“I beheld till the thrones were cast down and the Ancient of Days did sit.” (Daniel 7:9-10)
My sister Beverly lived in Palmdale with her two younger sons, Javari and Dimitri. It was a sunny afternoon and as usual, my sister was in her upper apartment throwing down, cooking her famous spicy greens and preparing a roast. She is very old school, just like Mama, so rather than buying a meat tenderizer to soften her meat, she used the round end of a hammer to tenderize the roast. And it got a good beating that day.
As she was beating up the meat, she heard a loud commotion from outside. She didn’t think anything of it until she heard the voices of her sons arguing with the neighbor’s kids downstairs. Her natural motherly instincts kicked into play. Beverly forgot all about the greens, the macaroni and cheese, and the cornbread. Like a mama bear, she came running to the rescue. But what mama bear had forgotten was she still had her old-fashioned tenderizer in her hand, the hammer.
She hopped down two flights of stairs, running like a track star to get to her boys. Immediately, she tried to break it up, screaming and shouting for them to stop when suddenly the mama bear of the other teenage boys came running towards, hitting her in the head, her back, pulling her hair and kicking Beverly. My sister is no coward. And when she starts fighting, it takes the national guards to come in and settle the dust. She went to draw back to hit the woman who was attacking her when she realized, she still had the hammer in her hand.
Suddenly, the Holy Spirit spoke and said, “If you hit this woman with this hammer, you’ll hurt her and you going to jail. And if you drop the hammer, she is liable to pick it up and whip your head with it. Now, what are you going to do?” My sister had no other choice but to turn the other cheek, throw up her arm in defense and take the hits. After the dust settled, the police were handcuffing my sister and tossing her in the backseat. The woman had accused her of beating her up with the hammer, without a scratch on her.
My sister had never been to jail, but she was facing a 10-year sentence for assault with a deadly weapon. They asked her how she wanted to plea, and she pleaded, not guilty. The courts informed her if she pleads not guilty and loses the case, she will go to prison for ten years. Beverly looked the judge in his eyes and said, “Not guilty.” She was a truck driver, and she didn’t want to risk losing her class A license either with a felony charge.
During the trial, everybody started lying, the police officers, the woman who accused her, paperwork mysteriously came up missing, and all seemed lost for my sister, Beverly. They dragged the case out for almost a year. Nevertheless, Beverly kept praying and talking to Jesus, telling him she didn’t hit that woman with the hammer. If I did, she’d be dead or seriously hurt. Finally, the verdict was to be handed down. And that’s when the reality of serving ten years hit my sister. She broke down and started crying. What had she done telling the courts she was not guilty? She should’ve taken a plea bargain, take the felony charge and be out of the situation or serve a lesser time. While weeping in her holding cell, the bailiff approached her and asked why she was crying. She replied, “I messed up. I’m going to jail for ten years.” He told her to stop crying; it was going to be alright. The two of them began singing together as he cheered her up.
They called my sister back into the courtroom where they handed her down a verdict of not guilty! Prayers change things when you take it to heaven’s court.
