Ray Lopez - Hard Knocks: Memoir of a Small Moment

We had been at the Huntington Chapel in Shelton, Connecticut for a few months, and the prophet David Wagner was visiting the church for the first time in 2005 . He came from Jubilee, a large church in Southern Florida, a man of average height with short dark black hair, dark brown eyes that looked deep, and a little pouch around the waist. After serving in the Baptist church for fifteen years, I knew how to share the Gospel and lead others to Christ. I knew I was an evangelist the moment I accepted the Lord through a baptism of the Holy Spirit. I knew nothing about the gift of prophecy but had read a lot about false prophets in the Bible. I was skeptical to say the least. The Body was moving in open corporate prayer, about one hundred brothers and sisters free in the Spirit to pray as one felt led. Powerful, passionate, some cried out, some prayed softly, some prayed in the Spirit in a language that was their own gift from God. It moved in waves at times rising to a crescendo of many voices, then crashing to the shore of a single voice. Pastor Doug preached on prophecy, a word of knowledge, in which God would reveal a piece of your past through one with a prophetic gift to bring healing, or a word of wisdom to reveal his plan for your future. David started pacing back and forth across the front of the church calling forward those who wanted to hear a word from the Lord. I knelt on my knees in the middle of the room, and I wasnt moving. I was good right there, where God had planted me, knowing He heard my prayers, the body heard my prayers, on my knees, eyes closed, rocking back and forth as the worship team played. I heard David moving through the body, praying and speaking words over people. He paused for a moment. People prayed and cried, Thank you Jesus, Hallelujah, thank you Jesus, thank you Lord. I felt a hand on the top of my head, then Davids voice, a subtle Southern drawl, but sharp in tone, evangelist, evangelist, evangelist. I thought so what, big deal, he heard me pray. Anyone who heard my prayer would know I am an evangelist. I had been working as a federal probation officer since 1990 and often prayed for my cases, mobsters, gang members, addicts. Then God spoke through David, You have been through the School of Hard Knocks, and I knew I was hearing the voice of God through this man. That refrain of my life, spoken by my earthly father, again and again. I fell down on my face. I knew it was real. God was speaking through this man. He spoke through David and said, You will evangelize the hardcore, one at a time. My plan and vision as an evangelist was sharing my testimony in an auditorium filled with the lost who would all rush forward after hearing me speak to receive Gods gift of salvation. God knew my prideful heart and called me out on it right there on the floor of the Huntington Chapel, and my life as an evangelist has been just as He said, the hardcore, a condition of the soul, one at a time. With the deepest gratitude within my mind and heart, I praise my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for the sacrifice of his blood and breath. I thank my parents, Alfred and Mary Lopez, for their lives and their love. Dad taught me about the discipline of the mind, body, and eventually love. Mom never blinked, not even for a small moment. She looked me in the eyes and loved me enough to let me go in faith, love, and hope. I thank my Uncles, Ramon and George, for their invaluable assistance as family historians. The stories they shared helped clarify the narrative and brought my grandparents to life beyond my memories. I am blessed to be a second-generation son of Cuban, Mexican, and Spanish immigrants. Pop, my paternal grandfather, left us too soon but left an enduring legacy of strength. My paternal grandmother, Porfilia, was an intercessory prayer warrior who fought against evil and won daily victories. My maternal grandmother, Aurelia, was an independent woman who taught my Mom how to make her own way. And my Moms dad, Benigo, loved me beyond time and reason. I thank my sister, Teresa, who always stayed close enough that I always felt her love. She either witnessed or lived through many of the stories in my memoir and brought to life some stories of her own that were lost in the dark corners of my mind. She saw the scratches on the wall! I thank my brothers, Steve and Pete, for their love and support and having the insight to learn from my youthful mistakes. They were also invaluable readers of this narrative. I thank all my English professors at Cal State Hayward and Cal (Don Marcos, Robert Pinsky, Gary Soto, and John Bishop) for their honesty and encouragement. I thank my brother in Christ, Vincent Carbone, for his careful reading of this book and sharing what God was saying to him about my story. I thank my copy editor, Rich Gelfand. We became friends through this journey. I thank all the Hooligans and friends and enemies who live on each day and some in our memories. I pray mercy and grace for Tony, John D., Brian R., Larry, and for the family and friends they left behind. I thank Brian B., Pat D., and Steve Deluca for their enduring friendship and direct input into the text. I thank my children, Tebben and Jesse, for their love, their support, and their invaluable input into this book. Finally, and second only to Christ in my life, I thank my beloved wife, Dr. Paula Gill Lopez, the strongest beacon of love in my life.