Tag Archives: Christianity

Honoring a Spiritual Giant

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Over the weekend I took my friend, Kim, to see A Song for Coretta by Pearl Cleage. We agreed that the play, about the convergence of the lives of five women paying their respects to the deceased civil rights leader, was wonderfully complex, funny and thought-provoking. Kim thought, however, that a part that highlighted rapes in the Superdome after Hurricane Katrina may have been exaggerated. I wondered the same, but I had another exception to the play: the deification of Coretta Scott King.

The goddess talk, though little, bothered me. As the women discussed unresolved issues in their lives, one woman would say something like, “Ask Coretta. Maybe she can tell you what to do.” And I’m thinking, “But she’s dead. She ain’t saying nothing to you.” As I think about it, what they said, their attitude toward King, was more than deification but also suggested divination. I never mentioned this to Kim and am only saying it now because as I pay tribute to the women in my life this month, I recognize how easy it is to give God-status to someone who has inspired your life and not be able to let them go when they die. This my entire family did for my maternal grandmother, Verlenia Thomas.

My Sister Sharon & Grandma Thomas


The youngest of seven children, all her siblings looked to her for direction. She was the one who kept and nursed their mother in her home. She was the one they called for advice, prayer, money and meals. She was the strong one for them, her husband, my mama, aunts and uncles, me and the other grandchildren, her neighbors, church members and friends. Since she has died, some family members seem to be lost. We all know Verlenia: she may be your Grandma, Granny, Grammy, Big Ma, Big Mama or Nana. We delight at sitting at her feet, feeling her arms surround us, benefitting from the creation of her hands, and receiving wisdom from her mind. I know I did. But as I have reflected on my grandma’s life since her death in 2005, I recognize that she may have operated in her own strength at times, but I believe those times were few.

Yes, she was on her church’s steward board and missionary society and taught Sunday school, was her block club secretary, kept in touch with everybody, cooked meals for the needy and visited the sick. But these weren’t things she did to look good. She felt them her Christian duty. And I knew this because her 80-year-old knees would hit the floor every night and her shaky hand would hold a stubby pencil to write the notes throughout the pages of her Bible what the Lord spoke to her. She was in God’s presence, not just around His people. My grandma communed with God, not just fellowshipped with His people. She had a great reputation among people because of how she lived her life in public. She had a great reputation with me because how she lived in public was also how she lived in private. Verlenia Thomas was a holy woman and my great example of a model Christian.

Her life reflected “follow me as I follow Christ,” and as I remember her life I will indeed remember that she could love me because she first loved Jesus Christ and obeyed Him. Her life always pointed everyone to God. We often missed her direction because once we got to her, we felt like we were in heaven; everything seemed like it would be all right for eternity. But I know she wouldn’t want me to glorify her, just the one who she worked so hard to glorify. We must give honor to whom honor is due but always recognize that God is the reason anybody can do anything good.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

My First White Friend, Again

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My God sister, Gracie, has always been a prophetess in my life. We don’t talk much, but this woman, 15 years my senior, has always been connected to me in the spirit. Recently she sent me a journal right after I had just given one away. Then she sent me a book on prayer when I had just committed to more in-depth prayer. Only the Lord could have led her like that. Years ago, when I was steeped in rebellion, her prophetic voice through a letter warned me of the consequences of selling certain greeting cards in my company’s We Dare to Go There line. And then there was the more subtle admonition about me not having any white friends; she sent me the book My First White Friend: Confessions on Race, Love, and Forgiveness by Patricia Raybon.

Raybon talks about her journey to forgive whites and her father because of his “[r]ules about always being better than the white people, so they couldn’t find anything wrong with you even if they tried hard.” These rules caused her to seek perfection and to please others and these unrealistic expectations eventually made her feel less than enough. But instead of remaining mad at her father, at her first white friend who befriended her despite others’ expectations and all white people in general, Raybon chose to forgive so she could love herself and others, regardless of their race or shortcomings. Her awakening had me ready to meet my first white friend, again. That was about 15 years ago, and my contact with white people was limited. There were a few at work, but they mostly kept to themselves. And the ones in grad school ignored me outside of colloquiums and group projects. I never reached out to them because I remember how my relationship with Stephie ended and I didn’t want to chance that again until I met Natalia.

Natalia and I are members of the same church. She and her family started attending and eventually joined last year after hearing our pastor on the radio. God has called her and her husband, Bill, to plant a multicultural church in an Arab American community. They believe God led them to Evangel to prepare them for their call. When I found this out during our brief talks in the nursery as we cared for our children, I believed their call is from God. See, she’s not the typical “white girl” that I usually find in a black community. You know the ones who get their hair done at black salons, date black guys and walk and talk in ways that “out black you.” Natalia is effervescent, yet soft spoken, and on first glance may appear to be the typical liberal, “we are the world” white woman. But I watched her and noticed that she didn’t try to stand out or fit in. She just was, is, a woman who is confident in her white skin and comfortable with me in my black skin. I found this to be true outside the pleasantries of church.

During our first phone conversation we talked about motherhood, marriage, feminism, Biblical womanhood, writing, college, spiritual gifts, and a lot more, including race. I told her my Stephie story, and she apologized, not on behalf of whites who had wronged blacks but because of the pain of rejection that I felt. “No one should have to go through that because of who they are,” she said. It was that comment, her framing her thoughts based on a Biblical worldview, and the overall spiritual and intellectual tone and comfort of our conversation that I knew Natalia was my sister. Not just because Jesus Christ is both of our Savior but because she knows who she is, she flows in who she is and freely embraces others with the love of Christ. Natalia is my first white friend, again, but I believe she will be my last. I don’t see any need for a do over because I believe this first white friendship will last.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Racial Isolation

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The other day I told you that my son, Joshua, was my hero because he went from having a racial identity crisis to understanding his identity in Christ and how he should behave because of it. Like all of us, this week Joshua’s identity was challenged.

“I’m not a Trader Joe’s kid because you have to be white to be a Trader Joe’s kid,” Joshua said with disdain after his bi-weekly trip to the moderately priced health-conscious grocery store. He was in the other room so I had him come to me and repeat what he said. As he looked at the white children on the ‘Trader Joe’s Kids’ stickers the store gives to children, he said, “I’m not a Trader Joe’s kid because I’m not white.” Initially, I wanted to tell him what he was saying was ridiculous and then affirm his blackness. Instead I asked him what made him say that Trader Joe’s kids have to be white. He told me that there were only a few black people in the store and that he was the only black kid. “There was no one but me. It was all white. And how come Ferndale is all white, too?” he asked, referencing a slightly integrated neighboring city where we shop at a health food store. Though Joshua has gone to Trader Joe’s and Ferndale for as long as he can remember, he had a moment of awakening that seemed to have him seeing more than him being the only black kid; he was getting the sense that he didn’t belong.

And I know that feeling all too well. Though I have full confidence in the abilities God has given me, I can sense when others don’t have that confidence, evoking the feeling that, to them, I don’t belong. I get it in retail shops, in the halls of academe, in a church I may visit on vacation, and on the streets of a neighboring suburb. And when people don’t have confidence in your ability to be intelligent, kind, hardworking or honest, to name a few, they make this clear with where they shop, work, play and live, and most times that’s away from you.

So I reminded Joshua that from the blood of one man God created all nations of men, but it is we who tend to live with those who only look like us. “We separate ourselves, Joshua. You have a right to be anywhere you want to be. You are a Trader Joe’s kid because you’re a kid who shops there all the time. Just because you’re the only black child does not mean you don’t belong, no matter what anyone says.” His face lit up, and I knew he believed me.

Joshua’s questioning whether or not he’s a Trader Joe’s kid is the reason discussions on blacks’ contribution to society and race relations can’t be limited to Black History Month. We must continuously discuss how exclusion and isolation breed alienation and how Christians can’t be party to such behavior, whatever race you are. Living in the Metropolitan Detroit area, which is reportedly the most racially segregated in the country, I know I have a lot of work to do. I hope Joshua never fails to share his feelings of isolation or even his prejudiced actions. This way we can check his feelings and actions against God’s word and affirm or correct where he is.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Identity Crisis

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A little more than a year ago my 7-year-old son, Joshua, had an identity crisis. He said the pretty ladies were white and he wanted to be white. Oh, you know my heart sunk. My son didn’t think his momma was pretty. He despised how his grandmothers, aunts and friends look. Blinking to hold back tears, catch my breath and move the lump from my throat, I asked him did he know what he was saying meant. I asked him did he know that he was saying that he didn’t think his momma was pretty. He thought for a second and then said, “Yes. The pretty ladies are white. You don’t have clothes like the ladies at the casino.”

Joshua, 7 years old

I couldn’t hear what Joshua was trying to say. I saw little children picking the white baby doll over the black baby doll. I thought, “How could this happen? He has an Afrocentric mother, parents who love him and affirm his blackness. He’s around positive and progressive black people. He owns and reads books with black images. And he doesn’t watch that much TV. How could a baby like mine say he wanted to be white?” And I felt like a failure. I hadn’t instilled cultural pride into my child and now he was telling me so. After the nanosecond of these thoughts flooding my mind I thought to ask him WHY he wanted to be white. He reasoned: “All the white people wear nice clothes. The black children on TV don’t have food and clothes and hell is dark. I want us to be white.”

With his one hour of television a week, which included pleas to help poor children in Africa, casino billboards with fancy dressed white people, and lessons on salvation, Joshua had ascertained that all things white must be good and all things black must be bad, and he didn’t want any of us to have any part of anything bad. And though what he was saying revealed a bad situation, I was relieved. At 6, my son was a critical thinker and he wanted what he perceived to be the best for him and his family. Now the task was to teach him about propaganda meant to entice and make him feel less than others.

I thought I would deluge him with the history of black oppression at the hands of whites, saturate my home with more Afrocentric images, become involved in former activities where he would see me dressed in formal clothes and be around those I knew who flaunted their money and status. But as a strong black woman in recovery who is healing from racial and social pride, I knew these were bad ideas. They would perpetuate in Joshua what I was trying to get rid of in me. So I did what I should have done in the first place: pray.

In the middle of the night, Proverbs 6:25 came to my mind and I knew God was giving me the answer to help my son and others who may be competitive to the point of being covetous. “Lust not after her beauty in thine heart; neither let her take thee with her eyelids.” This ‘her’ was the ‘strange woman’ in verse 24 and though the strange woman here is interpreted whore, the Hebrew word also means “foreign; someone not like you.” And the word lust is the same Hebrew word for covet. Joshua loves the Bible and constantly looks for applications in his life. I knew we needed to revisit The 10 Commandments, specifically “Thou shalt not covet” because God was saying at the root of Joshua’s identity crisis was an issue with covetousness. Joshua was coveting his neighbor’s skin color and possessions, and I was convinced that Joshua would get this. He did.

On his own, Joshua said, “I’m telling God, ‘I know you gave me this skin color, but I don’t want it. I want white skin.” Then he looked embarrassed and curious, like he had just been scolded and knew what the consequences would be if he didn’t stop coveting. Joshua learned the lesson immediately and there has been no more talk about wanting to be white. This lesson, along with teaching that God created ‘all nations of men,’ has helped Joshua understand that his being black was no accident but an intentional incident, and because of that he has no reason to covet. Joshua is my hero because he took the word of God and immediately applied it to his life. Also, Joshua now is quite proud to be black, constantly expressing awe and joy when discovering blacks’ accomplishments. I’m just working on his ability to love all the nations of people God has created and not seek to return hate for hate. As we reflect on the state of black people during this Black History Month, I think Joshua’s lessons are good for us all.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

James Baldwin's Courage

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Writer James Baldwin

I once wrote a research paper off the top of my head. You might think this story’s tragic end is that I got an F. Actually I earned an A and was chosen to read my paper to the entire class as a model for what the professor was looking for. I had a bibliography of books that I had read and a PBS video that I repeatedly watched over the years. These supported my biography of the life and writings of American author James Baldwin (1924-1987), a man who lived deep in my soul. He historically has been my favorite writer.

Some of you may be squinting right now, wondering what my attraction to an ex-boy preacher and openly gay man could be. And others of you more familiar with his life and mine may even wonder how I, a trustworthy woman, could revere a man who had a hard time being reliable. But beyond his sins and greater than his literary symphonies were lessons I have learned that some of his quotations helped to spur:

• “You didn’t tell me, I told you” (PBS’ American Masters)—speaking about his open homosexuality.

Be honest about who you are and don’t let people discover things about you then throw them in your face. Then and only then can people decide how to deal with you, and you can get help for those areas of struggle (2 Corinthians 8:21; James 5:16).

• “(P)eople who cannot suffer, can never grow up, can never discover who they are” (The Fire Next Time)—referring to how blacks’ enduring suffering has made them better as a people.

If your acceptance of Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord is real, you will suffer because of your belief, making you stronger and proving that you are in the faith (Matthew 5:10-12; 2 Timothy 2:3-12; 2 Corinthians 13:5).

• “There was absolutely no way not to be black without ceasing to exist. But it frequently seemed that there was no way to be black, either, without ceasing to exist” (Every Good-Bye Ain’t Gone).

As a black American, you are often in a Catch-22 situation. If you ignore the racial part of you (by not talking about race and altering Negroid features because you hate them), you essentially kill who God created you to be. On the other hand, if you fully embrace the racial aspect of who you are, frequently examining and talking about race and honoring your Negroid features, you become something other than black—TOO BLACK, or simply ignored; you, too, cease to exist.

As a Christian, you may consider yourself in a Catch-22 if you are a people pleaser. If you deny your faith, say to appease others, you cease to exist (or never existed) as a Christian (Jesus will deny you—Matthew 10:33). But on the other hand, when you speak loud about your faith in Jesus Christ, others deny you; you may cease to exist to your “friends” and “family.” Either way, people pleaser or not, you cease to exist when you seek to serve Christ (Matthew 5:10-12).

Writer/activist James Baldwin spoke loud about who he was and what he believed. People knew what they were getting when they met him. Do people know who they are receiving when they meet you? Do you speak loud about being a Christian and your belief that Jesus Christ is God? If not, I encourage you to get to talking and being the righteous seed you claim to be.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith