christianfaithpublishing.com
Printed in the United States of America
"This is the message He has given us to announce to you:
God is light and there is no darkness in Him at all" (1 John 1:5, NLT).
Preface
Through the encouragement of my wife, friends, a Veterans Affairs counselor, and the Lord Jesus Christ, this story of my life comes to fruition. The prompting began about 2010; I never wanted to tell my story. For whatever his reasons, God wants me to share. Perhaps someone will be aided by this sharing. I hope so because it became a labor of love. Hopefully, the memories are not greatly exaggerated since the passage of time. At this point I’ve crossed into my seventies, and the mind, though pretty clear, can leave out or add to of its own volition. Please enjoy this true story of one man’s journey toward his destiny.
Introduction
My memories of being raised in the McCulloh Homes Housing Projects in Baltimore, Maryland, are pretty vivid. We affectionately called them the Jects. These are one- and two-level apartment homes to a small village of people with commonalities and differences. Some families were considered rich and better off than others, yet we got along with each other.
Our family was poor, but we didn’t know it because Mom provided and I don’t remember missing a meal. We were a churchgoing family of four—Mom, a brother, a sister, and me. Another brother lived apart from us.
This village of people lived in an area of maybe a square mile. I don’t remember any Caucasians, Asians, or others except Hispanic and Mexican families. The corner stores were all owned by Jewish families, but the submarine/sandwich store was owned by a Negro (we weren’t black, Afro Americans, or African Americans yet).
We attended elementary and junior high school not far outside the Jects. This was our safe haven and world, and we thrived in that environment. Not too far away lived Caucasian families in newly built townhomes. That area was Bolton Hill. The newly built Maryland’s State Office Complex bordered the east side, and the National Cash Register building bordered the south.
My small world was what shaped me for the future; this included church and school. The homes I walked into, my teachers, and my pastor gave me much food for thought. My relationships provided bonding, jealousy, confusion, and so much more.
I’m going to tell my story of a journey from a point of view that may surprise some. No names other than my own will be mentioned because it is my story, from my point of view, so no one can dispute or challenge me. I hope my memory serves me well!
My birth date is July 15, 1946; I was born in City Hospital, South Baltimore, Maryland. After that I remember being raised in close quarters with extended family until the age of six. I never knew my father but had a memory of seeing him while in my crib. I wouldn’t see him again until age seventeen or eighteen. My stepfather died at the young age of twenty-six during my early years. He and Mom seemed to fight a lot, and she protected me from his drunken rages. It was shortly after his death that we moved into the housing projects.
Mom never remarried. To my knowledge, she never dated while raising us, as she’d always claim Jesus Christ as her husband. There were men who were attracted to her. She’d tease us, asking which one we wanted for a father. There was one who was a baker, and I chose him because of the pastries he’d bring to our home. But she wasn’t serious; she’d had enough of men.
During a few summers she’d send me to Cambridge, Maryland, with my older brother. Our father’s family was from there, but he wouldn’t be there, if memory is correct. I didn’t really like it on the farm—rural living.
I was an urban child. Fresh food and chickens weren’t my thing. Roosters scared me, as they’d chase and peck.
Mom was a God-fearing woman with little capacity for nonsense, back talk, disobedience, or bad language. Her fear of God and high regard for our pastor kept us, her children, from enjoying life without sneaking around. A lot of normal activities were forbidden us, as she sought his advice—to such a degree that it angered me. She and I would argue, and then she’d be angry with me. One time Mom relented and allowed my seventh grade teacher to take me to see Li’l Abner at the movies.
Her frustrations toward me were often followed by beatings, punches, being