I usually don’t discuss race. It makes me freakin’ uncomfortable.
Though I was born in Monroe, Louisiana, I was raised in Mississippi.
Mississippi. The one place that people just automatically assume is off the bat racist. And I’m not saying that statement is false, I’m just saying it was not my daily experience.
I think the one time I ever really thought about Mississippi being racist was once when I was younger. I was watching the news and I saw the Klan gathering and marching. I have no recollection of why they were marching and I don’t even remember the story reported. I just remember seeing a bunch of white hooded males on tv and thinking, “I thought this stuff was dead? People still believe in this and participate in this?”
Yeah, I sometimes am very detached from reality, yet I’m trying to do better.
To be honest, unless something impacts my world directly, I don’t really stop to think of how a person may feel when they find out that their loved one was gunned down. I don’t really take into account how often a police officer gets trigger happy. I just pray for that person and their family and try to push forward with life.
I don’t think I have that luxury anymore.
You see, I have a little 11 year old black boy, who in my eyes is still my baby. My pook, my Ethan. Yes, his shoulders are getting broad, his hair is grown all out, and one day his voice won’t sound so little to me anymore. To me, he is my little boy, but to others, he may be seen as a potential threat.
Please feel my heart. I don’t ever want to bash police officers. I believe in their fight to serve and protect. I believe a good police officer truly wants to help keep us all safe. And I know that not all officers are bad. Just like there are good and bad people in the world (no matter their profession), there are good and bad cops and we can’t lump everyone in the bad bunch.
But I have to be honest. I get scared. Scared for my dad, my brother, my son. I even get scared for my mom and sister. I tense up when I see a police car nearby. I fear that one day I may receive a knock on my door with someone facing me and telling me that my loved one is no longer here because someone decided to take a gun and end their life.
That would break my heart. That would shatter my world. That would hurt and I don’t even want to imagine that pain.
I want to live in a world that is safe for my son. I want to live in a world where I’m not nervous about being pulled over for a minor traffic violation.
I want to live in a world where my son can play at the park and come home to me safely… a world where I’m not worried that someone considers him being suspicious or sketchy or even mistaken for being a grown man when he is most definitely not.
I want to live in world where I don’t pop off at Ethan for talking back out of fear that his mouth may one day get him behind bars or worse, gone from me too soon.
Yes, I can’t live in a bubble anymore.
I am not saying that I am going to be some social justice warrior or anything. I am not saying that I’m going to attend a protest of some sort tomorrow. What I am saying is that I can’t have my head in the ground, while the world is hurting. I can’t sit back and hope nothing ever happens to me or my family. I have to speak up. I have to make my feelings known. I have to be upfront about my fears and worries. I have to petition to God for change to come.
I can only imagine how God feels about what is going on with our nation. I’m almost sure that all the injustice, the killing, the discrimination just breaks His heart.
I’ve never really seeked out how God may feel on these matters, but when looking presently, this happened to be one scripture that spoke volumes to me.
Isaiah 1:17 (NLT)
Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows.
Such a short line, with so much packed within it.
We are called to do good. To seek justice. To help the oppressed.
I rarely ever think of these things while going about my Christian day. But I gotta start thinking about these things and I have to physically do them. I have to help. I have to pray.
It may feel like nothing can and will ever change. We do live in this broken world. It will remain for the most part, broken, until Christ returns and sets everything right. But that doesn’t mean you or I don’t have a part to play. We, us believers of Christ, need to do good. We need to seek justice. We need to help the oppressed. We cannot be silent or turn a deaf ear.
The world is bleeding. At some point, the bleeding must stop.
God, I don’t understand all the wrong in the world. I sometimes come to You and I don’t even know what to say. I don’t know what to pray. I just assume that the world will be the world and nothing will ever change. But I cannot think like that. You are a God of change. You are a God of miracles. You are a protector, a defender; You are our refuge. I know to some it may not always seem that way, but Your goodness is still with us here on earth, whether we see it or not. I don’t know how to ease the hurt and pain of those who have lost someone. I can’t imagine it. My heart goes out to the mothers who have lost sons. My heart aches for those who won’t see their brother or sister again. I feel frustration that someone can be killed and most times that killer can go free. I don’t understand. I don’t get it. I just don’t. But God—You see us. You know us. You have not and will not ever forget us. Help us all to remember that. Help us to continually pursue love, justice, and peace. Help us to cry out to You for the change this world needs so much of.
And to my little boy, my Ethan Adrian Davis-Darby, I love you and I’ll do everything in my power to protect you… and I’ll just have to depend on our God for the rest.