The Price of Defiance: Thrift Store Spirituality

The Price of Defiance: Thrift Store Spirituality January 30, 2018

 

Ali Yahya / Unsplash
Ali Yahya / Unsplash

 

There is something about thrift stores. The colors. The diversity. The smell. The violence?

 

I’ve never grown used to it. “Rev. Hood?” “Dr. Hood?” “Are you that guy from television?” “Hood?” Though the situations are different, the objective is always the same…confrontation. Most of these folks see me as a traitor to my race. Some see me as a terrorist. Many see me. When I’m approached in public, I prepare for the worst. I’ve rarely been wrong. Violence always finds me.

 

Last weekend, it happened. “Are you that pastor from television? I really hate that mother fucker.” I didn’t hesitate to reach out my hand. “Rev. Dr. Jeff Hood.” With the most hateful look he could muster, he walked away. If the encounter had been in a less public place, he would have hit me. Of that, I have no doubt. Almost immediately, the kids started asking questions. “Why does that guy hate you?” “Strangers don’t like you?” “Were you afraid?” In the midst of it all, I got the chance to explain to the kids the price of defiance. I don’t know if they understand. They will.

 

I was shaken.

 

I’ve come too far. There is no way back. There is only…

 

Once we got back in the car, I turned the radio on. Usually, I don’t like the noise. I find that it scrambles my thoughts. Not on this night…on this night…I needed the words. I tuned into an old salvation station. The preacher was just wearing it out. I didn’t listen much to the message. I’ve heard that fundamentalist bullshit more times than I could even begin to count. Over the airwaves, I simply listened for the words. Jesus. God. Courage. Perseverance. Faith. Belief. The words stirred defiance in my soul.

 

I won’t stop.

 

I can’t.

 

Defiance.

 

Amen.


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