Seeing Red (i) | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Seeing Red (i) | Previous Challenge Entry
By Dan Ward
10/02/09
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All my life, I’ve been seeing red. My earliest memories of my stepfather were his angry, red-faced outbursts of anger. These always seemed to follow one of his frequent episodes of heavy drinking.

Over time, I too developed a hair trigger, red-faced temper. My frequent fights with classmates made me a fixture in the principal’s office. I never knew what I as angry at – just that I was always angry. My sophomore year I finally discovered a focus for my rage in my stepfather, when I responded to one of his rages by decking him.

The result was I was tossed out of the house. Learning the facts of life on the street resulted in even more red-faced rages. As I learned first to drink, and then moved to the hard stuff, “Raging Red” quickly became my nickname. Of course, I liked my “don’t mess with me” rep and before long backed it up with first a knife, and then a gun.

I didn’t really mean to shoot that guy – just to scare him with the gun – but he wouldn’t back down. Sitting in county jail, sober for the first time in years, I began to
look at my life, and I didn’t see much to admire. I considered suicide, but decided I was too afraid of what might be on the other side.

When this preacher man came to the jail, my cellmate suggested it would be a fun diversion from staring at bars so I went to chapel. I’d heard about Jesus, but had never thought about him other than as a swear word. This guy opened up the Bible and told stories about a loving father who cared so much about me that he let his own son die for me.

I couldn’t really understand such love but something touched my heart. When the preacher man described the blood flowing from Jesus’ crown onto his face something broke inside of me. My mind was filled with a picture of a red face – not of anger – but of love. I gave my life to Jesus that day and I’ve never looked back.

True, it hasn’t been easy. I’m still constructing a life, for myself. I’m on parole, finishing my GED and hoping to become a carpenter. I’ve had to work on my rage issues, and sometime’s I’ve relapsed. I never forget that is was Jesus’ red face that rescued me. On my bed stand and in my wallet is a picture of Jesus bleeding from His crown of thorns. Those are my visible reminders that red-faced love is far more powerful than red-faced rage will ever be.

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