Here is the last of our series of pre-posts to get us in the right spirit for Joan Wester Anderson's blog tour which will begin here on Monday. This story is from her newest book.
The God Squad
By the time Mike graduated from high school, the Vietnam War was under way. “There was no money for college,” he explains, “and since many of my cousins and my brothers had been drafted into the army, I followed.” Perhaps as a soldier he would overcome his fear of violence.
Mike came through Vietnam unscathed—but still anxious. Almost on a lark—and because few job opportunities loomed—he then took the test for the New York City police force along with fifty thousand other applicants. Mike was astonished when he was one of the four hundred hired. Now he would have to get over his fears. But he didn’t. Mike worked as a patrol officer, first in Harlem, later in Manhattan. Due to antiwar sentiment, police officers were under attack by many, and morale was low. This increased Mike’s on-the-job stress. “We were the cops on the front line, the ones who went into situations all alone,” he points out. “I got seasoned real quick, but I continued to be afraid.”
One evening on street patrol, Mike experienced such a deep anxiety attack that he thought he was dying. “My body literally shook as if it would explode,” he says. What was it all about? he asked himself. What was he doing out here in this high-risk environment, where fear tore him apart every night? Just then a young black woman stopped in front of him and grabbed his hand. “Is anything the matter, Officer?” she asked.
Mike didn’t answer, but he held on. “I didn’t want to let go,” he explains. “I felt something wonderful coming from her. I didn’t know it then, but it was the love of Jesus, a love I had never experienced.”
The woman led Mike to a storefront Pentecostal church, where people were singing, dancing, and praising the Lord. Mike thought it wasn’t at all like the “flickering candles in those huge, formal New York cathedrals I’d been used to.” A nameless hunger came over him, and a few nights later, he read the Bible at home for the first time.
He came upon the words of John 3:17: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.” Mike closed the book. “Jesus, whoever you are, help me,” he prayed.
A few weeks later, Mike answered a call for assistance from a fellow officer making an arrest in the subway at Seventy-second and Broadway. Mike ran past one officer still in the parked squad car and continued down the stairs. “The cop was attempting to handcuff the suspect, but he was resisting,” Mike says. “A crowd was growing, and people were trying to rescue the suspect. I worked my way through and helped the cop get him cuffed. But we were surrounded. How were we going to get upstairs?”
The crowd was furious at the arrest. Hands shoved Mike toward the edge of the platform. “Throw him onto the tracks!” someone yelled. Mike felt a blow against the side of his head and heard, with dread, the sound of an approaching train.
“Jesus,” he murmured. “Help.”
Suddenly two large African American men loomed in front of him. “Follow us, Officer,” one said. The other, somehow, made a little opening in the densely packed crowd. Relieved, Mike pushed the prisoner directly behind these two unexpected guardians. The crowd moved back, and with the other officer behind him, Mike and his prisoner followed the two men across the platform and up the stairs.
On the street, however, there was more danger. “Another gang had formed around the patrol car, and the driver was getting nervous,” Mike says. “The black guys had been right ahead of us, running interference all the way.” But now as Mike shoved the prisoner in the car and turned to thank his rescuers, they were nowhere in sight. How could he have missed them?
As the squad car pulled away, everyone sighed in relief. “Thanks, Mike,” the subway officer said. “You did a great job getting us through that crowd.”
“Yeah, thanks to those two big black guys,” Mike answered.
“What guys?”
“The ones that said ‘follow us.’ You saw them. They muscled everyone aside.”
The officer looked puzzled. “I didn’t see anyone but you.”
Mike stopped. He was getting a strange feeling. Just last night, in his ongoing quest to understand the Bible, he had read from Hebrews about “ministering spirits, sent from heaven to help in times of distress.” Could the black men have been angels?
No. Police officers didn’t see angels. Not unless they were having mental breakdowns. But although Mike’s heart had raced during the subway episode, he realized suddenly that he was not as afraid as he ordinarily was. Something was definitely different.
A few weeks later, he was assisting another officer making an arrest. “The suspect broke free and ran,” Mike says. “I tackled him, and we fell into a hole in the street, where the Con Edison crews had been digging. The suspect landed first, and I fell on top of him, making it easy to handcuff him. But the hole was too deep for us to get out. We had to wait for backup.”
When extra officers arrived, they hauled the prisoner out of the hole. Then they grabbed Mike’s hands and pulled him up. “Lucky that you landed on him-—you could have been hurt,” one officer remarked.
“Yeah,” Mike murmured. Again he was filled with anxiety. Would he never be free of it? And then, near the side of the excavation, he saw two large black men wearing Con Edison helmets, smiling at him as he passed. They were the same two—he knew it! But when he looked back, they had vanished.
Over the next few months, Mike spent a lot of time thinking. He was in a unique position, he knew. He had already begun to witness to other police officers, even to people on the street, about how knowing Jesus was changing his life. Maybe God was building his confidence, so he would have both the physical and mental courage to do whatever he was asked to do. But how would he know for sure?
One afternoon Mike went into a restaurant for lunch. He had passed two diners at a table before he realized . . . He turned in amazement. There were the same two black men, both looking directly at him.
Joy flooded his spirit. “I couldn’t help it,” he says. “I winked at them.”
Each man winked back. Mike could hardly keep from laughing out loud. He seated himself, then looked back. The table was empty.
It was the sign he had needed. From that point on, although Mike continued to have occasional anxious moments on the job, he never felt alone. Sometimes he’d sense that he was being prepared for an upcoming dangerous moment. Occasionally he would walk into angry crowds, disarm gunmen, or display sudden strength, all without being injured.
It wasn’t the sort of thing one could put in a police report. But Mike understood. “I knew now that Jesus was right beside me, and would never leave me,” he says. Jesus, and two very heavenly bodyguards.
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