Do You Experience God’s Miracle In Your Life?

Genesis 2I grew up in a family that strongly believes in God. At the corner of my parents’ bed room, stands a small table covered with a white cloth. On this table, lies the Holy Bible, which belongs to my mother. She wakes up early in the morning to pray without ceasing. Sometimes I see her shedding tears in her prayers, when she feels her prayers had been answered or touched spiritually.

Life, to many is sex, enjoyment, doing drugs, rock and roll, then after, you say good bye to your friends, when it’s time to go and sleep peacefully or tormented in your grave. That’s not the meaning of life. Life has a significant meaning or purpose. Watching my mother, each morning, behind the small table, I developed certain interest in seeking the face of God and started following her footsteps.

I read my Bible daily, and tried my best to live to the principle the holy book teaches. Like everyone, I wasn’t perfect, I did many things which I shouldn’t do as a child, but not in my adult hood. As I begin to mature, I started experiencing the miracle of God’s hand in my life. There are times I joke about it saying: Death doesn’t like ugly people, the reason I’m still living.

I was once carried away by the sea, because I couldn’t swim. Like Jonah in the belly of the whale and brought to the shores of Nineveh, after people gave up to save me, they watched as a mighty wave brought me ashore. The impact was heavy and the state of shock I find myself in at that moment, prevented me to put on my clothes. I walked home naked. Till now I’m scared of the sea and can’t swim.

I was once crossing a busy street in Africa, after watching both sides of the road, I felt secured to cross, but from nowhere I was caught up in the middle of the road, when a taxi hits me. Like a superman, I find my body in the mid-air, landing on top of the vehicle’s bonnet. The impact severely damaged the bonnet, but I survived.

In Africa, I was travelling on a mini-bus with other passengers. It was a very sunny day. I think the pressure in the vehicle’s Tyre warmed up to certain degrees Celsius, thus; one of the front Tyre’s exploded. The vehicle somersaulted continuously and finally landed on its side. I jumped out from the front seat without a scratch, when many were rushed to the hospital with injuries.

In Lagos State, Nigeria, I was kidnapped by armed robbers in military uniform. It was a swift action which took me by surprise. I was holding a small hand bag which attracted them. They thought probably the bag has over a million dollars. In the rear of the car, I struggled with them and wouldn’t let the bag go, while the butt of the rifles they were holding rain on every part of my body, including my head.

After every attempt failed, they pushed me from the vehicle while in motion and I landed on the ground with a force, like a bag of salt. I stood up, brushed the dust off my body and walked home. But the scars of the beating I had, can still be traced on my body today, after three decades.

In Amsterdam, I was nearly killed by a woman while on my bicycle. I fell and rolled ahead, while her front Tyre were on my bicycle. According to her, the sun partially blinded her, so she didn’t see me. I had bruises all over my body. She carried my badly damaged bicycle to a repairers’ shop and paid for the cost. Anxious to know of my condition, she called me the next day. I told her I’m doing well. That was the last time she called.

In Antwerp, Belgium, after holidays in Africa, I came back penniless with bills to pay. There was a particular one I needed time to pay 110 Euros at my son’s secondary school. That was a second letter reminding me, thus; the third letter wouldn’t be good for me. The end of the month to get my salary was still far, thus; the situation was actually disturbing.

It was winter and very dark, on my way to work, I spotted something like a folded money on the bicycle lane. I stopped and walked back to see if it’s money or mind is just playing tricks on me. Behold, it was money. I took it and unfolded it. Guess how much? Two fifty Euro notes, one ten Euro note and one five Euro note, a total of 115 Euros.

After work, I quickly went home to pay the 110 Euros to the school and used the five Euros to buy some few thing I needed most. There is no need to doubt over these stories, because they came from Joel Savage, the writer who loves non-fiction articles and books. Have you ever experienced the miracle of God’s hand in your life?

“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” Said Jesus at Matthew 7:7. Just as sports is good for the body, reading the Bible is good for the mind and your spiritual being.

THE RAP

RAPP

The roiling action of Ernest Brawley’s novel The Rap takes place in and around a penitentiary much like San Quentin. The time is the early 70s, when George Jackson, Angela Davis and others were agitating for prison reform, and the authorities were doing everything they could do to thwart them. A young, sympathetic guard, Arvin Weed, attends night classes at a local college in pursuit of a dream to break away from his worst nightmare: working at the prison forever, like his father.

But his reputation as a Vietnam vet rifle marksman draws him unwittingly into a conspiracy to murder revolutionary, black militant leader, William Galliot, who’s just been sent to prison. Arvin’s evil cousin, Wasco Weed, also a recent arrival to the prison, fancies himself a criminal genius, and has, in fact, been directly tapped by conservative political eminences to assassinate Galliot, the revolutionary.

Wasco shrewdly manipulates everyone in his orbit, including his voluptuous wife, Moke, an almost supernatural creature given to midnight swims in the ocean and driven by a ferocious craving for money and power; Fast-Walking Miniver, a young guard and the warden’s scapegrace son; Big Arv, Arvin’s loutish father; Lobo Miniver, the urbane and opportunistic warden; and even Wasco’s own mother, Evie, the bawdy proprietress of a whorehouse. Moving from the tragic to the comic, the obscene to the exalted, the real to the surreal, The Rap is the ultimate American saga.

The Author

RAPP 2

Ernest Brawley is a native Californian. His father was a prison guard, and he was raised on the grounds of several penitentiaries. He worked his way through college as a forklift driver at a tomato packing shed, a switchman on the Southern Pacific Railroad, and as a guard at San Quentin Prison, where he saw duty in the Gun Towers, the Big Yard and Death Row.

He attended the University of California at Santa Barbara and San Francisco State University, where he was granted several writing scholarships and a Master’s Degree in Creative Writing. Since then, he has spent his life writing novels and film scripts, teaching, and traveling the world. He has published three novels, THE RAP, SELENA, and THE ALAMO TREE. THE RAP and SELENA will be republished soon by Little Machines Press/Roots Digital. His latest novel, BLOOD MOON, will soon be published by Roots Digital as well.

Brawley has taught at the University of Hawaii, Hunter College, New York University and the Pantheon-Sorbonne. He has lived and worked in Argentina, Spain, France, Italy, England, India, Thailand and Japan. And once in his youth he hitchhiked all the way around the world. He is a recipient of the Joseph Henry Jackson Award in Literature and served for several years on the Fiction Award Committee of the National Endowment for the Arts in Washington.

 Kirkus Review of his novel THE RAP:

The definitive prison blockbuster — raw and brawling — perhaps necessarily overlong as it piles details and encounters and endlessly intertwined relationships into a powerful and engrossing first novel by a writer in the James Jones tradition. “”The rap”” refers as much to the guards as the inmates they supposedly protect both from society and each other — for they are as much locked into prison life as the convicts. Specifically this applies to Little Arv, son of a prison sergeant, and his pal and brother-in-law, Fast-Walking Miniver, son of the warden, who both exist in the shadow of Little Arv’s satanic cousin Wasco Weed, Arv’s feared (yet perversely admired) childhood bully companion.

Wasco has been promised he’ll be let off a murder rap if he only offs William Galliot, a black militant leader in the clink on trumped-up charges. Waste uses his wife, an other-worldly (but definitely not ethereal) Hawaiian water freak named Moke to sucker in Arv — who, knowing this, goes along anyway, loving her with crazy passion — as she sets him up for official blackmail by getting him to smuggle in letters to Galliot. But even the best-laid plans of cons and criminal bureaucrats go wrong.

As Moke falls for Arv, the blacks use their escape plan in the nick of time, and Arv — the presumed hatchet man — has the choice of shooting his cousin or Galliot. As a former guard, the writer presents an enormous amount of authentic fascinating info on stuff like prisoner hierarchy (as complex and corrupt as the one outside) and pimping; his characters are both improbable and believable, and the writing is as tough and gritty as it should be — and then

http://www.amazon.com/Ernest-Brawley/e/B001HPR4E2/