Tight Spot: How God Comes to Your Rescue

Years ago I sang with two other young men in a group we called The Brotherhood. We sang and gave our testimonies at churches, prisons, army bases, and college campuses. The gymnasium for tonight’s concert was in an older part of St. Louis, Missouri. The crowd of several hundred people were seating themselves.

An hour into the concert I noticed the pastor who had invited us walking hurriedly toward the stage. He appeared agitated and had a frown on his face. At this point Rick was doing a solo and John stood next to him, his head bowed in prayer. The pastor motioned to me. I stepped down to the side of the stage.

“Dan,” the pastor said, “we've got big trouble. A youth gang is gathering outside the gym right now. They've been very violent around here the past few months. Their leader's been jailed for assault. We’ve got to end the concert and get people safely to their cars before things get out of hand.”

My heart started pounding. I remembered my days as a violent teenager before I came to Jesus. I knew all too well the feeling of a fight brewing. John glanced quizzically my way. Rick continued playing the piano and singing. I looked out at the audience and felt a lump in my throat. 

How can all this be ruined? I wondered. Do something, God! I prayed. Can You please handle the gang?

“Dan,” the pastor said, grabbing my arm, “we don't have much time. Get up on the stage and call it quits.”

At that moment I felt propelled forward. “I’ll be right back,” I found myself saying to the pastor. I walked right past him and out the front door. I stepped into the moonlit night and came face-to-face with about twenty young men who stood there, silently staring at me. They had red bandanas tied around their foreheads, and wore an odd assortment of army fatigues and leather jackets. 

 

I felt guided to walk straight up to the leader, a big guy standing out in front. He wore a black leather vest,  showing nothing underneath but big pectorals. His piercing eyes locked onto mine. The gang formed a curtain around us both, cutting off my exit.

“Hi,” I said.

He grunted.

“I'm Dan,” I said. “We're having a great time inside the gym. Why don't you and your friends come inside and sit up front?”

Looking at me like I was from another planet, the gang leader flexed his biceps, and grinned incredulously at his buddies.

“We come to bust up yo' party.  What you doin' invitin' us in?” he challenged.

I ran out of words. Lord! I shouted from inside myself. Help!  

A moment later a calmness poured through me as though the Holy Spirit was clothing Himself in my skin. I stepped forward and gave the gang leader a big hug.  

He stood there frozen for a few seconds. Still holding his shoulders, I stepped back and looked deep into his eyes. I glimpsed pain underneath his bravado. I took a deep breath and said, “I love you, man. And so does God. Follow me.”

He didn't hit or grab me, so I turned around and started walking back toward the front door of the gym. I could hear feet shuffling behind me. Without looking back I led the parade of young toughs right up to the front of the stage. John's and Rick's eyes bugged out, but they kept singing. The gang members seated themselves on the hardwood floor a few feet in front of us.

The pastor was standing toward the back, looking tense. I walked up the stage stairs and whispered to John to start some hand-clapping songs. He started playing an upbeat tune from a group called Ocean:

Put your hand in the hand of the Man who stilled the waters,

Put your hand in the hand of the Man who calmed the sea,

Take a look at yourself, and you will surely see,

Put your hand in the hand of the Man from Galilee.

I could hardly believe my eyes when the gang leader began clapping along with the music.  One by one, each member of the red bandana gang joined in. By the time we closed with the chorus of “Amazing Grace,” these young men were singing loudly, tears running down many a cheek.   

I never thought I’d be watching the transformation of twenty young toughs who came to fight and left with a new song in their hearts.

I will sing a new song to You, O God,

On a harp of ten strings I will sing praises to You!

—Psalm 144:9