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<\/a><\/p>\nMy heart is heavy.\u00a0 For over two weeks, I\u2019ve tried to write on the confusing murder of Jordan Davis, a black Florida teen shot for playing his music too loud.\u00a0 I read \u201cWorthy\u201c by Austin Channing Brown <\/a>then tried to write my own lament for the devaluation of black boys\u2019 lives sanctioned by archaic laws. Unfortunately, those cries for deliverance rise too easily from my spirit.\u00a0 I am the daughter of a black Senior, the sister of a black twenty-something, the mama of two black boys, and the future pastor of black teens who look too much like Jordan Davis and Trayvon Martin. Fear of this happening to someone I know surrounds me.<\/p>\n I wanted to write my thoughts, but my lamentations were too raw, too hoarse, entirely too much for my blog, so I pulled into myself and cried for days over Jordan, Trayvon, Jonathan Farrell, and Renisha McBride.\u00a0 The more I cried, the more aware I was of the pain-stricken words patiently waiting for their moment.<\/p>\n Shortly after, I watched, Javon Johnson\u2019s slam poetry about raising black boys in America, \u201cCuz He\u2019s Black\u201d<\/a>\u00a0 for the eleventy billionth time, and I wanted to write y\u2019all a poem of raising a black boy.\u00a0 I wanted to share how I\u2019m constantly questioning my tween\u2019s safety, worrying about preserving his innocence in this violent world, and my fears of depositing anxiety in his little heart when I talk about the very real obstacles he\u2019ll face as a young black man.\u00a0 Even with a black president, even here in bleeding heart liberal Massachusetts, even within in the Christian community, even with his bi-racial heritage, my son has a long road ahead of him. By having a black mama, he\u2019s inherited the yoke of chattel slavery that grips the African-American community even though our hands are no longer shackle-bound.<\/p>\n Honestly, I\u2019m so sick and tired of living with this fear.\u00a0 I\u2019m acutely aware of its presence. Her wings stretch over me blocking the light of hope.\u00a0 Her claws grip my heart crushing life and infecting my blood stream with despair.\u00a0 Cries for deliverance rose up again and I pulled back from their ferocious need to be spoken, written, released.<\/p>\n I remembered an article shared with me by my good friend, Courtney titled, \u201cBlack History Month Isn\u2019t Making Life Better for Black Americans\u201d<\/a>.\u00a0 I couldn\u2019t help but agree with Theodore R. Brown\u2014why spend an entire month celebrating our past when our future looks so bleak?<\/p>\n Those keening cries of sorrow, fear, need, and for comfort were too much so, I wrote this Facebook message.<\/p>\n \u00a0 \u00a0The next day, I sat down to write a prayer for all those affected by the racial tension caused by the \u201cStand Your Ground\u201d laws in states like Florida.\u00a0 I quieted my heart to reach towards God\u2019s and sensed this one direction, \u201ccall My people to pray\u201d.\u00a0<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n When I exhaled the waiting words, the broken lamentations to God, he breathed new hope into my heart.\u00a0 I know why those words waited; they were powerful words of prayer.\u00a0 They wanted to be my chosen weapon in this waging war charged by race and ignorance. We wrestle not against flesh and blood but powers and principalities in heavenly places.\u00a0 We wield not guns in shaky, terrified hands but the doubled-edged Sword the Spirit.<\/p>\n We\u2019re going stand our ground\u2026in prayer.<\/strong><\/p>\n For the rest of the week, I\u2019ve invited a few of my blogging friends to submit prayers as guest posts.\u00a0 We\u2019re observing the rest of Black History Month, not with flowery praises of African-American heroes of the past, angry indictments of racism, or arguments of philosophy, but with sincere prayers to our good Abba who hears the cries of his children.\u00a0 We\u2019re going to rise up like the people of the Cross that we claim to be.\u00a0 The cross is the great equalizer where all sinners, brown, black and white can find reconciliation both to God and then to one another.\u00a0<\/strong> Each day will have two prayers one from a black woman and one from a white.\u00a0 We want to model praying together, in unity, for reconciliation.\u00a0 This is our jam Kingdom people, let\u2019s sing it loud and in harmony!\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n For the rest of the week, we\u2019re taking our sorrow to the foot of the cross and asking Jesus to speak resurrection power into these dark days.\u00a0 Let these precious lives be redeemed, Lord through our prayers and promises to never forget.<\/p>\n Today, I\u2019m honored to start the series with my good friend, Jessica Kelley.<\/p>\n She is a wise and beautiful writer, but more importantly, she is a sweet and dear friend to me. She loves Jesus and she reveals him to me in poignant ways.\u00a0 I hope you find hopeful direction in her prayer.<\/p>\n Abba,<\/p>\n On my face, I come.<\/p>\n I lay at your feet, my prayers offered in body-rocking sobs.<\/p>\n I lay broken by evil.<\/p>\n Broken by violence.<\/p>\n Broken by death.<\/p>\n Broken by birthday candles that will never meet breath. By graduation celebrations with empty chairs. By marriage vows<\/p>\n never to be exchanged. By grandchildren never to be celebrated. By parents who will die without their child at their side.<\/p>\n I lay before you, broken.<\/p>\n Rising to my knees, I come.<\/p>\n I come in kneeled repentance, hands clasped, eyes beginning to open. I see systems of oppression. Systems that have<\/p>\n benefited me. I see mothers on the losing end of these systems who are mourning. I\u2019ve never seen them quite so clearly.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve never heard their cries so loudly. I come in repentance.<\/p>\n I come pleading for comfort. When my son laughed the sun burned brighter. When my son died, that bright star fell,<\/p>\n leaving bitter darkness and unspeakable cold. I plead comfort for Jordan Davis\u2019 mother, Lucia. I plead comfort for<\/p>\n Trayvon Martin\u2019s mother, Sybrina. I come pleading for the families and friends of these precious boys. I come pleading<\/p>\n for every soul wounded by every trauma and every death. I come pleading for comfort.<\/p>\n I come praying for perspective. Open my eyes wider, Abba. Open the eyes around me. Take us all back to our first<\/p>\n breaths, to the moments our mothers birthed us. We were cast into the world in shells unchosen. Every color stunning in your sight, every hue reflecting you. Sear into our awareness that beneath our differences run identical currents of love, playfulness, ache, trepidation, and hope. I come praying for perspective.<\/p>\n Climbing to my feet, I come.<\/p>\n I receive your outstretched hand, Abba, and rise to obey. I rise to use the voice you\u2019ve given me. Though it quivers, I use it to speak your hope.<\/p>\n I speak your supernatural peace over the Martin family, the Davis family, and every aching soul.<\/p>\n I speak freedom from the fear that permeates humanity. I speak your transforming love over hard hearts and closed minds. I speak the power of your restoration into racial divides.<\/p>\n I speak light into darkness. I speak life over death.<\/p>\n I rise,\u00a0 Abba, and I speak Jesus.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n \u00a0Jessica Kelley has a BS in Psychology from Virginia Tech and a MS in Counseling and Human Development from Radford University. Since the tragic loss of her 4-year-old son, Henry, she has been writing and speaking about God\u2019s role in suffering. Jessica processes her faith-journey at\u00a0JessicaKelley.com<\/a>\u00a0and is also active on\u00a0Twitter<\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Facebook<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n COMMENT POLICY THIS WEEK:<\/strong><\/p>\n Ok. Y\u2019all know I\u2019m all for healthy dialogue, but here\u2019s the deal:\u00a0 I\u2019m a Third Way Woman, so Ima be honey badger mama protective with the comments in this series.<\/a>\u00a0 Please save your push back on racism or gun laws for another time.\u00a0 You can email me privately at Osheta at gmail dot com, if you just need to process this issue.\u00a0 I\u2019ll try to engage you, but this is not the space for that.\u00a0 So many of my white blogger friends are terrified to share these prayers.\u00a0 Race is one of those topics we forget ourselves and get all types of nasty with each other. Not here.\u00a0 Not on my watch!\u00a0<\/strong> We\u2019d love it if you\u2019d offer an\u00a0 \u201cAMEN\u201d or if you\u2019re so inclined, write your own prayer.\u00a0 Jess or I will comment, \u201cAmen\u201d to let you know that we\u2019ve got your back.\u00a0 But, seriously y\u2019all, let\u2019s not act a fool this week.\u00a0 \u2018k?<\/em><\/p>\n Standing for Shalom,<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n