“But God meant it for good…” - By Robert Cooper

I grew up the youngest of five in a quiet community in Chattanooga, Tennessee in the 60s and 70s. While my siblings had the opportunity to grow up with a father, I did not, as my parents divorced when I was very young.

Since my preteen years, I always knew I had artistic talent. I was committed to the dream of becoming a professional graphic designer. Without a dad in my life, and a mom who seemed to be always sick, art helped me to escape reality. Thanks to my high school art teacher who recognized my talent, she encouraged me to submit artwork in a design contest sponsored by the Art Institute of Atlanta. I won the first prize and a full scholarship to go there. And in 1981, began attending college.

Up to this point, I was not in touch with the harsh reality of racism. I didn’t see it or feel it growing up. I just enjoyed my friends, my bike, tag football in the streets, and my art, and had complete confidence that I would always be successful.

Before I graduated from high school, I had one thing to do. I had always wondered why a predominantly black school had confederate symbols in its logo. Queue quick history lesson: Tennessee voted to join the Confederate States of America in 1861, becoming the Confederacy's 11th and last state. The school was segregated until the late 60s, and in the fall of 1969, with an increasing number of black students beginning to attend the still mostly white Brainerd, the issue over the school’s Confederate symbols came to the forefront, and protests broke out. In spite of all that, by 1979, the school was predominately black, yet we were still called the Rebels with confederate symbols in the mascot branding. Using my clout as the student class president, and design skills, I presented three new mascot designs and naming options, and ultimately through a student body vote, we changed from the Brainerd High School Rebels to… wait for it…. Brainerd High School Black Panthers. It was shortened to “Panthers”.

In college, I was fortunate enough to live out my 20’s during the best era of music. Yes, the 80’s! I watched the first MTV music video ever broadcasted. Art school came easy - it was fun building friendships with people from diverse backgrounds. It was how I thought it should always be. “We are the world” was a hit song, and everyone in America seemed to be getting along (at least on the surface). In the mid-80s, I would be inspired by positive black TV shows and characters (i.e. Cosby Show, Different World, and their spinoffs).

My first brush with in-your-face racism directed at me came as a shock. I had a late-night job in my first year of college at a restaurant that closed after midnight, and I’d take the bus home. The bus dropped me off about 2 miles from my school housing, and I’d walk the rest of the way. One night, as I walked on the left side of the street toward oncoming traffic, a car got up on the curb driving toward me. I froze in my tracks as it approached, and as it got closer, it got off the curb and drove past as a group inside yelled the “N” word at me. Needless to say, I ran home the rest of the way.

After a year in college, I went home for summer break. However, bored with Chattanooga, I cut my break short and went back to Atlanta early. While unpacking at my apartment, I got a phone call with devastating news. My mom was in a coma from an asthma attack. I was floored, and also angry at myself because I felt I could have helped to prevent the situation if I’d stayed home just a few more days.

My mom never recovered and passed away after a month. After that, my attitude toward life grew pretty harsh. I’d say to myself whenever I got into trouble… “Nothing is as bad as my mom dying unexpectedly.” So, I hardened my heart, trusted no one, and became engrossed with selfish ambition. From college graduation to the end of the 80s, I didn’t care who I hurt, as long as I got what I wanted.

Throughout my career, I have had great pride in taking my talent to help black-owned companies succeed in terms of marketing and design. After graduating from college, I was hired by a black-owned ad agency. Also in Atlanta, I was a publication designer for a black-owned newspaper, and also a nationally distributed black culture magazine.

The job that brought me to Los Angeles was when I was hired to be a graphic designer for Black Radio Exclusive magazine which chronicled Black music and its intersection with radio, retailers, music executives, and other behind-the-scenes professionals. After that, I worked for Worlds of Curls in Carson, CA as a graphic artist to help market and design packaging for mainstream products as they tried to branch out from being solely known for jerry curl hairstyling products.

A few years after I moved to LA, the civil unrest resulted from not-guilty verdicts for the police officers who nearly beat Rodney King to death after a traffic stop (déjà vu). I lived alone in Hollywood during this time and could see pockets of smoke rising south of the city from my balcony. I could smell smoke and see ashes fall nearby. It felt very apocalyptic. I was very discouraged as parts of the city burned, and LA became racially divided. My hope in humanity was at an all-time low, not believing that we would ever “just get along” with each other as Rodney King had pleaded.

Around this time, my discouragement with society combined with my own irresponsible actions and bad choices moved me to seek God. I began to pray, and listen to contemporary Christian music and radio sermons. When I went to church, it was with the same people I was partying with the night before, so, my hypocrisy would stand in the way of true worship.

God heard my plea for help. He knew that it wasn’t the place I lived that was the problem. Rather it was me. No matter where I tried to succeed, I would fail because of my selfishness along with other sins listed in Galatians 5:19.

One day on my way to work, driving through the Crenshaw District, Nicole Irving, a sister from the Westside Church reached out to me in an unconventional manner. I had a bumper sticker with my personal Prodigy network ID (Prodigy was a competitor to AOL). This was before the world wide web as we know it, and before email and spam. Nicole probably had only a block to get close enough to read my ID accurately and jot it down while driving. She soon invited me to the church through the Prodigy network. I might have been the first to be evangelized this way in LA.

It still took a year of more setbacks and failed relationships to finally accept her invitation. My first service was at the Shrine Auditorium, where the whole LA church would meet occasionally.

At the time, LA was still recovering from the impact of the “LA Riots”, but when I entered the Shrine, I was amazed. — blacks, whites, Asians, and Latinos all worshiping together, and genuinely appearing to love one another.

Acts 4:32 — “All the believers were one in heart and mind.”

I was convinced that this could only be possible through the power of the Holy Spirit. God was here, and I wanted to be here! I immediately began studying the Bible and was baptized a few weeks later at the beach in Santa Monica in May of 1993.

Since becoming a disciple, God worked on my heart, and He gave me hope that I could have a successful relationship. Lucille and I started dating in 1998, and were engaged on Christmas Eve of 1999, then married in April of 2000. He blessed us with beautiful, and talented twins, Bailey and Harrison.

There are so many other amazing twists and turns of events along my journey. Too many to mention, and most of them seemed like setbacks and failures at the time. But, I find comfort in Joseph’s journey (read Genesis 37). He experienced a lot of setbacks, but God had a plan for him in spite of the odds.