Did you know that the birthplace of prejudice is storytelling? I learned that while I was reporting a story and interviewed the founder of the Equal Justice Initiative. I had never thought about it that way, but it’s true. We tell ourselves stories about each other all the time: All black people are this, all white people are that, all Christians, all Jews, all Republicans, all Democrats . . .
That conversation made me seriously examine the stories in my own mind, past and present. Once we create or embrace a negative story about ANYBODY, it becomes dangerously easy to hate them, or at the very least, to think they don’t deserve the same consideration that we do. That’s especially true if we’re open only to ideas that match our own and to people who look and sound like us.
Yesterday, a man opened fire in a synagogue, apparently because he hates Jews. And a Jewish friend of mine said she doesn’t feel safe in her own country.
Every morning, while Dave sleeps and Cheeto eats and I have my first cup of coffee, I get online to read Facebook and several news sites—everything from The Washington Post and the BBC to AL.com. I think I need to stop doing that. It’s so depressing—and completely overwhelming, especially when we take the trials of The Big World and add our own personal losses—moments of grief, sorrow, and disappointment
I have to constantly remind myself of what Christ told His disciples: “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
The NIV translates “be of good cheer” as “take heart.” I love that verse. It’s a divine everything’s going to be okay in the end—no matter how it looks right now.
To believe that, you have to believe in the power of love—the hard kind, the unconditional kind, the kind that comes only from God. And I do believe in it. I have my moments—of doubt and fear and “how can God possibly love me as many times as I’ve stumbled and rebelled and made absolutely shameful choices.” But the Bible says He can. And through the grace of Christ, we can access that love and share it. That’s the greatness of God.
I’m sending out a passage from my mother’s favorite Scripture, with love, to some sister cousins who are grieving right now.
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Psalm 121: 1-3
Sometimes I think life is a daily battle between doing what everybody else wants you to do, or doing what you know, in your heart of hearts, you have to do if you’re going to be true to yourself. Maybe you can reconcile the two; maybe you can’t. Hard choices follow.
I’ve been inspired lately by the Secret Sisters—actual sisters Laura and Lydia Rogers from Alabama—whose harmony is unlike anything I’ve heard this side of the Carter Family. The duo saw rocket-launch success when they first started, but when their second record didn’t meet sales expectations, they were summarily dropped from their record label and almost had to declare bankruptcy. With help from fellow artists who believed in them, they came back and made a third record, You Don’t Own Me Anymore, which is one of the most amazing song collections I’ve heard in a long, long time. You can read their whole story here: Secret Sisters Story
You don’t have to be an artist to find yourself in a situation where other people want to put you in a box. It even happened to Christ—quite a bit actually. How often did He hear, essentially, “Who ARE you? Are you a teacher, a prophet—we need a label because you’re making us uncomfortable.”
It’s human nature, I guess. We try to file each other away into manageable compartments so we can deal with everything that’s coming at us. But we all have layers. None of us fits neatly into a manila folder. Sooner or later, we’ll feel crowded in there and come tumbling out.
I just had an opportunity to write a Southern Living story that’s unlike anything I’ve ever done. (Jury’s still out on whether the editors love it or hate it. I might go running for cover in my manila folder before it’s over with.) It was a hard story to write but I really wanted to try, and I’m thankful the magazine gave me a shot at it. There was a time when I probably would have said to myself—without anybody else throwing doubt—“That’s not what you do.” But I grew more from that story than anything I’ve done in a long time. (Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? I think I just called myself an old dog.)
My prayer for you, this Sunday morning, is the faith and courage to follow your path.
Why is it so hard to rest? I'm not talking about squeezing in a little sleep at the end of a long day or giving yourself 10 minutes to enjoy your morning coffee while you start mentally calculating all the things you need to get done before you sleep again. I'm talking about real rest—the kind where you forget your to-do list and your in-box altogether and give yourself permission to watch the seagulls do what seagulls do, for no particular reason.
Dave and I are on the last day of a much-needed—no, desperately needed—vacation. And we both arrived in Mississippi exhausted. We come to Cruisin’ the Coast—a ginormous vintage car show/cruise—every year, and normally we both have a list of have-to’s: He has to at least drive through all of the show sites; I have to make it to Bay St. Louis and Ocean Springs, which are on opposite ends of the coast and require navigating through unbelievable traffic; we have to do this and we have to do that.
This year, we were just too tired. So we threw out our have-to list. We went to one show site. We spent almost no time in traffic. We watched all the cars go by from the balcony of our hotel room, which had dual views—cars to the left, Gulf to the right. We cooked the food we brought when we felt like it and walked to restaurants when we didn’t. I walked on the beach. He napped. We rested.
People often quote the shoulds and the should-nots in Scripture, but the Bible also addresses basic human needs. From the very beginning—Genesis—there’s a day of rest. There are mentions in the New Testament of Christ making time to get away from the crowds and rest. It’s important, but when I’m not on vacation, I tend to treat rest like a luxury—something I’m getting away with. I’m being lazy and unproductive. But that’s not true. Rest isn’t a luxury but a very real human need, just like the air we breathe and the water we drink.
Maybe I should be packing. But I really need to rest.
Come On In And Meet Everybody I come from a long line of feisty Southern women—women with wit and wisdom, faith and strength.