The Change Of A Lifetime - Written By Evone Roberts For Don
August 28, 2009
I was a third-generation Ku Klux Klansman, I was an atheist, and I hated everyone. Those things were once true about me, but not anymore. Now, I wish that I could apologize to everyone I’ve ever hated.
What motivates a third-generation Klansman to convert to atheism and then to Christianity? When I was approached by a woman in my church wanting to tell the story of my changed lifestyle, I was astonished. I wondered if I had anything interesting to say or if anything written about me would be useful. She believed that each group was separated by fear and a voice of experience would help readers cross the barriers to better understand one another. I agreed that there was a lot of fear that kept all sides divided. After a brief hesitation, I surprised myself by saying, “Let’s do it.” Immediately after I committed to talk about my experiences, I realized that I wanted to do it. If I could help just one person avoid a life of fear and hatred, it would be worth it. I qualified my agreement with a warning, “If you really want to interview me, you may not want to hear the truth. I didn’t kill anyone, but there were beatings.” There are things I’ve done that I’m not proud of, but the great news is that I don’t have to live in regret. I’m different now, and I want others to know that they can change a destructive lifestyle, too.
So we began our conversations, starting with my Klan teaching, which was passed down through strong family ties and very familiar to me from an early age. As a child, I attended Klan activities that were termed “family gatherings” and observed from a distance. I participated in my first cross-lighting ceremony when I was sixteen, the customary age to indoctrinate young men into the Klan. It became a lifestyle, and eventually, I began to identify myself as a Klansman and brand myself with tattoos. Some people might be surprised to know that I learned the doctrine of the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) in a Baptist Church. From a Christian perspective, probably the most surprising fact about the KKK is that the Klan does believe in God and does teach from parts of the Bible with the inclusion of ethnic cleansing. Cross-lighting at night is taught as a religious symbol of light in the darkness. Although I became involved in Klan activities and customs, my mother strongly disagreed with ethnic cleansing. I now have her Bible, which is a favorite reminder to me of her beliefs.
When I was young, I didn’t question Klan philosophy or my values. There are some things that I didn’t begin to question, until I got older. Ironically the Klan teaching that I learned never taught that Jesus was Jewish. That fact was never mentioned, and the Jews were one of the groups that the KKK opposed and believed should be exterminated systematically through genocide. That discrepancy and some other ideas that I once accepted without question are clearer to me now. I feel like a light has been turned on inside me and a weight has been lifted. I’m happier, I smile more often, and I’m learning to enjoy people. Co-workers and members of my family have commented that they wish this change had taken place in me years ago.
I realize that fear played a big part in my thinking and behavior: fear of others who weren’t like me and what they thought of me, fear of the unknown, fear of the future, and fear of not having a group that I belonged to that I thought could protect me. One of the biggest fears I had was the possibility of being rejected by my friends and family and losing those I loved, if they discovered that I secretly wanted to believe differently. The influence of fear in my life was a powerful motivator that controlled my behavior. I kept my doubts to myself, but I wasn’t happy. I didn’t want to believe that this was all that life had to offer. I finally realized that I was trapped in my own thinking, and I wasn’t going to find anything better if I didn’t look for it.
I ventured from the Klan-thinking to atheism. I thought that if God was the author of hate, fear and rejection, then I’d rather believe that there was no God. I asked myself, how could a loving God support such isolation and pain? It was a contradiction that I couldn’t resolve. I was angry and confused, so I turned to atheistic beliefs. For a long time, while I was an atheist, I went to church regularly with my family, because I wanted to be with them. I kept my atheism a secret, along with an “Atheist” tattoo that I had added to my right shoulder and kept covered at all times. I joined a local atheist group, but secrecy and fear still controlled a big part of my life.
It seems like a bizarre lifestyle now, but at the time, it was the only way I knew to live my life. I vividly remember one incident, when I attended a rally in South Carolina to protest that the Ten Commandments were being displayed in a Federal building. The Ten Commandments were removed, but thankfully, have been replaced and are now displayed alongside the Lord’s Prayer. The event turned into a very volatile and dangerous demonstration, escalating into a confrontation where my family, who were leading the KKK demonstration, came face-to-face in a shouting match with the atheist group that I was supporting. I faded to the back of the crowd with a lot of mixed emotions, afraid of being seen by my family in the Klan. Even though I no longer agreed with ethnic cleansing and professed that God didn’t exist, I would have chosen to be with my family on the opposite site of the picket line when it came to standing beside those I loved, family loyalty and safety in numbers.
It was too late to hide. I had been seen by a family member, someone I cared about, who was a high-ranking Klansman. The incident brought me to a turning point. What did I really believe, and how did I want to live my life? There were childhood wounds from abuse, broken relationships, tragedies and losses that I didn’t understand and a lot of unhappy times that I blamed on God. Like many people, I started looking for happiness in a chemical substance or a relationship, but drugs and alcohol left me unfulfilled, and my relationships failed.
On President’s Day, in February 2007, there came a moment when I thought I was having a nervous breakdown. I was alone target practicing with a 22 caliber rifle, when I attempted suicide. It wasn’t planned, but suddenly, it was as if all the pain, anxiety, depression and unhappiness of a lifetime came crashing over me. I put the gun barrel in my mouth and pulled the trigger…not once, but three times! The gun would not fire. The bullet had marks where the firing pin hit it 3 times, but still, it didn’t fire. I just felt stupid because I thought that I had even failed at suicide. At the time, I couldn’t see that the goodness I was longing for was right before my eyes. Now, I look back and see the grace of God, and I just smile in amazement.
I went from believing that “God did exist” to “God didn’t exist” to “He might exist.” The latter seemed like a logical middle road, but I still felt empty, wondering if this was the most satisfaction I could expect from life. If God was out there, I wanted to find out, so I began experimenting with every kind of religion I could find. I had almost come to the end of my list, when I decided to try a full-gospel, deliverance church. If that didn’t work, there was a new supremacy group that I had heard about that I would try.
In April 2008, I was out for a Sunday drive, not planning to go anywhere in particular that day, but I felt a sudden urge to pull into a drive way next to a little white country church. The next thing I knew, I had turned the car around and driven into the church parking lot next door. The sign read, “Freedom Center.” I thought maybe I’d just pull in and turn around, but I found myself getting out of the car. I was greeted by a friendly young woman on the front porch, who asked if I’d like to buy a ticket to a Passover meal. I wasn’t sure what that was, but she was nice, and it felt good to be welcomed and included.
I attended a church service and sat on the back row to observe. Wow. It was not my usual church shopping experience. I immediately felt different there. The music, the worship, it was like there was something tangible in the air that I couldn’t explain. It was amazing to me that I could feel so different, so good just sitting there. It was intriguing, incredible. I came back the next week, and the week after, until I came to the conclusion that I wanted to feel that good all the time. I wanted to be happy, and one thing I knew for sure was that everything else I had tried was not working. I wanted to change for the better, look forward to the future and put my shaky past behind me.
That’s when it happened: that life changing experience that is almost impossible to explain, where you surrender everything to God. I don’t remember everything that happened in that moment, but I found myself at the altar of that small church, not quite sure how I got there. It felt like I was crashing and being rescued, all at the same time, and God was unloading some very heavy baggage with my name on it. When I opened my eyes, there were several people around me praying, smiling and comforting, and they have been there since. I realize what a phenomenal thing it was to have my life changed from a lifetime of hurt, fear, hatred and violence and be replaced with love, peace, hope and joy, and surrounded by others with the same motivations. It’s a great relief to know that God has forgiven me, and I can put my past behind me.
After stumbling unexpectedly into a church service I had no intention of attending and having an intimate encounter of forgiveness and salvation through the good news of Jesus Christ, I’m amazed. I want everyone to get this. I think I was saved from a lot of things that day.
Some highly stressful times have followed that joyful experience. I had to tell my family that I was leaving the Ku Klux Klan. It was difficult to tell them that I didn’t agree with the Klan’s teaching and their belief anymore. I didn’t want to disappoint them, but I knew that I was changed, even if their thinking remained the same. There was also the fear of retaliation from the organization. I expected a beating for leaving the Klan, but I knew that I would willingly take it, if that was the cost of pursuing what I thought was right and what would bring me happiness.
I was relieved when I found favor and was able to leave the Klan as a member in good standing. After two months, I still have not experienced any retaliation or punishment for leaving, so I believe that threat is behind me forever. A few weeks later, I received an anonymous text message which stated that the chapter I had belonged to was being banned due to “lack of loyalty,” something that had not been expected or seen by my family for three generations.
After four months of this Christian lifestyle, I feel a freedom that I have never felt before, and I am experiencing the goodness of God. Just two weeks ago, I was being treated for spots found on my lungs thought to be cancerous, and the doctor pronounced, looking at circled sections on the x-rays, “There is nothing there.” I drove home in shock and excitement, and immediately fell to my knees to thank God when I crossed the threshold.
I would like somehow to share with others that there is hope for change and that your past does not equal your future. It’s true that I’ve got old thinking and habits to walk out of and some broken things in my life that still need to be fixed, but change has already started taking place for the better, and it’s evident. In retrospect, when I think about my suicide attempt, my unexpected encounter with God, favor to walk away from a subculture of bigotry and violence, a banned KKK chapter, new hope for my family after 68 years in the Klan and my unexpected proclamation of health, I realize that I’ve turned the corner to a better life. I’ve finally begun to experience what I hoped was true: there is a God; He is good; and I’ve got the bullet to prove it.
Location: Jonesboro, AR, United States
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