Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are four stories about Jesus that offer four broad perspectives from which they tell specific stories with a “powerful realism” about his ministry, teaching, healings, rejection, crucifixion, and resurrection.[1] This much is very clear. Questions emerge about the genre, historicity, chronology, stages of oral transmission, and history of literary dependence (e.g., “did Matthew and Luke rely on Mark?”), but at the heart of what the gospels are is Jesus and the stories told about him.

I have been reading and studying the four gospels for about a quarter-century, first, as a young Christian, then in my on and off again academic pursuits, and as a local preacher. During this time I’ve arrived at some important conclusions about them:

1. The genre of “gospel” is historical narratives comparable to the Greco-Roman bios.
2. The gospels are a blend of theology and history.
3. This blend of theology and history does not undermine their historical reliability.
4. The gospels provide a holistic view of Jesus, we cannot pick and chose what is the “authentic” Jesus.

But there was a time I was unaware of Rudolf Bultmann’s (1884–1976) demythologizing existential approach to redefining the meaning of the supernatural elements from the Gospels, and other approaches birthed by liberalism and modernism to reading them. It was a time when I was oblivious of the historical/grammatical-critical approach to studying them with the tools of form criticism, oral-tradition criticism, literary criticism, and so on. I’ve benefited deeply from the types of questions they raise and the kinds of answers they seek to provide.

This essay is not about this process, however. Instead, I am sharing what I can recall from my experience of reading the Gospels as “a knucklehead from the streets” searching for God. I want to share this personal journey while I can still remember how reading the gospel lead me to find God in Jesus Christ and how Jesus’ life and teachings made me want to follow him.

My Background

Here are my “credentials” for the spring of 1996 when I was seventeen: A high school dropout, a three-year freshman, most days starting with cutting school, drinking, smoking weed, and roaming the parks or streets (in that order). In the columns for attendance and absences on my report cards, my poor mom thought they made an error because the numbers looked swapped.

Then there was my street life in a gang. Street fights and violence, jumping over backyard fences running from the police (and dogs), plotting to hurt “heads” from other gangs, all-nighters, drug use, sex, and on and on it went. I am not proud of it, but I ran with my homies and we were “tighter than a glove,” I had my “street-cred,” I earned my stripes, and many can vouch for that.[2] They called me, “Gorilla.”

I grew up in Roman Catholicism. I was christened as a baby at St. Charles on South Van Ness in the Mission District of San Francisco, CA. Although my family is from the Mission, my Abuela brokered a deal so I could attend an Irish Catholic parochial K-8 school in Noe Valley. I wish I could tell you anything I learned in religion class to help me read scripture but I can’t. I can say, the rituals really stuck. I was an altar boy. I know the “Our Father,” the “doxology,” the two “Hail Marys,” parts of the Catholic Apostle’s Creed, and I can genuflect with the best of them. I did my confirmation. I prayed my penance prayers after confession.

I do not however recall ever being taught how to read Scripture, that was the priest’s job. So when I started reading the Bible years after leaving the Roman Catholic Church following 8th grade and diving right into drug use that summer with acid, I had no strategies to work with except my basic education and common sense. I was seventeen years old, getting sober, and walking away from vice and violence. I cried out to God in prayer on the corner of 24th and Mission Streets: “I don’t know how to do this, but I’m going to look for you…. Can you meet me halfway?”

Things did not immediately change for me outside of me stepping away from the streets until one night I went out with my boys. While I was scrambling to get my outfit right, I looked under my bed to find my shoes: Air Griffey Max 1. Behind my shoes, under my bed, was a small Gideon New Testament I had no idea was sitting there amidst the dust and trash. I took the discovery as God prodding me, in effect saying, “I just did my part, now you do your part and start reading it.” I grabbed it. Looked at it with a smirk. Looked upwards and said, “Okay, God, I’ll start reading it.”

I started reading the Gospels and after a few months of reading the stories about Jesus, in December 1996, just after Christmas, I gave my life to Jesus and submitted to baptism in an outdoor hot tub (to learn more read: “Leaving a Street Gang for Jesus“). Up to this point, I had not entered a church, I had not participated in any evangelistic study material outside of some creepy Jack T. Chick (1924–2016) “Gospel” Tracts. I simply read the Gospels and they were sufficient to guide me to obey God.

So here are some things I recall from this several-month journey as a street gang knucklehead,[3] with an eighth-grade education, working through a period of “getting clean.”

Reading the Gospels at Face Value

Let me be clear, I have always been a believer even when I left God and did my thing. If I ever was going to return to religion it was either going to be Christianity (starting point) or Islam (due to some of my closest Egyptian, Palestinian, and Persian friendships at the time). If God exists, then the miraculous is possible. When I read Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, then, I believed the miracles contained in them were possible. I read them at face value.

Today, naturalism may be how many more approach a book like the Bible. For them, the door is closed to anything miraculous in the literal sense (i.e., the blind will never see, the cripple will never walk, demons are not exorcized, water is not turned to wine, the resurrection of a corpse does not happen). I did not approach the Gospels with this assumption. How could I, I called on God to find me!

Today, I recognize such an approach may be called a supernatural naivete (superstitious), but after studying worldview, the logical consequences of naturalism/materialism on ethics and morality, and dealing with the dismal outlook of living in an indifferent universe, keeping the door open to the possibility of the miraculous continues to make the most sense of the evidence in this world.[4]

Today, having worked through issues surrounding the critical study of the Scriptures, along with its anti-supernatural biases, its “mythology” and de-historicizing its narratives, it is clear that such a folklore Jesus would be a dead end. If the Jesus of the gospels does not exist then there are plenty of other historical fictional, or sci-fi, figures of virtue on their own “hero’s journey” I can enjoy instead. A fictional gospel reveals a powerless Jesus.

I believed God was working through Jesus in reality, and it led me to believe that his power could be applied to my own life in some healing way.

Jesus was Compassionate and Morally Firm

I had never read the gospels. I grew up on liturgy and tradition. Liturgy and tradition can be helpful as a tool for theological reinforcement, but it has significant limitations. For the most part, I just “knew”–as best I could know–Jesus loved me and died for me. But why, and why the cross? And is this what Christianity is all about, the story of an executed man? What about this has to do with me? And what would I learn about Jesus?

Again, I was, in the words of Ben Witherington, III, living a “Jesus haunted and biblically illiterate” life.[5] At the time, Jesus was the guy that died for me. I grew up reciting the “Stations of the Cross” every year in Mass. These 14 liturgical meditations commemorate the condemnation, death, and burial of Jesus (though I distinctly remember meditations of his resurrection).

So, I opened up that little New Testament with the small print to see where it would lead me.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. I was however truly surprised by the Jesus I was reading about. He drew me in. I was slightly expecting Jesus to be like the street preachers on my block. Those “bullhorn guys” yelling at the top of their lungs, telling us all that we are sinners, that we are all under the judgment of God, that regardless if you were eating donuts, McDonald’s, a burrito, going to the market, or selling weed, it didn’t matter because God hated us until we repented.

That is not at all what I found!

The Jesus of the gospels did not shy away from pointing to sin in people’s lives, but when he did so you knew he cared about you, you knew he had spent days with the sick to heal them, with the crippled making them walk, with the demon-oppressed liberating them of these evil spirits. He spent time with the kind of people the “really religious” types pushed aside, like the prostitutes and tax-collectors who wanted God.

In one instance, a woman from the city, known as a “sinner” (she likely had a bad reputation as a violator of the law of Moses), came to Jesus to show gratitude because he had forgiven her of her sins (Luke 7:47–48). The Pharisee who hosted Jesus in his home for dinner when this happened, reacted: “If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what sort of woman this is who is touching him, for she is a sinner” (Luke 7:39). She was undesirable, not to be engaged. Jesus however acknowledged her morally troubled past, accepted her, and forgave her of her sins.

Like a protector walking among his people, Jesus offered those that would listen to him a better way of life.

Again, Jesus healed a man who could not walk and had been that way for thirty-eight years (John 5:1–9). Later He ran into him when the man was under scrutiny by some Jews because it happened on the Sabbath. “Afterward Jesus found him in the temple and said to him, ‘See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you’ ” (John 5:14 ESV). Jesus heals the man, helps the man, forgives the man (implied), but is morally firm: sin no more.

I really needed and wanted a guide out of all the darkness and evil I was in. I knew I had dug a deeply immoral hole. I said to myself, “Jesus has gotta know my situation… and he knows what it’s going to take to get out of it.”

Meeting Jesus in the Gospels was a real turning point for me. I was moved. Reading that Jesus was the type of person that got to know you, your life, your darkness, and was not afraid to touch it as he embraced you, and then led you out of the sin in your life so you can live a liberated life before God. He was compassionate and morally firm.

Jesus’ Inspiring Inner Strength

The 1990s rap scene was flooded with “gangsta rap.” It was not the only form of rap, but like the “consciousness” of hip hop, this movement provided a peek into the mind and mental of street life. It spoke to what many of us were living through to different degrees. In 1995, the Westcoast hip-hop artist Coolio released the massively successful commercial single, “Gangsta’s Paradise” the theme song for the film, Dangerous Minds (Buena Vista Pictures). I recall me and my homies could not get enough of it. In fact, I called the hip hop station 106.1 KMEL on the request line just to hear it again. It was “the jam.”

It was more than just music, it was a mirror of our experiences. I say that because Coolio says what we all understood about respect in the street. Respect and honor were set on a hairpin trigger. When Coolio dropped this line, it was “gospel”:

But I ain’t never crossed a man that didn’t deserve it
Me be treated like a punk, you know that’s unheard of
You better watch how you talkin’ and where you walkin’
Or you and your homies might be lined in chalk

Coolio, “Gangsta’s Paradise”

This was not mere poetry this was street truth. Outside of joking around, you don’t cross your boys or disrespect people. Did it happen? Sure, but there were consequences.

So when I read the gospels, I brought this attitude with me. Call it machismo, call it pride, call it hubris. Somebody hurts your kin, the next time you see that person you confront them, punk them (embarrass them), and flex your muscle.

I was impressed with Jesus. When he interacted with the religious leaders of his day–the Pharisees, scribes, and Sadducees–who constantly poked at his school, his teaching, his methods, and his compassion, I stood amazed at how he handled these tests with an inner strength of truth and grace.

I definitely rallied behind him when Jesus flipped over the moneychangers’ tables at the temple, they had turned the place into a “den of robbers.” That language made sense to me. But Jesus was mild compared to what power he clearly had.

And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold access to God, saying to them, “It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer,’ but you have made it a den of robbers.” (Luke 19:45–46)

He made a statement. He didn’t end them. That’s the difference.

But for every other challenge, every criticism, every rejection, every attempt on his life, every time Jesus was made out to be crazy, a fraud, a violator of the Scripture, or liable as an ally of Satan, Jesus responded with words to clarify, words to unite, words bluntly stating the obvious, and words that demonstrate the faulty logic, scriptural inconsistency, or the like.

Basically, Jesus was full of zeal but kept his cool nonetheless (John 2:17).

Consider the fact that the gospels report that Jesus could walk on water, make water into wine, give people their sight back, restore the skin of leprosy, and revive the dead.

A man with that kind of power could be tempted to abuse it, but as the temptation in the desert points out, Jesus’ power did not outpace his character (Matt 4:1–11; Mark 1:12–13; Luke 4:1–12). When Jesus was rejected by the Samaritans, he rebuked his disciples for suggesting he retaliate with fire from the sky.

And when his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to tell fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” But he turned and rebuked them. And they went on to another village. (Luke 9:54–56)

Jesus showed strength in order to protect people, in order to speak truth to error, and authenticity to hypocrisy. I was captivated by his ability to hold it together when he was betrayed by Judas, when he was lied about in his Jewish “trial” before Caiaphas, when he was publically humiliated by the Romans, publically rejected by the Jewish mob with their frenzied chant, “crucify him, crucify him.” Jesus clearly stated he had the power and authority to be delivered by an overwhelming show of heavenly force (John 18:1–19:16a), but he did not.

I stood in awe at Jesus’ character. Jesus was dismissed by those who knew the Scriptures until the only way they thought they could silence him was to kill him. Here’s the part that really put this strength in context: Jesus predicted his betrayal, his rejection, and his death. John foreshadowed this in his prologue: “He [Jesus] came to his own, and his own people did not receive him” (1:12). He walked right into the fire.

I never heard of anyone who lived like that. Jesus was street-level “hard” (tough) in a way I had never seen. Jesus’ inner strength told me I could trust him. That’s the point.

In describing Abraham Lincoln, Robert G. Ingersol (1833–1899), was recorded in Wisconsin State Journal (16 January 1883) saying,

If you want to find out what a man is to the bottom, give him power. Any man can stand adversity — only a great man can stand prosperity. It is the glory of Abraham Lincoln that he never abused power only on the side of mercy. [Applause]. He was a perfectly honest man. When he had power, he used it in mercy.[6]

Robert Ingersol, Wisconsin State Journal (1883)

Whether that was always true of Abraham Lincoln, I’ll never know. But I trusted what I saw in Jesus’ use of power and in the realism of the stories of the gospels. I needed to trust him. I grew to trust him. I trust him still. And in the quarter-century of serving him, he has done no wrong.

Spending Time with Nobodies

In the 1991 urban drama, Boyz n the Hood (Columbia Pictures), director and writer John Singleton (1968–2019) presented a raw depiction of urban violence, racism, and gang culture as the backdrop for the coming of age stories of a group of childhood friends, notably two brothers (“Doughboy” and Ricky) and their close friend Tre. The impact of drugs and violence on the black community of South Central Los Angeles is seen as we follow these friends who grow up fast to survive–only to become victims of their own turbulent world.

After a confrontation between Ricky–a high school football star on track to receive a college scholarship– and a local gangster, the matter escalates into Ricky being gunned down in an alley while coming home from the liquor store. Doughboy and his own crew retaliate that night by killing the gunmen and his posse for killing his brother. In the next scene, the next morning, Doughboy comes out of his home, sells some crack as he crosses the street, and sits with his friend Tre.

In one of the most memorable moments in the film Doughboy says:

Turned on the TV this morning. Had this s— on about how we’re living in a violent world. Showed all these foreign places. How foreigners live and all. I started thinking, man. Either they don’t know… don’t show… or don’t care about what’s going on in the ‘hood. They had all this foreign s—. They didn’t have s— on my brother, man.

“Doughboy” in Boyz n the Hood

Although I was twelve when the movie came out, the movie has the proven realism of its era. What Singleton is voicing through Doughboy is that even though there is violence in the street of our communities, nobody cares about it. It is happening over there, not in our backyard. We put a spotlight on global violence but not in our own communities. We know it happens and the police are doing “something” about it. But it is not worth talking about or getting involved with.

Here’s my point: street life is a very different world. No matter what your starting point is, once you commit to it you live a life on the fringe. The police are not your friends. You can easily lose trust with your own people. You’re the boogeyman parents warn their kids about, “come home soon so nothing happens to you.” You are the reason they need to be careful.

For example, one day I was detained with a group of “us” by the San Francisco Police Department on 24th Street. Officer Callejas who put the twist on me was the father of a childhood friend. A bunch of us were thrown into a “patty wagon,” taken to the Mission station on Valencia Street. You really get a sense of how you are thought of in situations like this. Any mistreatment was seemingly justifiable because we were thugs who likely assaulted a little boy for his shoes. No one really cares when you are a thug. I get why, but it is still the truth.[7] We were probably guilty of something and the pain was just part of the business of the street: we felt like nobodies cause we were treated like nobodies.

Liberal New Testament scholar John Dominic Crossan (1934–) once described the “kingdom of God” Jesus focuses on as “a kingdom of nuisances and nobodies.”[8] That description really gets the point across. Crossan points to the fact Jesus spends a lot of time with the kinds of people the “clean” religious people would not associate with. The tax-collectors, the prostitutes, the sinners, the Gentile-tainted, the Samaritan, the lepers, the poor, etc., are all the kinds of people Jesus spend time with at the expense of criticism. This really spoke to me.

German theologian, Helmut Thielicke (1908–1986), really puts into words what I saw in Jesus:

[A]n ineffable love radiated from him, a love that quite obviously attracted from their usual haunts the very people whom nobody else cared for: people with loathsome, repulsive diseases, sinners who cowered before the contempt of society, the dejected and dismayed who normally concealed their misery from the eyes of others.[9]

Helmut Thielicke, The Waiting Father (1959)

Reading how Jesus ate with sinners just made me think that there was hope that he would share a seat with me at the dinner table. That he would come to my house and eat with me and my friends. Jesus put to those that criticized him for eating with sinners. He said,

Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. (Luke 5:31–32)

Would Jesus visit with me so he could heal me? I believed he would. He did. He continues to do so.

I am always amazed at the power of grace that allows us to be “other than we are.” God’s grace and forgiveness have empowered me to live a different life. No story Jesus told tells it better than the parable of the two sons:

“What do you think? A man had two sons. And he went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work in the vineyard today.’ And he answered, ‘I will not,’ but afterward he changed his mind and went. And he went to the other son and said the same. And he answered, ‘I go, sir,’ but did not go. Which of the two did the will of his father?” They said, “The first.” Jesus said to them, “Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you. For John came to you in the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes believed him. And even when you saw it, you did not afterward change your minds and believe him. (Matt 21:28–32)

Fringe people have an opportunity to be at the heart of what Jesus does. I wanted that.

Jesus Taught about Loving People

Sometimes I would leave the Mission and go with some of my fellas to the Tenderloin District of San Francisco at night. We had a friend with a car and we had a friend with a shop out there. The “TL” is a neighborhood district right in the heart of downtown. It’s the part of the city no one wants to get lost in, but so many people do. Legend has it that the name goes back to the largest bribes and police corruption, big cuts. In reality, it’s the home of “outcasts and outlaws, but it has also served as a welcoming home to the downtrodden and out of luck.”[10] It has been that way for a long time.

You always had to be on your guard in the streets but it felt that way even more so in the TL. I got into plenty of fights over misunderstandings. Sometimes you had to “knuckle up” to prove your point. Every now and then, something would happen that would disarm you. One time a parade of prostitutes hurried single-file by me into the back of the pizzeria I was eating at because the police were cracking down outside. That stuff makes you want to lose your appetite. Sadly, I eventually saw a few girls I went to high school with, out there in the TL “walking” the streets.

One situation really struck me. One night I watched a young girl call home to tell her folks that she was not coming back. A pimp had flipped her, she was gonna become of his girls. I can see her standing in a MUNI bust stop phone booth, surrounded by a bunch of guys as she said the following words:

Momma, don’t worry, I’m fine and I’m gonna make a lot of money…. No, tell dad I’m gonna be fine… he’s gonna take care of me, I’m going to be just fine… No, I’m not telling you where I am… he’s gonna take care of me…

Jane Doe calling home

“No, girl,” I said to myself, “No, he’s not.” You learn to get cold to things like this. I didn’t want to get played but if someone else did, that was on them. This moment, though, would eventually make me really question what it is I was becoming. One thing was certain, I was losing my humanity piece by piece I just did not know it yet.

So when I asked God to find me, and I started reading the Gospels, I learned that Jesus was all about loving his neighbor. What surprised me the most, and continues to be the challenge, is how Jesus applies the “love your neighbor” ethic. In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus said:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect." (Matt 5:43–48)

When Jesus applies Leviticus 19:18 (“you shall love your neighbor as yourself”) to life, he said my neighbor was not just people I know but even people I hate, and people that hate me. That was a bitter pill to swallow. Looking back, even now, I have learned that this love even protects the vulnerable people in society (the poor, the blind, the deaf; cf. Lev 19:13–14). In a world where hate and anger were the fuel that drove my choices, I thought about how different my choices were going to have to be. I realized that I could not follow Jesus and stay in the gang, that I could not be in a “me vs. them” world. Most of the time I did not even know who the people I hated were.

I was starting to see that the world could be different. That I could be different. God was good to me despite all the things I had done. He gave me the sun, the rain, the wind and rain, different escapes from certain death, and my close trusted cholos over Frisco. I did not know it then, but I had just opened my heart to a very different way of living. Of all the things that changed my life nothing so drastically changed it as learning to love my enemies, people who hurt me, people I had come to hate, and learning to have grief and shame for the joy I got out of hurting people.

Here’s another significant point, Jesus was not teaching some kind of fluffy love. It is a rugged love. It is a love that is independent of what others do. We wait for people to love us and never hurt us, in order for us to love them back. That’s not the kind of love Jesus talks about. We treat people with love even when it might cause hatred, persecution, or attempts on your life. Jesus went through all of that when he lived out God’s love by dying on the cross for all humanity.

That type of love motivated me to learn to forgive those who hurt me, molested me, abandoned me, fought me, or betrayed me; positively, I learned to feed hungry people, give money to needy people, to care for those that struggle, treat people with kindness and patience. Most importantly, I learned to forgive and love myself. Remember, Jesus said the second great commandment is to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Matt 22:39)–as yourself, as myself. It was a new day in my life when I received Jesus’ words to love my neighbor.

Jesus inspired me to look at loving others in such a way that challenged what it means to love, who are the others and even to love myself.

Ready for the Next Step

Reading the Gospels lead me to take the next step to follow Jesus. While I no longer remember how each Gospel spoke to me, I remember the example of Jesus already making a big impression on me. I also began to see how it affected other people when I quoted Jesus or imitated Jesus, often without even telling them I was. A homeless lady on the BART even asked me, “are you a Christian?”[11] I didn’t even know what that meant. She had to tell me: someone who follows Jesus. I was that “unchurched.”

Still, I was still wrestling with drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed, and I was building my fortitude against sleeping with anyone. Over the months of reading the Gospels, I desired but I didn’t exactly know what the next step was. After all, I had not entered a church during this time. There was no preacher or evangelistic crusade that was guiding my journey. It was quite literally, me and the Gospels, and me and my demons.

I remember talking to Mormon missionaries at this time and they said, “Cry out to God for an audible answer that the Book of Mormon was true, and you will hear him.” I spent many nights crying out to God in tears, scared that I was so close but so far. Never heard a voice. I remember receiving a bunch of creepy Chick tracts that told me to give my heart to the Lordship of Jesus or I would be roasted by Satan in Hell. I wandered into books and advice from outsiders.

My big brother, however, brought me back to the Gospels. “Have you read the Gospels?,” he asked. “Yes,” I responded. “What does Jesus tell his disciples when he sends them out at the end of Matthew?” I opened the text and it was right there:

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And when they saw him they worshiped him, but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28: 16–20)

That told me everything I needed to know and do next. I knew I wanted to be a disciple, this text told me how. I knew I wanted to submit to the Lordship of Jesus, this text told me how. I knew I wanted to keep having a relationship with Jesus even though he was not “here” anymore, this text showed me he was still with us. And I wanted to still study under Jesus, and he showed me that it was in the teaching of the disciples. So, I knew I would have to change my life and I made that commitment in a personal hot tub a few days after Christmas in December 1996. The “Gorilla” was “gone” and Jovan was reborn.

Endnotes

1. See Leland Ryken, How to Read the Bible as Literature (Grand Rapids, MI: Academic Books, 1984), 132. I highly recommend Craig Blomberg, The Historical Reliability of the Gospels, 2nd ed. (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2007).
2. As you may see in this essay, rap lyrics speak for me at times and so it is here. In Eazy-E’s comeback response album, It’s On (Dr. Dre) 187um Killa (Woodland Hills, CA: Ruthless, 1993), to Dr. Dre’s The Chronic album (Beverly Hills, CA: Death Row Records, 1991), the song “Real Muthaphukkin G’s” features Dresta who says, “I did dirt, put in work, and many n—- can vouch that; So since I got stripes, I got the right to rap about [gangsta life].” I wasn’t the worst thug out there, and I can only speak for myself, but I did my thing.
3. I use the “knucklehead” phrase because that’s what Mr. Cee from the RBL Posse said in his rap rhyme: “I’m just a knucklehead from the streets, All I want is a mic and some of that funky a– beat” (“A Part of Survival,” A Lesson to be Learned [Oakland, CA: In a Minute Records, 1992]).
4. One should read the opening chapter of William Lane Craig’s The Son Rises: The Historical Evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus (1981; repr., Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2000). Consistently, atheist Richard Dawkins wrote, “…if the universe were just electrons and selfish genes, meaningless tragedies like the crashing of this bus are exactly what we should expect, along with equally meaningless good fortune. Such a universe would be neither evil nor good in intention. It would manifest no intentions of any kind. In a universe of blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won’t find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference… DNA neither knows nor cares. DNA just is. And we dance to its music” (River Out of Eden: A Darwinian View of Life [New York: Basic Books, 1995], 132–33; bold added).
5. The actual quote is, “In America we live in a Jesus-haunted culture that is biblically illiterate. Jesus is a household name, and yet only a distinct minority of Americans have studied an English translation of the original documents that tell us about Jesus, much less read them in the original Greek. In this sort of environment, almost any wild theory about Jesus or his earliest followers can pass for knowledge with some audiences, because so few people actually know the primary sources, the relevant texts, or the historical context with which we should be concerned” (What Have They Done With Jesus? Beyond Strange Theories and Bad History–Why We Can Trust the Bible [New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2006]).
6. Dan MacGuill, “Did Lincoln Say, “If You want to Test a Man’s Character, Give Him Power?” Snopes.com. Accessed: 18 May 2022.
7. I can only think of one organization that was brash enough to try to disrupt our comfort with street life, and that was RAP. Unfortunately, there were not a lot of encounters.
8. John Dominic Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography (New York: HarperCollins, 1994), 61–84. While I am critical of many of Crossan’s proposals about the historical Jesus and his trance and mythic theory of the resurrection appearances of Jesus, he rings true here. See my, “Did Paul Hallucinate the Resurrection?“
9. Helmut Thielicke, The Waiting Father: Sermons on the Parables of Jesus, trans. John W. Doberstein (New York: Harper, 1959), 159.
10. Tshego Letsoalo, “The History of San Francisco’s Tenderloin Neighborhood.”
11. BART stands for the Bay Area Rapid Transit system. It was a subway/train system that connects various cities in the San Francisco/Oakland/East Bay/North Bay areas.

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