Tag Archives: Jesus Christ

Women Like Me

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From the womb I was determined to be some of what God intended for me but mostly what I thought I should be.

I had a steely demeanor, they tell me, crying till no end until my grandma let me gum at 7 months chicken and cornbread smashed up in pot liquor from collard greens. I was satisfied, had cried till I got what I wanted, and sometimes I just sat until I got ready to do what I wanted. That’s what happened when I walked. I never crawled. Just sat around and watched my sister walk and one day decided I, too, should do that.

At 2, I hid food behind the couch so I could curb late night munchies when the kitchen was closed. At 5, I befriended my now oldest friend. Throughout primary school I protected her till no end when people would tease her for her proper ways and wearing party dresses on school days. In elementary school I fought Ronnie, Aisha and Tonya ’cause I wasn’t gon’ let them run me. I didn’t let them copy my work and punk me out because I was smart, sharp and short. I was determined to be me, some of what God intended for me but mostly what I thought I should be.

So in junior high I didn’t grovel when my 7th and 8th grade friends became my nemeses. I kept my head high when I wanted to cry at being left out and talked about, the butt of all the jokes. Still I pressed on and made it through, went to high school where I developed a new crew of friends, even my 8th grade nemesis. But as you know, that group didn’t last, but I found where I belonged. Yes, the friends came and are still here, but I gained an understanding of me.

Unshakable and unstoppable, I plug away at problems, involving others to help me solve them. Even with this I now give more than lip service to saying “God is the head of my life.” He challenges me, helping me to see what’s wrong and right in my life and how I need to improve and help others to smooth their rough spots. And I can do this because He put it in me to spur, and inspire, to assist without being hired. From God’s love I have learned not to physically fight and stand up for my rights like I want to. He’s taught me and kept me focused, even by sending me women who have wanted my best.

These women are my mommas and teachers, my sisters and friends who all have played a part in shaping my heart. So this Women’s History Month I pay tribute to these wonder women who have helped me evaluate who I think I should be and lovingly encourage me to become what God intended for me to be.

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

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

Fight to the Death

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Civil Rights Activist Fannie Lou Hamer

In one of my undergraduate black studies courses, my end of the year project was a presentation on someone in black history. I chose sharecropper and civil rights activist Fannie Lou Hamer. I liked her grit and grassroots efforts to bring equality to her state of Mississippi and the country. When the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) came to Mississippi to tell black folks they had a constitutional right to vote, Hamer was one of the first to go to the courthouse to register. She was beaten, jailed, and continually threatened but none of those evils stopped her. She was fearless as a SNCC field secretary and traveled the United States telling black folks that poll taxes and tests to vote were illegal, and she registered them to vote.

In 1964, as a founder of the Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party (MFDP), she stepped on the broader national scene when she challenged the seating of the Mississippi delegation—all white—at the Democratic National Convention. Her speech that had the oft quoted phrase “sick and tired of being sick and tired” helped to grant others MFDP delegates the right to speak and special seating. This mother and activist also worked with other groups to improve the lives of the oppressed. Hamer often sang Christian hymns in the midst of her work, seemingly connecting her physical battle with a war in the spiritual realm. In 1993, this freedom fighter was posthumously inducted into the National Women’s Hall of Fame.

I related to Hamer. And even though I hadn’t seen the newsreel of her speech, my teacher said that my role play voice sounded just like Hamer. In my early 20s, I had had my share of discrimination. From being under the watchful eye of retail workers to professors discounting my classroom contributions to potential employers assuming my experience had only been granted because of a quota system, I knew the sting of racism. And though my sting was real, nothing compared to what Hamer and thousands of other blacks felt during the height of the Civil Rights Movement. That’s why I could only play the part of a Fannie Lou Hamer. She fought for her rights because “The only thing they could do to me was to kill me, and it seemed like they’d been trying to do that a little bit at a time ever since I could remember,” she said. Not being under the overt daily threat of death, the least I can do is to vigorously fight for justice in the sphere that the Lord has given to me. I challenge us all not to be comfortable in our Christianity, but to stand in the face of adversity and to speak out against those who seek to silence our voices. Fight for your freedom, whether racial or religious. This is what we are called to and must do to honor the memory of folks like Hamer and to give honor to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith

Sources: ibiblio, National Women’s Hall of Fame and Wikipedia

The Ones I Wanted to Write About

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I wanted to write about the bishop who became the first in her denomination and the writer who is an Old Testament scholar and the one who started a black community in her denomination, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t because the honor would seem like acceptance of twisted ideas. I couldn’t accept the supporting of heretical texts to “prove” scripture or the normalcy of homosexuality because of her lesbian friendship or the dabbling in a spiritual séance. To write about these Christian women would be to affirm their notions, to say the way they purport Christianity is ok. And that I cannot do.

But I will write about the journalist who spoke out against lynching and the grassroots woman who founded a democratic party and others, who, as far as I know, didn’t dilute Christianity for personal comforts. And I don’t mind writing about the likes of James Baldwin and Angela Davis because their being Christian is not the basis for lauding their righteous ideas. When you say who you are I respect that and expect your work to reflect that. These are the people I can write about and that I will do.

The realization of not being able to write about those I admire in many ways took me aback. I tried to figure out how I could incorporate disclaimers but the disclaimers would either outweigh or effectively cancel the celebration. Has something like this ever happened to you? Have you ever had to cease supporting someone you once supported because you realized that your beliefs were in conflict? I would love to hear about it. And I pray God’s power and protection for those who have given up support in order to honor Jesus Christ and His Kingdom.

Copyright 2010 by Rhonda J. Smith