Mister West spent seventeen years in prison...
He was released yesterday. He's now a free man. The state's parole board approved of his plan to return to his former place of residence in the city of Buffalo, in western New York.
Not having a mother, as she died from alcoholism when he was about five years old, or a father whom he never knew, his only option was to return to his now elderly grandmother. She, according to West, raised him along with the help of his two caring Aunts, who made sure he went to school, and to church.
And it appears they all did a good job as surrogate moms. Young West was well-fed, and he always had clean clothes to wear. But as he grew older, the "streets" began to pull him away from the security and comfort of a stable home. This is nothing new. It's a tale that gets told again and again. We conveniently call it "peer pressure."
The "pull of streets," are those subtle and sometimes overt pressures that come from hellbent peers. With single-minded determination, those of his age group, along with kids who were a few years older than West, made hanging out in the streets or at the local playground, especially after dark, a cool thing to do.
So it was only a matter of time before West went along with his street buddies, and became a full-fledged member of a gang of disorganized thugs and wannabes. And with this came the using and selling of drugs, the committing of petty crimes, and run-ins with the law.
And by the time he was seventeen, West had a gun. Untrained and unskilled at using it, when he was nineteen, he shot a man in the chest. Thankfully, his victim, who was an alleged rival from another neighborhood, survived. But for West, it meant prison time.
After we became friends, I would soon give this likeable man the nickname, "Mister West." He had come to a Sunday service in our chapel for the first time. When I introduced myself and welcomed him, I learned that he had already been a believer in Jesus Christ for a number of years. He told me he had come to faith in the Lord when he was at another facility.
Thus, Mister West began to attend our services and studies. Being fervent in his love for God, he soon joined our choir. And within a short time, he began to help lead the church in praise and worship. Everyone loved this Spirit filled man. I admired his singing ability and his energy.
While for Mister West, his day of release was on the horizon. He had been with us for only eighteen months. But now it was his turn to go home. He served his sentence. He earned his parole.
So during this past Sunday's worship service, we all gathered around West to pray for him. We asked the Lord's blessings upon his life, and that he be kept safe from temptation and danger. We then took turns hugging him and saying our goodbyes, which were mingled with lots of tears and smiles.
So on the first day of the month of May 2025, a happy Mister West was placed in a van and escorted by two correction officers to the local bus station. His travel bag contained personal items he was taking home with him, as well as his well-worn Bible. In his other hand was a one-way bus ticket to Buffalo. And off he went to start a new life.
D.B.
Not having a mother, as she died from alcoholism when he was about five years old, or a father whom he never knew, his only option was to return to his now elderly grandmother. She, according to West, raised him along with the help of his two caring Aunts, who made sure he went to school, and to church.
And it appears they all did a good job as surrogate moms. Young West was well-fed, and he always had clean clothes to wear. But as he grew older, the "streets" began to pull him away from the security and comfort of a stable home. This is nothing new. It's a tale that gets told again and again. We conveniently call it "peer pressure."
The "pull of streets," are those subtle and sometimes overt pressures that come from hellbent peers. With single-minded determination, those of his age group, along with kids who were a few years older than West, made hanging out in the streets or at the local playground, especially after dark, a cool thing to do.
So it was only a matter of time before West went along with his street buddies, and became a full-fledged member of a gang of disorganized thugs and wannabes. And with this came the using and selling of drugs, the committing of petty crimes, and run-ins with the law.
And by the time he was seventeen, West had a gun. Untrained and unskilled at using it, when he was nineteen, he shot a man in the chest. Thankfully, his victim, who was an alleged rival from another neighborhood, survived. But for West, it meant prison time.
After we became friends, I would soon give this likeable man the nickname, "Mister West." He had come to a Sunday service in our chapel for the first time. When I introduced myself and welcomed him, I learned that he had already been a believer in Jesus Christ for a number of years. He told me he had come to faith in the Lord when he was at another facility.
Thus, Mister West began to attend our services and studies. Being fervent in his love for God, he soon joined our choir. And within a short time, he began to help lead the church in praise and worship. Everyone loved this Spirit filled man. I admired his singing ability and his energy.
While for Mister West, his day of release was on the horizon. He had been with us for only eighteen months. But now it was his turn to go home. He served his sentence. He earned his parole.
So during this past Sunday's worship service, we all gathered around West to pray for him. We asked the Lord's blessings upon his life, and that he be kept safe from temptation and danger. We then took turns hugging him and saying our goodbyes, which were mingled with lots of tears and smiles.
So on the first day of the month of May 2025, a happy Mister West was placed in a van and escorted by two correction officers to the local bus station. His travel bag contained personal items he was taking home with him, as well as his well-worn Bible. In his other hand was a one-way bus ticket to Buffalo. And off he went to start a new life.
D.B.