lent | JUST LOVE houston

A New Name

Posted on April 20, 2015 by justlovehouston

We began the Lenten season on Ash Wednesday, many of us making plans to “give up” something for the six weeks between Ash Wednesday and Easter – maybe a bad habit, maybe shopping. Many decide to fast from eating certain kinds of foods. We make a commitment to improve our own living. And yet, the words for Ash Wednesday from Isaiah 58 call us to something less personal and more communal, something more about “us” rather than all about “me,” something about the common good rather than our own. Lent calls us to see, really see, those around us living life in a kind of wilderness, devoid of hope. Isaiah speaks for God: Is not this the fast I choose: to loosen the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?

These words stand as a potent reminder to us that our priorities for the six weeks leading up to Easter should not be our fasting, or giving up of luxuries pretending that we are making great sacrifices for the coming of the kingdom. The call of Lent is more gritty than that, more demanding, Lent is less about performing “right ritual” and more about “right relationships” – we’re called to the streets rather than to sanctuaries.

The prophet speaks….

Look. You fast, but on the very same day you oppress your workers; they cannot support their families on their salaries. They work one job or two or three. Employers withhold their salaries. They struggle to survive and…

workers’ lives matter.

There is violence; you spill blood on the streets – Michael Smith, Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner are reminders that some, simply because of their skin color, must walk the sidewalks in fear. Those who don’t hold the right papers to be here, don’t “belong,” wonder when they will be snatched from their homes, their family divided, yet

black lives matter and brown lives matter.

Don’t fast from eating, but share your bread with someone who has none. Even in this prosperous nation, children are going to bed hungry, and

they matter.

Bring the homeless into your house and clothe those who have no coat during the harsh winter days. They have no safe and warm resting place and

their lives matter.

Isaiah goes on.

When you realize that lives matter, ALL lives matter, light will break forth like the dawn,

When you realize that ALLlives matter, there will be healing in your communities.

When you feed the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted and oppressed and those who become victims because of the color of their skin, then light shall rise up in the gray, cloudy skies; your gloom will be like noonday.

And you will be given a new name!

Repairers of the breach.

Restorer of the Streets.

Or maybe Just Love….

As we received ashes on Ash Wednesday, some of us heard these words: Let us be marked not for sorrow or for shame but for claiming everything God can do with dust and ashes. Our streets are filled with violence, with hate and the fear of difference, with poverty and homelessness, staggering people with vacant eyes. Notice these things Isaiah whispers down through the centuries, and be stubbornly and audaciously hopeful that together with God we will build something new out of the dust and ashes scattered around our feet.

Dr. Turner is a highly regarded preacher in churches nationwide. As an ordained minister, she served congregations of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) before beginning her full-time teaching career. Her educational background in Old Testament and homiletics enables her to research and teach methodologies whereby the lives of the preacher and the community come into a responsible en-counter with the biblical text. In addition to publishing numerous articles, she is the author of The God We Seek (2011), Old Testament Words: Reflections for Preaching (2003), and The Storyteller’s Companion to the Bible: Prophets I, vol. 6 (1996). With Mary Lin Hudson, she is co-author of Saved from Silence: Finding Women’s Voice in Preaching (1999).

Agitation From the Ash Heap by Rev Emily Joye Reynolds

Posted on April 10, 2015 by justlovehouston

I have understanding as well as you; I am not inferior to you.

Who does not know such things as these?

I am a laughingstock to my friends;

I, who called upon God and he answered me,

a just and blameless man, I am a laughingstock.

Those at ease have contempt for misfortune…

–Job 12:3-5a

The Book of Job is an agitator of mainstream ideology and theology in the Hebrew Scriptures. Its very presence puts the presence of other books on blast. Job troubles the waters of what Dr. Gustavo Gutierrez calls “temporal retribution”–the idea that God blesses the good and punishes the bad in accordance with His Divine will. Through its literary structure and folklorish content, the Book of Job insists that the reader examine (too long held?) assumptions, wrestle with mystery, challenge falsehood and show up authentically ready for the next chapter. In that way the Book of Job feels akin to the Black Lives Matter movement in America in 2015.

My church in Battle Creek Michigan is diving into the Book of Job for Lent. Last week I preached on the very human, yet spiritually infuriating presence of Job’s friends. Their names are Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar. They come from far away, having heard of Job’s calamity. At first they claim their rightful place as spiritual companions in a time of unprecedented grief for Job. They offer rituals of mourning in accordance with Israelite custom. They rip their garments and throw dust on their heads after barely recognizing their friend Job whose health has been lost along with his livestock, servants and 10 children. Then for seven days and seven nights the friends sit upon the ash heap in sacred silence with Job, acknowledging the futility of words, the finality of death, and the place of presence when nothing else will do. Then Job, having been quiet long enough, breaks his silence and launches into speeches of rage, curiosity, lament and challenge that last about thirty chapters. His three friends engage the speeches, attempting to bring Job into “right” relationship with his experience, with God, and with their need for comfort. It’s an abysmal attempt.

At the (crushing) heart of Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar’s engagement with Job is orthodoxy: right doctrine. As Job is lamenting his loss, searching God’s intent and impact, and cursing the day of his own birth, the friends respond with their theological convictions. They assure Job that God would never punish an innocent person, that God is just, and that if Job will just repent from whatever sin he’s (obviously?) committed and refrain from blasphemous speech, all will be well. Job will have none of it. He knows and the reader of the text knows that the friends are misguided, ill informed and perpetuating (more!) unnecessary suffering on Job with their ignorance. My colleague Rev. Thomas Ryberg pointed out to me the other day that the friends are fine as long as Job is silent. But when he starts calling out, crying out, petitioning for justice, and challenging theological falsities, the friends’ behavior turns oppressive. This reminds me, unfortunately, all too well, of our country’s discourse on race and racism.

Black and brown bodies have been exploited and brutalized since persons of European descent arrived on these shores over four hundred years ago. Struggles for justice and efforts to resist white supremacy have been alive for those four hundred years as well. Recently we’ve seen increased attention paid to the ways law enforcement perpetuate racism against black and brown people thereby maintaining white supremacy at a structural level. Because of the power of social media to counter mainstream, corporate narrowing of what’s “news,” many people across this country have been made aware of the sacred lives, unnecessary and brutal deaths and social/spiritual resurrections of black people such as Oscar Grant, Aiyanna Jones, Trayvon Martin, Shantel Davis, Mike Brown,Tyisha Miller, Eric Gardner, Gabriella Navarez and Tony Robinson. May they rest in peace and power. There is no movement more responsible for this wide spread attention and justice momentum than “Black Lives Matter” which you can read about here: <http://blacklivesmatter.com/a-herstory-of-the-blacklivesmatter-movement/>.

The brilliance of Black Lives Matter is its unrelenting call for public recognition on multiple levels. It is a prophetic call that invites us to recognize that black lives are individually and culturally significant/sacred (adjective), yes, and black lives are materializing (verb) forth particular realities in this nation, even after death. There are new occasions of resurrection in these social movements. While some are fighting for their lives with acts of courageous civil disobedience and others are working within systems for structural change, making resurrection a practice in body and community–there are others in the crowd, throwing shade, screaming “crucify them” louder than ever.

It’s “normal” for much of oblivious white America to see and hear of abject killings of unarmed black men. Tragedies-turned-media-spectacles targeting blackness are nothing new. Some might even go as far as holding silence when a young, unarmed black man is shot and killed, acknowledging that victimization has taken place. But when systems and structures of racism that connect to and indict white supremacy at large get called out for what they are, in the wake of these killings, all of sudden a form of “orthodoxy” rears its head and screams its cacophonous, tired song. A clear and nauseating example of this is the insistence of some people to chant “All lives matter” in response to the Black Lives Matter movement. There is an orthodoxy there, however implicit, that insinuates all lives are “equal” while shoving any acknowledgment of racialized inequity out of view. It’s a rhetorical failure on its face: it’s applied expression (rendering some lives less worthy of recognition by silencing their call for recognition in real time) reveals the fallacy of its content. Orthodoxy often has an attendant hypocrisy just waiting to be exposed.

The orthodoxy being defended in our country right now, in light of Black Lives Matter, is of course some privilege-induced notion of patriotism that benefits “One America.” It’s been said over and over that there are two Americas, meaning the criteria for citizenship, liberties, and opportunity are not the same for people of color and white people here in North America. When people of color rage, lament and challenge in response to the racism enacted upon them, the duplicitousness of “One Nation Under God” orthodoxy is revealed. Instead of pausing to consider that the experience of people of color might be rightfully challenging an old, irrelevant and ultimately harmful worldview, many rush to explain why people of color are the very source of their own “problems” and suggest a kind of social repentance as the cheap grace summoned by our times.

This is exactly what Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar do to Job. It’s a timeless counter-move when righteous indignation dares to voice its accusations. What do Job’s friends think they’re doing by defending a world-view that’s clearly not accurate? Are they seeking to distance themselves from the pain their theology cannot account for or comfort? Do they really really think their words will help Job in any way? If one straw gets pulled from their theological stack, are they afraid the whole thing will crumble? And then what–do they imagine themselves on the ash heap too?

One of the things I most love about the Book of Job is its place in the biblical canon. That it was included at all strikes me divine. Why? Because it pushes back on and contradicts about 90% of the biblical theology surrounding it. It exposes idolatrous orthodoxy; even G-d lets the friends know they have “spoken falsely” at the end of the text. It prods us, the reader, to ask new questions, to create new world-views that account for more meaning, connections, and to reconcile what we say we believe with the realities of the world.

The Black Lives Matter movement does the same in 2015. It agitates the mainstream status quo and demands a more just world. It unapologetically claims the sacred nature of black lives and refuses to hear anything different. It calls upon the powers that mock life to be held accountable and to be destroyed if/when necessary. It holds out for a different future where racialized disparities and spiritual duplicitousness are laid to rest and the integrity of who we say we are and who we actually are live in alignment. As a pastor of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, I am grateful for the ways the Black Lives Matter movement is incarnating the love of God in its fullness this Lenten season. It calls us all, calls us all to the work of redemption. May a world of justice and peace be the faithful result.

Rev. Emily Joye Reynolds is the co-founder and pastor of Koinonia at First Congregational Church of Battle Creek in Michigan. She is also a facilitator with Allies for Change and blogger for Ignite Courage.

Self-Love by Georgia Chambers

Posted on April 9, 2015 by justlovehouston

It is the act of loving one-self that sustains us from birth to death.  Hmm?  Some may read this first sentence and ponder what does this mean?  The pronouns don’t match (one-self: us).  Keep reading.  It is my hope that as you read, you may find the marriage of these two words.

Growing up as a child listening to the stories of my parents who were reared in the 1920’s complimented by hearing the stories of my ancestors before them taught me early on that the color of my skin and my gender were going to be points of contingency in the living of my life. Religion was an integral part of my formation as well. A central teaching was that God is Love and that we were created in the image of God. Progressing onward and entering school where the teaching of Black history and the singing of Black spiritual songs was rich gave me a foundation upon which to build my perception of self. Lift Every Voice and Sing by James W. Johnson, is the all-time most inspirational anthem of Faith and Hope. It is better known to some as the “Negro National Anthem”, and is one of the most cherished songs of the Black Civil Rights movement. This anthem was sung at every assembly that we had when I was in Elementary school. We were required to memorize the lines and sing clearly and from our hearts. This song was instrumental in the lives of Black people everywhere within the United States as a reminder that their lives mattered as they strived to live under the auspices of Jim and Jane Crow.

Fast forward to the 21^st Century we now live in an era of New Jim and Jane Crow. Young Black men in particular are the targets. However, sexism, hetero-sexism, classism and other “ism’s” all too often find themselves in the spotlight of deathly discrimination in the living of life for many of God’s creatures. Christians are now in the season of Lent. By the time this meditation is published, we will be contemplating the fact that Jesus himself is the subject of deathly discrimination because he dared to oppose the religious and political structures of oppression. Jesus was in favor of the least of these. Jesus did nothing more than demonstrate the ways of love, justice and mercy. This brown skin man was persecuted and killed for showing us how to love our neighbor, regardless to who they were and for preaching/teaching that ALL LIVES MATTER!

It is my perception that Jesus radical actions of civil disobedience may have provided a sense of peace to those who were to benefit from his actions. I can imagine that they would have felt a sense of freedom, value and self-love. In this season of Lent, I look to Jesus example of what presence, love and embodiment of an authentic life of worship might look like. Well, for me, life is lived from the inside/out. The healing, wholeness, love and blessings that have been poured into me must over-flow for the blessing of the universe. My cup was once empty. Deplete of self-love, I didn’t know how to love. Challenged by life, I needed to be reminded that God is Love and that I was created in the image of God. I needed to be reminded that my life mattered. Psalm 23 reminds me that God poured love into me and Jesus showed me what love in action looks like. It is my call/duty to live in the Spirit of Love and Lift My Voice and Sing through acts of presence with the lost, the grieving, the oppressed, the forgotten, the marginalized, the sick, the lonely and those who are in need of a companion/advocate to remind them that their lives matter! In loving myself, I can more fully love others….until death do us part. May it be so for you? You are the Divine Shepherd. Amen.

Rev. Georgia Chambers is a fun-loving Pisces who finds joy in listening to/interacting with the Spirits of God’s creations. She earned her M.A.-Education degree at Ashford University in Clinton, Iowa and her M. Div. at Eden Theological Seminary in Saint Louis, Missouri. She sojourns in life with others as an author, teacher, chaplain, and spouse.

“We gon be alright” Reflections on Black Liberation Music by Brandon Lewis

Posted on April 5, 2015 by justlovehouston

Whether you’re a hip-hop head or a casual listener you’ve probably heard a song by Kendrick Lamar at some point in the past year. Though he’s been in the game for nearly a decade, Lamar was catapulted into superstardom with the release of his major label debut, “Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City” in 2012. For many, Lamar’s laid back yet masterful style of storytelling harkened back to a golden era of hip hop. I bumped the album non-stop and publicly declared myself a fan for life. Friends and I debated whether Lamar’s presence would usher in a new era of hip-hop music and what a follow up to GKMC might look and sound like.

It’s been 15 days since Lamar released his second major label album, “To Pimp A Butterfly”. As with any piece of complex (good) art, I know that I’ll need several more listens to fully grasp the messages Lamar has intended for his listening audience. What I do know 15 days in is the following: Sonically and lyrically the album is an embodiment of black rage, black pain, black love, and black liberation. It’s a love letter to black people wrapped in a masterful mix of funk, jazz, R&B, and hip-hop. This record declares that black lives DO matter and declares it without uncertainty or question.

One track from the album that has been particularly powerful is Track 7, “Alright”. The song opens,

Alls my life I has to fight, nigga

Alls my life I…

Hard times like, “God!”

Bad trips like, “Yea!”

Nazareth, I’m fucked up

Homie you fucked up

But if God got us

Then we gon’ be alright

Let’s pardon for a moment the fact that Lamar co-opts the words of Celie, a black female literary hero, to talk about struggle, and yet in his rendering of a liberated black future as seen on his album cover Lamar fails to include black women altogether. If we can look past that, we can see that Lamar makes two powerful admissions in this 20 intro.

1. Lamar acknowledges black suffering. When we consider that black music has always been a space to voice and recognize black pain we see that he’s doing nothing new here. He’s following the tradition of the great black artists before him like Billie Holiday with “Strange Fruit”, Nina Simone with “Blackbird”, and Stevie Wonder’s “Living for the City”. Lamar speaks to recent events by reminding us that black folk have to fight to survive. Black folk have to fight to live, fight to love, and fight to occupy public space in our neighborhoods. Lamar’s contemporaries are largely silent on black suffering at the hands of white supremacy making this admission all the more important.

2. Lamar gives us hope. When I hear the line “But if God got us, then we gon’ be alright” when I wake up in the morning it gives me hope that I can make it through another day. I live in a world where my blackness is perceived as dangerous and where that perception carries lethal consequences. Despite this reality I’m reminded by Lamar that I have to remain hopeful. I have to remain hopeful that white supremacy and racism are systems that were created by humans and that humans can make new and better systems. I have to remain hopeful that homophobia isn’t a permanent state of being and that my life as a queer black man in the South matters. I have to remain hopeful that I will live in a world where the lives of black women are valued the same as those of black men. I have to remain hopeful that not only will we be “alright” as Lamar suggests, but that a better version of this world exists and I can work towards making it a reality.

I’m moved by the overwhelming black love delivered by Lamar on this song and throughout the record and I wish more artists were willing to display this level courage.

The past 10 years have seen more black men and women killed at the hands of police than the previous 10. The systems in place in our country that maintain white supremacy as the status quo are deeply entrenched in the very foundations of the nation’s moral fiber. The fight for black liberation ahead of us will be long and arduous and I’m thankful for artists like Lamar who are willing to provide the soundtrack for this journey.

Brandon Lewis is an Atlanta native and a recent college graduate. He traveled to Ferguson in late 2014 with the Black Lives Matter: Texas team and is excited to bring that same spirit of activism to Houston

Did Mary’s Voice Matter? by Michelle E. Freeman, M.Div.

Posted on April 4, 2015 by justlovehouston

I grew up in a large Missionary Baptist Church (850 members) in Austin, TX in the 70s and 80s. This church had vibrant worship, an awesome choir and good preaching. I loved Sunday School because of my teacher Mary. Mary was an educated woman of approximately 50 who wore a short Afro and male pantsuits. At the time, I did not understand why Mary wore male pantsuits. I asked the question and was shooed off by my parents. As an all-gender loving woman in a same-gender loving relationship approaching that same age of 50, I now realize Mary was probably transgender but given that this was the 1970s, it was not discussed in public conversation. Nonetheless, I was fascinated with Mary because she was articulate, intelligent, had a wonderful sense of humor, a beautiful smile and a kind heart. I learned so much about the bible and its stories from Mary. She taught my class for 2 years when I was in Junior High School (age 12-14).

There was something very troubling about Mary though. Mary had a voice that was constantly silenced in worship. What do I mean? Our Pastor held the strong belief that women should not be allowed to preach, lead or be ordained ministers. He believed and had Baptist doctrine to back his feelings that women should be silent, harkening to I Timothy 2:11-12 (¹¹Let a woman learn in silence with full submission. ¹²I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she is to keep silent. NRSV)

As an inquisitive teenager, I got into a whole lot of trouble for constantly questioning the Pastor and the deacons WHY this was true and WHY it could not be changed! SURELY, there is a woman who has a voice and a word from God, which needs to be heard. Surely, God calls women to ministry as God calls males to ministry!

But back to Mary…Mary tried on 3 or 4 occasions to rush up towards the pulpit and preach and the deacons would drag her out of the church kicking and screaming. Mary would eventually calm down and would sit on a back pew and just cry uncontrollably. No one would comfort her during these times. I tried to approach her once to console her and my mom dragged me out of the church by my hand and told me to never do this again. All of the people in the church said that Mary was “crazy”. This horrifying image is in my mind even today in spite of this happening over 4 decades ago. That was not my experience of Mary as my beloved Sunday School Teacher. She held a master’s degree and was a professor at a local college. She could not have been “crazy.” I vigorously questioned the Pastor and asked him, “Why will you not let Mary say what God has clearly placed on her heart?” He never would answer my question and in fact told my parents I needed to be spanked and disciplined so I would get out of “grown folks business”. This hurt me deeply. I felt so much pain for Mary. I felt someone, anyone needed to speak up for Mary for she had no one in her corner, no one she could call family, no one who cared…..

Mary challenged the heteronormative behavior of the Baptist faith on allowing women to speak and voice what God has placed on their hearts. She challenged this when it was impossible for her to do so. Mary was shunned from the church and eventually left. I was saddened because I lost my favorite Sunday School Teacher. I felt deep down inside, although I did not know why then, that we had a kindred spirit…that we had a connection and that God was giving us both a voice that SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN SILENCED!!!

I often wonder what happened to Mary. Every time I am given the opportunity to preach, I speak for Mary and all of the other women that were and still are silenced, bullied and ridiculed by the sexist behavior of the churches that do not allow their voices to be heard. Our Creator God did NOT intend for any of us to be silenced and that includes our woman with all of the nuances, complexities, beauty and wisdom they bring to life and its many experiences.

Our Biblical stories are replete with examples of women who were leaders and used their voices. How can we forget Deborah, Naomi, Ruth, Esther and others’? And yet, today we still have many mainline denominations that will not allow women to become clergy or ordained. You know whom they are so no need to name them. What is also troubling is the scarcity of calls and ministry positions that are available for openly lesbian, bisexual and transgendered women who have been called by God to serve the church and community. I am one of those women and I add the additional layer of being a woman of color who is all-gender loving in a same-gender loving relationship. The calls are scarce, the need is great and yet our voices continue to be silenced. Women’s Voices DO Matter….Black Women’s Voices DO Matter, Lesbian Women’s Voices DO Matter, Bisexual Women’s Voices DO Matter and Transgendered Women’s Voices DO Matter, Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow!!

When the church silences the voices of the women in the room, they miss out on their rich cultural experiences being brought to life by women and especially women of color who can open up the stories and experiences in the Bible in whole new light which can serve to uplift a generation and a people.

For all of the Mary’s and all of the Michelle’s who were told NO BE QUIET, you cannot speak, God says, SHOUT OUT with Thanksgiving in your heart. Impart the wisdom of the ages to your people. Let your souls and spirits soar because ALL WOMEN’S VOICES DO MATTER and yes even BLACK WOMEN’S VOICES DO MATTER! They mattered yesterday, they matter today and they matter tomorrow.

Michelle Freeman is a powerful and competent woman of God. She earned her Master of Divinity degree from Eden Theological Seminary located in Saint Louis, Missouri. Michelle is passionate about ministering to “the least of these” and making sure there is room for everyone at the table. Michelle shares her gifts and talents via several United Church of Christ ministries, Interfaith projects and as a Co-Creator of Just Love Church in Houston, Texas. Michelle is the spouse of Georgia Chambers.

Love Responding By Rev. Kelly Dahlgren Childress

Posted on April 3, 2015 by justlovehouston

Throughout the history of the North American slave-trade, Christian leaders crafted and promulgated a perception of slavery as ordained and sanctioned by God. Citing scriptural references (such as Titus 2:9, imploring “slaves to be submissive to their masters . . .”), and using atonement theology, they created a powerful belief system that undermined justice. Since eternal life in Christ could be gained only through Christ, they argued that the institution of slavery, which brought the Godless African to God, actually delivered them from eternal hell! Who could argue with that? So, despite the fact that millions of people were kidnapped, raped, violently abused and murdered, these prisoners were nonetheless expected to freely and joyfully serve themselves up to their white masters as a service to God (and a sort of payment for the whole getting saved from hell thing).

In “The Good Book, Reading the Bible with Mind and Heart,” theologian Peter Gomes noted that the seeds of racism and segregation were planted by devout Christians. So deeply planted were these seeds of white privilege and superiority (and the corollary fear and loathing of black people), that despite over 200 years of actions for freedom and equality, many white people still accept and (consciously or unconsciously) advocate for the continued mass incarceration of black men, socially sanctioned police killings of black men and women, segregation and unequal treatment in employment, housing and law. The white establishment, ever-fearful of losing its grip on absolute power has continued to evolve in order to ensure black subjugation. For example, the movement sparked by the August 2014 murder of Michael Brown was forcefully put down by an overly militarized police force – Why? To protect “us” from the ever-threatening presence of ‘dangerous black thugs’ like Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown, Tamir Rice and Aiyana Stanley-Jones, Tarika Wilson and Eric Garner, Miriam Carey and Oscar Grant, Shereese Francis and Rakia Boyd.

Looking at the ample evidence of anti-black bias paints a bleak picture. And yet the courage, resilience, and brilliant light of African Americans is frankly astounding given the facts of living in an unrelenting and unrepentant pressure cooker that is the white privilege-based, North American society. Yet African American people continue to rise, to resist, to articulate that the American antebellum continues to this present day and in the most brutal forms, and that we can and must do better, be better than we have expected ourselves to be. So what can the average white Christian do in response to the overwhelming evidence that black people continue to be targets of enforced racial inequality and violence?

Here are seven things YOU can do that will change your life in the most wonderful ways!

Stop talking. Bite your tongue when you feel that addict-like need to share your great wisdom and instead,
Listen. Listen to the perspectives of African Americans and instead of assuming that what they’re saying can’t be true,
Assume that what you hear is actually happening every day, every moment, in these people’s lives.
Education is KEY. A few excellent options:

Read, “The New Jim Crow,” by Michelle Alexander.

Go on-line, raceforward.org; colorlines.com; splcenter.org.

Find organizations in your community such as, Western States Center (Portland, OR); Progressive Leadership Alliance of Nevada; Montana Human Rights Network; Dismantling Racism Works (North Carolina)

5. Practice living by the Gospel. Here are a few starters:

Isaiah 1:17, “Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression . . .”
Matthew 7:1, “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged.”
Micah 6:8, “ . . . what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”
John 3:18, “Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.”

John 13:34, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.

Honestly, the Bible is a gold-mine-treasure-trove of such nuggets, packed with simple messages that are repeated again and again: Be kind and generous, be fair and stand up for the poor and oppressed; Don’t take more than your share, but instead share what you have with others; Open your heart; Love each other. The good news is that when we practice living in this way, we will feel happy and peaceful. Conversely, nurturing a fear-based viewpoint, harboring violent thoughts, taking all you can without regard for others, insisting that your perspective is absolute and objective, these are all guarantees that your life will be small and your discomfort will be vast. So,

6. Repent! Repent of hatred and fear. Repent your death-grip on power and control. Repent your silence in the face of others’ suffering. Repent your addiction to being ‘right.’ How can you do this? All you need do is:

7. Practice, practice and practice (you don’t have to be perfect all the time):

Being compassionate,
Not judging,
Being intolerant of injustice,
Learning other’s perspectives,
Making friends that are different from you,
Taking a stand,
Talking with your white friends and family about all you’re learning,
Loving other people, other beings, the planet, like your life depends on it
Praying/meditating for guidance, strength, courage, wisdom, and most of all, to realize that your true nature is love itself.

Rev. Kelly Childress received her Masters of Divinity and Master of Arts in Bioethics, at Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley. She is a Board Certified Chaplain and has worked in health care for over a decade. She works at Kaiser Hospitals in Oakland and Richmond as a Healthcare Ombuds Mediator. Before attending seminary she was a political activist and labor organizer, working primarily on human rights issues. Kelly is a native Oregonian and loves spending time in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with family and friends. She has three amazing nieces whom she adores, a (no-longer feral) cat, Mrs. Taylor, and a scruffy little pup, Charlie.

Belovedness: A Lenten Reflection by Rev. Marjorie Wilkes Matthews

Posted on April 2, 2015 by justlovehouston

The Lenten journey begins with a baptism – Jesus and John standing in the waters of the Jordan River and a voice that says, “This is my Son, the Beloved….” It’s only after this declaration that Jesus is led into the wilderness where he embarks on a 40-day journey of drawing closer and closer to the spirit of the One who named him “Beloved.”

Some years ago, I convened a small gathering of African American women trained in the ministry of spiritual direction. We were struggling to find the right language to explain the ministry of spiritual direction to African American folks who find the term “spiritual direction” off-putting.

One of the women in our group said, “For me, this ministry is about helping our people embrace their belovedness.”

A hush fell over the room as we all absorbed the beautiful truth of that statement.

In the recent rash of shootings of unarmed Black men, it has become chillingly apparent to many of us that the killers of Oscar Grant, Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice, and Eric Garner failed to recognize the humanity of these Black men and boys, much less the belovedness, the sacredness of these Black men and boys.

Even more tragically, beneath the day in and day out violence that plagues so many of our communities, the countless episodes of Black people shooting and killing other Black people, is a fundamental failure to recognize our own belovedness, our own sacredness, much less that of our sisters and brothers.

Just two weeks ago here in Oakland, California, a 30-year-old mother of three was caught in the crossfire as Black men tried to kill each other over God-only-knows-what. Chyemil Pierce was shot in the head as she tried to protect her children from flying bullets.

During this year’s Lenten season, our focus scripture at Plymouth Church has been The Lord’s Prayer, a prayer that many of us learned as children, one that we often recite from memory but seldom pause to examine, much less interrogate.

Over the six Sundays of Lent, we’ve been unpacking it line by line with the help of resources like Neil Douglas-Klotz’s Prayers of the Cosmos: Meditations on the Aramaic Words of Jesus.

This past Sunday, we considered what are for many of us the most troubling words in The Lord’s Prayer: “Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

Why would a God who loves us lead us into temptation?

Douglas-Klotz describes these as the most mistranslated lines in the prayer, explaining that a better translation of the Aramaic words (Aramaic being the language in which Jesus is believed to have actually spoken) would be:

Don’t let surface things delude us,

but free us from what holds us back

(from our true purpose).

We considered these words in conjunction with Nan Merrill’s interpretation of Psalm 51, in which the pray-er exhorts God:

Teach me, that I may know my weaknesses,

the shortcomings that bind me,

the unloving ways that separate me,

that keep me from recognizing Your life in me….

May this Lenten season bless us to recognize anew God’s precious life in us – God’s breath in us, God’s heartbeat in us, God’s blood in us.

May it bless us to seek anew the One who named Jesus – and names each and all of us – as “Beloved.”

May it bless us to embrace that belovedness – in ourselves and in others – that we may stop spilling God’s precious blood, that we may affirm in word and in deed that Black lives matter, that we may be freed from what holds us back in building the kin-dom of God.

Marjorie Wilkes Matthews serves as Pastor of Plymouth United Church of Christ, also known as “The Jazz and Justice Church,” in Oakland, CA. In addition to being an ordained minister in the UCC, she is trained as a spiritual director. Rev. Marjorie is a graduate of Princeton University and Pacific School of Religion. She is married to Rev. Bob Matthews.

Dreams Deferred, Dreams Made Real

Posted on March 31, 2015 by justlovehouston

(based on a sermon preached at Lafayette Christian Church, February 8, 2015)

I was catching my friend up on a conversation I had with a co-worker the other day. I was explaining to him that I had just met with some women who are working hard to end sex trafficking.

“It’s true,” he had said to me; “I’ve seen it just today driving to work.” (The trafficking of teenage girls is fairly visible in our community.)

Feeling like he wasn’t grasping the urgency, I said, “And the problem is the men selling the women barely get any fair punishment.”

“Now that’s not true,” he responded. “I have a friend got 7 years.”

I relayed all of this to my friend Kristi, including my response, through clenched teeth: “He should have gotten life.”

My friend Kristi looked at me, cocked her head, and responded, “said the prison abolitionist.”

If you know me, you know I believe in restorative justice and peace and nonviolence and social equity all at the same time. My friend was reminding me that I was suffering from a failure of imagination – I was failing to imagine the possibility of the restoration of a misshaped soul.

We know the poem by the bard Langston Hughes, and we’ve probably heard it recently, this being Black History Month:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore—

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over—

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

We know the poem; we know its taut, tight, power-packed contours. But do we know what the poem was called?

Harlem. Home of the Harlem Renaissance, where so much rich Black culture fomented and emerged and became known throughout the country.

But it was written in 1951.

It was written as Black men who had risked their lives defending freedom and equality abroad were now fully immersed in the fact that their lack of freedom and equality remained solidly in place.

And in this day, that poem still rings true. It rings true in the wake of Michael Brown and Eric Garner and Tamir Rice and John Crawford’s deaths and the blaming of the victims and non-indictments of the assailants, 50 years after the Selma march.

I work with the Oakland Peace Center, a collective of 40 different organizations working to create access, equity and opportunity as the means of creating peace in the Bay Area. And those partners know a lot about dreams deferred.

I find myself thinking about Christopher, who works with Bay Area Women Against Rape. Christopher goes into the jails where girls have been taken because they have victims of human trafficking, and he reminds them that while they are in jail, they are not alone, and they are loved. Christopher works with girls whose dreams haven’t just been deferred, but who have not yet had a chance to dream.

I remember talking with Belinda from Project Darries. She set up her program after her son was shot in our neighborhood, and their slogan is, “Don’t turn to violence when you can turn to us.” They provide anything people might need in times of crisis – food, clothing, furniture. I told her about a conference a friend of mine attended on domestic violence. The leaders of shelters and hotlines and other programs were asked to dream as big as they could for what their organizations wanted to accomplish. The answers they gave were, “more funding for shelters,” and “more volunteers to respond to the calls we get.” No one said they dreamt of an end to domestic violence.

I shared that story with Belinda and said, “What would our neighborhood look like so Project Darries wouldn’t have to exist any more?”

She responded, “I can’t picture that. I can’t picture more than helping one woman who’s in crisis right now being able to find peace.”

It can be hard to dream.

But Hughes’s poem reminds us it can be dangerous not to.

It’s why my friend Kristi reminded me that I needed to be dreaming bigger; she was reminding me of my own failure of imagination.

Shakespeare said, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, / Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

And this is the radical message of the Bible. God is bigger than our biggest capacity to dream. And when we embrace our collective relationship to God, we dream bigger:

And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions. (Joel 2:28)

In the midst of the hardest circumstances, God allows us to dream so big that we can not only provide comfort but transformation.

Your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.

Oakland Peace Center partner East Point Peace Academy teaches the principles of Martin Luther King’s strategy of nonviolence. They teach it in jails and schools and in the community. Some of the inmates in Santa Rita have so much experience that they were able to lead a training for community members, right there inside the jail.

Your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions.

The granddaughter of an OPC partner, twelve years old, has been participating in Black Brunch, where Black community members come together and show up at popular brunch spots in Oakland and read the names of all of the victims of police brutality from most recent all the way back to Oscar Grant. When a customer said to her, “aren’t you being a little dramatic?” she, all of twelve years old, responded, “don’t you think all of these deaths of Black people due to police brutality is a little dramatic?”

That twelve year old has something to teach us: she has no interest in seeing her dream deferred. She does not want to test the theory as to whether that dream will dry up or fester or whether it will explode. She is picking up the mantle of Langston Hughes and Dr. King and Jesus in saying “I will not wait for my life to matter. It matters now. I will not wait for other people’s lives to matter. They matter now.”

Sometimes we make our dreams small because we do not want to be laughed at or we do not want to fail. Sometimes we are afraid to put all of our trust in the God who calls on us to dream big.

I need your help. I need help dreaming a world of peace, AND reconciliation, AND justice, AND accountability AND healing. I sometimes get sucked into despair. I sometimes forget how big the dreams God has for me really are.

But today, I invite you to dream big. I invite you to dream an Oakland free from violence, where every human being is fully valued. Because if we can’t dream it, we will never create it. And because it is perhaps the smallest dream God asks from us.

Sandhya Jha serves as Director at the Oakland Peace Center, a collective of innovative non-profits doing powerful work to create justice and peace in the city of Oakland and the Bay Area. Ordained in 2005 at National City Christian Church in Washington, DC, Sandhya’s passion is liberation ethics as an academic field and as a lived experience in urban communities.

Are You Not of More Value? By Claudia May

Posted on March 26, 2015 by justlovehouston

I heard a story once that continues to captivate me. An African American male leader of a ministry that mentors black boys living in an urban center walked one of his students home after their weekly group meeting. The sunset blushed. Dusk arrived and night draped the sky. As the little boy and his mentor walked under the cover of evening, the little boy pointed up and asked his elder, “What’s that?” At first, his question perplexed the leader. He wondered what the boy was pointing to, and then he realized what it was. He turned to the boy and said, “That’s the moon.”

This young beloved child of God often lived under duress. In a setting where his personal safety was not always guaranteed, he dealt with the pressure of constantly having to keep his wits about him. He looked ahead of him to see who came toward him. He looked left and right to see who came alongside him. Being aware of whether someone was behind him – and if so, who they were –shadowed his thoughts. I have to wonder whether looking up at the sky felt like a luxury; one he usually could not afford to engage in for it could cost him his life. The day-to-day preoccupations of his childhood may well have absorbed his thoughts, and in some ways, numbed his awareness of his environment. I pondered whether those around him looked up at the sky, and I started to realize that I am very much like this little boy because I too can become so caught up in the troubles of life that I shut down my ability to see beyond my circumstances. Can worry eclipse the moon?

When injustice flows

Sometimes worry, fear—even the pursuit of a packed schedule—can so consume our thoughts that they blind us to the resources that can uplift and sustain us. We can completely zero in on our problems or the tasks at hand, and in so doing lose sight of a God who can enable us to triumph over the trials we confront. Sometimes the flow of injustice, especially when it persists, threatens to overwhelm us. We stand our ground. We organize. We build alliances. But we cannot stem the onslaught of inequity. Like a mantra, we can list one atrocity after another to the point where all we can see are the horrors marking history. Sometimes, without realizing it, we can define ourselves and find worth by seeing ourselves solely through the lens of histories that are littered by pain, defiance, victories, social unrest, and strife.

Should black lives be equated with suffering? When facing down injustice, we must not forget those experiences, those strategies of resistance and survival. But neither should we forget the moments of God-given joy or relief that break through those times and lift us up. History and injustice shadow us, but they cannot out-shadow God. We need the God of liberation to enable us to confront the storms in our lives while finding rest for our souls in the arms of the same God whose love shows no partiality (Matthew 11: 28-30; 22:16*). Even Jesus rested. Even Jesus took time away from the demands of ministry and life to spend time with his heavenly Papa (Luke 5:16).

“Signed, Sealed, Delivered”

Consider those pastimes that rejuvenate you and consider those individuals who can nourish your soul and draw you into an intimate relationship with God. I think of Pastor D. D. Fennell of the “Just Love” church who, one evening, on a whim, decided to dance with his mother, Jeannie Spates Fennell. The pair grabbed “the keys to the ‘good life’ . . . put on some funky tunes and [got] on down”’ (D. D. Fennell, Facebook, January 24 2015). And so, in the family living room, they “cut a quick step to ‘Signed, Sealed, Delivered’” by Stevie Wonder – just because. They relished life through their bodies. They celebrated the gift of movement. They delighted in one another. I am sure Jesus would have loved the opportunity to dance with them. Maybe he did! This moment of outrageous joy, outrageous love, makes me think of my prayer walks with Jesus. He holds my hand. We stop and gaze at a flowering vine lining a wall of a building located on an urban street. And as we marvel at the beauty of this plant I am reminded that not one flower is exactly the same. If not one specimen of nature is the same, then God can be trusted with the details of our lives as he shepherds us through all our trials. Our concerns are God’s concerns.

God longs to spend time with us. He is the great creator and initiator of love. As the apostle John announces, “God is love” (1 John 4:8b). Love is God and “We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). God is the great wooer and lover of our souls. Let’s allow our minds to take a rest from worry by asking God to teach us how we can carve out time to be with him. Receiving the care of God is an act of spiritual defiance, spiritual liberation. This form of liberation overcomes the forces of spiritual warfare that strive to rob us of peace, which in turn inflames a mindset of worry that causes us not to look to God for guidance but to ourselves instead.

We are valued; you are valued

Are we “not of more value” than the ideologies that say we possess no value (Matthew 6:26)? Are we “not of more value” than the injustices over which we seek to triumph? Are we more apt to believe human words against us than God’s love for us? To whom do we look when we seek validation and assurance of our worth?

Jesus would not teach us not to worry if he did not know that we do, and indeed will, worry. He understands that stress can cripple us emotionally, spiritually, and physically. He knows we will

experience troubles, which is why he says, “So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today” (Matthew 6:34). And yet, there is a difference between acknowledging the troubles and injustices we encounter and allowing worry to saturate our thoughts to the point where we cannot see God or receive his counsel and support. At some point we have to ask ourselves the question, “Is it working for me to worry when I cannot ‘add a single hour to [my] span of life’” by doing so? (Matthew 6:27). So why not ask Jesus to help you find rest for your soul, mind, and spirit in the midst of the storm?

God will walk with you, and abide in you as you “abide in [his] love” (John 15:9). As you abide in him, God’s “perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18a). He also erases worry from your thoughts. He will show you the moon even as you both revel in each other’s company. Jesus will comfort you with the words, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid” (John 14:27). So why not give God time to speak to your heart and to hold and cherish you, for are you “not of more value”? (Matthew 6:26).

© Claudia May 2015.

*All biblical passages are taken from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible.

Claudia May Ph.D., is a literary critic, author, and spiritual director (claudiamay.org). A passionate follower of Jesus and worshiper of God, Claudia is a woman of prayer, and a lover of biblical stories and wisdom.

How to Pray Black

Posted on March 24, 2015 by justlovehouston

Pray as if you are that black boy.

Pray as if you are the bullet.

Pray as if you are tomorrow’s porch lights waiting on him.

Pray as if you are that black boy’s mama.

Then pray as if you are that whiteness.

Pray as if you are the witness.

Pray as if you are the hung curtain through which his killing is seen.

Pray as if you are the ground he fell on.

Pray as if you are the blood just trying to get home.

Then pray as if you are a savior. As if you are daylight savings time.

Pray as if you got to break the news to his son.

Pray as if you got to watch the news break.

Pray as if you are a bible that believes in not snitching.

Pray as if you can hear black boys crying even when they are not.

Then pray as if you know that even god don’t know what to say to this.

Pray as if you know people think praying people right up there with looters.

Pray as if you are listening for justice.

Pray as if you can’t hear none.

Pray as if you are black and thinking locked up is safer than jay-walking.

Then pray that no lies about black boys get past you.

Pray as if you are a funeral service.

Pray as if you are the money for a spray.

Pray as if you meet a florist that hates funerals.

Pray as if you know quiet hours can’t keep you quiet much longer.

Then pray that the cops don’t say that they thought your clasped hands were a gun.

ii.

Christ would be born in Ferguson. Love has to be in exile. Love has to be carried. And love has to be delivered by a young woman carrying not her fiancés but her God’s child. I ask Beloved not that you believe in the God of my understanding but that you know that today what you been through doesn’t dictate the beauty that you can birth into the world. Nothing you ate, nothing you did, nothing you said, nothing you messed up, nothing you failed to do, nothing you forgot, or nothing you loss can keep you from the promise- that love is not looking for optimal accommodations, not looking for you to get right, but love in the right time, in a social justice and faith stirring moment such as this, will contract and give through you, birth to itself. Please pray for love to come through everybody and from everywhere today.

iii.

This is upwelling. Deeper than news cycle. This is continental crust dragged into hot mantle. Temperature, pressure & water melts #Ferguson.

iv.

What if God was at work and got a call from Jesus who was crying and scared saying “Now My soul is troubled, and what shall I say? Father, save me from this hour? But for this purpose I came to this hour? Father, glorify Your name.”

What if God didn’t know what was going on and whispered into the phone outside of the earshot of the supervisor, “I have both glorified it and will glorify it again”?

What if God was at work and got another call from one of Jesus’ friends who confirmed that Jesus was in trouble?

What if Jesus’ friend said some dudes were planning on setting him up, jumping him, and killing him?

What if God had just gotten this over time working graveyard and couldn’t afford another write up for talking on the phone on the job?

What if God couldn’t get off work because God had used up all of God’s sick leave from all them other times God got this call?

What if God comforted God’s self, hoping that God taught Jesus right?

What if God was like a lot of mothers in Oakland, Ferguson and Stanton Island?

What if God could hear Jesus crying for God and God couldn’t do anything?

What if God’s son was killed?

And what if God only had God’s self to comfort God?

What if God knows who witnessed his son’s murder and they knew god knew they saw and they still didn’t come forward?

What if God knows who did it and didn’t press charges?

What if God felt responsible?

What if God remembers saying “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” but also remembers all of the time that God wasn’t able to go to back to school night, hear him teach at temple, or make it home for dinner?

What if God couldn’t bring God’s self to identify the body and had Mary do it?

What if God didn’t have the money to have the body embalmed and had to depend on women like my mama and your mama to take care of it?

What if God heard the body was missing?

What if God couldn’t afford a plot at Rolling Hills or Arlington?

What if God couldn’t sleep for 40 days because people on the news say they saw Jesus in Jerusalem with his disciples and Paul was on the news saying he was on his way to Damascus and Jesus tried to blind him and Cleopas said he was on his way to Emmaus and saw Jesus?

What if God didn’t know what to believe?

What if God was inconsolable and besides God’s self?

What if God was rocking God’s self, crying, “Hands Up. Don’t Shoot. Hands Up. Don’t Shoot. Hands Up. Don’t Shoot?

What if it was a day like today and God heard something through God’s grief and God looked up and there to God’s surprise was God’s son Jesus?

What if God can be surprised?

What if God didn’t know these tears God was crying because God had never had a son go through hell just to come home?

What if God cried harder when Jesus came home than when he left home?

What if God leapt from creation and towards Jesus and Jesus leapt from death towards God and they collapsed into each other’s arms like they were both running from somebody?

And what if that hug is what all of creation feels like when we see God seeing us?

What if God’s children back in God’s arms is what we’re celebrating this Resurrection Sunday?

What if God doesn’t know so when God sees you it’s like the first time God is holding Gods child?

What if God does not want to rehearse that response? What if God becomes God every time one of us makes it home?

What if we all make it home?

What if the God of the outpouring is the God of the inflowing, leaping up and opening God’s self to receive us like a child coming home after a report to the contrary?

What if God gets to pray and black men get to be God’s answer every time?

What if…

Marvin K. White, pastoral intern at Glide Memorial Church in San Francisco, i the author of four collections of poetry, Our Name Be Witness, Status, last rights (finalist for Stonewall Book Award and Lambda Literary Award) and nothin’ ugly fly (finalist for Lambda Literary Award), is a performer, playwright, visual artist, community arts organizer and MDiv. student at the Pacific School of Religion in Berkeley, CA.