Blessed Assurance

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine
Oh what a fore-taste, of glory divine
Heir of salvation, purchase of God
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood

This is my story,
This is my song
Praising my Savior
All the day long

This is my story,
This is my song
Praising my Savior
All the day long...

It was a dreary, overcast Tuesday evening when I decided to make the fifty-nine mile trek south of Macon into Crisp County where I had planned an organizational meeting with local church goers. I cruised down I-75 South, humming along with India Arie and Alicia Keys, trying to stay awake for what was proving to be a rather uneventful drive. When I finally entered Cordele, I noticed that it was a decent sized country town, though quite unlike anything I was accustomed to back home. "Church's Chicken" shacks and "Fish Fil-A" houses occupied almost every other block.

I crossed over a set of train tracks that seemed to usher both me and my mini, hunter-green, 1997 Volkswagen Golf (which I've nicknamed "Ruby") into another time and place. Dilapidated houses, dirty streets, and littered sidewalks filled up the frame before me. Dusk was fast approaching and I noticed a group of men sitting outside of a convenience store, staring intently at a checkers board where two of their comrades were engaged in what appeared to be an intense match. The town, the people, the atmosphere reminded me of a scene from a 1950's flick.

Travoris met me at Mt. Calvary Baptist Church where Nika, one of our volunteers, waited for us outside. The enormous white church towered ominously above the surrounding houses, as if reigning down judgment upon the neighborhood. Though we had both spent most of the past four days on the phones building for this meeting, neither Travoris nor I knew how many people would show up. "Lord, please let people come," I quietly prayed to myself.

Travoris and I entered the sanctuary where we noticed that everything from the carpet, the pew cushions, and the pulpit, to the hymnals and the offering plates were laden with red velvet. "To reh-mind folks uh da blood uh Je-sus!" Deacon Durham said, grinning broadly. He was a short, portly man in his late fifties and had a shiny bald head. He wore gold bifocals that matched the coating on four of his front teeth. After about thirty minutes, five people sat in the pews before us and we decided to commence with the meeting. Deacon Durham stood at the alter and said, "I'd like to thank these heah young folk fo' comin to be wit us heah to-day!" He gestured towards Travoris and me and continued. "They work wit de O-ba-ma campaign and gon' tell us what we got ta do." I made a move to stand up, but noticing that Deacon Durham was far from finished, reclaimed my seat.

"Take out yo' hymnals and turn to page two-seventy-five'" he instructed, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with a handkerchief. Travoris and I stared at one another puzzled. Was the meeting going to take place after the service? Neither of us knew for certain.

"BLE-SSED A-SSUUUUUURANCE!" Deacon Durham belted out flatly. His voice resonated throughout the sanctuary.

"Je-sus is miiiiine," I started sining along. "Oh what a foooooore-taste, of glory di-viiiiine." I closed my eyes and sang, allowing the words of the song to caress me like a gentle wave, rocking me back and forth in the pew.

This is my story, This is my song...

I could feel my eyes beginning to fill up with tears as I thought about God's faithfulness. As often as my experiences here in Georgia threatened to plunge me into the depths of a despair that I heretofore never knew, I remembered God's promise to never leave me, nor forsake me...even though nearly everyone else had.

Praising my Savior, all the say long...

Deacon Durham closed his hymnal and took a seat, signaling to Travoris and me that it was time to begin. I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my dark-blue hoodie and turned around to face a room now filled with about twenty-five people. "BAY-beh!" Travoris said, staring at me affably through his rectangular black glasses, "let's do this!"