A Prophet’s Journey Through Midnight

Mickarl D. Thomas Sr. DMin MPA

Description

Mickarl D. Thomas Sr. looks back at the obstacles he overcame during forty-five years in pastoral ministry, coping with the death of his son, battling cancer, and more.
Mickarl D. Thomas Sr. chronicles the challenges he’s overcome in A Prophets Journey through Midnight.
As an asthmatic child, he lost two brothers before being born and was left to wonder why he was spared. While he grew up with loving parents and siblings, his father was illiterate.
More challenges would loom—none worse than the death of his son, Mikey, at age seventeen. The words, “Mikey was killed,” reverberate in his soul every day. When he received the news, he fell on his knees before throwing an exercise machine at the bedroom window. Then he tried to jump.
His harrowing journey also involved a divorce, a battle with prostate cancer, and contending with the death of his parents.
In this book, he shares the pain of going through so many ordeals and also looks back at the obstacles he overcame during forty-five years in pastoral ministry. Throughout, he shares his belief that no matter what takes place in life, God is in charge. As Psalm 22:8 declares, “For the kingdom is the Lord’s, and He rules over the nations.”

Sujets

• Religion
• Christianisme
• Christian Living
• Inspirational
• Philosophie et théologie
• Determination

Informations

• Publié par: WestBow Press
• Date de parution: 26 janvier 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781664258402
• Langue: English

Extrait

A PROPHET’S JOURNEY through MIDNIGHT
 
 
 
 
MICKARL D. THOMAS SR., DMIN, MPA
 
 
 

 
Copyright © 2023 Mickarl D. Thomas Sr., DMin, MPA.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
WestBow Press
A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan
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Bloomington, IN 47403
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6642-5839-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6642-5838-9 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6642-5840-2 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022903383
 
WestBow Press rev. date: 1/25/2023

To my son, Mickarl Darius Thomas Jr. (Mikey). My son’s spirit is with me every day of my life. I pray my journey through midnight will ultimately end with a great reunion with all those who have sojourned from time to eternity.
Also, to Mikey’s sisters; his twin sister, Michelle, and his oldest sister, Lorna.
And to my parents, Daniel and Verlenia Thomas, as well as my father in the ministry, the Rev. Dr. Fred E. Stephens. Their residence is in eternity, but their spirits are with me.
Finally, to the one who has walked with me on my midnight journey, my beloved wife, Carol Ann Pettigrew Thomas (CAT). She stood by me as I struggled with my midnight journey before being reassured Go d is !
CONTENTS
Introduction
Chapter 1Theological Reflections
Chapter 2Taking Your Own Medicine
Chapter 3Trust God
Chapter 4You Will Get Stronger
Chapter 5There Are Not Any Rationale Answers for Everything
Chapter 6God Is Real
Chapter 7The Importance of Family
Chapter 8The Inevitability of Storms in Life
Chapter 9Acceptance of Your Midnight Situation
Chapter 10Death Is a Part of Life
Chapter 11Friendship at Midnight
Chapter 12Attitude on the Journey
Chapter 13Power of Remembrance
Chapter 14The Immanence of God
Chapter 15No Pain, No Gain
Chapter 16The Productiveness of a Nurturing Family
Chapter 17The Potency of Testimonies
Chapter 18Healing Time for the Prophet
Chapter 19You Cannot Stop on the Midnight Journey
Chapter 20Do What You Can While You Can
Chapter 21Don’t Let Anyone Still Your Joy
Chapter 22Weeping Is Good for the Soul
Chapter 23Nobody but the Lord
Chapter 24It’s All about God
Chapter 25Accepting Reality
Chapter 26Faithful Living in Nebulous Times
Chapter 27Delivered to Be a Deliverer
Chapter 28Storms Keep Coming
Chapter 29Daylight after Midnight
INTRODUCTION
I remember my first and last roller-coaster ride as a young boy. It was a terrifying experience; ascending to the top and suddenly falling for a good distance was more than I cared to endure. I discovered, later in life, there are some roller-coaster rides you cannot control. This was the case in 1997. I went on the worst roller-coaster ride in my life. In the words of Charles Dickens, in his book A Tale of Two Cities, “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”
June 6, 1997, I received my master’s in public administration from the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University. It was a very salient point in my life because I had never thought I would receive a degree from an Ivy League school. Eight days later, June 14, one of my three biological children, Mickarl Jr., affectionately called Mikey, was killed in an automobile accident. Mikey, along with his twin sister, Michelle, had recently graduated from Milton High School in Milton, Massachusetts. He had received a full academic scholarship to Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia. Mikey and his twin sister were born in Norristown, Pennsylvania, on August 7, 1976.
I was now living in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, with my wife, Ann. Mikey was planning to come to Philadelphia the day he died, to be with me for Father’s Day and for the summer. Instead of enjoying the presence of Mikey on Father’s Day, I, along with his mother, Carole, and my wife were choosing a casket for his funeral at the Davis Funeral Home in Boston.
I had pastored (Charles St. AME Church) in Boston for thirteen years and was fortunate to have many friends in the city. My oldest daughter, Lorna, a student at Spelman College, and her two siblings lived in Milton, outside of Boston, with their mother. Their mother and I had divorced, but I was very close to my children. As I sat in the Davis Funeral Home making funeral arrangements, I had trouble thinking or doing anything because I was in midnight. I never thought I would live beyond the funeral of Mikey. I did not realize that not only would I survive the death of Mikey, but there would be other midnights to encounter: prostate cancer, my mother’s death, the deaths of my brother-in-law and a ministerial colleague who was my fraternity brother and just like my blood brother.
This writing is an attempt to share with others how I have traveled a long journey through midnight. It is my desire that other prophets (ministers), lay persons, and others will get some encouragement and direction as they cope with their midnight journeys.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4 NKJV)
Special note: All biblical references are from the New King James Version (NKJV) unless otherwise indicated. The term prophet is meant for the pastor, preacher, and teacher. Anyone who is a spokesperson for God, whether ordained or lay, functions in the role of a prophet.
CHAPTER 1 Theological Reflections
My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me? Why are You so far from helping Me, And from the words of My groaning?
—PSALM 22:1
O n Saturday, June 14, 2007, at approximately 4:00 a.m., the telephone rang in the parsonage of Mount Pisgah AME Church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My wife, Ann, and I were awakened from our sleep. Ann answered the phone, and after a few seconds, her face pale, she handed me the phone. On the other line was Rev. Gregory Groover, the pastor of the Historic Charles Street AME Church in Boston, Massachusetts, who followed me as pastor in 1994. Rev. Groover was attending a church meeting for the First Episcopal District of the AME Church in Philadelphia. He had received a phone call from Boston and was now conveying the contents of that call tome.
“Mickarl, this is Pastor Groover.” I knew something was wrong for him to call so early in the morning.
“Yes, Pastor, what’s going on?”
“There has been an automobile accident, Mickarl, involving one of your children.”
“Which one?” I asked.
“Mikey,” Pastor Groover said.
“Is he going to be OK?”
“Mickarl, Mikey was killed!”
Those words, “Mikey was killed,” reverberate in my soul every day. I fell on my knees, and my wife tried to console me. I jumped up from my knees, threw an exercise machine at the bedroom window, and tried to jump. My wife pulled me back and just held me as I uncontrollably wept. That was the beginning of my midnight journey.
I called a good friend, Bob Wright, in Norristown, Pennsylvania, and told him the horrific news I had just received. He and his family had just suffered a home fire, but he said to me, “Doc, we will see you in Boston.”
Bishop Philip R. Cousin, my judicatory head, was called at home, and he offered prayer. My mother and father, Daniel and Verlenia Thomas, were called in Detroit. They called my sisters Macie and Santranella as well as my aunt Mat. My wife notified other friends and relatives as well as some officers in the church I currently was pastoring. Arrangements were made to get a flight from Philadelphia to Boston late that morning. Two of my ministerial colleagues, Rev. Terrence Hensforth, of Philadelphia, and Rev. Donald Luster, of East Orange, New Jersey, came to the house. Both were attending a church meeting. Two stewards of the church I was pastoring came by to offer their condolences and assistance. The journey from Philadelphia to Boston was a painful experience, and truly, I was traveling at midnight.
When we arrived in Boston, we were met by our cousin, Rev. Joseph Washington, who was pastoring in New Rochelle, New York, and a dear friend, Paul Johnson, who was the chief of Harvard University Police Department. Paul and his wife, Louise, were gracious enough to allow my wife and me to stay with them as we prepared for and held the funeral for Mikey. This dynamic couple was exceptional in receiving our friends and relatives and preparing sumptuous meals for them.
The first stop was the morgue. The coroner tried to wait for me to arrive before doing the postmortem evaluation; however, I was arriving too late. It took some persuading, but eventually they allowed me to see my son. Looking at Mikey lying on the gurney was the worst experience of my life. This was the son who had always been with me. I took him to his first footb