Some guy the other day looked at me and said, “Just pray about it.” I felt like he was telling me to shut up—like he was tired of listening to me or something. I was mad. Praying made me angry.
In high school, I remember my dad telling me to apply to colleges. I told him God would lead me to the right one. I felt holy—like I was seeking “God’s direction” (isn’t that what they say in church?). So I picked up my PlayStation controller and built the most legendary dynasty the world had ever seen on Madden 2004. I think that made my dad angry...
I was sitting at the Marion County Juvenile Detention Center listening to NFL alum Freddie Scott speak, when I noticed one of the kids to the left of me. There were 100 kids and 35 parents gathered in the Detention Center’s gymnasium that day, but this kid in particular caught my eye.
As he listened to Freddie, elbow on the table, sitting with his fellow detainees, he rested his head on his right hand. Tattooed on his right hand was the word “Family.” Eventually I noticed something else tattooed on his left hand: "First..."