COLUMN: The Apostle Of Bojangles'

"So shines a good deed in a weary world" - Willy Wonka, 'Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory.'

TUSCALOOSA, AL. — There's a lot to be said about being in the right place at the right time and in the eyes of many, James David Bonner is the embodiment of the concept nearly every day.

At his normal spot overlooking University Boulevard East near the intersection with Veterans Memorial Parkway in Five Points, Mr. Bonner, as he is more commonly known, has for the last several years stood in front of the Bojangles' chicken joint waving to passersby and holding a sign that has now become his trademark.

Held above his head, the white poster with big red letters displays the simple message "Jesus Will Save You" to motorists on their commutes. On the ground beside him, wedged through and held up by the handle of a dusty cooler was a sign in Spanish, reading "Jesús Te Salvará."

As cars whizzed by, each honk was greeted with an affirming point of the finger from a smiling Mr. Bonner. As an objective observation, it's truly ineffable to see someone so at peace in their element and confident of their message.

It didn't take long standing with Mr. Bonner Monday morning before his popularity became apparent. Even as he talked to his elderly parents who brought by a large bag of ice to stave off the heat, a steady chorus of car horns echoed through the air of the bustling intersection.

Now, it's time I press pause and confess my crimes. It's crucial to the story to note I almost didn't write it to begin with.

My intention setting out Monday morning was to selfishly score an exclusive, heartfelt on-the-record interview with Mr. Bonner to tell his story in depth for the first time. I wanted to know how he was handling the pandemic, what his routine is like, but above all else, what led him to dedicate such a large part of his time to braving the elements and sharing his faith.

If I'm being honest, and I think this story requires it, I wasn't overly excited to start my week on Monday. I had been concocting a plan to write this feature on Mr. Bonner, but had already wasted one drive across the county to try to track him down, only to find his spot empty Sunday. Suffice it to say, my attitude about the whole thing, and the day in general, was in the dumps.

When I parked my truck in the parking lot, the temperature was already soaring and wearing a thick gaiter scarf, I looked more akin to a sweaty bandit about to rob a train when I sauntered up on Mr. Bonner's spot.

Mr. Bonner is a bespectacled, thin-framed man, and on this particularly bright fall morning, he sported a weathered cowboy hat shading gray-tinged brown locks of shoulder-length hair. He makes sure to dress for the occasion, too, with a heavy overshirt to shield him from the sun and comfortable, worn-in sneakers for staying on his feet for hours at a time.

I grew up on the other side of the bridge in Tuscaloosa County, so this was my first in-person experience with Mr. Bonner and what caught me about him immediately was his warmth. What I would give to be that energized and full of joy about anything so early in the morning. He even politely took time away from spreading his message to chat with me.

We connected on more than I could've imagined. The son of a preacher, Mr. Bonner grew up in New Hope in Lowndes County, Mississippi — in the same Golden Triangle area that I covered in the newspaper business for nearly four years before coming home to Tuscaloosa. He also attended Berry High School in neighboring Fayette County, the longtime rival of my alma mater at Northside.

This is where the story gets hairy, at least on my end. When asked if he would be interested in a sit-down, tell-all interview, he swiftly declined. Rather, he deferred to the bigger message found in scripture for the words he wanted to provide. He views himself as merely a conduit for the word of God and not worthy of notoriety for his efforts. So, after some light coaxing and added persistence, all while he stood firm and never lost his grin, I finally accepted that my story had fallen through.

I was disappointed, sure. It's not often an in-person interview request for something uplifting is shot down. But as I pulled my truck out of that parking lot, without even getting a picture, something told me to go back. I had given up too easy.

I grumbled as I had to fight to execute a U-turn in the same area where everyone slowed to honk at Mr. Bonner and pulled back up to his spot. I jumped out, snapped a few quick pictures in case I might need them later, not thinking I would, and chatted with Mr. Bonner and another parking lot disciple for about a minute or so before going on my way.

In my hard-headed vanity, I kicked myself for part of the long drive back across town, sure that I had wasted my own precious time in the pursuit of a dead end. I tend to get myself worked up over little things I can't control and this situation was no exception.

Then, it hit me.

To provide some context, I have a track record of being a zealot when it comes to writing forced stories about people who deserve recognition, but don't actively seek the praise that sometimes comes with their good deeds. In this interconnected, selfish society, it's a simple, yet profound, refreshment when bearing witness to someone doing good because they feel led to. And sometimes, the need for that story to be told, for fear of denying its potential impact, supersedes respect for the anonymity of the person at its center.

Enter Mr. Bonner.

I must admit, I was surprised above all else by his affable humility and sheepishness when it came to being in the spotlight. I wasn't even the first journalist to approach him on Monday and he told us both he would pray on it and maybe one day be willing to grant an interview.

So I do apologize to the other anonymous reporter for me pulling the trigger on this story, but I guess the theme of the day, for me, became doing what one feels led to do. When I realized what the real story was here, it became that much more urgent to broadcast it to my community and the rest of the world.

It's a plain message, but one I think we could stand to be reminded of. And even though I guess I disobeyed the Ninth Commandment by bearing false witness when I walked away from Mr. Bonner without informing him of my intentions to instead write an opinion column on our short interaction, I would like to think the Lord, if he's up there, will give me a pass on this one so a brief ray of light can be shed on the good works of a lone disciple — I just hope Mr. Bonner can forgive me, too, for the candor.

In a time of so much divisiveness, fear and worry, people like Mr. Bonner are needed more than ever. Regardless of your religious affiliation, we could all take innumerable lessons from this man's day-to-day, as he wakes up nearly every morning to stand in the same patch of grass in front of a fast food restaurant — and for what?

Even if you disagree with the pillars of his message and beliefs, there is so much to be said for the fearless spirit he regularly puts on display, especially in the face of a world that seems to be falling apart around him.

I would know better than most in saying it's easy to get cynical right now. It's easy for us to harbor resentment toward those we disagree with and even easier to ignore our basic impulses for empathy. You would think one of the few emotions separating us from animals would be more readily accessible, but humanity never ceases to surprise me with its lack of self-awareness.

What I saw Monday morning gave me hope, though. If this wiry man with the Jesus sign and cowboy hat can give 100% of himself in service of something — anything — positive during this time, couldn't we all do a little better to do the same? Amid a deadly pandemic, political upheaval and social unrest, it would have been nothing for Mr. Bonner to pack it in and I doubt anyone would have blamed him. Instead, he is undeterred in his mission, and that, in itself, is more than commendable, regardless of the platform.

I'm not talking about chasing heathens down and beating them with Bibles until they convert, but what if we took more time to find simple, positive ways to engage the community around us? What if we spent less time worrying about what tomorrow holds for us and more time focused on what the present holds for others?

Again, I'm in no way trying to lead anyone to salvation through my long-winded babbling. If God wants it done, he has a big, really old set of instructions with lots of fancier words and parables than I could ever string together. What I do hope, though, is that maybe a small lesson is taken away by each passing motorist traveling through that intersection, whether they realize it or not.

Maybe the takeaway for one person is to be more open about their faith or beliefs, whatever they may be, and for another, the moral could be not passing judgement on those you see standing in the open for something they believe in.

As I've written multiple times, I don't have answers to most of the questions I pose. I can say with a high degree of confidence, though, that I'm thankful my initial story on the Apostle of Bojangles' fell through, so I could learn some of these lessons for myself.

Ryan Phillips is the community publisher for Patch in Tuscaloosa. This is an opinion column and not meant to reflect to the views and opinions of our parent company or its staff.