It’s amazing to us how much we had in common growing up. My
Mother named me for the midwife who assisted her at my birth; my
husband’s Mother named him for the doctor who assisted her at his
birth. My Mother was (and still is) my very best friend; I felt so
much closer to her than to my Father. I was always special in my
Mom’s eyesight. My husband’s relationship with his Mother was
much the same; he loved her so much. She seemed to have a special
place for him in her heart. Our grandparents both had outhouses
when we were young; I was close to my Mother’s Father and my
husband was close to his Father’s Mother. I remember my
granddaddy coming to spend time with us when he was very ill; my
husband remembers emptying slop jars for his grandmamma when
she was ill. Both our parents saw to it that we understood the
importance of placing God first in our lives. We were both baptized
as a declaration of our faith in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior.
It was a time when the baptismal pool was the local pond! I was
baptized at a pond near the old Rockyford Baptist Church; my
husband was baptized in a pond near his Church, too. We both
remember going to Sunday school and Worship Services; we both
enjoyed Church anniversaries when Church folk prepared large
quantities and types of delicious foods and desserts. And we
remember the Church as a place where everybody smiled and
everything was quiet and peaceful. The grown ups were
responsible for everything while the children enjoyed the service,
sang, and prayed. It was great being a kid! What a dream! As we
grew older we were awakened from that dream to see what Church
Folk are really like! Now don’t get me wrong; the Church is still one
of my favorite places. But, the people…. Let me tell you some of our
most memorable experiences have involved folk in the Church!
Ever hear the expression, “fly in a pan of milk”? Black folk use the
expression to describe a situation where there’s only one of “us” and
the rest are “them” – i.e., one black person in a group that is
primarily comprised of whites. Well, there were many times at work
when I was the fly. I always wondered if white folk have an
expression for a situation where there’s only one of “them” and the
rest of the group is “us” – or one white person in a group of blacks.
Maybe, the old “fish out of water” is appropriate. Well, since we
have been married my husband has found himself in that category
more often than not. Let me share a few of these little episodes with
you.
Shortly after we were married we visited my parents’ home Church
in Millen, Georgia. When we drove up to the old country Church
where I had been baptized I saw many familiar faces – people that I
had known since childhood; they stared in shock as we entered the
small Church together. The folks inside were singing the beautiful
gospel chords of old religious hymns. We sat on a pew near my
Aunt Frances; she smiled, kissed, and hugged us. We were almost
beginning to feel welcome when one of my Mother’s old friends
turned and said in a short curt tone, “What’s that thar’ white man
doin’ in here?” My Aunt, who had attended our wedding, looked at
me and saw the disappointment in my face; my smile turned to a
disparaging grimace because I knew that the remark had hurt my
husband. My Aunt turned to the woman and said sharply, “This is
Renie’s baby girl and that’s her husband!! He is welcome in here!”
The old woman said, “Oh, excuse me”. She then looked at my
husband and said in a half sincere voice, “Welcome, we are so glad
to have you!” The woman was as embarrassed as we were. She was
a very good-natured old woman, whom my Mother had always
considered a part of our extended family. And yet the scars left by
this woman’s own negative personal encounters with whites
prompted her to make an ugly remark to the husband of a young
black woman whom she had known since birth – not because of
anything that he had done personally – just because he was white!
We were both hurt and disappointed. I had grown up in that
Church; all of my experiences there had been filled with love.
When my Mother asked us to take her back down to the old home
Church I immediately agreed; I had no qualms whatsoever about
taking my husband back to the place where I first worshipped.
After all, the Church is the one place that one would assume that
any person would be welcomed. Is that correct? Unfortunately, the
answer to the question is not always affirmative. In reality it is
often a place where people, who sing and shout about their belief in
God and faith in Christ, will turn up their noses at others because
they are different. Many a person has experienced pain in the
Church because of his or her differences – in opinion, in speech, in
religion, in dress, in hair, in color, etc. There are so many stories
that could be told but the most hurtful incident that my husband and
I experienced occurred shortly after we were married. Let me tell
you that Churches and Church folk never cease to amaze me! .........
........ Some time ago I had the privilege of attending a revival at my
Church. The speaker gave the most inspiring sermon I had heard in
years. He was a young black pastor from an historic local Baptist
Church. He “gave the message” on three nights; each sermon was
about 40 to 50 minutes long and yet the time just seemed to fly by
unnoticed. He talked about our trials as black folk–as human beings
—and how a “Brotha Named Jabez” who had his own set of
problems cried out to a God who answered. The pastor also
reminded us with “Devil, I Changed My Mind” that even though we
make wrong choices, God is forgiving, allowing us – even at the last
minute -- to change our lives. Like the father of the prodigal son,
God receives us with open arms as his wayward children who have
returned home. And finally, he used the story of Mary and Joseph
to admonish us – especially the single young women in the audience
-that we should have a spiritual connection with our partners,
ensuring that any relationships formed have more than a physical or
carnal basis.
As I listened to the sermons on each of the three nights I was
amazed at the charismatic manner in which this young man brought
the Word to life using stories of Jabez, the prodigal son, and the
immaculate conception of Jesus. It was as if he became an extension
of the Word itself! And I became caught up in the moment –
mesmerized by his depiction of biblical truths as I reflected on my
own life and experiences – on all that God is and has been to me. I
also glanced over at my husband of 12 years; there he sat -- one
white man in the midst of more than one hundred blacks. For that
40 to 50 minute period he was just another child of God who was
caught up in the sanctity of the moment. He, too, could relate to the
trials of Jabez, the prodigal son, and the story of Mary and the virgin
birth of Jesus. I could imagine how he must have felt being the only
one in the crowd; for years I had experienced that feeling of
loneliness -- being the only black person (and often times only
female) in meetings, at dinner, in my department, etc. In such a
situation, one suddenly has an acute awareness of self.
During each night’s sermon this young man stood up on a chair, a
pew, a stair – whatever he was closest to so that he could be seen
and heard above all else in the sanctuary. And he would cry out, “Is
there any body here?” The question was rhetorical – a modern day,
“Can I get a witness?” from days of old. Of course this young
minister posed the query to find witnesses for Jesus. And we all
stood at attention enthusiastically raising our hands in affirmation
and confession of our faith in our Lord and Savior. If we had been
asked there would have been a number of us who would have stood
before God and every person in that sanctuary to testify about how
good God has been to us, each one of us a living testimony. For that
moment in time every person, including my husband, stood united.
But after the service each person returned to him/herself – that is,
the stares recommenced. “What’s he doing in here?” one woman
might think, “Who does she think she is? What, she think she too
good to be married to a Brotha?” “I know she don’t think she’s
white, ‘cause she ain’t”…. The remarks could be felt more than
heard. My husband and I just stared at each other affectionately and
smiled as the pastor called us to the altar; we held hands as he
prayed for us all. Yes, we all needed prayer that night.
You see one of the greatest trials in our lives has been and continues
to be racial prejudice. Yes, that’s right – prejudice! And where do
you see it? Well, you expect to see it in a restaurant, in a school, in a
department store, at work, or at a hotel. But, somehow you don’t
expect to see it or experience it in a Church! Well, my husband is a
living testimony that if you’re white and you want to feel racism, try
to attend a traditional all black church. Choose a black Church with
a congregation that is very intellectually astute. Sit down in one of
the Bible Study or Sunday school group meetings and listen for the
number of times negative statements are made about whites, all in
conjunction with the scriptures that are being studied, of course.
Better yet, count the number of times you hear black Christians
make statements like, “They promised us 40 acres and a mule; we ain’
t got the mule yet!” Then there are the cases where a lone black
person visits a traditional all white Church. White Christians in that
environment extend a part of their hand so that you only touch their
fingertips – better not let any of the color rub off! Remarks such as
“You people” and “Some of my best friends are black”, or my “black
neighbor” are often made. Why is it important to reveal the color of
a friend? Are we not one people in God’s sight?Are not the Church
doors open to everyone? Oh yes, in 2004 there is still racial prejudice
and it pervades every aspect of our lives. Because my husband and
I have endured the most blatant and flagrant examples of racism, we
consider ourselves witnesses. “Is there anybody here?” Oh, yes! We
are here to testify that we serve a gracious, loving, and merciful God
-- a God who has been there through it all for those whom we love,
those who love us, and the two of us. Our God has no respect of
person or color!
If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother
whom he hath seen,how can he love God whom he hath not seen? 1 John 4:20
