Profile of Alex Legion's mom: Basketball prophecies
UK player's mom sees Final Four
By Jerry Tipton
During a recent conversation about University of Kentucky basketball freshman Alex Legion, his mother repeatedly made references to God.
The Almighty steered him to prestigious Detroit Country Day, a private high school that has produced such basketball stars as Chris Webber and Shane Battier. Then the Holy Spirit let it be known that he should transfer to prep school powerhouse Oak Hill Academy for his senior year. Divine intervention brought him to UK, a college he had not been considering.
"I had no clue Kentucky was a basketball school. No clue," Annette Legion said. "But God knew."
When asked about God's interest in her son, she quietly, almost as an aside, made a startling claim.
"Me being a prophet, he has truly ordered my son's steps," she said matter-of-factly.
Prophet? Did you say prophet? Like Isaiah and Ezekiel of the Old Testament?
"I'm a prophet," she said, "someone who can prophesize about your future and what's going on in your life."
Although she has more important concerns, especially now as an evangelist for a Lexington church, Legion volunteered a look into the basketball future that's sure to please the Wildcat faithful.
"The Lord has shown me: They're going to the Final Four," she said, before adding a qualifier, "providing they play together."
Was this a prophecy? A prediction? Merely wishful thinking?
"I have spoken these things into existence," she said. "It's not by accident that my son is here and now the Final Four is in Michigan."
Prophets get a little leeway
Actually, such a triumphant return to Detroit for Alex Legion would have to come in 2009. That's when the Final Four is at Ford Field.
But that factual misstep seems well within the historical leeway given prophets, according to Ben Witherington, a New Testament professor at Asbury Seminary.
"Almost all prophecy of the ancient sort involved analogy, metaphor and indirectness," Witherington said. "You have to puzzle the meaning. Very seldom was it 'this is going to happen in the next five minutes, get ready.'"
Prophecy must be "weighed and sifted" to determine its reliability and the legitimacy of the prophet, the Asbury professor said. "It could be mostly true. Then see what you think about that."
Witherington divided prophecy into two categories. Auditory prophecy comes to those who repeat messages they've heard from God. "Often verbatim," he said. "Thus they have a Yahweh quote."
Then there are apocalyptic prophets, who not only hear messages but have visions of the future. The author of the Bible's last book, Revelation, was an apocalyptic prophet.
Many Christian churches believe that God stopped using prophets after Jesus fulfilled Old Testament prophecy in the first century.
Yet modern-day prophets abound in Pentecostal and charismatic churches, which typically do not require a formal degree from a divinity school for their ministers and leaders. In these churches, modern-day prophets are believed to possess the same powers the Holy Spirit bestowed on Jesus' disciples at Pentecost.
"You can be ordained simply because the spirit moved someone to lay hands on you," Witherington said.
Witherington discouraged the association of sweeping apocalyptic prophecies with modern prophets.
"Normally, it's not something that will end up in a holy book," he said. "It deals with some particular person's situation. Very personal and mundane things. 'Will God heal my marriage? Will I be well next year?'"
'Churched' out
Legion began her religious life as a Catholic, the faith of her grandmother.
"My mother had me at 16," she said. "I guess she didn't want me. I mostly stayed with my grandmother."
As she spoke, a pained expression crossed her face. She paused to wipe the tears that suddenly flowed from her eyes.
"When you're rejected by your mother, that's something you can't get by," she said after composing herself. "You have a wall no one can get by."
That wall eventually separated Legion from the Catholic church.
"I was 'churched' out," she said. "Seeing people going to church and coming home being something else, that turned me off."
Then 10 years ago, someone she called an "old missionary" encouraged her to try a church in the Pentecostal tradition and be baptized. Reluctantly, she agreed. As she emerged from the baptismal water, she felt a powerful relief.
"It threw all the weight off me," she said. "All the things I had been through as a child."
Four years later, she was ordained by Bishop Milton L. Jackson at the New Beginnings church in the suburban Detroit town of Inkster, Mich.
When her son was considering UK, Legion learned that Bishop Jackson had moved to Lexington to lead the Church of God in Jesus' Name, which is affiliated with Apostolic Fire International Inc. After Jackson's death, his wife, Ann, became the pastor.
Legion, 50, saw this as a sign from God. She allowed her son to sign with UK, quit her job as a basketball coach and security officer at a Detroit area private school and moved to Lexington in August. She lives with Pastor Ann Jackson and works as an evangelist for the church on Georgetown Street, where she passes out fliers and works to increase the membership.
The church draws about 25 regular parishioners, but Legion envisions long lines of people at the door.
Church as lifestyle
Pastor Ann Jackson explained that the Apostolic Fire church provided an answer to Legion's disdain for people who live a double life outside Sunday morning. Apostolic Fire, a reference to the fiery appearance the Holy Spirit took on Pentecost, "is not another religion," Jackson said. "It's a lifestyle."
The church recognizes five gifts from God listed in 1 Corinthians 12: Believers can be apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers. Legion possesses the "gift of prophecy," Jackson said, before adding, "Her call is evangelism."
To use sports terminology, evangelism is akin to recruiting. Legion, who also claims a gift for healing, makes an irrepressible first impression. She can sound like a Jedi master from the Star Wars movies, her smooth and confident tone drawing the unsure into alignment with her will. A former professional basketball player in Belgium, her stature -- 6 feet, 200 pounds -- accentuates her air of authority.
"I thought I was bold," Jackson said with a chuckle, "and I am bold."
The Church of God in Jesus' Name, which labels itself "the church where disciples are made," held a Miracle Revival in late August. Legion served several complementary roles, ushering attendees to their pews and assisting the guest speaker from Northridge, Calif., prophet Dion Mason, who preached a message of brotherhood.
"Celebrate each other," he said. "Not tolerate each other."
Mason also noted the "demonic stronghold" on Lexington, which he said worships the false idols of horse racing, basketball, football and alcohol.
With Alex Legion playing basketball for UK, this might cause a theological conflict of interest.
"We're praying he doesn't get detoured by fame and fortune," Pastor Jackson said.
After noting that "God is still in the miracle-making business," Mason asked those who needed healing to step forward. With Legion also laying hands on those in need, he prayed for the healing of such ailments as arthritis, stomach pain and the emotional pain of a son's leukemia.
"People say it's hypnosis, mind over matter," Mason told those in the church. "No! It's Christ over matter."
Hope springs eternal
Legion, who also speaks in tongues and says she has a gift for healing, has high hopes for her son. She said he's been blessed to attend fine schools. She expects him to play in the National Basketball Association, then become a prophet.
Perhaps to help that spiritual aspiration along, she said, she calls her son every night so they can review a different Bible verse. She also puts "holy oil" in the basketball shoes of her son and his roommate, fellow freshman Patrick Patterson.
And if Legion's basketball prophecy doesn't get detoured, Kentucky is Final Four-bound.
"I'm looking forward to going to Ford Field and cheering," she said of the 2009 Final Four. "I feel it strong in my spirit."
Maybe so.
But Witherington, who earned an undergraduate degree from North Carolina, has his doubts.
"Hope springs eternal," the Asbury professor said before adding, "I have more faith in my Tar Heels than the Wildcats this year."