“I was raised in a Christian family, and I asked the minister one day, ‘How can Jesus save me?’ His reply to me was, ‘You shouldn’t be asking questions like that—you sound like a no-good-managed boy.’ I went home and said to my father, ‘You know, daddy, I’m going to leave the church and find out for myself if there is any such thing as God.
“And what I found out is that there is a God. I’ve been shot at, I’ve been cut at, I’ve been knocked down, I’ve been stomped on, and I don’t have a scratch on me. A guy walked up to me one night, pulled out a gun and said, ‘Nigger, if you don’t get on your knees and beg me for your life, I’m gonna kill you right here on the spot.’ Something came over me and said: ‘This man is not God. You can talk your way out of this.’ So I did. Then I grabbed the gun, put it to his head and pulled the trigger to kill him—but it jammed. I looked at it and realized it was a pellet gun. I’m thankful that I don’t have that blood on my hands.
“I’ve learned over the years to be slow to anger and swift to knowledge. Life is good, and it’s too short to find yourself on the side of foolishness. I’ve learned to get up and leave if I spot trouble coming. There is enough trouble going on in the world—I don’t need more of it.”