Where do I start?
Why must I start?
My heart has been so heavy.
It started with Ferguson, sure. But now,? It’s a constant discomfort.
Every moment I’m awake, I am mad. Sad. Deep breathing. (Keep it together, JT.)
I want to really say all that’s on my heart and mind, but I want to say it calmly. Honestly, but calmly.
(The older I get, the bolder I get. The louder I get when something matters to me.)
I don’t want my rage to increase my volume to the point that I’m screaming into the void.
Honestly, though, it won’t particularly matter.
It’s not my volume or tone so much as the heart of my audience and their willingness to be receptive.
Which adds another level of frustration entirely.
To have so much to say, so much to realize, so much to feel, and so much to share…
For it to not even make a difference to the ones who already have their minds made up, their ears plugged, for those to be people I know and love, is hard.
This time has been tricky. Eye-opening, yes? Tricky? Very.
Why tricky, you may be asking?
Because I see people post things that make my blood boil.
(This is SO much more than politics, too.)
Finally, I realized sometime in the last week, that my job is one of repentance.
I have to keep turning to the Lord, hands out, repenting of the feelings/thoughts I’ve had about some people I care about because they seem to care so little about humanity.
It’s been good for me, to see the sin in myself - the disdain in my heart, and to know that the Lord is the only One to forgive, redeem, and save.
It has been a sweet reminder of my humanity and humility - my need for a Savior.
My Hope, in that way, has been renewed.
I am grateful.
His cross and the gift of His grace are the only things saving someone wretched like me.
I’m also reminded of and grateful for His patience with and for me.
Change can be scary as ever, but it’s necessary for us to change and grow in order to change this nation and world.
And the Church, too.
I typically hate change, so I get it.
I like things to stay consistent and comfortable and familiar.
But it’s time.
It’s past time.
The black boxes have moved down our Instagram grids.
I’m sure some of you hoped that was a fad or an internet trend.
(Maybe for some of you it was.)
It’s not, though. Not really. We can’t afford for it to be.
So I guess all of this rambling is to say that Black Lives STILL Matter.
I feel so frustrated that the Black community is the one expected to show grace and turn the other cheek EVERY TIME someone is killed - MURDERED - in cold blood.
(PLEASE do not say anything to me about how Black people kill Black people. That is not what this is about.)
My heart is broken for the state of our nation.
I’m so thankful for the WNBA, NBA, and MLB players who are unifying to boycott games for the sake of Black lives.
All I can think is GOOD FOR THEM! I’m so proud.
God forbid they be OUTRAGED.
In my heart, I just feel like they DESERVE to walk off the field or court.
If our country doesn’t give a damn about Black people, why should they perform?!
(You can’t only like Black people who act the way you want or dress the way you want or talk how you prefer. You can’t just like the Black people who act in shows/movies you watch, sing songs you love, or play a sport that you enjoy. It doesn’t work like that.)
I have SO much more I want to write and share, but I can’t do it calmly. Not yet. I feel like, short of tearing my clothes and shaving my head, I can’t adequately express my heart on this. I just know that if I feel this heaviness, I don’t know how the Black community has carried this burden for so long.
I’m going to keep falling before the Lord, repenting. For my frustration and anger. For my part in any of this.
I’m going to keep hoping for change and clinging to my only Hope.
I hope you’ll join me in that.