My name is Allen Jesse Davis, and I am 65 years old. I was born in Palatka, Florida and lived near St. Augustine, Florida until I was around 19 years old. I moved, along with most of my immediate family, to the Florida Panhandle to a little town called Defuniak Springs, where I still live today. I have lived in south Florida, as far as Fort Lauderdale, but have never lived in any other state. I grew up knowing that I was different than most other kids, other than the fact that I was red headed, freckle faced, left-handed, and skinny. I didn’t care much about what most boys cared about, you know – fishing, hunting, fighting, wrestling and just being dirty all the time. I was more of a Mama’s Boy, and preferred to stay close to her. I would hang out inside the house just be close to Mama. I never had a natural attraction to girls as I became a teenager, and found myself looking at boys and would try not to get caught looking. I wasn’t feminine, but I did have a different kind of voice than the other boys my age, and there was something about the way I walked. I tried to just blend in and not get noticed, but everyone did notice and there were those looks, and the whispering and giggling. I heard them, but just kept on walking and pretended not to be bothered. I went to church with my mother and learned about Jesus, but never asked Him to be my Savior. There was never a time, as a kid, that I remember owning a Bible, except maybe one of those mini New Testament books with the Psalms. We had Sunday School literature that I had read at that time about Salvation, but I never kept any of it that I can remember. I do remember going down to the alter one time, as a young boy, to pray when the preacher gave the alter call. I didn’t know what to pray for. An older lady came over and prayed with me, mostly quietly whispering, and after a time, I got up and went back to my seat.
When I moved to Defuniak and entered the working-class world, things began to get even worse. No matter how hard I worked, no matter what I did, it was never enough or good enough. I did enjoy working with the older aged men who finally took me under their wings to train me in each trade, although they kept me at arm’s length. Even they would talk behind my back and make jokes when they thought I couldn’t hear them. I remember how it hurt to hear them say those things. When I would walk around the corner, they would all just stop talking and look at me. I got used to it, and continued to go to work because somebody had to bring home the money to feed Mama, Daddy, Granny, and my younger siblings. “Just keep your head down and work as hard as you can and hope for the best.” That’s what Mama always said. So that’s what I did. When I got older and began to hang around a new and different crowd of people, they talked me into believing that there was nothing wrong with me, that God had made me that way. I was gay and should be proud of it, and just be who I was no matter what. It shouldn’t matter who it bothered or if I offended anyone, I was who I was. I prayed and asked God to make it stop, year after year after year. I would go to church, and sometimes I could go as much as a year without having any urges. The urges would eventually be too strong, and I would give in and start having sex again with other men. I would date for a while and then get my feelings hurt and be alone for a while, and then date again. I was never one to just go from one to another every night of the week, I wanted stability.
In 1981, I was the only survivor in an automobile accident, and have wondered why all these years. I was single, gay, no children, and an embarrassment to my family, so why did I get to live? A couple of years later I was in a construction job accident where I got knocked off a thirty-foot-high bridge into the water below and was not injured. We were building a draw bridge, and I was using a hydraulic jack when it came lose and hit me in the chest. I was wearing a life jacket which probably padded the blow and kept me from sinking. I don’t remember falling or even getting hit, I only remember the cold water. Ten years ago, my oldest sister died from brain cancer leaving behind three children and four grandchildren. Why did she have to die? “Why not me?”, I cried out to God. I begged Him to take me instead of her. I told Him I wasn’t worth saving, that she was more important and needed to be here with her family. Why couldn’t He just take me and then my family wouldn’t have to be ashamed anymore. Then I got mad at God and started to run from Him and do more drinking, and more drugs, and more sex.
After Mama died, though, I wanted to get saved so that I could see her again, so I began to pray for Jesus to come and save me.
God had a plan to save me. I was out of control with alcohol, drugs, sex, and just searching for something to fill that void in me to make me feel worthy. I had been a nothing all my life. It didn’t matter how much I drank, what kind of drug I took, who I had sex with, or who I married. I tried to marry a girl once thinking that would help. That was a huge mistake, that poor girl, her dad said I wasn’t acting like the man in the book he gave her to read about how men are supposed to be. That was a complete disaster, and I went on the run again. I married a man by the way. Yes, I married a man after my mother died. I was just trying to fill that void. Nothing was working. I worked hard and I played even harder. I worked 60+ hour weeks, sometimes 7 days a week. Anything to stay busy and not think about my life. I had built up a wall around me, or that’s what I thought I was doing, from God, from Jesus. I didn’t want to let anyone inside my wall, there was too much pain in there and too much emptiness. I also had some medical issues, and one Sunday morning in July of 2015 I woke up in severe pain, the left side of my face drooping as if I had experienced a stroke. So, for the next 20 months they ran tests. I had MRI scans, CT scans, and X-rays, everything they could think of, until they found a small mass on my brain and wrapped all around my left optic nerve. The Doctors began trying to figure out how to get to it, so they could get a biopsy. Even though they didn’t know what it was, they were giving me all sorts of IV treatment and pain medications. I was spending months at a time in hospitals from UAB to Shands to Miami and Fort Walton Beach. Finally, they consented to just cut a hole in my skull and get the biopsy that way. They got the biopsy; I had aspergillus fungus of the gram-negative category. They said I would not survive, only giving me a 10% chance of survival, but as you can see, I did survive. I’m still here. God is still keeping me alive for His purpose. They have treated it and it is gone now. Although I am blind in my left eye, I am otherwise fine.
My favorite song was called Concrete Angel by Gareth Emery and it’s a story about a girl whose boyfriend has built this brick wall around himself from her, and she says that if he doesn’t stop, that pretty soon, she won’t know who he is anymore. I used to sing it about me from God. One day I was driving to a meeting while listening to it, and suddenly Jesus was talking to me through that song. The girl was no longer singing, it was Jesus, and He was singing / talking directly to me. Although it was a sunny day, it got really bright inside my truck, and I had to pull over and stop. My heart was beating so fast, and the tears were falling down my face and Jesus said “Allen, if you don’t stop piling up these bricks, pretty soon I’m not going to know who you are anymore.” At that moment, in my mind, I saw Jesus Tear That Wall Down and Break All Those Chains That Had Me Bound, and Jesus Set Me Free! I was no longer gay, no longer in need of drugs, or alcohol, I was full of love and happiness and peace! For the first time in my life I was at peace, and felt happy and proud of who I am. I am a new creation, I am a blood-washed, Holy Spirit-filled son of the Most High God. I am a Joint Heir with Jesus of God’s Kingdom. I am somebody. I got saved that day and went to a local church and got baptized. I was fully submersed; I buried the old man and came up out of those waters a new man.
Jesus came and He saved me from all that I was, and now I have a purpose. I have a reason to live, a job to do. Make disciples of all nations, every tribe, every tongue. Share the Gospel about the finished work of Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior.
Jesus came and broke the chains that had me bound. He tore down that wall I had built up to try and hide from Him. I was mad at Him because I thought He had made me that way, but Satan had lied to me, and caused me to be like that, to think that way, and have those urges. Jesus stopped those urges and loves me. Jesus filled that void with love and peace and happiness. I am no longer sad or afraid or lonely. All I want to do now is live for Jesus and one day go home to be with Jesus in Heaven, and take as many people with me as I can.
Heaven is such a wonderful place! No more tears, no more death, no more pain, no more sadness, only life and light and peace and comfort forever.