THE PRODIGAL SAVAGE: SINNERS, SCARS, AND SALVATION

“I ain’t just preaching. I’m building. For my son, for my people, for God’s truth.”

I was eighteen when I took a man’s life — the man who put his hands on my mother. Ten years in a cell taught me pain, but it also taught me purpose. I came home with nothing but scars, a stack of letters to my son, and a fire I couldn’t put out.

Now I’m standing on ground that’s divided — old heads in the church telling me to quiet down, racists in the street wishing I’d disappear. But I ain’t here to disappear. I’m here to show my boy, and every son and daughter watching, that a Black man can stumble and still rise, can be bruised and still build.

This ain’t about hiding behind walls. Jesus wasn’t just in the church — He was in the streets, touching the broken, standing with the outcast. That’s the reflection I’m chasing. That’s the work I’m called to do.

So when you open this book, don’t expect perfection. Expect fight. Expect vision. Expect a man clawing his way from chains to covenant, from pain to promise. The Prodigal Savage is my truth. It’s my scars. And it’s my stand.


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It was clean, motivational, truth, and the reader was so clear and strong. It was real life changing words of encouragement.

I liked that the story line from the opening to the end kept relevant to the story being told. It kept me waiting for what was next.