Let it begin with… us.

I’ve been at a loss for words lately.

Our world is so wrought with hate, anger, chaos, and despair that I don’t know how to express it.

I’ve tried to keep my postings neutral as far as I can. I would rather encourage than discourage, mirror tolerance instead of ignorance.  I want to give people a safe place for their thoughts to rest.

I feel all voices are valid ones. Even those that may not agree.

Do I know that there are people who will hate me because I am African-American? Female? Christian? Even though I invite them to my table?

Oh yeah. Absolutely. But I also believe that the worse disservice we can do is to strip voices from people who feel they have no platform to begin with. I believe that’s one of the things that have gotten us into the fine mess that we’re in (and we’ve been getting in this mess for a long time).

Look at history and observe what happens when a group of people feel ignored or disenfranchised. If they advocate for us (whoever us may be), we stand behind them, don’t we? Everyone wants to feel heard. Everyone wants to feel validated. We want to feel worthy of the space we take up on the planet. But if another group stands up to be heard and counted among the worthy, and that group does not look like us or sound like us, we get uncomfortable and want them to be quiet, don’t we? Sit down, you’ve had your turn.

Remember, we are all members of the same family on one world.  Whether we like it or not we are all related, even if we can’t stand our cousins. And just like in the real world, y’all know some of our cousins are crazy. On both sides. And sometimes we don’t even want to claim them.

Many of my dear friends and loved ones present me with opinions that certain folks should not have a voice. I understand that. Some voices incite hate and cause fear, disgust, and sadness. Some bring death and it’s shadow.

Some voices advocate the silencing of others. Sit down and be quiet, remember?

I get the discomfort.

But see, my thing is that Jesus loves the unlovable.  He loved the people that nailed Him to the cross.  He died for them, too.  He died for me, and Lord knows some days I am very unlovable. But He rose again to give us hope. And it’s this hope that I see little of in my community. And by community, I mean the global one.

Beyond my own sadness is an anger. But I’m not angry with the voices that make me uncomfortable, the voices that see a better world without me in it.  That’s their prerogative. I know my destiny, and they are not in charge of it.

I’m angry with the pulpit patrol who do not teach the Word of love and justice, but only give the people what their itching ears want. They empty the spirit and fill the collection plates. Their wealth is at the expense of hungry souls.

Because I am certain that if the Scripture was taught the way it was intended, we would have a different world.

The people in it wouldn’t all look like me. They wouldn’t all speak like me. They might disagree with me on some point or another. Or many points. But all of us would know beyond a shadow of a doubt Whose we are and that our voices mean nothing if not covered in His love.

I don’t know how this can be fixed. I pray. I dedicate myself to bringing love and reconciliation to those who are willing to come to my table. I pray for those pastors and ministers that I know are doing their best to teach the Way.  I pray for those folks who are under false leadership.

There are many.

But to my faithful readers, I ask that you pray for me, too.

Pray that my table will always be full, and that the cups of all who are present will run over.

 

Blessings.

And peace. Especially peace.

Sharon