Final Resting Place

God says walk with me.
Crazy screams run alone.
Free Wills yields to you.

Four hundred feet at its highest elevation. No buildings, no roads and with the exception of huts, no infrastructure at all. No emergency responders, no sounds, no alarms. In fact, on North Sentinel Island in 60,000 years, not a single thing about it or its inhabitants – the Sentinelese – has changed. On December 26, 2004 an earth-rotation-altering earthquake and tsunami, that took the lives of one-quarter of a million people, on two continents in 13 countries, from 59 nations, yet somehow, the world’s most isolated neighborhood… yielded survivors. 

from Brooklyn, New York
Asoh Black! w/ Joy

“….doing this to establish the kingdom of Jesus on the island … Do not blame the natives if I am killed.” – John Allen Chau

Inside Our Own Private North Sentinel Island
by Kendall F. Person

I have ventured inside of many houses of worship, a few I have joined, but most, for various reasons I moved on. So when I refer to my pastor, I speak of only one man, within a snapshot time frame, Pastor Dave Pitts of  the Church of the Nazarene. I enjoyed the way he delivered his sermon, like an educational lesson, so that everyone could understand. I felt sincerity and comfort by the welcoming nature of the congregation.

But more than anything else, the sincere belief and absolute passion in his summation of a one on one conversation. “But in the end, this is what I believe,” looking down at the Holy Bible he clutched with both hands. No high horse, no judgement, yet sound in his faith;  and I grabbed hold of that emotional, unconquerable belief. Though I no longer attend service, nor an unofficial  member of the church, it is  that walk with Pastor, within his walk with the Lord, that reminds me, that I am not alone, even when all of the air has been blown out. 

But the mind, controlled by the imagination, led by free will can begin to play tricks on us, yet nourishing our mental health, does not often find its proper place in the conversation. And even as doubt begins to surface, causing our self-confidence to drain, and while we notice the difference, our minds may interpret it as something else. The stresses of life, the gravity of faith and an awakened mental disorder do not always intersect. Sometimes they merge. 

Every so often, a larger than life personality captures the spotlight, and barnstorms over our lives. When it first started, the Michael Jackson craze was fun, until some radio stations turned MJ music weekends into every single day. Many jumped ship early, even before his darker days. But some became fanatics, and Michael became their world. 

An entertainer is one thing, however, but what if crazy or God traps you in a false reality, until a zombie is all that remains of a healthy soul.. 

Sentinelese Soldier
A photo of a Sentinelese soldier
“My name is John, I love you and Jesus loves you.” – John Allen Chau

In churches, synagogues, mosques, temples and chapels all around the world, is where many of the civilized invest our faith. But only a precious few truly believe in the teachings of the word, for most of us simply follow the leader in blind or trusted faith. But time has proven, over and over again, that faith in man alone is like shooting at a moving target, when your life depends on it. 

Consider the transformation of Jim Jones; from charismatic minister to stone cold nut, who in plain sight, walked his congregation into an unimaginable disaster. But it is a fair question to ask, how could we ever know, that the man we deem crazy, who shouts from the street corner, is not only sane, but an Apostle delivering the message we seek?

The answer is faith, but it must begin by trusting and having faith in ourselves. By diving inside our own private North Sentinel Island, for as long we need.

John Allen Chau, (Dec 18, 1991 – Nov 16, 2018)  Martyr or “American Dickhead”?

 I did not know John Allen Chau, from near or afar. So any analyzation of who I think he was, would rest on good intentions, but empty words nonetheless, I will offer a few words. I do not believe for even a moment, that he was on a mission of God. What I do believe, is that he believed he was.

In the final seconds, that  John Allen Chau had left of his life; with the spear piercing through the air, and a bullseye across his heart, what were his final thoughts? Did he scream out “Oh Lord I tried and failed you!” Or did regret overwhelm him with such a tremendous force, that he stared into the eyes of the Sentinelese who he claimed to love,  now saw only an enemy? Was he sound in his belief, where there was comfort to be found, or was he a victim of religious bombasity, shocked into reality, only when death was imminent? “Why didn’t they tell me, to seek out help?”

It matters not how strait the gate, 
      How charged with punishments the scroll, 
I am the master of my fate, 
      I am the captain of my soul. 
– Invictus

Aaaahhh…. circa 1997 Montego Bay, Jamaica 

For his sake, I hope that John Allen Chau held steady in his faith: that during the last terrifying seconds of his life, he remained steadfast and unwavered. But if he was nuts, then the question becomes a societal one, Did those close to him smile in his face, then cowardly laugh once his back was turned? Did his counselors and mentors, support his calling, but inside knew that something was wrong? And what shall we do now? Search for answers in his death or spin a tale to glorify or renounce religion, as historical records?

Rather our journey has taken us deep inside the vast unknown of belief in a Higher Power, or on the never ending quest of science we ride, to lower the boom on faith at last; or maybe its philosophy, and the centuries old search to find the answer to the meaning of life, is where we are most settled. But truth, as John Allen Chau learned, is not an individual endeavor. And perhaps, that is the difference. God says walk with him. Crazy says walk alone. 

“They are a treasure.  We cannot go and force our way in. We don’t want to harm them.” – Dependera Pathak, Director-General of Police on the Andaman and Nicobar Islands

by Paul Brennqan of  Winder Georgia 

The people living on North Sentinel Island, whom we call the Sentinelese, have an unbroken lineage, that is 60,000 years long, catapulting them back to the Stone Age. But this time, it is not the story of the Sentinelese that has drawn  us in, but the story of us and a not so subliminal longing, to live as free, even if only for a moment.

this is… The Neighborhood

from 2012… Let Her Go by Passenger


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  2. 🤔 Thought provoking and enjoyable read. It’s true, in the hindsight of tragedy (disappointment too), we often realize we’ve failed others because it was easier to look the other way and ignore all of the signs. Sometimes that comes with a hefty price to pay, and the very same cowardly trait persists in the aftermath of silence or outrage looking for someone else to blame. 💙Passenger. Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas, Kendall. 🎄 I’ll be radio silent in the coming weeks. Cheers 🥂

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