I Want to Live It!

I overestimated myself. I have had experience after experience of being “the fly I the buttermilk,” the only black person all white communities. I have taught people how to acknowledge that as Americans we live in a racialized society. I have led seminar after seminar helping people deal with the baggage of race in the classroom and in the office. Still, I was not prepared for the things God would show me in the first five weeks of living in Jackson, Mississippi. What God has shown me is that the same issues of race, class and denominational superiority I have criticized countless others about, hold my worldview hostage as well.

In the first few weeks of my placement, I found myself angry, judgmental, and hesitant to engage those who did not share my experience or opinions. Even when I did, I secretly harbored assumptions, indictments, and feelings of superiority within. “Methodists don’t worship authentically… White people pretend they want to help, but all the while they relish the power they have over those who are black and poor… I know I should go over and talk to them, but what do I have in common with someone who can’t read and smells so bad..?” Somehow I was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and nowhere felt quite like home. The black people didn’t share my educational background, the Christians didn’t share my worship style, and the women were all white and cared more about feminism than racism. I was used to experiencing these kinds of situations. But at the end of the day I was always allowed to return home. I always had a place and time of rest where the people looked like me and talked like me, and thought like me. I have yet to find a place like that in Jackson.

For these reasons and so many more I have existed as the outsider, the foreigner in the Jackson Community, giving me a new understanding of the need to belong and to call someplace home. In an effort to create a sense of home/safety, I have found myself reaching out to people for reasons other than the typical, visible, surface reasons. Cristina my sister and fellow sojourner in this mission has become like a sister to me - A real place where I can share my frustrations, joys, and struggles. Our relationship came to be very organically, the fact that she is White, and Methodist has never been an issue. Our journey and our theological training have made us kin.

Surprisingly, those I felt most uncomfortable reaching out to in the beginning - the people who frequent the food pantry - have become my biggest supporters. One day I asked God what I should do to reach out to them, and the answer I received was, “ Pray with them.” I obeyed and my life and worldview will never be the same. There is something tremendously equalizing about praying with a person, eyes closed and heads bowed before the Lord. Clothes, education and life circumstances seem inconsequential. There you are, two souls seeking your mutual God. Not only does it equalize, but it unites so that when you open your eyes you no longer see class, or race, or whatever other societal construct that seeks to divide; you see your brother or sister trying to make something of this thing called life, just like you.

This transformation is powerful and inspiring and heartbreaking all at the same time because you know that you will never have all the answers or resources to bring all of God’s children into a place where they can thrive and where as the bible says “justice will roll down like a river,” but it certainly makes you want to try. Coming to the conclusion that people of the world are truly interconnected through energy, matter and love comforts you because you know that you are not alone in the world, no matter how far away from home you might be and that through your brothers and sisters you can in fact experience God . These realizations have confirmed in me a desire to be a part of the work of reconciliation both personally and vocationally. I want to preach it; I want to teach it; but most of all, I want to live it.

My mom said something to me today that I had heard before, but gave me pause today. "You don't get older on the inside," she said to me. What an interesting concept. Apparently, from the moment we are born our bodies rapidly change, beginning their decent into death. All the while our spirits, our souls, our conciousnesses come to a halt at about 30? Maybe 35. I must admit this sounds true. As 33 looms alarmingly close - I'm an August baby you know? I can't say that I feel a day over 27. Like my father, I think I might hang out here for the next 50 years.

The idea that one maintains the conciousness of the youthful version of themselves speaks to the fact that these bodies were are encased in are not the ultimate iteration of who we are. They are not our highest manifestation. It's interesting that we place so much emphasis on them as individuals and as a society - Perhaps because it's the only reality we know. The people with the pretty faces, and the pretty bodies get the red carpet treatment. Flowing hair, might get a woman a husband faster, while white skin in many cases will speed you to the front of the line. Though in this realm we are relegated to exsist in bodies, they are not the whole of who we are. In fact, they are so minute a part of who we are, that they are constantly transitioning from one state to the next. My 30's have brought on a slight gut whose name I do not know and don't care to. I'm serving it an eviction notice as soon as I can get out of Jackson.

Still there are the things we cannot change. Our knees get creaky, our hair falls out, sometimes sickness even comes to meddle in the happy little life our 27 year conciousnesses thought would last forever. Some bodies even have the audacity to give up prematurely and die!
But the beautiful things is that like us Christ has a body too. And one of the things that he showed us in his amazing sacrifice is that the body, no matter how beautiful, broken, or brusised is not the end of the story. He was a the very essence of God in flesh--embodied. We are the breath of God... embodied, simply a method to carry out love, work, and worship.

Somehow, like we as humans usually do, we got it all twisted up and bought the lie that this worldly and bodily reality is the only one we would ever know. Society had determined what color, shape and abilitities of bodies are of value and which ones are not. Forget what lies inside. So the round girls, and the black boys, and the blind adults, and the aging former beauties are no longer counted as worth much, while the very image of God slowly wilts for lack of nourishment.

What will it take for us to experience each other and ourselves spirit to spirit, heart to heart, soul to soul? When will we recongnize this is just a stop on our eternal journey and that who we are dwells deeply encased in these bodies that will infact pass away. What will happen when we do?