It’s Monday, 4.27.15 .10:06 p.m. I’m in my hotel room here in Atlanta, and my tv is on mute as I blog about what I’m seeing. Because there is no volume attached to the picture in my peripheral view, this could be an image of the race riots half a century ago, or the recent conflicts we’ve seen on the streets here in America between police and African Americans over the last several years, but… this isn’t a re-run. The burning city I’m watching live on my television is Baltimore.
You couldn’t have told me a few weeks ago when I blogged about Walter Scott, the unarmed black man who was shot in the back by a police officer that once again, we’re having to have another discussion about another black man killed in the custody of police officers in one of the largest cities in our country. Now my biggest dilemma in writing this blog to many different races of people that follow me is how do I communicate in a spirit that doesn’t alienate people who have a heart to care but may not have the cultural context to sympathize at a deeper level.
Because her’es the truth, my people: not only is Baltimore burning, the country I love is on fire as well. The constant unrest is beginning to feel like a long nightmare that you can’t shake yourself out of or a horrible joke that the entire media community is in on… that these terrible things are just made up stories to grab the attention of millions for ratings. Neither is correct. It is real… flames and all. As I blog, let me give you a spoiler alert: I don’t have a happy ending to this blog as I type it. Honestly, it is my own human attempt to connect with you; many whom I’ve never met or may never meet at all. But because I’m human, alone in my room and full of hurt disgust and fear, I need to connect with other humans. God wired me to do so.
It is my need to write hoping you will read this and think with me on what we can do to stop this. I’m tired of it. I know there are political, historical, educational, social and economic conversations that must be had in the general arch of this dilemma, but for now, this very moment, I just want to feel human… with you. To throw a Bible scripture in the middle of this blog would be the most contrived thing I would’ve ever done in my life, so don’t worry. I won’t. I just want to feel close; even for a brief moment. To hold hands with people. Different shades of hands. Young hands, wrinkled hands, and do what comes from our soul. Cry… weep.. scream… and maybe.. pray. But it would sound like this…..
Father, I don’t like the silence from you that I feel deep within me at this very moment. Many have no hope to give you, no words to put together for a prayer, and move further and further away from you every time the poor suffer even more. To tell people to pray feels so weak, although I know it is true power. God, I feel so hopeless in helping your children heal. They don’t need religion… they need you. Please, help me know what to do and say in these dark days. Please, show us your face. Show your justice, your power, and your love. To every one who wants you. No matter their color, their struggle or their cross, I’m asking you as a son, give us a miracle. Tonight.. I’m human.
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