And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Phil. 4:7)
Terry is a man I have enjoyed getting to know this year at Cornerstone prison church. He is a gifted musician and singer and has a very tender heart. He is a prolific songwriter with notebooks full of lyrics and ideas. When he prays people sense the presence of God. He has a peace and confidence about him that is rare among inmates. He shared a couple of stories with me the other day…
Growing up an African-American boy in Atlanta, Georgia, in the sixties was very interesting. The Civil Rights movement was in full swing and in Atlanta those issues were at the forefront. But there was also a sense of calm in the midst of the storm for a young boy who liked to wander around the city with his brother. They would get on their bikes and rummage behind buildings and in ditches, looking for anything that could be turned in for a deposit, especially old bottles. Terry’s goal was to come up with at least 35 cents each day so that he could afford the following:
Bag of candy- 10 cents, Fresh honey buns- 4 for 5 cents each, a few slices of bologna- 5 cents
At the store the packaged honey buns were 10 cents, but the honey bun factory was actually in Atlanta, so if Terry and his brother showed up there at the right time they could get fresh, warm ones for 5 cents apiece. They would lay one flat like a piece of bread, pile on the bologna slices, and put another honey bun on top, making a delicious sandwich. After that they would wander their way home through a city that was nothing like the urban sprawl you see today. Terry’s dad was proud of them for being so resourceful and being able to take care of themselves.
When Terry grew up he married a white woman in the seventies, which was long before such a match was considered acceptable, especially in the Deep South. One day they were getting groceries in a small town nearby and Terry’s wife was checking out while he looked for one more item. He came up and put the item on the belt with everything else and the cashier told him to leave the woman standing there alone. He said, “She’s my wife,” and the whole store full of locals turned and glared. There were whispers. His wife wanted to confront the judgmental response, but Terry suggested that getting to the car and leaving town was probably the wisest approach.
I loved listening to Terry tell stories from his past and to hear him chuckle as he nostalgically pronounced the phrase, “honey bun.” I have no idea why he ended up in prison or how he is able to cope with losing almost everything: his family, the culture he grew up in, his privacy, his freedom. What I do know is that after being miraculously saved from drowning later in life, he has committed his heart fully to Christ and never looked back. Some of that gratitude and peace and passion comes out in the lyrics he writes. Here is a sample:
Here is his body, which is the bread; whenever you eat it, recall what he said.
“This is my body, which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”
Remember – that I came to heal. Remember – that I came to set you free.
Remember – that I came to give you life. And where I am you will also be.
Cory Grimm