Pride

This Mother’s Day I got treated to rest and dinner. My husband took care of my one-year-old all through church service and fulfilled most of our children’s demands throughout the weekend; I ate at my favorite restaurant (The Blue Nile, Ethiopian); and I finally watched the TD Jakes’ movie Not Easily Broken with Morris Chestnut and Taraji P. Henson.

For those of you who haven’t seen the movie, it’s about what happens to a married couple that doesn’t keep God at the center of the marriage. In this movie, selfish desires take precedence and allow bitterness and blame shifting to become basis of the couple’s interactions. Ultimately, pride is what keeps each of them from continually pursuing the other to make amends. But a conversation with her mother led the wife to a revelation of her complicity in destroying her marriage.

In defending why she encouraged her daughter to put her husband out of the house, her mother said: “Black women have to be strong and you know that.” “And in all your lessons about how I need to be strong and proud and independent, Mama, you left out some very important things. How to love, Mama. How to really care about somebody. How to forgive.” Oh, this struck a chord with me. My mama, too, like many of our mothers, gave us the reality lesson of the double struggle that comes with being black and a woman: People automatically discount your strengths so you have to work twice as hard to be considered half as good. And for me and others I know, this made us work more than twice as hard because we wanted to be considered more than half as good. This excellence, for me, resulted in pride. Not the kind that prompts you to have good self grooming and appreciate how God made you (this is good pride), but the kind that says, “I’m all that. I’d rather just do it myself to make sure it gets done right.” I became self-reliant and in my recovery, I have had to learn how to have God esteem, not self-esteem, and let people help me.

Pride has been my source of strength, my vice, for many years. We know that pride comes in many forms, and I have dealt with a good variety of them: intellectual pride, family pride, sorority pride, material pride, just to name a few (Yes, there are more. I will be delivered, in Jesus’ name). As I prepare to reveal my proud self in various areas of my life, tell me where you struggle with pride. How has pride been a hindrance for you? Talk to me.

Copyright 2009 by Rhonda J. Smith

Exalting Concepts

For the last three weeks, I have challenged the thoughts of some iconic black women, one of whom is a favorite of mine. I didn’t do this to get a rise out of you or to slander them. I just believe that it’s imperative for this forum—one that seeks to challenge the notion of being a strong black woman—to challenge the ideas of people that have been held in high esteem, ideas that we may otherwise dismiss because we like the people or because we don’t want to “air our dirty laundry.” But air we must because dismissal is not an option (Ephesians 5:11, 13-14a).

I could continue to talk about others’ ideas and beliefs, and perhaps I will return to them in the coming months, but for the next few posts I want to turn your attention away from specific people to concepts and ideals that we exalt and may unknowingly hold us captive. The focus of my entries will be based upon “The List.” Why don’t you take the time to review the posts “The List” and “The List Deconstructed” to see where I’ve been and to see the basis on which I will build for the next few weeks? As always, I welcome your feedback so I look forward to your comments.

Copyright 2009 by Rhonda J. Smith

Talking with Grandma

Iyanla Vanzant

Iyanla Vanzant

A few years ago (2001) I was watching Tavis Smiley’s State of the Black Union. As usual, he had several of America’s top black minds on the panels. This year’s focus was religion. While the moderator was talking to one panelist, he noticed that another panelist, motivational speaker and minister (Yoruba priestess) Iyanla Vanzant, seemed to be conversing with someone. He turned his full attention to Vanzant and asked her what was going on. She said:

    I’m struggling with the essence, the energy of my great grandmother in my DNA that says you don’t need nothing but a strong connection to you and your creator. You know, she says, ‘He’ll tell you what to do and how to do it.’ She says, ‘You keep doing the same thing, sometimes in a different way, and that’s why you keep getting the same results.’ She says that we have a genetic and a cellular memory that comes forth, and that memory that is really etched inside of us is one of running, hiding and waiting. We’ve been running from stuff for so long. Then we hide so that we won’t be found out hoping to be found, and then we wait to be invited in. And she says it’s time for us to stop running, first of all, from responsibility. . . .Nobody in the White House, green house, po’ house, left house brought you on this planet. You are here by divine design. What is your connection to that? What is your connection to that?

After deafening cheers from the audience and panelists, Vanzant told black folks that trust was their second area of responsibility and that grandma said black folks show a lack of trust by what they say and do. Ultimately, they turn to the government, instead of themselves, to get what they want. “I don’t need George Bush to tell me who I am and who I’m not,” Vanzant said. “I don’t need that. What I gotta do is go within myself.” And, as she has said throughout sharing this spiritual moment, going within herself means tapping into ancestral spirits to help her and others recognize “their divinity, their power, but also recognizing the things they do to sabotage themselves. . . .So, yes, me and grandma are having a moment. And it’s all good.”

Maybe you thought like me at first. Beyond the ethereal talk, I thought that Vanzant may have just been referring to the values her grandmother instilled in her but was just using present tense to describe how her grandmother would talk to Vanzant when she was alive. But then Vanzant closed her remarks with this: “So let us as individuals, as we address each and every one of these issues, please let us not forget that grandma will speak to you, and not only will she speak to you, but she knows that they owe you her salary, and she’ll tell you how to get it.” I love my grandmothers, and they were wonderful women. I remember their wisdom and use it. But I remember what they told me and don’t seek to find out what they can yet tell me. This is divination. This is witchcraft. This is worshipping the dead. This is not the way to honor the ancestors, if you’re a bible-believing Christian.

“When men tell you to consult mediums and spiritists, who whisper and mutter, should not a people inquire of their God? Why consult the dead on behalf of the living?” (Isaiah 8:19, NIV). Isaiah asks us two good questions that we need to ponder. If we do indeed believe in “giving honor to God who is the head of my life,” then we should make that statement true, and seek him. And if we must talk to an ancestor, let it be someone alive who God has told us to seek. Grandma may have had some good ideas, but only the one who was and is and is to come, Jesus the Christ, has the best ideas, and we must seek him for our strength.

Copyright 2009 by Rhonda J. Smith

Consecrate Yourself

Yesterday I had the privilege of being guest speaker for the Women’s Consecration Service at Ebenezer AME Church in Detroit. This was a kick-off event to get the women focused for Ebenezer’s women’s month in May. The Lord led me to discuss their theme—“Pursuing His Presence”—in light of the need to be consecrated; you can only remain in the Lord’s presence if you live a consecrated life–a life set apart from worldly pursuits for the service of God.

As God spoke to me what to say to the women, He was speaking to me about areas of my life that could quite possibly disqualify me from claiming to live a consecrated life. In the forefront of my mind were trying to figure out how to attend professional school, having a movie marathon, and avoiding, instead of trying to love, that pretentious sister in the Lord who just keeps irking me. There is nothing wrong with going to school or having a movie marathon, but when God hasn’t given me the okay to do these things I love, I am following worldly (or fleshly) pursuits and have not set myself apart for God’s service.

What about you? Are you having a hard time giving up some things you like but you know are keeping you from being consecrated? If you have found a way to always seek to set yourself apart for God’s service, tell us how you do it. This recovering strong black woman looks forward to hearing from you.

Inconvenient Children

Some months ago my friend Renee was telling me that I must watch “La Vie en Rose,” the tragic biopic of French chanteuse Edith Piaf. She went on describe that this heartwrenching tale would grip my soul and make me want to pity and rescue Edith from the brothel, street and circus (literally and figuratively) life she lived throughout her life. I watched the movie this morning. Shuffled from parent to parent and place to place for convenience sake, I found myself crying for Edith, for the millions of abandoned and unwanted children worldwide and even for my own. I say my own because in my own way of not wanting to be inconvenienced (I planned to do this, but the baby demands my attention, and I resent him this moment), I communicate I don’t want him. I don’t want him to bother me right now; I don’t want him to change my plans; I don’t want him to mess up my day; I don’t want him to keep me from my goals; I don’t like that he changed my life.

My sister told me that there were some mothers on Oprah last week who felt a similar way. She said some of them ignored the cries, drank themselves numb and coped in some other ways. I didn’t see it or hear how the show ended, but I know how it ends for me. As a recovering strong black woman, God quickly showed me what my “small” thoughts of my children being an inconvenience can lead to; in my quiet time He led me to watch “La Vie en Rose,” and I know what He wanted me to see: the negative effect of neglect on a child’s life, no matter how small or lengthy, how quiet or loud. He wanted me to understand that the impact could be tragic, and I don’t want to be blamed for that.

Of course I have long understood the negative impact of neglect, but I’m not always aware of how my passing thoughts of discontent land, connect, and create a massive rumbling in my mind that occasionally displays as a cold stare, harsh words or huge huffs and sighs. I cannot love my children and care for them myself; I need the Lord. I have to remember that children are a heritage from the Lord and a reward from Him (Psalm 127:3). Through Him I can love and care for them selflessly and not tragically. I must remember His sacrifice of Jesus Christ and make that sacrifice my own. Lay down my life to perfect the lives of others, my children. God has given me the power through His Holy Spirit. I will tap into that power be the armor bearer God has called me to be. Listen to exactly what I mean.

Armor Bearer

Copyright by Rhonda J. Smith 2009