What is Necessary?

You know, some days are really tough for no logical reason at all. Yesterday was one of those days. All the working Tuesday & Wednesday went so well! Great pace—even with plenty of hiccups & plan adjustments. And then yesterday happened. It would be easy to say we hadn’t gotten enough sleep or had too much to do. But truthfully, neither of those were true. It was just…exasperating. Every single little thing was hard for no reason. And the things that should have been difficult happened with ease all within 45 minutes. But everything else? Damn near painful. After it was clear several of us were struggling during check-ins at a community meeting I attended at 6:30pm, an elementary teacher who was present even led us in some breathing exercises. Then when we were asked, “how is everyone feeling after that?” someone I had spent the day with responded, “my goal isn’t to feel better because I just can’t take failing at anything else today.”

But you know what? When 11pm hit, we looked around to see that everything, somehow, had gotten done. Great food had been made & eaten. Dishes were done & spaces were clean. All the errands were finished in time. Scheduling for the next 2.5 months had been completed. Emotions were settled & even laughter was all around. The best part? We all got to sleep before midnight! Somehow, after an incredible day of ridiculous struggle—we arrived to the night whole & full.

Then this morning, all were rested & energized. And for the 1st time in a really long time, I began my leisure day with energy & peace. This, in spite of the fact that I woke up 10 minutes before I had to leave the house for my chiropractor appointment 20 minutes away.

And that gave me some perspective.

So often we wade through what feels like annoying, unfruitful, pointless struggle. And sometimes that’s true. But maybe whether a struggle is pointless isn’t actually about why it’s a struggle. It’s just dawned on me that maybe there’s more than two kinds of struggle. Maybe the idea of good struggle & bad (unnecessary) struggle leaves the valuation of some struggle invisible. And striving for only one or the other removes the possibility of unexpected fruit? Yesterday didn’t feel like good struggle—and yet our willingness to struggle rather than give up left us with meaningful progress that supported the full quality of my rest & everyone else’s labor today. Maybe it’s not as easy to determine whether a struggle is unnecessary as I’d always thought.

When I think about the past 4 days, I can’t help but make the connection to liberation work. Some days the struggle feels purposeful & fruitful. But just because it bears fruit, doesn’t necessarily mean it feels purposeful while we’re in it. And I’ve seen so many relationships & projects die because of that—because it feels “unnecessarily” difficult. I’ve been after when people have abandoned efforts & seen them come into miraculous abundance & discovery!

If we’re truly laboring to build a world we’ve never experienced except for in our dreams, how do we even know what “unnecessary” labor feels like? Our gauges of vital vs. vicious are set by global dominance & exploitation. Our minds & bodies have been socialized by a standard of suffering. So how can our judgements of what cultivates freedom be anything more than unskilled? How do we decide whether we ought to quit or keep pushing through any given struggle except from the other side? How do any of us know if something feels pointless because it doesn’t further our efforts of freedom or because it doesn’t strengthen our service of capitalism?

I think the honest answer is we don’t. I’ve been immersed in trying to figure that out for the last 5 years. Then there were all the unintentional part-time efforts for the 5 years before that. And I’m not sure I have any more of an answer now than I did when I started out.

These days I’ve learned not to interpret easy as right or difficult as best. Just as I’ve learned happiness is no better an indicator of wholeness than brooding is. Declaring something as “different” is not a valuation—it’s an assertion. And “worth it” will always be an estimate.

When I started out, I wanted to release every unnecessary struggle to focus on the ones that were important. But when it comes to figuring out which struggles are progressive & which aren’t, I think it’s time to consider a change in approach:

My goal isn’t to only be committed to “good” struggle anymore, because I’m not interested in failing at anything else right now. And maybe, somehow, after an incredible life of ridiculous struggle—I’ll arrive to the night whole & full.

Holding…On

I wrote this about a week ago (Feb 7th) in a group thread where we all share our biggest struggles & how we’d like to be responded to. It took awhile to share here. But here goes.

Mmk. My turn! So mine comes with a photo-essay. 🙃😔

After 2 months of full court battle things have finally stabilized. The 4 of us in the core of have all turned the last major corner. There's still a lot to be done, but the triage is complete & there are clear, viable paths forward. The emails & messages of hate, distrust, & betrayal have more or less stopped. The barrage of “how are you doing's” & “how can I help’s” have ceded—which means far less navigation of who is asking out of loyalty & cadre support or investigation to utilize against me. And for that I'm grateful.

Now that most everyone has gone back to their regularly scheduled program, I'm finally able to catch my breath. The adrenaline has done its job. I'm finally not in crisis—which is so great & what has made it possible to release so much crippling anxiety & fear over the last week or so. Plans & paths of operation are ready to be chosen & followed. It's beautiful.

And.

Now I’m able to feel the actual restrictions to my chest & weight on my breath. Now I can actually feel the exhaustion that I've survived & the blood dripping from cauterized wounds & bruises. Before when I said, “I'm not okay,” it's because I couldn't feel anything. Now it's because I can. It's frustrating to me that it's taking so much time, energy, & capacity to move through this season…and yet it doesn't feel like I can really do anything about that.

At the end of last week I was so overwhelmed I was metaphorically paralyzed. Now that the fire had been safely suppressed, there were seemingly a million questions I needed to make decisions on before taking another step. So at a dear friend’s suggestion, I said them out loud. 40 Questions, 7 Confessions, & 13 “What if’s” later, the reason for my overwhelm became clear: I am going into this new beginning not with the excitement of starting to build something, or even the energy of a fresh project, but absolutely exhausted.

I'm so tired y'all. So damn tired. When everyone else goes home & back to their “other” worlds & spaces, this has come home with me every single day. When everyone else goes home, it’s just me & it hanging out in my living room & kitchen. And now that my sensitivity is returning I can feel it too. I don't have any more thoughts for it—just feelings in my body now. All I want to do is lay down & not get up. Not to eat, not to watch TV, not to go for a walk. And I'm pretty sure the only reason I've done any of that is because a friend has been here staying over with me on Tuesdays - Thursdays each week. Now I don't even want to do that. As things are expected to start ramping up, I feel like I need to power down. But I know from previous seasons of therapy that I don't actually do well when I power down—it only makes things worse: it's like a car during a snow storm—if you ever fully stop, there's a good chance you won't get moving again without serious injury. Even changing lanes is dicey.

This space is more important to me than it's ever been before because it's keeping me from getting dragged into the vortex of the neoliberal leanings that came with this project. And as you've probably gathered from my falling asleep in meetings, I'm so tired.

As I was talking to one of the other 3 in the core of this last week, a new knowledge began to settle for me. So here it goes. Imagine an explosion (like an IED for example).

There are those who felt the ground shake & had concern, many of whom gave great commentary on CNN about what they saw of the incident, speculations & “eye-witness” accounts tangled up with reporters doing all they could to get some photos.

Then there are those who were thrown back by the blast—some of whom may have been hit with shrapnel. Most of those folks will have trips to the hospital or urgent care in their immediate future. Many may even need some recover time from surgeries or whatnot.

Then there are the people who had their feet on the IED when it went off. And the people who were holding their hand as they were jumping off. Those people lose limbs. Those people all have forever injuries to the point that nothing about their body's movement will ever be the same. Even after years of PT, a prosthetic hand will never grip things the same. Those people will likely live the rest of their lives with night terrors.

And that last group is the category I'm in. Only a lot of people are also convinced I helped plant the IED in the 1st place, or at least helped disguise it so others couldn't tell where it was.

There's not really a solution or a direct ask here, except maybe to continue holding me with grace? Please don't give me a pass on things, but confront me with gentleness maybe? Cut me off if I'm talking too much because stress gets me rambling. Please don't try to make me comfortable, or give me what I want because you feel bad. Refrain from pity but do try to remember compassion through this long haul struggle. Because it's not going away or just “for awhile.” But consciousness feels really critical right now, and I cannot imagine anything worse than people making decisions or doing things they felt emotionally manipulated into doing.

With deep love & trust,

K. Marie

Umoja

Kwanzaa is my favorite holiday. Actually, it’s the only one I celebrate. It’s so rich and beautiful and wholesome! How could you not love a holiday that’s all about building the strength & celebrating the value of community?! I still feel a bit torn about where the appropriation line falls around it. But as a Black woman descended from enslaved Africans on Turtle Island, I don’t really have to think about it too much. Thank God. The day after Xmas is the day when my breath begins to expand from all the happenings of the previous year. Whatever ups & downs, victories & losses, celebrations or days of mourning. I wake up on December 26th the way a lot of people wake up on December 24th or 25th. Filled with excitement & energy from the spirit of the day. But for some reason this year is different.

I’ve been avoiding lighting the first candle of Kwanzaa all day. It’s 11pm and I just lit today’s candle. The first night is my favorite. Not because it’s the beginning of the celebration, but because it grounds me. And at the end of a typical year for me, that’s something I desperately need. It’s also because the first night is the night the Black candle gets lit—the foundation upon which all other nights stand. It represents the people. As someone who believes in living a life of service, I try and make my people my north star in all that I do. Beginning every decision with, “who am I accountable to,” is not an uncommon practice for me. Not only is it the day that the Black candle gets lit, but it’s also the day whose sole focus on the unity of our people. That’s what keeps me energized and anchored throughout all of the struggles (represented by the red candles) of the year. And it’s from the people that I find my hope (represented by the green candles) that moves me through the year. Even when I can’t stand them (us).

As I look at my kinara from across the room, right now, I can’t help but notice something peculiar happening. Somehow, the Black candle is tilted just slightly in the direction of the red candles. And it’s causing the red candle most near it (representing the creativity born in struggle) to begin to melt as well. And as it melts, it’s begining to lean towards the next red candle (representing cooperative economics as a way of surviving through struggle). I’m also just now noticing that my kinara is backwards—the green candles are on the left, with the red on the right. But for some reason, I feel like I shouldn’t move it. I’m not particularly surprised by either of these events, but I do find them interesting. You see, I keep my kinara up all year long—resting right on top of my altar, with my mkeka resting underneath it. And recently I re-structured and updated my altar to better reflect who and how I am today. It really has been a transformative year. So I updated the photos that hang on the wall behind it, which represent the people, events, places, and even versions of my former self that have shaped who I am today (for better or worse). I also shifted some things around so that my most beautiful set of Bible books (yes, a set; it’s split into 5 physical books) stands right next to it. And, the thing that probably is having the biggest impact on the impact that the burning is having, I don’t change my candles every year either. I only change them when the center candle is too short to last all seven nights. So it’s not exactly shocking that it may have been mis-placed upon its return to the table.

What’s most curious to me, though, is the impact of having the candles of struggle being positioned as future, with the candles representing hope in the past. It’s a bit off-putting actually. And I pray to YHWH it’s not prophetic (LOL)! No…but seriously though, it’s 2021. Can we keep as much red in the past as possible please?! I’m sure I’ll re-orient the kinara tomorrow when any hot wax that drips tonight has dried. But in this moment, it feels appropriate.

As I began to shut things in my home down for the night, I knew it was time to light tonight’s candle. “It’s now or never,” I said to myself. But the moment I stepped into the living room, I began to cry. I cried as I returned the wall hanging that sits to the left of my altar to its home. I cried as I opened the kitchen drawer to get the lighter out. I cried as I lit the candle. I cried as I went to get a box of tissues. And I cried as I went to get my computer so I could write and hopefully let my fingers tell me why the hell I was crying so hard. And so now I’m sitting here, on the opposite side of the room from my leaning, backwards, kinara, with my computer in my lap as the brightest light in the room. Typing this, I realized I should turn it down…so I just did.

And as I take a deep breath, followed by an equally deep exhale, I know that the reason lighting this candle brought me to tears tonight is the same reason I’ve been avoiding it all day. It’s because when I think about the people—my people, my Black people, all I can do is cry. And to light a candle that represents the unity of our community breaks my heart because I feel like few things are further from the truth in this moment. I think of community leaders publicly denouncing one another without any direct conversation. I think of the divide and conquer us approach that has us biting each other on the way to get a taste of funding for our projects and lives. I think of elders who people have given up confronting because they no longer have ears willing to hear—only defend. I think of the isolation that keeps us so familiar with being alone that we can’t seem to figure out how to be together without competing. I think of the fact that we don’t hold one another unless it’s convenient. That we don’t knock on one another’s door unless it’s most profitable. I think of the fact that the generational divide never seems to end. And yet most of us posted a photo or essay saying “Umoja!” on our social media accounts today.

I’m not excluding myself from the “we” & “us” here. But that doesn’t make the heaviness on my heart any lighter. I sit here crying because my brother now sits in prison. A brother who tried so hard to be accepted by the Black community, but was turned away because he was “rude,” “weird,” “off,” “ignorant of his privilege,” etc. But in a state where there are less than 8,000 of us, how could it be that he rose to “community leader” alone? Without a group of brothers surrounding him & checking him? Without a group of sisters backing him up? He was working to build an incredible program that would pull the next generation of Black folks in this state together into relationship with one another. And regardless of his motives, shouldn’t that be something we all flocked to support? Shouldn’t that have been something we all were involved in? Shouldn’t it have been easy for him to find an oversight board when he called out to the Black folks here, rather than people barely even signing up to be engaged in the program (if at all) and never following through? It’s so easy to throw someone under the bus after they’ve been accused of horrible violations of trust—but where were we when he was asking trust of the white parents of Black children across the state? What were we doing that was so important we couldn’t take 4 hours out of our month to help a Black child in our community not be the only Black person they knew outside of the face in their bathroom mirrors?

What is unity of the Black community if we leave the uniting of our generations to one person—or worse, to chance? Over the last several weeks, my days have been filled with talking to white parents who are begging me to keep this program going. Somehow, they recognize this program of uniting Black children with Black adults as absolutely critical for their children. To them, they recognize that there is something they can’t be for their children—empathize with some of their struggles and simultaneously pour light onto the fire of their joy. Meanwhile, mentors are encouraging me to run for the hills to, “not be associated with it, because articles about this scandal are going to be the first thing people see when they look it up on Google.” Yes, those words have shown up in my inbox. What I’m writing here isn’t actually about my brother. It’s not about what he did or didn’t do. It’s not about his role as an abuser or survivor. It’s not about maintaining his humanity or vilifying him. It’s not even about what has happened—it’s about what we do next. It’s about our community’s responsibility in this moment to rise up and embrace these children across the state with care so that they don’t feel alone. So they don’t feel there was only one Black man in the state who thought they were worth making time for.

These kids don’t need our money—they need our time. Not our grand gestures, but our consistent, focused, energy. In a state like this one, our gatherings cannot be limited to those Black folks who see each other regularly or live in shared neighborhoods. And certainly not to those who fit our aesthetic. And we simply cannot afford to avoid, minimize, or sidestep the conflicts we have with one another. Our commitment to each other must be stronger than our desire for our own comfort. Our agape & phileo love stronger than our egos. The care of our community must be more important to us than the care of our individual reputations. So when I think about lighting a candle to celebrate the unity of Black people of the African diaspora, to me at least, crying seems the only appropriate response. A mourning for what has been. And as I sit alone in this room, a mourning for what I feel all too real. Just as strongly for my 13 year old self as my 30 year old self today.

Tonight, as I blow this candle out, there will be tear-stains dried down the length of my face. But before I do that, I have decided to honor it’s lighting as a prayer. Tonight and every night for the rest of this year’s Kwanzaa celebration. A prayer for unity when unity and strong, lasting, connection feels absolutely impossible. And since this prayer is much easier written or spoken than actualized, we might just need a bit more creativity than even faith before we see it while we’re awake. Tonight my spirit leans a little more towards struggle than hope. Yet, hope remains. We will all get through this moment, this season, this life, one way or another. The only real choice is if we’re going to do it alone or together. And so tonight, there will be no fanfare, no social media post, no catchy phrase. But I choose to respond to the question, “Habari Gani?” with a quietly whispered, “Umoja.” Let us know ubuntu more than we know anything else.

With Love,

K. Marie

Individual Collectivity

Yesterday I was a part of a collective decision-making process for a group of about 60 people.

It was absolutely horrible. And incredibly educational.

I'll try not to touch on too many details, because they aren't really the point. But after taking the last few hours to process both independently and with a colleague, I'd like to share. There were several super valuable things that were highlighted for me during this 3 hour process. I can't make any promises, but I'll try to summarize them here. Here we go.

1) The quality of a decision will always be affected by the conditions under which it is made.

As much as we would like to say that the ends justify the means, the reality is that the means *impact* the ends. They can poison or prosper a decision or result that may have otherwise been healthy--even if the decision is the same. Asking someone to make a choice or come to a conclusion under duress or coercion reduces its integrity. We must combat the demands of "perfection" and urgency for urgency's sake with empathy, forethought, patience, and understanding.

2) Intent & purpose are best served explicitly.

If we don't make clear our "whys", the door remains inevitably open for everyone to assume their own "why." This would be great if we were all psychically linked. However, we're not. And where there's room to assume, there's room to folks to assume *differently.* And when we're making collective decisions by way of consensus--that, my friends, is a problem.

3) The how is important from the beginning. Process can't be an afterthought.

Yes--many of us have "built planes while in the air" and survived. But would any of us, after counting the actual cost, recommend our next flight be taken the same way? Of course not. Because as much as experience is a great teacher, it's easier to use a saw on the ground. As much as many of us would love to throw process to the wind and just "do," that's not only highly ineffective, but leaves equity to chance and typically hurts a lot of people needlessly in the process.

4) Equity is the result of intentionality.

Guess what? In 2018, capitalist "modern" society, we've all been conditioned to destroy equity and humanity. So if we aren't intentional about establishing equity, it's not going to happen. Imperialism has become imbedded in our DNA so marginalization is our default y'all. We know this.

5) The erasure of individuals is impractical & unhelpful.

As much as I appreciate the commitment to collectivity, condemning conversation that is not almost strictly "we" is problematic as well. In fact, the use of "we" when it should be "I" is used frequently to speak on behalf of those who haven't actually voiced their position. Taking responsibility for our own experiences actually requires the appropriate use of "I" statements and not assuming we have the ability to speak for others without their involvement or consent is a key piece of healthy communication.

Also, a healthy, authentic collective understands the value of the individual within the collective. The the full expression and realization of the diversity of each individual is why many of us are fighting for liberation. So as much as we embrace the "one for all" mentality, we cannot neglect the beauty of "all for one" either. While this typically slows processes down and is, for many, counter-intuitive, we have to remember that many of our intuitive behaviors have been molded by oppressive systems. Our determination to challenge our "norms" and choose equity over equality is what saves us from "mob mentality."

6) People are triune beings--mind, body, & spirit. And our decisions are impacted by all three.

Pretending we can be all knowledge and action leads to escapist (often self-harmful) choices and mental breakdowns. I have often heard the phrase "hurt people hurt people," when discussing the reasons for people making inconsiderate or harmful choices that negatively impact others. I'd like to take that a step further with, "Broken people build systems that break." If we do not do the difficult work of deconstructing our own internalized oppression as a priority than whatever we build 'after' we conquer this oppressive system will only serve to oppress in new ways. Our histories and trauma enter into every decision we make, so we have to not only be aware of them, but actively work to heal them. Oppressive systems have worked to dehumanize people for centuries--this includes the devaluing and lack of acceptance for our emotional and spiritual experience. If we are to truly work to see the humanity of all beings restored, we must begin with reclaiming our own as we do the work, not afterwards. That is what liberation looks like.

7) Bias will never be eradicated, so we have to keep good track of its location.

Even those of us with the best intentions of "balance," have bias. Every interaction we have with human beings and media shapes and develops our preconceived favor or misgivings about a situation or person. That's how we're wired for survival! So trying to achieve this unattainable goal of "impartiality" or "unbiased" anything isn't just unrealistic, it's problematic because it offers the illusion that "unbiased" is something that it's actually possible for a human to obtain. What's far more helpful is that we are able to quickly assess where our bias lies when entering a situation so that we might have the ability to filter the words we say & decisions we make through that lens to ensure that our reason for doing something isn't solely our bias for or against something.

8) Words matter. Clear communication doesn't happen by accident.

It may "all be semantics," but semantics actually has an effect on things. If we all agree to run to the nearest store in a little bit, but for some people that means a gas station within the hour and for others it's a Walmart in the next 5 minutes, we're not likely to end up at the same destination at the same time--if ever, together. As a friend of mine likes to say, "Words mean things. And people believe them." So we have to be intentional about what we say because we are certain to develop feelings/ideas and eventually act upon them. And ain't nobody got time to build houses based on misunderstanding the instructions.

Ultimately, culture is everything. All I've just said falls secondary to it. So we have to build and mold our communities with who we want to be when we arrive at our destination at the forefront of our minds. As many a cultural consultant will tell you: "Culture eats strategy for breakfast." So we can't just talk it and occasionally walk it, we've got to live it.

Good things ahead y'all. Leggo!

<3 K. Marie

Multi-ethnic Jesus

Can I talk a moment to be transparent? Thanks y’all.

I’m, frankly, tired. Due to where I live, my identity as a person of color must be muted, rather than exemplified, when it comes to practicing my faith. It frustrates and saddens me that to wear my “Black Lives Matter” shirt into my church would be “asking for trouble.”

Now we all know that there are times and places where we, regularly, have to mute certain things. For example: Bringing up politics at work isn’t typically recommended. And certain industries require a level of temperance from those who might be a bit more rambunctious by nature. So I’m not being naïve and saying that my “full self” should be on display everywhere I go. But what I am saying is that when I walk into my church, I put every part of me through a sifter—ensuring that none of the pieces that make me “different” are too large or loud. And I am exhausted.

The problem is: What’s the alternative?

You see, I live in northwestern Vermont. And while I live in the most diverse county in the state, the state-wide population is still at least 90% white. It always has been, but lately it’s looking more and more like it won’t always be, as each year the amount of diversity flooding one of the healthiest, whitest, and safest states in the Union is increasing exponentially. Known to many as “where Bernie Sanders is from,” there’s not really a lot going on here, besides, well, an influx of brown people. And on paper, that’s working out great! Vermont law-makers are known to be “progressive” and “inclusive.” I mean, the state that took on Monsanto must be forward-thinking, right? Of course. Vermont is, technically, forward thinking in a lot of ways. But unfortunately, our forward-“thoughts” are often more forward-“ideas” that aren’t rooted in experience or practice. They aren’t the result of community interaction, but rather external observations. So, while we say “all are welcome,” what is lived is “come and be like us.” And because it is assumed that this inclusive mentality is just as strong in reality as it is on paper, the idea of “training” on the topic is seen as an insult. It’s astonishing just how often I’ve heard that “Hate doesn’t grow in the rocky soil of Vermont.” That “racism doesn’t exist here.” Or, best of all, “All lives matter here.”

Now please don’t misunderstand me, if all of these things were actually true, I would be singing an entirely different tune. But the greatest danger here is that the words are out in full force, but the actions and reality don’t match. A part of the reason we’re in this predicament is because, from the perspective of thousands of well-meaning white people, the statements above are completely true based on their experiences. The issue, however, is that the experiences of every single person of color over the age of 10 stands in direct conflict with those perspectives.

Yes, I said the age of 10. That was not a typo. The struggle is real.

Church, for me, has always been something I’ve desired to be a safe space. In fact, over the course of history, places of worship have usually gone into the “safe space” territory. And growing up, my faith was always a central part of my culture. But, as a millennial woman of color, the contemporary, white church that I grew up loving (not the exact same church, but a similar one) has become more of a “space,” where I’m allowed and welcomed, but my “blackness” is tolerated, not embraced. Rather than being a place of refuge where I can find freedom, it is, most days, a place where I can worship as long as I crucify my “flesh.” Again, please don’t misunderstand—I have a deep appreciation for the call to holiness and sacrificing my desires for will of God. But at what point do we acknowledge that all things culture-based are not displeasing to God? At what point do we recognize that somewhere along the way we’ve lumped in ethnicity that is “different from our own” in with the poor & lowly? As something to be “improved upon?” As something that “we just don’t do here?” If the Spirit of God dwells here, then how can there be limits on what “we do?” Shouldn’t there only be the tearing down of boxes that we put His manifestation in, not reinforcement of their borders?

There is nothing more diverse and inclusive than the Holy-Spirit. He is all things to all people. And as you travel the world and begin to see His Presence through a wider lens, the manifestation of His Spirit is more of a technicolor dream coat than a robe of pure white. After all, isn’t the grafting in of other nations a big part of the reason Jesus (Yeshua) came? So that those who weren’t the biological descendants of Abram could become a part of the lineage of Abraham? And in what’s now know as the Great Commission, Jesus said to “make disciples of all nations,” which is to help the people learn of [him], believe in [Him], and obey [His] words. He didn’t say to help the people learn English, sing songs with these chord progressions, and only talk about these topics & rejoice in this way so that the people who have been here a long time can remain comfortable. When Jesus instructed the disciples to drop their nets and “Follow Me,” I don’t recall him asking them to also, “stop speaking your native tongue.” In fact, on the day of Pentecost, which is arguably one of the most glorious outpourings of Holy Spirit in the Anno Domini church, the members of the body all began to speak in other languages! I think here it’s important to note that what it didn’t do was allow all people to speak one language. What that tells me about the Holy Spirit is that it takes the path of flourishing diversity to achieve unity, not the path of assimilation.

So when I enter a church that I call my home, whose congregation is becoming increasingly sprinkled with people of color, and the inclusion of my (our) culture is an afterthought rather than a priority—an uphill battle rather than an exciting step of development, I am tired. When the leadership sees diversity training as optional or not a priority because “we’re all the same in Christ,” I am concerned because while Christ might make us pure in the eyes of God, He doesn’t make us all white. I am tired because church is all fine and well, as long as I come with my quiet, reserved, minimized face on so that no one is intimidated or uncomfortable or offended.

But sometimes, I just want to come as me--all of me.

People & Pain

"I'm not going to be light-skinned anymore."

Probably the last words I expected to hear walking down the halls of a middle school in rural Milton, Vermont. And yet--they managed to be some of the first yesterday morning.

In a place where the minority population equates to about 5 non-white children per grade (there's been a lot of growth over the last 8 years), the light-skinned/dark-skinned fight is not something I anticipated finding traces of. But here they are, sticky and not exactly sweet. It would be easy for me to make this about race, but that's not what's nagging at the nape of my neck today. The simple fact is: Where there are teenagers, there will be the pain of self-disdain--accompanied by obscenely unnecessary amounts of poorly-blended makeup & Axe body spray. But what bothers me today is that so many of those teenage girls & boys become 50 year old men &women who can't seem to stop apologizing for and attempting to blot out who they are. At what point do we finally realize that we don't have to atone for being human? That having flaws, feelings, & fears is not only acceptable, but a huge part of what makes our lives and experiences unique.

In today's society, it's a challenge not to buy into the popular notion that we must be the definition of "flawless." So no scars. No tears. No weakness allowed. But where does that get us?

This just in:

Failing at an endeavor does not make you a failure.

Perfection and perfectly you are not the same thing.

Emotions serve a purpose.

No one has the qualifications or authority to appraise your life besides you.

So many times in our lives we perpetuate the false truth that falling short of perfection is a reason to be coated in shame. But no matter how many times I hear it--even from my own lips, I refuse to believe it. If for no other reason than the fact that it's just not true. I mean yes, it's a conscious choice--to not agree with the affirmations. And it's one I have to make. Because coating something in shame is like coating it in silver. It draws all the attention from the item itself to its shiny coating, but stops allowing it to move forward. It freezes it in time so it can no longer grow or develop. And then it rusts.

Now I don't know about you, but I have no desire to be a rusty, underdeveloped thing people look at as a discussion piece, but remain unable to engage.

I'm a person, and as much as I come with creativity, beauty, & joy, I also come with pain.

This is Where I Am

I could say it’s been an emotional day, but in all honesty, as an American Human it’s been a long year. I feel like at least a decade’s worth of heavy heart has taken its toll in 2015. To be frank, I haven’t lived a day of my adult life outside the shadow of domestic or international terrorism.

You see, terrorism doesn’t begin or end with an event causing mass casualties. Terrorism has a purpose. And, not to be insensitive, but a freak accident can cause tragedy. Terrorism is the strategic annihilation of hope in place of blindly disheartened fear. Terrorism isn’t a car blowing up on the side of a road. Terrorism is a man driving into the middle of a crowded street in order to publicly blow up his car near others for the purpose of inciting widespread fear of an unpredictable predator.

The thing that makes terrorism, terrorism isn’t that a bad thing happens–bad things happen every day. It’s when bad things are made to happen in order to stop or hinder people from living a full life either by destroying their physical ability to do so or instilling enough fear or hatred to prohibit them from attempting to gain it themselves.

Living in a state of terror is reflected by a lack of trust that governing bodies, law enforcement, community, or other authorities are able or willing to protect you or your best interests from a known and active threat.

Please be sure, I am deeply grieving for France, Beirut, Kenya, Baghdad, and many others that have suffered mass attacks over the last weeks. But the issue here isn’t that terrorism is a new global problem. The American issue here is that we focus on global pain while ignoring the domestic, internal terrorism that is flooding our borders under the guise of freedom. The fact of the matter is that every single one of our systems are broken, causing the majority of Americans to live in systematically oppressed states of terror all over the nation.

Our political machine. Our education institution. Our economic process. Our healthcare programs. Our justice system.

Each broken in a way that pierces a hole in the lungs of hope for millions of Americans each day. Leaving them deflated with little to no hope in themselves or for their future. Causing them to face a reality that says, “You’ll never be anything other than what we make you, have anything we don’t give you, or do anything we don’t allow you to. Oh, and the rules change daily without notice.”

This isn’t fiction, it’s reality for the socially and economically disenfranchised (read non-white or female or poor) in America.

So if there’s any wonder who’s the biggest terrorist threat to America? You can be sure, it’s herself.

I, Too, Am America

In my lifetime I’ve seen planes fly into multiple major national buildings.

I’ve seen wars launched discreetly and indiscreetly.

I’ve seen communities unite like never before only to turn on themselves again with paralleled fervor.

I’ve seen schools, churches, playgrounds, & hospitals become home to gunfire.

I’ve seen riots over painful mishandlings of power and poor executions of justice.

I’ve seen churches burned to the ground.

And that’s only in my country.

I am a part of a generation who’s either grown up too quickly or not at all.

I’ve experienced felt terror at levels that are numbing and remained standing.

I’ve witnessed every odd stacked against me and found hope to hold onto.

And as a lower middle-class, multi-racial, female, millennial adult, I’d like to have it noted that I, too, am America.

Storms of Life

As I look through my FB news feed, I find myself wondering if I’m the only one feeling joyful & encouraged by this storm.

Why are those who claim to know & love God growing worried by the forecast & predictions of those whose insight is so limited they can only tell us of a brewing storm when it is directly upon us? For aren’t the sight & the hand of God far greater than that of a weatherman?

Many times in my walk with Christ I have listened to people tell me that my things, even my very being, would be completely & utterly destroyed. Many times has a storm come over me so deeply that I nearly forgot what the sun felt like. But each & every time God kept me safe. The very name of the Lord is a strong tower that the righteous can always run into for safety. Why do we somehow feel that if God can protect us from things we can’t see, heal us from terminal sicknesses, & keep us safe when the enemy directly comes to attack us, that he’s going to let the rain & the water, which CAN ONLY come from Him, destroy us to a place from which we cannot, with Him, recover. “A righteous man may have many troubles, but the LORD delivers him from them all; he protects all his bones, not one of them will be broken.” ~Psalm 34:19-20. Have we forgotten this?

The part that causes my spirit to rejoice is the fact that due to my spiritual walk with God, I have been in this place before. Because of this I understand what generally happens when God allows a storm to come over, though not overcome, His anointed. I have been in the eye of a storm wondering to myself, “Why God, why did you allow this storm to come? It’s so heavy! It’s causing so much destruction! It’s causing so much loss & pain!” I’ve said to God with confusion in my voice, “I don’t understand! You said all things work together for the good of those that love you, but I don’t see how all of these plagues & problems could be good.” And during that time, typically what happens is that God reminds me that I know nothing of what is & is not good for me. At that point I have what many would call “A Job moment,” where I, in my finite knowledge cannot comprehend why what’s going on around me is going on. (In this day & age many find themselves at that place by merely turning on the television or reading the newspaper.) See God brings back to my remembrance the simple fact that I was nowhere to be found when He was separating the sky from the water from the Earth, which causes me to realize that my vantage point is rather limited. Just as a 3 year old child does not understand why they must eat the carrots & green things on their plate before they have a piece of the German Chocolate cake their mother made for dinner, neither do we often understand why things are not looking the way we want them to look or occur in the order that we want them to. But just as a parent has a much more vast knowledge of how the body works than their young child does, so does God have much more insight into my situation than I ever could. See a mother knows that if her child eats the cake 1st, their bodies will want to just keep eating because it’s sweet & won’t get any of the nutrients it needs to keep functioning normally the next day, but would instead end up with a stomach ache. In the same fashion God knows that there are some things we need worked in us so we can function properly the next day…and these things rarely taste as sweet as German chocolate cake. But the Bible does declare that He is the Alpha *and* the Omega, meaning He not only knows about, but *IS* the beginning and the end, and because we know God does all things decently and in order, it goes without saying that if He is the beginning & the end, He is most certainly the middle as well. I’ll give a couple of you reading that a minute just to take in what I just said. If God IS the beginning *and* the end, then He is also the middle. Just because you are visually surrounded by light when at the entrance & exit of a tunnel, does not mean that God is any less with you while you’re going through it! Just because we cannot, as we look out our windows in this moment, see that light shining down on us does not mean God has left our homes! Often times, we, as believers, find ourselves having issues making it through the storms because we forget about what happened after the Lord flooded the Earth. We forget what happened when, after the 40 days & 40 nights, dry land was found again. We forget the rainbow. We forget all of God’s promises because we get caught up in the sound of the wind banging against our windows & the sight of the rain beating down mercilessly as the darkness engulfs the land. We focus our eyes on the water level we see rising. We keep looking at the darkness which surrounds us, and, taking up the way of the world & the unholy, we allow that darkness to fill our minds & take control of all of our thoughts as opposed to proceeding Biblically & lifting our eyes towards the hills from whence cometh our help and recognizing that, though we may not always see our help, we do know where it comes from, and that it is, in fact, coming. Even though I can’t always see the sun, oh, the one thing I do know for sure is that it will in fact rise in the east again tomorrow. Though my tears may flow like rain from my soul for a night, joy will certainly come in the morning!

But you know, the one thing that trips me up about believers is that they are very quick to sing about how, “trouble won’t last always.” They get so caught up in getting out of their storm that they don’t realize that there is purpose IN the storm itself! Sometimes we get so quick to get out of a storm that we don’t take the time to remember that God is the very one who controls the winds & the clouds. No raindrop can fall without His consent. And if we read our Bibles we know that God does nothing for no reason. Nothing is wasted, nothing is lost. During this time of seemingly endless rain, I am reminded that it was a fountain which was opened to the house of David & the people of Jerusalem for the purpose of cleansing them from sin & impurity. I am reminded of the wickedness that inhabited the Earth during the days that Noah lived. And I do realize that when God does a thing, there is always a purpose.

Remember I said I was encouraged? Well I’m about to let you in on why….see as I look around at trees being uprooted & phone poles being knocked out, and in some cases, whole homes being destroyed, I do recall that in the times of Israel’s disobedience, even they, the most beloved of God, had their city destroyed–by God Himself. At that time the Lord Almighty declared that the tops of the pillars would be struck so the thresholds shook. It was He who called for the waters of the sea & poured them out over the face of the land. But if we finish reading the very end of the book of Amos, we get to that promise….that promise that God said He would, “restore David’s fallen shelter,” & “repair its broken walls & restore its ruins,” and even that He would, “rebuild it as it used to be, so that they may posses the remnant of Edom & all the nations that bore [His] name.” And how many people know that when God rebuilds a thing, it is -always- greater than the former. My God, even when Job had everything taken away from Him, when God restored his life, Job ended up with far more than he could have obtained on his own. But in order for a new home to be built, the first one must be torn down. And so even as destruction is predicted into my future by every weatherman in the country, my household is saturated in peace & joy. Why? Because I know that God said that even though my afflictions may be many in number He would protect my bones & that none would be broken. God said that though the flood may come, He would erect a standard against it. Now whose report will you believe?

See in Isaiah 55:11 God said that His Word would NEVER return unto Him void, but would rather accomplish what He desired and achieve the purpose for which He sent it. So if God promised that all things work together for the good of those that love Him, and you truly love Him, then where exactly do you get the idea that the Lord, your God, is allowing a storm to occur in your life which does not work out for your good?? Nowhere in scripture have I found a place where God said that storms would never come in your life if you were in the will of God. On the contrary, the Bible tells us that the rain falls & the sun shines on the just & the unjust alike. In fact, it even warns us that many are the afflictions of the righteous! Peter encourages the people of God not to be surprised when they are afflicted as though it is something strange or weird. But He did say He would keep us. He did say that the people of God would reap their harvest in due season if they fainted not.

Remember I said before that this place was not one that was unfamiliar to me? That I’d experienced these storms sent by God before? Well, what always happens, each & every time, without fail, is that when the mission of the storm is accomplished, it ends. When God finished wiping out what needs to be wiped out & cleans those things which are filthy with His purifying waters, the rain stops, the darkness gives way to sunshine & you open your eyes to discover that you (and often your life) have never been cleaner. You discover that never has your vision been clearer. Once you come out of the storm you find that your world has never had as much peace & never have your blessings been so great! See if you just allow God to do what He’s doing, and stop fighting it, then the process is much quicker. And if you take the moment to recognize the situation for what it is–another storm sent by God to work something out in you, you might even begin to praise Him at the first sign of rain because you know what rain means. See many have claimed that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing & expecting a different result. By that definition, I’m pretty sure I’d qualify the devil as legally insane. Because I can look at my walk with Christ, as well as the walks of all those included in the 66 books of the Bible and see an overwhelmingly recurring pattern. First comes storms, then comes blessings. And I do know the devil has seen far more walks than I have, but I look at that which I have seen, in my minute 20 years of life, and don’t need further convincing. If I see a storm, I don’t have to think about it or try to figure it out, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I just let God do what He’s doing, then when it stops raining, I’m going to receive more blessings than I’ll have room enough to receive!! *That,* as those who have seen me doing it will understand, is why I begin to shout the moment I feel the pressure of the crushing. *That* is why I praise God when I’ve been in a storm so long I feel like I physically can’t take another rain drop. Because I rest myself purely on His promises, understanding that He’s not a man that He should lie, neither the son of man, that He should repent. He does not speak & not act! He doesn’t promise & not fulfill!!! So if I find myself in a storm I praise God because I know that not only is He going to wash away all the things I don’t need, but He’s going to cleanse that which He allows to remain, AND nothing I need will be broken in the process!! Isn’t that what many of us cry out for most of our lives?!?

So as this Irene chaos advances in its approach to my door, I’m going to handle it the same way I handle every other storm that God has ever allowed me to go through with the same mindset that the Bible tells me to handle it with. I’m going to have joy when the world instructs me to fear & have peace when the world tells me to panic. I’m going to do all I can to keep myself safe & then I’m going to hold onto the same God who keeps me from getting hit by a car or struck with disease for safety, with the knowledge that as long as I’m in His will, God is not going to allow any of my bones to be broken.

So it is in the spiritual, it is in the natural.

Come on saints of the Most High, The True & Living God….let not your faith stop & start at the doors of the church.