“Because that’s my job.” That was my father’s answer when I asked him why he served our family so excellently. Each week my father worked a different shift: 6am to 2pm; 10pm to 6am; 2pm to 10pm. He worked this soul-destroying schedule for more than thirty years. He gained employment in factories and the unskilled labor sector. Whatever shift he was scheduled to work, my father would interrupt his sleep and prepare a hot meal for our family using good ingredients. He cooked everything from scratch. My father served us in this way because my mother worked throughout the day to help my father provide for us, and because he loved us. My father’s gifts and commitment as a parent were not confined to the kitchen or factory floor. He changed our diapers. He bathed us. He brushed our teeth. Along with my mother, he tended to us when we were sick. He made us cups of tea and cooked us breakfast just the way we liked it. He still does. My father gave birth to my servant heart. In this, I am my father’s daughter and I am thankful.
Black fathers and father figures come from all backgrounds. They are not uniform in their outlook on parenting. Yet their contributions to the development of the human family ought not to be underestimated. A recent study published by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services shatters popular myths that equate absentee fatherhood and ineffective parenting with black men by stressing the presence of black fathers in the lives of their children (“Fathers’ Involvement With Their Children: United States, 2006–2010”, December 20, 2013). Many black people already know that there are countless black men who play a pivotal role in raising their children and mentoring individuals of all ages, genders, and races. Frankly, there are too many examples of committed black fathers and father figures to feature all of them in this article, and that can only be a good thing.
“If you honor God, God will honor you.”
Siblings Michael and Ben McBride’s love for Jesus and commitment to working alongside the marginalized and learning from them have helped to change the discourse surrounding the relationship between Christian responses — or lack thereof — to racial injustice and socio-economic disparities in America. Having been blessed by the ministries of both of these dynamic preachers and activists, I approached Revd Ben McBride and asked him about his father, Deacon James McBride: I wanted to know about the man who, alongside his wife, helped shape two exceptional men of God. I later learned that Ben’s parents raised his five siblings with the same dedication and love he himself enjoyed.
Rev. Ben McBride told me his father — a now retired bus driver who is still active in ministry as a deacon — worked long hours, usually late into the night. Still, whenever he was home, and even though he was sleep-deprived, he would anoint each of his children’s heads with “blessed oil”. Ben’s father would often lull his children to sleep by turning the radio to a station dedicated to playing preachers’ sermons. He prayed over them as they slept. If Ben woke up in the middle of the night, he would often see his father praying at the foot of his bed. And if the children had night terrors, Ben’s father would tell them that they were “covered by the blood of Jesus” and nothing and no one could harm them. He would stay with the children until they fell back asleep. So dedicated was he to prayer that it was not uncommon for Deacon McBride to fall asleep while still kneeling at the foot of one of his children’s beds.
Such was Deacon McBride’s love for God that he would often weep as he shared his heart with God through prayer. For the young Ben, his father’s tears represented what real strength looked like. His father knew he could be vulnerable with God. He depended on God’s strength and wisdom to protect, provide for, and defend his family. He worshipped God through prayer. He thanked God for his power and goodness. He valued God’s wisdom. Through his words, actions, and devotion to God, Deacon McBride refused to conform to what Rev. Ben McBride calls “counterfeit strength”, which identifies anger and violence as significant attributes of manhood and values self-reliance over dependence on God for leadership and instruction. His father’s modeling of manhood and fatherhood was especially important to Ben and his other siblings because they lived in San Francisco during a time when violence, poverty, and systematic racism made living in that city challenging.
Deacon James McBride and his wife, Loretta — a trained concert violinist with over forty years’ teaching experience in public and private schools — have been married for forty-three years. Their six children — Timothy James (TJ), Vivian, David, Michelle, Ben, and Michael — are all accomplished men and women of God who are committed to serving the church and the wider community through their various ministries and vocations. Deacon McBride absolutely acknowledges the pivotal role his beloved wife Loretta has played in nurturing the lives of their children. Her contribution to the spiritual formation or their children still bears fruit for God’s glory. Today, Deacon McBride continues to treasure the life of his family by honoring God. He conveys through his words and actions that “If you honor God, God will honor you.” It is a mantra that Ben and his siblings observe in their own lives.
“As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love” (John 15:9).
Despite the adversities they encounter, and despite efforts to diminish their worth, scores of black men, to paraphrase Maya Angelou’s poem “Still I Rise”, rise above the assaults they encounter. They rise above the fray of prejudice. They rise above injustice. Through it all, many black men abide in the love of God as they learn to love others. They care and provide for their families, shape the lives of many, and carry themselves with dignity. In this, I am reminded of James Weldon Johnson’s poem, “O Black and Unknown Bards”. In this work, Johnson celebrates those unnamed slave composers and worshippers — men and women — whose spirituals took inspiration from the God who loved them and who embraced their full humanity. As beloved ones of God slaves created songs that acknowledged the adversities they faced. These songs of hope and resilience enabled them to worship a God who cherished their humanity: a God whose love is not conditioned by a world bent on devaluing their worth. The lives and testimonies of black fathers speak of their agency and vital spiritual faith as they learn to “abide in” the love of God through Jesus (John 15:9). So many black men sing a song of resiliency and courage. They have been providers and protectors and nurturers, and modeled out a faith in God, themselves, and in others. Their lives, to adopt the words of James Weldon Johnson, are:
like a mighty trumpet-call[,] they stir
The blood. Such are the notes that men have sung
Going to valorous deeds; such tones there were
That helped make history when Time was young.
The Book of American Negro Poetry
I give God thanks for the black men who have built on the legacy of those who “helped make history when Time was young” by loving and caring for those around them. They do so even when they encounter those who do not cherish their presence on this earth. They allow God to help them cultivate a belief in themselves. Daily they learn to embrace God’s confidence in them as beloved men of God. They can be fully human before a God who is ever present to their complex humanity. They can make mistakes and learn from them. They can experience the full range of emotions that God created all human beings to feel. And in the person of Jesus they have a model of manhood that teaches them that they do not need to look to humankind to define and regulate how they ought to conduct themselves as men and as followers of Christ. Jesus learned to love God by experiencing his Father’s love for himself (John 15:9). So intimate was God’s love for Jesus that Jesus could weep without shame or embarrassment in the presence of an omniscient God (John 11:35). And as he did so, Jesus’ masculinity was never called into question. Jesus gives black men, and indeed all men, permission to acknowledge their weaknesses and strengths, and their need for God, but so often black men live in a nation where the sacredness of their lives, the attributes of their ingenuity and valor, an appreciation of their perspectives, and a sensitivity to their fragility is neither treasured nor upheld as vital or precious. For many black men, showing weakness can cost them their lives. And yet, despite the assaults on their character and personhood, hope reigns. Countless black fathers and father figures nurture opportunities to care for themselves and others. Through their words and actions, the black men who love God, themselves, and their family embody the words of James Weldon Johnson who, in that same poem, declares, “There is a wide, wide wonder in it all, That from degraded rest and servile toil… Have stretched out upward, seeking the divine” (ibid.). As they depend on God, so many black fathers
[sing] not deeds of heroes or of kings;
No chant of bloody war, no exulting pean
Of arms-won triumphs; but [their] humble strings
[They] touc[h] in chord with music empyrean.
[They sing] far better than [they know]; the songs
That for their listeners’ hungry hearts sufficed
Still live,—but more than this to [them] belongs:
[They sing] a race from wood and stone to Christ.
The testimonies and actions of black fathers who look to Jesus as their guide “sing” about the trials they confronted and how they endured “a race from wood and stone to Christ”. They also “sing” “of… triumphs… far better than [they know]”. Their legacies, strength, humanity, shortcomings, testimonies, and love for God live through those whom they have mentored and cherished. Whatever their outlook and beliefs, the lives of black fathers are precious and worthy of mention. We rise because they make up the breath we breathe. Their songs “still live” in and through us. These black fathers and father figures, whose experiences are diverse and far ranging, include, and are certainly not limited to, the following:
Mr. Felix May, Mr. Rod Anthony May, Mr. Dudley Byles, Mr. Hugh Touzalin, Mr. Michael Touzalin, Mr. Stanley Wilkerson, Bishop Jasper Roby, Deacon Robert Roby, Rev. Dr. James Noel, Rev. Dr. J. Alfred Smith, Sr., my beloved father figure Calvin, Hoover L. McBee, Dr. James Earl Massey, Deacon Theron Roby, Hoover L. McBee, Deacon James McBride, Rev. Michael McBride, Rev. Ben McBride, Rev. Timothy James McBride, Rev. Dr. Samuel George Hines, Stephen Curry, Lecrae, Alex Medina, Trip Lee, Tedashii, KB, Rev. William McDowell, Winford Horsley, Kirk Franklin, Pastor Chandler Cleveland, Rev. Clementa C. Pinckney, Rev. Daniel L. Simmons, Sr., Professor Luther E. Smith, Jr., and Dr. John M. Perkins.
We give thanks to these black men whom God adores. We celebrate the black fathers who have impacted the lives and faith of many — “yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8). Amen.
Image: Jesus Cervantes / Shutterstock
Dr. Claudia May is the author of Jesus is Enough: Love, Hope, and Comfort in the Storms of Life. She is a specialist in African American and Caribbean literature, popular culture, and Reconciliation Studies, and a spiritual director (see http://www.claudiamay.org/) . Dr. May is a visiting scholar in the Department of African American Studies and African Diaspora Studies at the University of California, Berkeley. She is a passionate follower of Jesus, a woman of prayer, and a lover of biblical stories and wisdom. You can follow her on twitter @ClaudiaMayPhD
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