Hurry Up, Jesus! This may be my most enduring prayer. It is also my least successful. That does not stop me from praying it, all the time.
Some of us are so pressed down right now we cannot breathe, let alone pray. Even the act of opening one's mouth to pray brings tears and sobs choked in the throat. These are the prayer requests marked urgent. Some of them are so desperate that they cannot be uttered. Do not withhold your mercy …
The sad reality about America the Beautiful is that we are divided. Until we address the pain American racism continues to cause, to ignore it, particularly in the wake of such carnage, and in a church no less is, as Jon Stewart so beautifully put it, is to ignore "the nexus of a just gaping racial wound that will not heal, yet we pretend doesn’t exist."
"The way you articulate your position...., you know, you're so articulate for a...." [expletive deleted] I speak like the people I know. Those I spend time with, those whom I love. Those who raised me, those who raised them, etcetera. English, well-spoken and well writ, is our first language. We go to college (we graduate). We're normal.
This is about to be a series. I have a number of things to be pissed-off about where the Community of Faith is concerned, but I'll start here.
I am growing, but like my beloved Granny, I was not on the Peacemaker line for long as they handed out spiritual gifts. I got impatient and left. A sistah had a lot to do.
I find myself so frustrated by the dearth of Grace practice by so-called Christians, that I'm inclined to profess my humanity on the regular. We are forgiven y'all, not perfect. (and you wonder why I wanna cuss?)
I'm probably begging for trouble, but as I often tell friends, I'd have to borrow an F to give one. I am making my declaration. I may very well be "ghost" on social media tomorrow, the 2018 celebration of the life and legacy of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It's been a week, and …
In a Sunday sermon, I heard the following… “When we turn to God, we are made whole.” That's when I understood. This part of my life is now complete. I am evolved, and I am not alone. I am emboldened by the tribe that surrounds me. My OneWord did not choose me, it birthed me.
I believe in an Omnipotent, Omniscient, Omnipresent God, although the Perfect, Precise image of Him I envision may not be yours. Nonetheless, my faith is Unceasing. Continual. Powerful. Undeniable. Even as I question it. I am grateful to have arrived at myself. I believe in love, and that it is a verb. I declare that …
I am a mess, and I will be a mess. And yet, He loves me, deeply. Fully, with clear eyes and total commitment.
I am comfortable with Maya Angelou’s characterization Father/Mother/God for several reasons, not the least of which is that some days I need a Father Figure, others the Compassion of a fierce and Omnipotent Mother, and other days when it does not matter. God is so much bigger than any box we could conceive.
I believe in free will, knowing that the Perfect Will of God leads us to and through things in order to bring us to the places we need to be.
Today, I'm talking Race, Culture, Identity, and Faith over at my new home. I'm joined by brilliant women who make me want to dig deeper and reach further, and I thank God for the opportunity.
It will be eight years ago this fall that I wrote and published this brave story. Brave because I hadn't ANY idea what I was doing except taking the advise of a friend that I trusted. I was obeying a call, and I am grateful. That obedience profoundly changed my life. I now write professionally for a living. I have grown, but I had to start somewhere.