Frustrating Inspiration. Breaking the Silence surrounding Injustice

image taken from the New York Times and Forbes magazine

One could say Breonna Taylor's death was my final shocking frustration, the final inspiration, if you will, that led me to do the thing that seemed the most embarrassing at the time and owning the convictions in my heart as well as my God-given passions and creativities, owning my voice, and using it even when discouraged by the opinions I held most dear and respected. Indeed, enough had warned would be if I yielded to the temptation to have my own opinions and dreams and to divert from the submission that had been suggested for me every other time I had spoken out about abuses and injustices I had seen in my own church or the family system and culture into which I had chosen to live life. I would be speaking out, instead of my husband, at the time, and that was dangerous, ESPECIALLY if he did not give audible consent that I was allowed to have such opinions in regard to race, social justice, and even church ethics. 

By this point, a few years ago, I was accustomed to being told not to speak in church, by well-meaning people I had assumed, as it would look like I was usurping power from the powers that should lead and were ordained to lead. Plus, I was a woman, AND I was sinful, and I KNEW I was excessive. Too many purses. Too much diet coke. Extremely long emails. And that dog- AND those clothes, even the amount of color in my wardrobe or my desire to differentiate from the practice of faith that so closely mirrored what I knew were abuses of faith from my childhood. 

As well, I had shared so openly about so many of my sins, sins others had but about which they knew not to share share. Therefore, IT was known, my depravity, and my weakness. What wasn't quite known as much is that Christ IS glorified by demonstration of His strength in my weakness. I have learned that for those who have little faith, a person floundering and relying upon the grace of God is not godly; it is weakness. For the person of little faith, godliness is one's ability to control one's life, and appear clean.  I would remember this in time, as I had known it before, and known to beware. At the moment, I was too caught up in controlling my own life and endeavoring to make sure I was secure. It would take a few years, and indeed, the more I pushed the envelope, the more I spoke out about injustices, in the world, in the church, and even my own home, the more dangerous it got... the more the boundary lines were drawn in the sand and I was dared to cross them. Thankfully, as my mother's daughter, I have less fear of man and more fear of God... in the end at least. 

Cross that line, I was dared, and people will know of the addiction! And then I was asked,"how will your children survive? Speak the truth, and you could be the reason the person you are supposed to protect, love, and cherish AND WHO YOU NEED TO TAKE CARE OF YOU is seen in a different light or unable to provide for your children." So many lies in that statement, especially the part implying my inability to provide for myself or my children. For years I believed those lies. No more. I have remembered who God has called me to be and why God has called me to be. I have remembered freedom, and I have remembered FREEDOM IN CHRIST TO SPREAD THE GOSPEL, come what may....

One of the most dangerous lies I believed is that I was responsible for the sins and shortcomings of the world at large and however other sinners treated me. Even this morning, I read an article about the likelihood of women who divorce to remarry as opposed to men who divorce, and every power-ballad by the Chicks ran through my mind, and I was encouraged to continue seeking God as I have been seeking Him, recognizing afresh that my path is not easy, but it is good. The line that stood out to me is how these women have often been blamed for making the incorrect choice and choosing a partner who did not treat them well. Their pain is their own creation. It is their own fault for their blindness, not the fault of the one who mistreated them, or worst, abused them. Abusers are let off the hook because we are exhorted to be wise and careful, and mistakes are not acceptable; neither is weakness. As dangerous as it is to confess, I resonate with these statements as they have been preached to me by the culture at large as well as by church cultures, as well as by people I trusted. I have experienced the shame cast in the way of the one who stands up against injustice, anywhere.

Breonna Taylor will not receive justice. I mourn, still slightly in shock, wondering if I could have been there at the trial, if I would have heard facts that swayed my opinion. The reality is, I probably would have heard a manipulation of facts that took responsibility from where it should have been placed and instead displaced it to a space that was more comfortable for the ruling society, the society-at-large, who dictates the social and ethical norms, political norms, racial norms, gender norms, even Christian norms. Who can disagree that there are currently two opposing versions of Christianity at work in this country. There is faith in the Gospel of Christ, and there is faith in the Gospel of cultural and political Christianity called evangelicalism. 

So the truth is, I imagine I would have been the minority in the courtroom, seated with my brothers and sisters who are of color. I call them brothers and sisters not because I am of color or can understand fully their own experiences but because I am one who has heard their cries, somewhat at least, like our God who hears their cries as well as my own cries, like our God who saw and knew and heard the cries of God's people years ago when they were enslaved in Egypt, like the God who called Moses even after his failures, like the God who saw Hagar: Like the God who weeps with us and mourns with us at injustice and waits with us and the entire earth, groaning, in pains of childbirth even! We wait, redemption seemingly tarrying, until that which will be comes to be and is... until we see the Glory of the Lord in fullness and justice flows. We wait. We mourn, and we speak.