Martin Luther King, Jr. was not celebrated in my home. He was not one of my “heroes” growing up. But somehow I knew that, even though his whole life might not be one to be glorified, he was a man of conviction. He was a man with a cause that he believed in and was willing to die for. And I recognized that there were not a lot of men who were willing to lead in that way…on the front lines without a bullet-proof vest or a gun, so to speak. He used words and action and passion. If only we had more faith-filled men like that today – leading the charge against pornography, and abortion, and human trafficking, and human injustice of every sort. I am not talking about standing on a corner with a sign, or bombing clinics, or disregarding life with reciprocal acts of hatred and violence. I am talking about being willing to speak and to walk in a way that clearly defines right from wrong fully knowing that there may be a high price to pay.
I am trying to live that way. I am trying to walk in the way that I believe. As I get older, I find that I trust God’s sovereignty more. The more I believe that He is in control of my life, the more that frees me to take the risks that He calls me to. But even as a school-aged child on the battlefield called the playground, there was some of that running through my veins. I wasn’t afraid to take a stand with my actions. I am grateful that God tilled that piece of land inside of me. He did not let my heart become hard and hateful. He brought people in and out of my life to remind me that He was not a respecter of persons; that His love does not limit itself to one nation or race of people. In fact, He is still doing this in my life. Sometimes as He is working the soil, He hits upon a deep and intertwined root. He gently (okay, sometimes not so gently) helps me pull it out and realign my heartbeat with His.
I live in a place called Clarkston, GA. I live out Martin’s dream “on the red hills of Georgia”. I live out the dream near the base of Georgia’s Stone Mountain. Here I live among people of every nation. We get to stand together in worship. We get to walk together on our streets. I cannot say that we are treated equally – not yet. But I can say that we are working toward that “beautiful symphony of brotherhood”. I have a hope (a dream) that MY grandchildren will lead the way in their generation. You see, my grandchildren are multi-racial. I want them to recognize that not only are THEY “free at last”, but that they have the responsibility and privilege to see others find that same freedom they came to America to attain.
I take my grandchildren with me as I walk side-by-side with the people here. They are timid at first. But they are children and this means that they only have the biases that we instill in them. So as I watch the shyness fade away into the joy of play, I watch the fear and intolerance of ignorance fade from view. I have a great hope that my grandchildren will not “judge people by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character”. My part in this picture is small. I will never be immortalized for taking my grandchildren out of their comfort zone. But I choose to make my mark on their lives in this way. And if God calls me to something bigger, I am willing.
*NOTE: Back in 1992 when the riots broke out in Los Angeles, Geoff and I penned the words to a song called “The Rivers Run”. Much of the lyric was born out of my thoughts that there were no leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr. to step up and speak in a time when we needed a sane voice. I will include a tab at the top of the page if you would like to read that lyric. And if the lyric makes you want to hear the music, you can leave a comment below to let me know or leave me a message on facebook.