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Get high on life

Harold Keller / L’Observateur / September 7, 1999

Tuesday morning, I was scheduled to speak at 10 a.m. at the St. JamesYouth Center. I was ahead of schedule that morning, which is unusual, so Idecided to get my car washed at the Quick Stop Car Wash in LaPlace. (Theydo a good job and all of the employees are pleasant.)As I entered the waiting room, two young ladies were waiting for their cars. I casually said good morning, and one of the young ladies asked if Iattended the New Wine Christian Fellowship. I said yes and asked hername. Her name was Marsha Dent. Her little girl, Chaia, was playing withthe toys on a table. I asked her what church she attended and she said,”New Foundation Life Full Gospel.” I then realized that she was the wifeof the pastor, Burnell Dent.

Mr. Dent is a retired NFL player and former Destrehan and Tulane star. Hisplaying days were spent in Green Bay (seven years) and then Detroit and New York.

As Mrs. Dent and I spoke, the other lady in the waiting area was justreading and waiting. I think I shocked Mrs. Dent with this question: “Haveyou ever been a slave?” She quickly said, “No! Why?” I then said, “I think we are all slaves. Who we choose to be our master is most important.” Icontinued, “We will either be a slave to Satan, the god of this evil world, or we will serve Jesus, the savior of those who choose to make Him Lord of their lives.”Our only job as Christians, according to II Corinthians 4, is to carry the Good News of salvation to people we meet. If the Good News we preach ishidden to anyone, it is hidden from the one who has been blinded by Satan and then they are unable to see the glorious light of the Gospel – for it is God who said, “Let there be light in the darkness.”When Mrs. Dent’s car was ready and she was leaving the waiting area, shesaid that she would pray for me. I stood up and said, “Please do it now!”She held my hand and asked God to use me as I was going to share at the St. James Youth Center.As she left, I said, “Tell Brother Burnell I said hello.”Before I left, I introduced myself to the other lady in the room. She wasMrs. Carole Bravo. “You have to be from New Orleans,” I said. “No,” shereplied, “but my husband’s family is.” I continued, “I remember an EddieBravo who was a good athlete at St. Aloysius” (now Brother Martin HighSchool). “That’s my father-in-law,” she said. I then said, “I met a Bravo,about two years ago, at Entergy in Reserve.” “That’s Kenneth, myhusband,” she said. “Small world,” I said. “Tell your husband hello.”Before I left, she told me that she reads all my articles, and I thanked her for the encouragement.

Needless to say, I enjoyed my short stay at the car wash. I met twopleasant young ladies, a very pretty little girl, and talked about the King of Kings.

At the Youth Center, I shared about being a slave. There were 42 boys andeight girls in the session and they listened attentively. It was a good day!The big question is – Whose slave are you?

Harold Keller is a regular columnist for L’Observateur.

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