Monday, October 7, 2019
Things are heating up in Durham's City Council primary election. The attacks read like a battle for the soul of the city. It's a battle to unravel the meaning and significance of progressive identity.
For more details, go to Ade Toyesi Ibijok's (Nia Wilson) Facebook page and read the thread regarding an exchange involving a Facebook post of Mayor Pro Tem Jillian Johnson. Here’s a tease to get you started:
“All of y’all having a field day over on Jillian’s FB page about a man who was born and raised in Durham and has done more for his community than any of you could dream of... you liberal ass privilege and white supremacy is showing. You wonder why I said vote for Joshua Gunn cause he ain’t so arrogant as to post pictures of someone opposing his campaign and talk shit about them. Because he actually does believe in a “Durham for ALL” (ain’t that the name of your organization). Who’s trolling who here?”
A bit more:
“Let’s talk for a moment about power and why these posts and comments are such a problem. The same standards we hold police, who have the power to kill us to are the ones we hold elected officials, who have the power to create policies that can harm people who don’t agree with them to. Based on these posts, tell me why any marginalized group of people should trust you?”
There’s more about the spreading of an alleged lie that Jackie Wagstaff, another candidate for office, threated to bring a gun to city hall. My reporting concludes that’s fake news. Tension began to swell after Rodrigo Dorfman wrote an email addressing comments Wilson made at a People's Alliance endorsement meeting. Wilson and others contend Dorfman's critique exposes racism within Durham's white progressive community.
Why does this matter? Because it may speak to a myriad of issues involving assumptions of power, accountability and privilege. It may confront what happens when people of privilege (mostly white) show up to evaluate the political intentions of people outside their understanding of who has the right to speak and how they engage in that speech.
Johnson posting pictures of a person wearing a t-shirt and passing out flyers requesting people to “Vote No” for her and another candidate is problematic. Why? Because she is elected to serve the person wearing that shirt ,and creating space for others to chime in is reflective, on the surface, of the type of lampooning that makes it difficult to trust.
People championing Johnson's work and advocacy are correct to point to her being a black woman with a passion to curtail adding more police. She helped build Durham for All, a multiracial, cross-class progressive movement to impact local elections. Johnson is a strong proponent of criminal justice reform and creating affordable housing solutions to offset gentrification.
How does a black female credited with modeling support for progressive political agendas forfeit the support of black people most impacted by the type of disparity she addresses? The answer may be the result of discontent stirred by the vote of Johnson, Charlie Reece and Javiera Caballero against Police Chief C.J Davis's recommendation to include in the budget money to add 17 new officers. Johnson, Reece and Caballero solidified their position by running as a block in a campaign called Bull City Together.
Johnson's Facebook post is about how she responds to critics as a member of the Durham City Council. Citizens have the right to respond in ways that reflect their passion for what matters to them. This is about all of that.
But this also about the others on that thread who took time to take jabs at a man who works hard to get people engaged in the work of making his community better. Shame on all of you for spewing characterizations minimizing the integrity of his position.
This primary uncovers heighted resentment toward Johnson and others who claim standing and speaking on behalf of black and brown people. This is an election regarding the messaging of white progressives and how these points are perceived as “we know more than you. Sit down and shut up.” It also unveils resentment stirred when a black woman takes positions with white progressives against a black man who's doing heavy lifting.
It’s brutal out here.
Friday, October 4, 2019
I like hugs. They stir mushy feeling that help me make it through bad days. I’m not hating on hugs or the desire to cry in the arms of a woman convicted of killing your brother. It’s your thang, do what you wanna do.
I understand the urge to announce forgiveness. There’s a release budged by ending the ache of endless midnights with a confession to set the pain free. Be gone. I’m no longer chained by my desire to end your life.
I sort of get it. Naw. I don’t get it.
I can’t because I have never endured the death of a sibling at the hands of a police officer too tired to recognize the furniture in the room is not the same as the apartment they sleep in most nights. I have too many questions regarding who trained her, what she was smoking, drinking or what she was doing before she reached for her gun.
It’s not my brother who was killed leaving me free to speculate on why a brother would proclaim “I forgive you. I don’t want you to spend any time in jail.”
The wisdom of native Americans warns not to judge a person until they’ve walked two moons in their moccasins. I haven’t cried long enough to disparage 18-year-old Brandt Jean, Botham’s brother, to announce “I want the best for you.” Young Botham’s spiritual journey is a unique experience that led to his courtroom proclamation.
I understand spiritual journey. I understand confession, release and a big bag of other spiritual practices meant to help in confronting my relationship with the world. Doing this life thang ain’t easy for black folk living in America. Can I get two witnesses?
My experience, and yours, isn’t the same as brother Brandt’s spiritual journey. So, wagging this big middle finger at his confession seems cruel. Nonetheless, I’m wagging that finger. I affirm his journey and find significance in his desire to set Sister Guyger free after killing his brother. Thanks be to black Jesus and all the disciples for the faith to hug the woman who killed his brother. Again, do you. High fives. Go to the strong Christian line behind all the other martyrs. Put on that bleached robe and golden slippers, but I’m not there yet.
In fact, I’m not drinking the Kool Aid. I need new language to reflect on my relationship with Jesus and the Church. Drum up some updated language to convey the meaning of grace, mercy and forgiveness. Help me get to the shout after all that forgiving. Why? Because I’m still pondering what it all means after a series of black people dying at the hands of law enforcement officers devoid of a credible apology.
Show me yours before I show you mine.
There’s something about black people offering forgiveness to resolve white guilt. Is it valid to expect some forgiveness? I’m reminded of the roll call of black folks forgiving white people. I have no evidence of white folks doing the same. I have memories of black bodies left to bake in the sun while white people made excuses for why they pulled the trigger.
Maybe grace is the absence of a double-standard, but why is the forgiveness of white people always the standard. Maybe forgiveness is a colorblind solution to offset the burden of sin, but why are prisons packed with innocent black men and women sentenced for no reasons. When it comes to the assumptions of white Evangelical Christian theological thought, the need to extend forgiveness is what black people do.
Isn’t forgiveness what Christians do? Sounds reasonable to assert that as a fundamental statement of faith. There’s one problem with the thesis. Forgiveness is what black Christians do. From my vantage point, white people are slack in extending forgiveness.
I can affirm young Brandt’s spiritual witness. Maybe forgiveness is what he needs to live with all the pain. What about the rest of us? How do we survive with the expectation of forgiveness? What is left spiritually when there isn’t any forgiveness left to give?
Chest bump to those strong enough to give it. As for me, pass a bottle of whup ass. My tank is empty.
How about you?
Tuesday, September 17, 2019
[Sermon Carl W. Kenney II preached on Sunday, September 15, 2019 at Liberation Station, home of Underground Church in Durham, North Carolina.]
37 When he came near the place where the road goes down the Mount of Olives, the whole crowd of disciples began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen. “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”[a] “Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” 39 Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” 40 “I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” 41 As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it 42 and said, “If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes. 43 The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. 44 They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.”
I Don’t remember anything that preceded that moment. Not what I ate for breakfast. Not the color of my suit, shirt and tie or the music played before the interruption for an important announcement.
Everything seemed frozen in space after Tom Joyner announced a plane flew into the World Trade Center. I was waiting for the stop light to change from Red to green on the corner of Angier Avenue and Driver Street. The clock on my dashboard indicated it was 9:05 a.m. It was a Tuesday and the partly cloudy sky seemed to turn dark as soon as I heard the news.
I thought of the Gospels record of the moment Jesus took his last breath. Everything seemed to move in slow moment as I prayed it was a joke reminiscent of Arson Wells 1938 broadcast of War of the Worlds.
2,977 people died. 6,000 people were injured. Ten Billion dollars in infrastructure and property damage. It didn’t end there. Others have died of 911 related cancer and respiratory diseases since the attack.
That day changed America. America overthrew Iraqi President Saddam Hussein accusing him of developing weapons of mass destruction and harboring U.S. designated terrorist organization. Six trillion dollars was spent on a war. Around 500,000 people died.
What followed has been a series of cultural shifts that redefine what it means to be an American. Barack Obama was elected the first black President in the history of America inspired by the slogan YES, We CAN. His election was followed by the rise of the Tea Party an alt-right movement that covers what fells like white supremacist rhetoric.
The backlash from the Obama presidency cultivated the rise of Donald Trump and here we are. Understanding today from the context of our spirituality is helped by a critique of lessons learned from 911.
How does 911 help us in the development of work aimed at providing liberation?
I. Confusing Government for God
This scripture and point are what Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright, Jr. used in his now famous sermon where he used the catchphrase “God Damn America”. Many lost the point of Dr. Wright’s sermon due to a desire to use both the sermon and Dr. Wright’s theology to make a point that Obama is too radical for America
Dr. Wright’s points are critical in constructing lessons from 911. The prophet Jeremiah from Chicago helps us not to confuse government from God.
We’ve learned the military doesn’t make for peace. War does not lead to peace. Regime change does not lead to peace. Occupying another country does not lead to peace. Press conference declaring victory does not lead to peace. Colonizing a country does not lead to peace. Building walls does not lead to peace.
The desire for a new king is not a solution leading to peace. In today’s scripture, they wanted to make Jesus a King. In verse 44, Jesus says you did not recognize the time of the visitation from God. He is saying you did not recognize my ministry. You did not recognize my work. You are missing the meaning of my work. You missed what it takes to have peace. You miss the point of eternal power. You are missing the source of peace. You are looking for a man and miss the one the man represents.
You are trapped in a fascination for miracles. You desire sight for the blind. You seek healing for the sick. You’re fascinated and overjoyed with being fed in the wilderness. You came looking for a miracle and lost the meaning of the miracle. The miracles point to God who is greater than the limitations you seek to overcome.
The things that make for peace, only God can fix. The government can’t fix it. This is the seduction of oppression. Looking for the government to fix what only God can fix.
This is the mistake of black leadership, looking for another Martin to fix it. Looking for another black Messiah to lead the way to the Promised Land. Obama helped, but he couldn’t fix it. Getting new leadership helps, but the government isn’t God.
This is the mistake we make when we say God condones the killing of innocent men, women and children. This is the mistake we make when we justify the death of civilians as collateral damage. This is the mistake of blessing pre-emptive strike in the name of Jesus. This is the mistake of blessing what we do in the name of Jesus while condoning Al-Qaida for doing the same thing. This is the mistake of celebrating the deaths of thousands of men, women and children by drones during the Obama Administration because they called on the name of a different God. This is the mistake of calling on God to bless America and kill everyone else. It’s what happens when you make them into an enemy while using God as an endorsement.
This is confusing God with government. It’s what happens when you teach children America is the Promised Land given by God. It’s America’s manifest destiny. It’s God’s will to destroy all enemies. It’s what happens when we teach people God ordered the deaths of native Americans. Confusing God with government is teaching God ordered the enslavement of black people because white people are superior. It’s why the constitution fails to hold truths for black people and women. The founder fathers didn’t believe they are created equal.
Confusing government and God endorse segregation. It means God approves of less than 10 percent of people controlling 90 percent of the world’s resources. It approves tax breaks for the rich. Men denying women the right to choose what they do with their bodies. Confusing government for God justifies pulling out of the Geneva agreement. It believes there is no global warming. It endorses capital punishment in the face of evidence proving innocence. Confusing government and God protect oil companies. If gives a political party the power to gerrymander black people out of power. It makes government a replacement for God by giving power to a few and denying the Constitutional rights of others. It rejects freedom of speech. It denies freedom of the press. It gives power to kill with no justice.
God is about truth. God is about justice. Governments offer justice for the wealthy. Governments deceive. Governments destroy lives. Governments steal power. Governments change. This is not the government of Barack Obama. This is a more dishonest government. This is a government managed by twitter. This is a government compromised by foreign intrusion. This is a different type of government. Thank God governments change.
State government will soon change.
Local government will soon change.
Public policies change.
The impact of oppression changes.
God told pharaoh, let my people go.
Oppression changes with changes in leadership
The Supreme Court changes.
Presidents change. Thank God for change
Jim and Jane Crow change.
Elections have been stolen, but change will come.
Governments change, but God doesn’t change.
God has always been against slavery. God is the same yesterday, today and forever. God has not changed. God has always been a God of justice. God has always been a God of peace.
911 has taught us a lesson involving the consequence of confusing government and God. It’s the danger of trusting the role of government more than the will of God.
II. Walls built to keep people out, keep us trapped within
43 The days will come upon you when your enemies will build an embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side. 44 They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls. They will not leave one stone on another, because you did not recognize the time of God’s coming to you.” Luke 19:37-44
They will build walls and hem you on every side. They will force you on the ground. They will arrest you and place you and your children on the other side of the wall.
Walls are built to keep people out. The Great Wall of China was built to keep out the invading hordes of Genghis Khan. It stretches 6,700 kilometers over the Chinese frontier. It has stood for over 2000 years and is the symbol of a nations desire to be safe. It’s a symbol of strength. It’s a psychological barrier to repel outside influences.
The Berlin Wall divided Berlin physically and ideologically from 1961 to 1989. Its separate West Berlin from East Germany. It included guard towers placed along large concrete walls with and area that contained anti-vehicle trenches. The Eastern bloc portrayed the wall as a protection for the people against fascist elements conspiring to prevent the will of the people in building a socialist state.
The wall was built to keep people out. It was built to control people. The wall is like a prison. It kept people from getting in.
Walls also keep people locked into believing they have all they need. Walls keep people from visiting family members. They restrict the natural activity of families and friends. They stir the type of nationalism that takes ownership of land and grants governments the right to control the flow of love between mothers, fathers and their children.
Walls feed suspicion and distrust, hatred and hostility. At the Berlin Wall, East German guards would watch with keen eyes both sides of the wall making certain that no one came in or out. Many people were killed trying to escape East Germany. And where their bodies fell, West Germans would erect crosses as a reminder and open defiance of the East German guards.
Walls are constructed to restrict the movement of love.
People rejoiced when the Berlin Wall was dismantled in 1989. West Germans were reunited with East Germans to become one Germany after 45 years of painful division. But when the wall came down, I believe the Germans discovered an invisible wall that was even more difficult to tear down.
There were two cultures at odds: one of an oppressed people, the other free-thinking and prosperous. East Germans may have felt like 2nd class citizens, charity cases for the West, while the West may have felt resentment at having to support their poor brothers. It was a new kind of hostility still experienced today.
Some walls are built with concrete. Others are built with indifference. 911 exposed the walls that divide America followed by the call to build a wall limiting movement at the border. 911 exposed a spiritual division based on ignorance.
Walls are being built to keep love out.
III. 911 taught us there is something deeper than our hate.
For some it was a patriotism that stirred a will to pull neighbors from the pile destruction. We witnessed first responders walk into the valley of death and fear no evil. Many died. Some survived with disabilities. It was a few days of unity.
911 taught us what we can be. We saw it again with Katrina. In the muck of national hypocrisy, we saw people come together. Tragedy can do that. The best of the human spirit often comes in seasons of death. Tragedy can do that. Tragedy removes the lens that sees race as a barrier. Tragedy does that.
It softens the heart. It stirs the will to love. It activates the desire for change.
The death of more than 200,00 people in 2010 Earthquake in Haiti did that.
The Tsunami in Thailand did that.
Tragedies moves us closer to the heart of God by revealing what we couldn’t see.
911 is an example of what we can be.
The lesson is about what we can be when governments don’t get in the way. Governments enact policies. Governments begin wars. Governments alter the truth. Governments still elections.
911 teaches us another lesson. People are created with goodness. Tragedy brings it out. 911 helps us see the goodness. It’s there. It’s deep in our spirits. It desires to come out. It seeks places to make a difference.
911 teaches us a lesson about what the government can take away. Its what power does. It fights to maintain control. It places people on the other side of the wall. It locks up children. It denies justice.
911 teaches us about the evil of politics. They nominate sexual abusive men for powerful positions. They steal elections. They establish double standards. They use trickery to maintain power. 911 is a lesson about deception.
But give people a chance to love. This is the work of the church
We are better than this. We don’t have to bow to these golden images.
911 Teaches us about the role of the Church as a counter voice attacking forces of institutionalized evil. The Church is the prophetic voice disputing massive waves of indifference. The Church says no to policies aimed at demonizing people while justifying the right to kill. The Church is the spiritual heartbeat of the world. We stand, as faith communities in opposition to efforts designed to separate we from them with the Bible as our witness.
911 helps us look back. Look at what we have become. The aftermath of 911 is what happens when spirit is removed from the work of faith. This is what happens when we worship our national sentiments more than our common bonds. This is what happens when we make God an American citizen and those on the other side of the border demons. This is what happens when race is used to deny support.
This is the evil of relegating the humanity of those people. Those dark skinned people. those people from S-hole countries who seek to enter America. This is the lesson of 911. Build walls. Make the Republican Party a new type of religion. Make America white again by denying justice to all of those other people.
But, there is good news. The Good News is we're still here. A remnant. A people called by God to disrupt their plan. Called to dispute the plan toreplace God with a remade version of the way things were back in days when being a white man was the best of days.
We, the Church, are God's plan of inclusion.
We, the Church, are God's plan of equity and justice
We, the Church, are God's plan to elevate lessons from our mistakes
We, people of all types of faith, are called to teach a different lesson.
It's a lesson about peace, real peace. Justice, real justice, hope, real hope.
We, the people, teach lessons about why we vote. Why we march. Why we fight for justice. Why it matters. Why we can't give up. Never. No way. We shall not be moved. My feet may be weary. My spirit has been damaged by the ongoing confrontation with the evil assuming a place of power.
But, I hear the voice of God
Keep hope alive.
Yes, we can.
Trouble in my way, I got to cry sometime.
Weeping may endure for the night. 911 was a dark night.
But, joy, God's joy. Comes in the morning.
Monday, September 2, 2019
Carl W. Kenney II preached this sermon on Sunday, September 1, 2019 at Liberation Station, home of Underground Church.
I Kings 19:3-7
3 Elijah was afraid and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there,
4 while he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness. He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, LORD,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.”
5 Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep. All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.”
6 He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again.
7 The angel of the LORD came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.
Protest defines what it means to be an American. Since the beginning of the incorporation of America’s Constitution, and even before that, participating in this experiment we call freedom has been measured by efforts to redefine what that means. Freedom is marked by the people holding pride in the claims of our creeds.
God bless America is the song of white supremacy and male domination. The reality of what it means to be an American is not what we read in history books, it’s the determination of the people screaming from the underbelly of America’s nightmarish truth.
It’s black people still seeking equity. Its women yelling Me TOO. It’s native Americans still crying a trail of tears. Its poor people robbed by corporate corruption. It’s the post traumatic stress of the men and women who fought for a version of democracy in wars exposing America’s greed.
America’s history is about the battles to stop the insane ways of people determined to maintain status quos. Almost everyone has a battle. Our battles expose the absence of a clear national identity outside of a desire to be free.
Be it Black Lives Matter, Me Too, Workers Rights, Safe the Earth or another agenda – fighting is America’s DNA.
It comes with a price. It takes a toil on our emotions. It brews in our belly like lava preparing to erupt. It robs us of the will to rest. It keeps us trapped in a cycle of proving points, overcoming assumptions, slaying intolerant opinions, feuding to offset complicit agendas, avoiding attacks of misinformed people, challenging policies attacking the dignity of some people, attacking interpretations of scripture.
We keep fighting. On social media, we fight
On the job, we fight
We fight in our sleep.
Fighting is the nightmare that supplants the American dream.
The American way is conversations about systems and policies, strategies for winning sustainable change. The work is about taking it to the streets and plans to unseat politicians.
This work robs us of joy. It keeps us stuck in mental and emotional hardship of the work. It intensifies stress and leads to depression. It makes it hard to get out of bed to face what’s waiting in these streets.
It’s hard to keep moving when the work never seems to be enough. One victory is followed by a reminder of more to be done. There’s no time to celebrate. The enemies of peace keep coming.
This is the lesson of the Prophet Elijah. After the victory of Mt. Carmel, he’s forced to come down. He faced a massive confrontation with the prophets of Baal. After a pivotal moment in which the faith of his tradition was pitted against the faith of fertility worship. He comes down from the mountain.
He had the people place a bull on wood to be sacrificed. The prophets of Baal did the same. He called on his God. They called on their God. It was a show of power. Who has the power? The priest of Baal called on their God. Elijah called on his God.
We know this challenge. My god is bigger than your God. My candidate is better than yours. My way is better. Let’s fight.
Elijah won the battle, but the fight continues.
Black people won the right for public accommodation, but the fight for voting protection continues. Women won the right to vote, but the right for equal pay continues. Each win is followed by an enduring reality. Each victory is followed by new truths.
The enemies of peace don’t give up. The death of Michael Brown was followed by others. It felt like it was happening every day. The story of a sexually assaulted woman was followed by others. It felt like every woman has a me-too story.
It’s too much to take. It eats our joy like a parasite inhabiting our intestine. Little by little, day by day – our will to fight fades.
After King Ahad tells his wife Jezebel Elijah killed her prophets, she sends Elijah a message. She plans to kill him. He runs. He ran for a day. He left his friend Elisha in Beersheda. He left his support system. He left his prayer partner and ran some more. He ran into the wilderness to hide. He ran until he found a broom bush.
Then he prayed. He didn’t pray for strength. He didn’t pray for support. He didn’t pray for courage. He prayed to die.
His joy is gone. His hope is lost. His faith has vanished. His will to live has evaporated.
This reads like depression. This reads like a man in need of therapy, but where can he get help. You can’t get help while running away. You can’t get help while avoiding the situation. You can’t find a solution when fear has you running away from the support you need.
Let’s not judge Elijah. Most of us have been there. Most of us have felt like ending life because of the fear chasing us. Anyone who has worked hard to make a difference knows the pain stirred by the consequences of activism. Most of you know how much it hurts when someone wants payback after you do the right thing.
This is what depression feels like. Sometimes praying isn’t enough. Sometimes our faith isn’t enough. Sometimes our reliance on scriptures to help isn’t enough.
Sometimes you need therapy.
Sometimes you need medication.
In some cases, it may be related to mental illness.
This is not an indication of weakness. This is a lesson involving the limits of human strength. This is what happens among people fighting for justice. It’s a lesson about self-care. It’s a lesson about the danger of embracing a superhuman persona. We have limits. We have fears. Sometimes we run alone. Sometimes we run to places no one else can go. Sometimes we cry for God to end it all because there seems to be no escape.
What do you do when the misery fuels the blues?
How do you keep moving when your feet are glued to disappointment?
What does it take to get your joy back?
I. Remember why you do it.
This is a point that separates the people who do it for attention from the people who act of a sense of calling. A call is a continuing response to a transformative moment. Something happens to change perspective. Something happens to make it difficult to go back to that former place. A call is a response to the urge to participate in the making of a solution. It’s a place of vulnerability. It exposes a variety of weaknesses. A call is about the unknown within the context of brutal opposition.
A call knows what should be. A call accepts the possibility of unfulfilled dreams
It may never get better, but you have to try
They may never listen, but you have to speak
They may never see you, but you have to keep marching
A call forces continued movement. You can’t stop because something happened.
Each of us enter from different places. What you’ve seen may be different from what I’ve seen.
I’ve seen extreme poverty. I’ve seen women beaten by lovers. I’ve seen the impact of addiction. I’ve identified bodies of murder victims. I’ve seen children cry because of the death of a parent. I’ve seen the torment caused by cancer and other diseases. I’ve heard the moans of people suffering from mental illness.
More than that, there’s what I’ve experienced.
I’ve experienced relationships tarnished because I’m a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I’ve experienced the challenges of overcoming substance abuse. I’ve reaped the rage of church folk who use scriptures to discount the integrity of my witness. I’ve cried through numerous nights because of a woman’s decision to love someone more than my love to defeat.
I know the life of frustration. I know the pain of being misunderstood. I know what it feels like to ask God to stop it. Make it go away. I know midnights agony in the face deep loneliness.
It’s the mark of a calling. It’s way those called keep coming back after the attention fades. It’s why you keep doing it when there isn’t enough money to pay your bills. It’s why you keep showing up after a devil wins an election. You can’t give up. No matter what happens. Another sexist Supreme Court Justice. Another public policy aimed at keeping women barefoot and pregnant. Another homophobic policy. More racist rhetoric.
We know the moan of disappointment, but we are called to do this. Cry. Get it out, but evil can’t win.
II. Keep moving.
I recommend time for self-care. When joy is lost, find a place recover. Give yourself permission to run to the hills, your help is up there. Go to a beach and wade in the water. Find a book club. Get a massage. Make love. Cry in the arms of a person you trust. Share your story. Rest. Rest.
Resting is not a lack of movement. It’s a different type of progress. Rest is a form of sabbath. Sabbath involves trust beyond the known.
Sabbath is trust in provision beyond what we control. It’s faith in a power beyond what we know. Rest is movement. It’s inward movement. It’s healing movement. It’s giving the burden to a God beyond our understanding. It acknowledges what we don’t know. What we can’t fix. It embraces the grace of limits.
Not my will, your will. Not my way, your way. Not my strength, your strength. Not my influence, your influence.
Rest is the movement of God’s activity when we lack the will to move. This is what Elijah does. Preachers have used this scripture as a model of weakness. It’s used as an example of what not to do. It used as an example of depression rooted in emotional weakness. It makes depression something we pray through. Depression is viewed as the counter to spiritual strength.
God is in this moment. Elijah’s depression doesn’t isolate him from God. God is there. God is patient. God speaks to the prophet. God eases him through a process of healing. He gets there slowly. By moving, from one place to another, until he hears God speak within his depression.
Not in the mighty wind. Not in the earthquake. Not in the fire. God speaks in a still small voice.
He challenges Elijah to keep moving. Eat. Live. Move. Trust. Listen. Patiently, God supports the prophet and speaks.
God speaks to you.
Maybe not through a powerful sermon. Maybe not through the opening of the heavens and a declaration through the witness of a thunderous voice. God speaks, softly. God speaks, throughout the journey.
III. You are not alone
Loneliness is what this work creates. Loneliness is what fear creates. It’s what happens when you feel chased. It’s comes with disappointment. It’s what isolation brews.
Elijah leaves Elisha behind to go deeper into self-pity. It’s only me. No one else understands. I must suffer the consequences alone.
Depression traps us in an analysis of self-reflection. Thoughts of others happens within the context of how our mess impacts them. I have to protect my children. I have to consider how my actions impacts the work. My shortcomings destroy the credibility of the work.
Not true. False assumption. It’s not just you.
Go back. There are others waiting who feel the same way. Go back to your support group. Others are depressed. You need each other.
Monday, August 26, 2019
(Carl W. Kenney preached this sermon on Sunday, September 25, 2019 at Liberation Station, home of Underground Church. It was the 40th anniversary of his initial sermon)
“21From that time on Jesus began to explain to his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and suffer many things at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life. 22Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. "Never, LORD!" he said. "This shall never happen to you!" 23Jesus turned and said to Peter, "Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely human concerns." 24Then Jesus said to his disciples, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:21-24)
This scripture represents a radical shift in the teaching and focus of Jesus. It challenged the assumption of his followers. It turned their attention away from the privileges of being associated with Jesus to the responsibilities that come with being a follower.
He offers hope for the poor. He looks at a crowd of frustrated people and calls them blessed. He tells them the poor are blessed rather than cursed by things they find hard to control. He shifts conversations involving privileged by informing them last shall be first.
He challenges assumptions of power with parables regarding the least among these. He confronts religious leaders. He violates customs by touching lepers and a woman with a serious bleeding condition.
He refutes the political elite with words involving a new type of Queendom
He restores sight to the blind and heals a variety of other conditions. He redefines inclusion. He respects women and affirms foreigners.
He doesn’t blame people for not having enough but encourages us to take care of strangers. He feeds them. He has compassion and redefines the boundaries of love.
it’s easy to follow Jesus until he changes the focus of his ministry.
The disciples of Jesus are excited.
They have a front seat
They are witnesses to the miracle of his work
They are the recipients to his transformative teachings.
Their lives are changed by the witness of his work. There’s no reason not to follow Jesus. the future looks bright. Thee madness will soon stop. They will soon enter Jerusalem where the momentum will increase. Taxes will be lowered. They will have their own king. The hypocrisy that ruled the religious system will be changed. They were excited until Jesus shifted everything with a question
It’s the same questions we are forced to answer. It’s relevant in helping us understand why we follow Jesus. What is it we seek to gain from his work and teachings?
Who do they say I am?
It’s a complicated question. It’s a question rooted in years of theological and historical interpretation related to the meaning and significance of their national identity.
it’s a question about power
it’s a question about who has the right to control others.
What do other people think about his work? What is their understanding of his teachings? How do they interpret all of it?
these are questions regarding the usage of his teaching. how can we use his power? how can we shift power in our direction.
Some say you are a prophet. Some say you are the Messiah. Some say you’re like John the Baptist.
There are numerous interpretations. What do you say? What do you think?
You are the Messiah, Peter says. You are the Promised One. The one to teach us about our ongoing role as a nation. Teach us what it means to participate in a world created to reflect God’s will. teach us how to use your power
Good Job Peter. Now that you know that, there’s more. There’s more you must see. Teaching you what it means to live together means I must show you more about what that means.
I must die. I will be crucified.
Peter’s response exposes our hesitation in moving away from the Good News.
The Good News of his teaching
The Good news of changed lives
The good news of healing
Peter’s interpretation of the Good news is the story of restored personal relationship with God. He understood the work of Jesus to place him and others in position to rule over others.
Peter wanted a new type of queendom
A kingdom like king David’s
a kingdom were men ruled
a kingdom with power in the hands of a select few
a kingdom defined by control over others
a kingdom with a military to protect an agenda.
Peter says no to Jesus’ shifted message. The new message involves the ongoing presence of evil.
it’s not all good news.
the shifted message involves bad news.
it’s a message involving Jesus’ personal struggles to maintain life due to his message. It's a message regarding what happens to people who speak on behalf oppressed people. What happens when you shift from talk about the benefits to emphasize the pain?
It’s a message about the dark side of life.
The dark side is the death of Z’yon Person and other children killed in the mean streets. The shifted focus forces us to examine all of the deaths. Today marks the anniversary of the eulogy of mike brown of Ferguson, Mo
400 years ago, kidnapped Africans landed in Hampton, Virginia to begin the business of legal slavery. Jesus begins a new conversation about the bad news. in lifting the new emphasis, he is forcing a decision on the part of his disciples. it’s the same decision we are making today.
WHAT IS THE DECISION WE MAKE IN CONFRONTING THE SHIFT FROM THE GOOD NEWS TO THE ONGOING NARRATIVE OF THIS WORLD’S BAD NEWS?
I. The shift from celebration to death exposes the dark side
This is who we are. This is what people do. As much as we’d like to focus on the good humans do, there’s the dark side. As much as we hate the dark side. It’s always there. It’s there constantly reminding us of what can happen in a twinkling of an eye. It happens when we least expect it. It happens to remind us of the things we can’t control.
The death of Jesus is a reminder. It’s not a Good Friday. It’s a gloomy night. Another innocent person convicted. Another unnecessary execution. Another misunderstood person killed because of an unwillingness to fit in.
The death of Jesus uncovers the dark side.
The side that killed J’yon Person, here in Durham
The dark side was exposed on Friday in St. Louis where an 8-year-old girl was killed.
Over 250 mass shootings in America this year
Over 30 in Durham this year.
Is this the lesson of Jesus shifting the conversation from his work as a healer, teacher and prophet to talk about his own death? Do we need his tragic story to remind us not to get stuck in the holy dance while surrounded by all this darkness? Is it a challenge not to allow privilege to conceal the rest?
People can’t pretend it’s not there with sermons about the bright side of heaven and no tears and sorrow.
Peter says you can’t die. You have to preach Good news. Jesus says open your eyes to the other side.
The side where children die
The side where hate attacks innocence and destroys the Utopic vision for America. The side that used black people to make white people rich. The side that stole land from native Americans and robbed black people in Mississippi of more than 7 billion dollars’ worth of property.
the dark side using government to promote the agenda of a few
this is the dark side
the side were scriptures are used to elect a president
the side were hypocrisy show up to defend the biases of some men, some white people and people intoxicated by power
Is the death of Jesus there to remind us of things beyond our selfish intentions?
This is who we are.
this is who we have always been.
this is America’s story
Not all of us, but enough to challenge the good news
Not all the time, but often enough to force a stoppage of our praise.
Jesus forces a decision
We can pretend none of it is real
Or we can face the violence of his death
We can sing Hosanna on the way to victory.
That’s what the followers of Jesus did when he entered Jerusalem
They shouted Hosanna, Hosanna
Jesus stopped them to talk about death.
To remind them of the dark side
II. Shifting from the good news forces a response to violent death
Begin by rejecting the assumption that it doesn’t impact us
It’s easy to distance ourselves from violent death. We can easily make it about those people.
It’s what black people do.
It’s what poor people do
It’s a function of having bad parents
There’s a vast distance between them and us and religion defines the dark side of crime
crime is a construction of their sin.
The death of Jesus forces a different conversation.
His life and faith aren’t enough to shield Jesus from the dark side.
Going to Sunday School isn’t enough.Attending Church every Sunday isn’t enough. Placing our children in private schools where the day begins with prayer isn’t enough. Not listening to hip-hop won’t help
The pain will find us
When it happens, we have to stop the processional of praise to feel the pain cause by another child’s death
It matters that congregations care
It matters that we her sermons about the dark side
It matters that we do more than pray
It matters that we consider how faith culture impacts how we feel.
Jesus shifts the conversation from the good news to violent death to teach critical lessons about religion. We are not better than the victims of violence. We should avoid building walls to protect us from them.
It’s time to listen and learn.
It’s time to move beyond the comforts of culture
We can learn from others.
We overcome divisions created by cultural differences by participating in A life of consistent presence
When a child dies…our work is to be present
When any person is killed, our work is to listen
Our work is not to judge
Our work is not to remain locked in our churches to pray
Our work is to walk with them
Cry with them
Press the age-old questions…why Lord…how lord. When lord
Our role is not to hide
or to Take comfort that it’s not me and my family
Our work is to engage beyond the celebration of the life and witness of the good news. it’s to be present within all of the bad news
III. Death demands a revised ending
The joy of the Christian story is the ending. Bad Friday is renamed Good Friday because of what happens on Sunday morning. The gift of the Christian message is trouble don’t last always.
Joy comes in the morning.
It’s what gives us strength.
It’s what helped the ancestors press forward during the heat of enslavement.
Yes, they were brought to the Americas 400 years ago on this day. It’s a horrible story.
Some didn’t make it.
Some jumped overboard during the middle passage.
Some would rather to be buried in a grave than be a slave.
Some ran in the direction of the North Star.
Some sought freedom
Some were lynched due to their disobedience
Some witnessed burning crosses upon fighting for equal treatment
It’s the dark side of the story.
Some never had a chance to revise the ending.
The descendants of slaves have a revised ending
We can shout today
We can sing new songs because we walk in the victory of our ancestors’ dreams
Its why some come to church.
But, not far away.
Within a few steps from this building
The blood of murder victims still stains the ground.
Not far away
The tears of hurting parents form puddles where the bad news first came
There’s pain in these streets.
Every death deserves a revised ending
The story of a resurrection
The story of good news
The story of dreams fulfilled
The story of victory secure.
Where is the revised ending for J’yon and his family?
What can we do to revise the ending of Shaquana Atwater, a 4-year-old killed in Few Gardens back in 1994?
The blood of murder victims continues to speak in Durham’s streets
How do we revise the ending?
What do we pray?
What do we say?
What can we do to revise the ending to all this bad news?
I begin by say, enough is enough
I begin by standing with victims