I want to close out this book with a chapter written by my very first convert in Flint, Michigan, Dennis Vincent.  He is fifty-eight-years old now.  He has a Christian wife and three wonderful Christian children.  And he tells people about Jesus everywhere he goes.  You can see from the photo how happy he is.   
His story is here because no one would ever publish it.  I promised him just a few days ago that I would make sure that his story got published.  When I first met him he was nineteen-years-old and he could barely read or write.     
Not long ago I was invited to speak in Flint, Michigan.  I had not been there for many years.  About two weeks before I arrived someone from the Flint Journal interviewed me over telephone. Two of the boys that had been saved so long ago, Dennis Vincent and Matt Martin, read the article and showed up at my meeting.  
It was a fantastic reunion!
 
During the evening meeting they both watched a black girl kneel at the altar to weep and pray.  It was déjà vu for them.  How keenly they remembered how they had knelt and prayed to ask Jesus into their hearts so long ago.  
The next morning we had breakfast together and Dennis handed me an envelope.  
“Wes, I wrote up my story about how we met and how I got saved.  Nobody has published it yet.  I’ve tried three different times.”  
“Maybe I will be able to publish it for you, Dennis.  I promise you that I will try.”  
So this chapter is written by Dennis Vincent, the street kid who has now grown up and is fifty-eight-years old!
________________________________________

 
The story of Dennis Vincent and Wes Smith, the schoolteacher at Southwestern High School in Flint, Michigan.  
By Dennis Vincent
 
Some time in 1965
 
Church!  I have been there a few times.  Did not like the way they did things.  One thing I know, church people sure need a lot of help---a lot more than I need.  
When I was nineteen my vocabulary was very small.  I used to swear every other word.  My father could not read or write. He drank a lot.  Some nights he was so drunk that he came into my bedroom late at night with a butcher knife and threatened to kill me. One day he chased me down the street throwing rocks and cussing in front of the neighbors.  
A week before I got saved I tried to quit swearing.  I tried hard.  I could not quit.  The longest I went without swearing was one hour.  And during that time I did not say anything to anybody.  The minute I opened my mouth I started swearing.  The very minute I got saved the Lord took my swearing away from me.  I knew right then that God was real.  I didn’t know how to talk to people, so I did not say much.  Everybody wanted to know what was wrong with me. I told them I got saved.  
Here is my story:
 
My friend at high school told me about a schoolteacher named Wes Smith who would play cards, drink, and party with the students.  I told him to show me this teacher, and he did.  
About a week later I was peddling my Sunday morning paper.  I saw this teacher in a phone booth.  I pulled my bike over and told the man that a bunch of us were going to play cards and have some beer.  
“We want you to join us.”  I said.
 
Wes answered,  “I can’t make it.  I will be praising the Lord.”  
I was shocked.  “I’m sorry.  My friend told me you played cards and drank with the boys.  Sounds like he set me up.”  
“No.  He told you right.  I was doing that up until about three weeks ago.  But then something happened to me.”  
“What?”  I asked.
 
“I gave my life back to the Lord.”
 
“That’s good.”  I told him.  “I’ll see you around.”  
“Wait!” Wes yelled.  “You see that church down the street?”  
“Yeah.”
 
“They are having a meeting there tonight at 7:00.  Why don’t you meet me there?”  
“That sounds like a good thing to do.  I’ll see you there.”  
I left and laughed as I finished my newspaper route.  I never gave it another thought.  
On Thursday of the next week I was in a little store buying some pop, and in walked this teacher.  
He smiled real big and said, “How’s it going?”  
“Not bad.”  I replied.
 
“Hey, I didn’t see you in church the other night.”  
I just looked at him.
 
“How about you coming to church this Sunday night at 7:00 p.m.—same church?”  
“Why not.  Sounds like a good idea to me,” knowing I’d never see this guy again.  
A few days later and I saw this same teacher walking toward me on the sidewalk.  
“Hey, how are you doing?” he asked.
 
“Pretty good.”
 
“I didn’t see you in church last Sunday.”  
“What the _____!  Are you following me around?”  
“Heck, no!  I just live two blocks form here.  I moved in about month ago.”  
“Oh.”
 
“Hey, you told me you were going to go to church with me for the past three Sundays in a row.”  
“That’s right.”
 
“Are you going to church with me this Sunday night?  Yes or no.”  
“Hell, yes.”  I told him.  “I’ll go.”
 
I was lying through my teeth.
 
“Where do you live?”
 
“What do you mean where do I live?”
 
“I’ll come and pick you up right at your house.”  
“Oh.”  I thought a moment and made up a fake address.  
“My address is 5128 Ballenger Road.”
 
“O.K., man.  I’ll be there to pick you up Sunday night.  Be sure to be there.”  
Wes told me several months later that when he went to 5128 it was an empty lot and he knew that he had been “had”.  
Can you believe that I ran into this guy again?  Flint is a pretty big city.  I was riding my bike and he pulled up beside me in his car.  
“How’s it going?”  He asked.
 
“Real good.”  I told him.
 
“I thought maybe you lived in a hole in the ground”  
“What do you mean?”
 
“I went to that address on Ballenger and it was an empty lot.”  
Now I’m looking for a way out.  This guy just wouldn’t go away.  
“Tell me your address.”  Wes said.
 
I thought, “What the heck.”  So I told him my real address, but I planned to be somewhere else that night if he showed up knocking on my door.  
“Good.”  He said.  “I’ll be there Sunday night to pick you up.”  
I made sure that I was not home that night.  I took my mom shopping and stayed away from the house until I was sure it was too late for church.  
About 7:20 on Sunday night Wes pulls up in front of my house, comes up onto the porch and starts knocking on the door.  He sees me inside.  
“Hey, man,” he says,  “Sorry I’m late, but there is still time to make it.”  
“I can’t go.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“I’m not dressed.”
 
“You’re just fine.  Get in the car and let’s go.”  
Then my mother chimed in.  “Dennis, a little religion around this house would not hurt one bit.  Go with the man.”  
I don’t know why I obeyed both of them, but I did.  On the way to the car I said, “If any of these people step out of line it’s over.  I’ll be out of there.  If they say anything to me it’s over.”  
“Stay cool, man.  Just relax.  Nobody is going to bug you.  I’ll make sure of that.”  
For the next several Sundays Wes picked me up and took me to church.  Afterwards we would get pizza and pop.  I was playing the odds.  I didn’t mind getting free food.  But I was playing the odds.  “He’ll miss a night or someone will say something to me at church and then it will all be over.  I can’t lose.  I’ll get off the hook.”  
For the next six weeks this guy never missed picking me up.  He was never late and the only time I seen this guy was on Sunday night.  “The odds beat me!  This guy is never going to quit buggin me.  From now on I’m going to hide out from this dude.”  
I was sound asleep.  I did not even know what day of the week it was.  I skipped a lot of school and we had been drinking a lot.  I heard my mother’s voice.  
“Dennis.  There’s a man here to pick you up for church.”  
I woke up cussing.
 
“What the hell.  Won’t this guy leave me alone?  Tell him I’m not here.  Tell him anything to get him off my back.”  
I didn’t know that he was standing in the living room and heard everything I was saying.  I felt pretty sheepish when I came out and he was standing there.  
“You back again?”  I asked.
 
“Yep.  You got that right.  It’s me.”
 
“What day is this?”
 
“Today’s Sunday, baby.  Time for church again.”  
“You know what?  I’ll go one more time with you and this will be the last one.  I’m really tired of this crap.”  
Wes just smiled.
 
We got to church at 7:30 and the service had not started yet.  It was like they were waiting for us to get there.  I sat through the whole thing and tried to daydream.  
On the way out Wes and I stopped to shake the preacher’s hand.  The preacher said,  “Dennis, I thought you were going to get saved tonight!”  
Without even thinking, I blurted out, “I thought I was, too.”  
The preacher said, “It’s not too late.  Come with me.”  
We went into the Sunday school room and knelt down.  “Go ahead and pray, Dennis.”  
I looked up and said, “I have no idea what to say.  I don’t know how to pray.”  
“O.K., Dennis.  Just repeat after me:  Jesus, I am a sinner.  I need to be saved.  Please come into my life tonight.”  
As I repeated the words I began to cry.  Every hurt that I had ever had in my life seemed to melt away.  In their place came a joy and happiness I had never known.  I suddenly knew why Wes was always smiling.  I felt real good and I never cussed again.  That was forty-one years ago!  
The Lord has been real in my life ever since.  For about a year or two I read the Bible with Wes.  Believe it or not I learned to read pretty good.  Seven years after I got saved I entered Bible School and became a missionary where I worked at Flint Metal Fabricators.  It is called Flint Metal Center now.  I passed out more than five hundred Bibles and a ton of other stuff.  I preached every day.  After I retired my wife and I worked on a Boy’s ranch in Florida for one year.  The last six years I have been writing for the Lord.  
The world has printed my testimony three times.  The religious people have rejected publishing my testimony.  I have submitted it many times.  I have passed out many, many copies of my testimony.  
Here’s one the poems I wrote:
 
THE KID OFF THE STREETS
DENNIS M. VINCENT
 
I used to run the streets,
Lie, gamble, drink and cheat.
Everything that could put you in jail;
Then I asked JESUS to come into my heart. He promised to keep me out of hell.
My life has changed, now I’m happy as can be. My wife and kids can see JESUS in me.
Oh, if only I knew how much better this like was to be. I could have saved my life a lot of pain and grief. Yes, I used to run the streets, now I walk the roads Telling people about JESUS, the way of life and life’s woes. There is one thing for sure, living for Jesus is not the boring life they say. I can tell you it’s a whole lot better way. I was blind and now I can see.
JESUS is my friend and not my enemy.
Today will never come again;
I beg you, my friend, ask JESUS to come in. Yes, I used to run the streets; now I walk the roads, Telling people about JESUS everywhere I go.

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