Precious Predilections

Tag: christian

  • Unveiling Hidden Figures

    Unveiling Hidden Figures

    The movie “Hidden Figures” took me on a roller coaster of emotions that I am not sure I’ve come down from.  Many [many] years ago, I was a budding engineer interning at NASA’s Kennedy Space Center in Cape Canaveral, FL who later turned down an offer to work as a long term engineer there.   At that time I had no idea of the premise of being a “hidden figure” in my career.  I was naive. Hopeful.  Trusting and hanging on to every word of those in authority; predominantly  the older, white men who were my managers.

    This derivation of mixed emotions comes from the simple, yet complex idea that things which are hidden are searched for intentionally, or remain hidden for a long time; only discovered by happenstance.  I honestly celebrate the healthy exposure that this movie has brought African American women in the science fields, yet my heart and life experience wrestle with the reality that any leader who chooses to unveil hidden figures in any industry must pay some cost.  It may cost some a bruised ego.   Others some of their influence.  Still others the very position that they may have aspired to or felt entitled to for years.  Truthfully, this is a cost that some are unwilling to pay.

    ***SPOILER ALERT***

    Choosing to Unveil

    When I re-imagine the bathroom scene where her manager tears down the “Colored Only” bathroom sign with every exertion of strength in his body, I am deeply moved.  Viscerally moved to tears.  I am moved because he had a choice.  He had a choice to leave things the way they were (which was perfectly legal) or to ensure equity for all on his staff at the expense of his social capital and the dissenting opinions of others. I won’t divulge details, but as a women of color who has experienced working on teams and with management who choose to unveil and those who don’t, I will say that I believe this act was far more courageous than depicted.  Now, before we toot too many horns, the most glaring paradox in this movie to me was that these women WERE ONLY unveiled because there was a DIRECT BENEFIT to those who had allowed them to remain hidden for so long.  In fact, the cost became too great for them not to be unveiled.  I mean, we’ve got to get John Glenn to space, right?  By the end of the movie, I joined everyone in celebrating the greater victory for America, but I could only think, the managers cowered because they had to; because they wanted victory so badly.  They DID NOT do the right thing simply because it was the right thing to do.

    I want to honor Martin Luther King, Jr. as we near the end of another #BlackHistoryMonth and highlight the response of Dorothy Vaughan, Octavia Spencer’s character,  who in fact did the right thing because it was the right thing to do. 

    martinlutherkingjrthetimeisalwaysright

    Leaders who Do the Right Thing (as reflected in Octavia’s charachter) are marked by:

    1. Recognition (of others) – She actively worked to recognize the gifts and talents of those on her team even if it warranted a promotion for them and practical obscurity for her.
    2. Innovation – She  developed a new way for those on her team to experience growth so that they were prepared to be unveiled when the time was right.  She risked the very promotion she had longed for so that the entire team rose to another level when she rose to another level.  Great innovation is often accompanied by great risk.
    3. Golden Rule Gratitude – With outward expressions of gratitude, she never delineated from treating others the way that she wanted to be treated.
    4. Hopefulness – She hung on to hope.  Her hopeful vision for the future propelled her and others forward.
    5. Tenacity – She displayed a dogged tenacity to lead and develop others with the influence given.

    There are hidden figures in classrooms, colleges, and places of employment everywhere.  Many systems in society have given visibility to some and not others.

    Today, I am less of a hidden figure.  Still being unveiled and grateful for it.

    One day, I hope it is said of me that I “did the right thing” as a leader; a person of influence.  I understand that I have a beautiful choice.  I will choose to unveil hidden figures when presented with the opportunity. Who will you help unveil today?

    “He must become greater; I must become less.” – John 3: 30, NIV

  • The Suffering Saint

    The Suffering Saint

    Recently, I have spent a lot of time thinking about suffering and my desire to avoid it at all costs.  It sucks to suffer. End of story.  January was laden with suffering and loss for a few of my friends; 3 funerals in 3 weeks to remember the lives of 2 fathers and 1 son.  Grief and sorrow have a way of lingering.    Jesus agreed with this sentiment as reflected in Matthew 26:38, where he stated, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death…”  Again, suffering sucks.  The unsettling truth is that as a follower of Jesus, I should not only come to expect the blessings of God, but with great certainty I should be mindful that suffering is also on the path of sanctification. Difficult truth.  And it sucks.

    suf·fer
    ˈsəfər/
    verb
         1. experience or be subjected to (something bad or unpleasant).
    This fixation on the avoidance of suffering came about after spending time visiting a friend in South Africa, where there is a chasm of classism left from the wreckage of apartheid.  During this visit more than any other, there was an acute awareness of the role that race has played in providing privilege to some and not to others.  As our conversations grew in depth, we both surmised that without even knowing it, we had developed an unhealthy expectation of “entitlement” to blessings as a believer and follower of Jesus Christ.
     en·ti·tled
    inˈtīdld,enˈtīdld/
    adjective
    1. believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment
    It was almost as if we had said to God, suffering is for someone else, definitely not me. This unspoken paradigm of entitlement can wreak havoc on our faith when suffering arrives.  I then began to ask this friend how she maintained her faith during her most difficult moment when she suffered the loss of someone she loves.  She stated very simply and profoundly to “loosen my grip.”  Loosen my grip on the possessions I have.  Loosen my grip on the relationships that I hold dear.  Loosen my grip on my definition of what my life should be at this exact moment.  The “loosening of the grip” is an expression to hold those things and relationships dearly loved loosely in your hands, with gratitude and knowledge that all those things belong to God.  All of them.

    “Following Jesus wholeheartedly means facing the “most brutal facts of our current reality, whatever they might be” while holding on to our absolute certainty that we “prevail in the end” through his love and grace.” – Rick Lawrence, Jesus-Centered Life

    Perhaps a small part of what makes suffering bearable is our ability to savor what is good in that moment.  Another nugget of truth is that we can’t always see the things that are good in the moment of suffering.  What I learned during my time with my friend is that it is NOT in the overt acknowledgement of “all that is good” that gratitude arises.  It actually arises as we choose to be present with those who are suffering.  Present during the smiles. Present during the sorrow.  Present during the silence.

    I observed a lot of natural beauty during my time in South Africa, but there was nothing more beautiful than the comfort of a friendship that has lasted 13 years.  There was no pretense.  I liken it to the comfort of a good pair of old jeans.  They have holes, they aren’t perfect, but they fit in all the right places.

    I thought my time in South Africa would leave me only longing to ease the suffering of strangers.  That occurred.  I didn’t know that my time in South Africa would teach me in part, how to lament with the suffering saint and also teach me that suffering/sorrow/grief has no zip code.

     

    I want Jesus; fully and completely.  However, I still don’t want to suffer, but if I must, may I do so by leaning into Jesus and loosening my grip on all the things I’ve deemed too precious to lose.

  • Silence Doesn’t Feel Like Solidarity

    Silence Doesn’t Feel Like Solidarity

    sumo-wrestlers
    http://s.hswstatic.com

     

    Those that know me well know that I love truth more than I love comfort.  This past week, the ugly truths of police brutality, implicit racial bias, and systemic oppression of black and brown people made many uncomfortable.  In fact, many are still uncomfortable; particularly in the christian community.  This past week has pushed the christian community to take a serious look in the mirror and introspectively determine if diversity is something that is only espoused in word or actually lived.  And when I say actually lived, I ask… Are we brave enough to listen, empathize, and act courageously when it is counter cultural to do so?  When we might be afraid to do so?  When it is uncomfortable to do so.

    I have pondered why the #AltonSterling and #PhilandoCastile killings (by police officers) have caused me to grieve so deeply; more deeply than previous incidents of police abusing power.  More than #FreddieGray.  More than #SandraBland.  More than #MikeBrown.  More than #TamirRice.  More than #SamDubose.  More than…

    And then it hit me – this list does not seem to end.  Data from http://mappingpoliceviolence.org/ shows us that this brutality by police officers upon black lives is a systemic problem.  And…many of my non-minority christian friends have become mute.  I liken it to an ethnically mixed group of high school kids who are friends discovering that one of the black guys has chosen to go to the teacher after class and speak up for another black student who is repeatedly being poorly treated by someone in authority.  Most in this ethnically diverse group vow to show up  to help defend this black friend because they all believe this student is worthy of defense.  You may be able to finish this hypothetical story for me.  The friend arrives at the class room and sees that primarily his black friends kept their word to stand with him.

    Welcome to the #BlackLivesMatter movement. The silence of a segment of the christian community has been deafening because it feels like fear has rewritten the justice narrative and it has been more comfortable to remain silent, just give money or hide behind the cloak of one’s ethnic identity.  None of these positions equate to solidarity.  And none of them will bring reconciliation.

    Don’t be silent – your silence speaks loudly.  All week this “silence” has been ringing in my ears to the tune of “How can we say that we are the church when there doesn’t appear to be a willingness to bear one another’s burden?”  I’ve said it before and I will say it again; lament with us first. No solutions, just solidarity for justice.  A few days ago, a White, Christian friend of mine found courage to speak  even among fear. As I read her account, I could see how she beautifully wrestled with the fear of speaking publicly regarding Black Lives Matter and how the comfort of this fear was no longer greater than the cost of her silence.  Truthfully, her voice on this issue will speak more loudly than mine and this is why silence and/or apathy is not an option for the white christian.  Your silence may be communicating the wrong message. PLEASE READ HER PERSPECTIVE.

    Don’t JUST give your money – because settlements don’t settle it.   Now is the time to leave our paternalism at home.  This god-complex which causes us to want to “fix” the problems in the lives of those they are serving through money is crippling.  When we take a look at 11 recent high profile cases of men and women who had died at the hands of police, several of them received settlements between $5 million and $6.5 million dollars.  Settlement after settlement injustice remains. Giving money is a necessary part of the solution, but it is not the solution.  It takes courage to speak.  To attach YOUR NAME to cause in which you advocate for equitable treatment.  There is such anonymity in “only giving money,” but, when there’s person associated with a cause,  there is a different cost.

    Don’t forsake your eternal identity for your ethnic identity – I am a follower of Christ first and then I am a black woman.  #Realtalk – I am unapologetically black, but our eternal identity as Christians is what unites us. This means that as sisters and brothers in Christ, the higher call for all of us is to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly (Micah 6:8).  When I rise each day, I have to remember not to lead with my #blackness and that it is not the primary narrative that shapes my life.  The banner over my life is one of redemption from sin.  We have seen what sin can produce individually and on a larger scale systemically.  To my White brothers and sisters, I encourage you as well to lead with your identity as a follower of Jesus.  To seek justice for the marginalized.  To see the #imagodei (image of God) in others.  The practical steps to make this occur may be scary, but this is what I want to do.  I want to talk with you.  To share in and learn of your fears.  To seek God together for our nation.  To serve God together in our nation.

    I have decided to follow Jesus.  No turning back.  No turning back.  Jesus didn’t simply advocate for the marginalized when it was easy and comfortable.  He lived in the difficult places; had difficult, yet honest conversation to reveal and then reconcile hearts.  I too will live in that place if that is the first step towards reconciliation.

    Here is a sermon preached a few days ago on #Justice by Pastor Léonce Crump Jr. of Renovation Church. This sermon will make many uncomfortable before it encourages.  He is speaking the truth in love, so I’m comfortable with that.

    Learn to do good; Seek justice, Reprove the ruthless, Defend the orphan, Plead for the widow. – Isaiah 1:17

     

  • Am I Black?

    Am I Black?

    20150611_123830“Am I Black?”  This question has echoed in my mind since it was so loudly projected from the mouth of a little boy (approximately 5 years old) to his parents as he sat with them and watched a portion of a video about the middle passage at The Griot Museum of Black Historyin St. Louis, MO.  The innocence and complexity of his question is what wrenches my heart.  In this beautiful world, it would be great if slavery never existed and if African American parents and those of other ethnicities never had to share with their kids the atrocity of their nation’s past.  In particular, their decision to treat certain people inhumanely.  This little boy could not understand why, in his own words, “only black people were treated this way…”  He actually asked his parents, “where are the white people?”  His mind could not process the reasoning behind the variation in treatment.  They spoke honestly and with lots of grace; not with malice or slander, but with love for their son and his tender, impressionable mind.  I am not a parent, but I commend these parents for walking gingerly with their son to help him understand his history and the importance of valuing all human life.  This indeed was one of the most precious moments I’ve experienced recently in our racially charged society that wants to dismiss the impact of years of oppression on people groups.

    For the past few days I have juxtaposed this little boy’s simple question with the recent events in Orlando, from the #PulseShooting to the shooting of #ChristinaGrimmie.  I love the city of #Orlando and I’ve been grieving with those in my hometown.  My community and people that I love and know are hurting deeply. We cannot understand the senseless act of these shootings.

     The beauty I beheld as this little boy asked this question was profound. You see, he didn’t “know” he was black because his experience as a little black boy was just as it should be.  He has not yet known what it is to be treated differently because of his skin color.  I am not sure that I want to wake him up from this dream.

    As a follower of Christ, I believe the church is called to make this child’s “ideal perspective” more of a reality, but we have to first deal with the sin in our own heart.  The reality that we just may be treating people differently because of their skin color.  Sunday is still a very segregated day in our nation.  The reality that we, the church, may be choosing not to get to know people because their lifestyle(s) don’t align with our beliefs.

    People are more than their ethnicity.  They are more than their sexual identity.  Oh that we would learn to live and love one another as people.  Not as pretentious, external, superficial, descriptors such as race, gender, and economic status.  This week in the wake of the Orlando tragedies I believe I was granted a gift from God to spend time in Colorado with a couple who co-founded a non-profit, which is making a difference in the lives of children who are aging out of foster care.  The gift for me was that although I “knew I was Black” in Colorado, I didn’t “feel” Black when spending time with their family.  I held tightly to this feeling because it was refreshing.  Typically, “feeling Black” when I am the minority means that I am treated as inferior and presumed weak.  To be in a community where I am clearly an ethnic minority (Colorado isn’t particularly racially diverse) and to be welcomed and loved as a person first, is a gift I treasure.  There might have been second glances from others as I sat around the table with this couple, their daughters, and a friend, at a local eatery, but at that table we laughed together and enjoyed each other’s company in earnest.  And although I am not their daughter, I felt protected by this couple in an incredibly beautiful way.  This was a dose of authentic love.

    If there was a gift that I could give to those who’ve experienced marginalization, it would be the gift of authentic love. To authentically love allows us to accept people as a part of God’s beautiful creation.  There is no doubt today that I am proud to be black.  But if I am honest, I have had to fight for this freedom of pride in my ethnicity, namely the darkness of my skin and kinkiness of my hair and all that I’ve been told that this represents in our western society.  What I have recognized recently is that fighting for freedom of an insecurity can be costly.  It can mean rejection from those that love you.  It can mean career assassination.   It can mean depression and sleepless nights.  I do not presume to understand the fight of those who are in the LGBTQ community.  What I do know is that I would like for #America and at times, those in the church, to stop making presumptions about their character and worth because of their sexual identity alone.  This is nonsensical.  Seriously.  We are people first.  Let’s treat each other as such.

    I grieve with all of the families whose loved ones lost their life during this tragedy.  I grieve with those in the LGBTQ community who feel the palatable weight of being targeted because of their sexuality.  I grieve with the family members of the shooter who may now be treated differently because of what he did.  I grieve for the christian church who has yet to learn that we all share a mutual brokenness as people; we are all in need of a Savior (Jesus Christ). Those who are black are in need. Those who are white.  Those who are heterosexual.  Those who are homosexual.  Those who are wealthy.  Those who are poor.  Those who are human are in need.  As we have a greater understanding of this need, we will lower our personal pedestals and stand together as people.

    “Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep.”  Romans 12:15

  • No Sweeter Words

    No Sweeter Words

    Today marks the 1 year anniversary of the Precious Predilections blog.  The “start” of this blog has been liberating.  Writing has allowed me to courageously share things that would otherwise become a passing thought.  In so many ways writing has become for me the unveiling of the broken and beautiful things that occurred last year.  So as we start this new year, I want to begin by sharing some of the sweetest words I’ve known.  These words remind me of the miracle of life that God has bestowed upon me.  They remind me that God knew what He was doing when He inspired my mom to name me Precious.  These words are the sweetest.  In honor of the start of a new year, I want the first blog post of the year to honor someone that I love and hold dear.

    Happy New Year 2016 replace 2015 concept on the sea beach

    No sweeter words than those spoken over me by mother 18 years ago.  She has written many poems and I have them in my possession, but this one holds a special place in my heart.  No formal, stylistic lessons on writing poems here. No soliloquies.   Just a mother inspired to encourage her daughter.  A mother inspired to share a story.  A mother moved to make indelible impressions on my heart with the stroke of her pen.

    My Child

    One minute after you were born your breath was snatched away, but by God’s grace you were saved that day. Two pounds and five ounces that’s all you weighed, on what i thought would be a faithless day.  They shaved your hair, put needles from head
    to feet.  I hung my head and cried in defeat.  God sent his angel in the form of
    my mom to comfort me and hold me and say well done.  He said shake off the blues, everything will be alright.  Don’t you know, she was born to fight?  

    You have never been mine, just a loan you see.  For from day one God had control of thee.  You were born with so many problems, but He took them away.  No open heart surgery for you He said that day.  That hole in your heart I’ll fill it with love.  You’ll float through life on the wings of a dove.

    Mom2
    My Momma – Christmas 2015

     

    I’ve watched you grow a joy to behold, God’s love has
     surrounded you as your life unfolds.  At the age of twelve He claimed you again.  Now isn’t this how my story began? Into your life came Freddie Filmore, Jr. (Chip), he worked at P.A.L.  Who knew he’d be more?  He took you into his heart, helped teach you about God, but that was just the beginning of his part.  Then came the pastor, his wife and family, and a group of people at Freedom Ministries.  

    I’ve watched you grow for eighteen years.  Your desires and needs our God has fulfilled.  Now you’re leaving home; you’ll be on your own.  I want you to know that you’ll never be alone.  You have brought me peace, so much joy to my life, but I can hear you say “that’s just the Jesus in me.” I miss you already.  I don’t want to let you go, but I know that you know that I love you so.  So hold your head high, stand tall and be strong.  And remember who you are, the daughter of Casa Lee Young. 

    Mom, It is eighteen years later and I am still growing.  Thank you for being my first teacher.  Thank you for being my present teacher.  And thank you for being my first writing inspiration.  Here’s to the moments and memories of 2016 that will move my fingers to type.  Here’s to another year of blogging.  Thank you all for your support.

  • The Darkroom

    The Darkroom

    Darkroom1

    It has never been darker than it is now…

    It is easiest to embrace darkness or at least a season of it when we know that there is light at the end of the tunnel.  In my case, it seems the tunnel has no end.  In just a few weeks I will be 36 years old and single.  I am a woman who loves God and people.  I am a woman who is educated.  And as I stated, I am a woman who is currently single.  Single, meaning, unmarried and not in any type of relationship; like none whatsoever (feel free to insert smile with me).  This is not how I would have written my story.  And this is when the room becomes dark.  However, beauty can come from darkness.

    A friend recently reminded me of darkroom photography and the necessity of the darkness to produce a beautiful image.  What remains compelling during this process is the that the photographer chooses complete darkness, thereby willfully controlling the level of light.   Who chooses complete darkness?  I certainly would not.  I would choose to know what is ahead; when I will marry and how many children I will have.  Others might choose to know when they will land a new job and see relief from some of the financial strain they are experiencing.

    Unprompted by me, God has chosen to produce a beautiful image of my life which remains unseen.  I am still in the darkroom and as this birthday nears, it feels incredibly dark.  Darkness ensues as I dodge the [at times unbearable] question that never fails to be asked of me more times than not, “Are you in a relationship (while being stared at with a hopeful gaze)?”  It has also been said to me, “Maybe your standards for a guy are just too high; you should lower them.”  Darkness surrounds as I think about the very real limitations of birthing children and how my age plays a part in that.  #Realtalk  Darkness looms as I think about the number of times, 8 to be exact, that I have joyfully stood as a bridesmaid in a friend’s wedding, yet long to celebrate my own.

    Although I can not see what awaits me, I await with great expectation for the beauty that God will reveal in me.  I know that this beauty goes beyond external and that the Lord is beautifully crafting my character.  It is incredibly dark in the dark room.  It is even lonely in the darkroom.  But it is beautiful.  I am daily being made more beautiful and that is beautiful.  During this season of singleness, I reflect on my most valued “possession” and the sweetest of things I hold dear and that is my relationship with Christ.  There is no season which parallels the opportunity to grow in intimacy with Christ as that of singleness.  I want to love and know God deeply.  Maybe the darkroom has produced this desire.  It is here that I am learning the very hard life lesson of being most satisfied in Him and Him alone.

    In the silence and tears, the poem, “I will wait for you,” by Janette…IKZ of the Passion for Christ Movement (P4CM) has echoed the sentiment of my heart; and it still does.  Watch the video Here.  Janette…IKZ just celebrated her 1 year anniversary of marriage.  This poem is so moving to me because I have walked with and prayed with a lot of “Janette…IKZ” in my life.  Women who have also held firmly to the promises and standards of God without relenting to the pressures of our society which makes everything sexual and says to satisfy your desires however and whenever you see fit.  To these women –  I will not name you, but I will thank you.  Thank you for being examples of hope to me; even as I am “processing” in my darkroom.   Here’s to 36!  Another glorious year to behold the glory of the most beautiful one I’ve beheld – Christ Jesus.  Maybe I will behold the beauty of new man this year that will also captivate my heart (feel free to insert smile again).  Until then…I will wait.

    “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!  Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!”  Psalm 34:8

  • Prayer Isn’t a Placebo

    Prayer Isn’t a Placebo

     

    I’m guilty.  I’m guilty of treating prayer at times as if it is a placebo pill.  Placebo – a harmless, unmedicated preparation given as a medicine merely to humor a patient, or used as a control in testing the efficacy of another, medicated substance. At times, it has been easy to take “a dose of prayer” for a particular circumstance without sincerely believing that this “method of treatment” will be effective.  These moments of unbelief speak to my humanity.  There is no other intent of the placebo than for it to validate that the actual drug works well.  Selah (think about that).  Even the placebo points to the real thing. And even in my time of unbelief, God responds, reminding me, that He is the real thing and that praying in Jesus name is not a passive, powerless action.  You see, God isn’t encouraging us to pray, just to humor us with “one more thing to do.”

    Now, on to prayer and its power.  I have read several blog posts and comments [via social media] of people expressing anger or hopelessness at the state of our nation and then saying, “I’m tired of Christian people praying…”   “Don’t black people have have the right to hold a grudge over what happened in Charleston?”  “Why do we (Christians) always resort to prayer?”  When I heard this, something in my stomach turned because it seems that we have forgotten what the secret is in our secret sauce; IT IS PRAYER.  It is prayer to a God who is all-powerful (omnipotent), all-knowing (omniscient), and all-around (omnipresent).  Let me provide further clarity.  The main ingredient in our secret sauce of prayer is faith in a God who is faithful. Immutable.  So consistent, that he makes #StephenCurry free throws look inconsistent.  It is uncanny how much we can trust in ourselves and at times, how little we trust in God.

    Prayer isn’t a placebo.  It is the most powerful weapon we have in dismantling the work of the enemy when dealing with heart issues.  Beloved, some of the most daunting issues of our day are heart issues.   Injustice is a heart issue.  Racism is a heart issue.  Pride is a heart issue.  Lust is a heart issue.  Greed is a heart issue. Bottom line, sin is a heart issue.  All of these issues are presented with the possibility of mending by taking them to #thegreatphysician, Jesus Christ, and allowing Him to operate as He sees fit.

    Perhaps in all of the privilege we have in the world, the privilege to communicate with God directly holds no greater honor and no greater power.  This indeed may be the best “non-secret,” secret weapon we have as followers of Jesus Christ.  Let us not forsake this opportunity to commune with God.  To bring heaven into the ordinary.

    “As an instinct, prayer is a response to our innate but fragmentary knowledge of God.  It is like a note in a bottle to “whatever gods there be.”  As a gift of the Spirit, however, prayer becomes the continuation of a conversation God has started.  If that conversation proceeds, as in the best of conversations, praying becomes meeting with God – heaven in the ordinary.”  – Tim Keller, “Prayer”

    Prayer can be seen as a placebo if the action alone is not connected to the reality that God is with us. In us.  Desires to converse with us.  Be with us.  It is no different than a parent than desires to know, really know, how their child is doing.  At times, the parents may already really know what’s going on, but they see the opportunity for much deeper connection with their child as they are allowed to simply bring the concerns of their heart to their parent and leave them there.  The greater hope we have is that as we present our concerns to God, He listens, and He always responds with our best interest in mind.  Sometimes His response is yes and other times it is no (or “not right now”); but, it is the best response for us at the time.

    I have seen the hearts of men and women (even my own) change through prayer and force-ably tackle heart issues.  In a previous blog post written, Just Cry – Tears for Charleston and the Black Community, I exhorted people to simply allow grief to be a first step in the healing process regarding the #charlestonshooting.  I believe prayer is a close next step.  Whenever that next step happens for you.  As a Christian, prayer positions us to respond in a way that glorifies God.  This may cause repentance, righteous indignation, or respectful dialogue for some.  Prayer powerfully moves us away from bitterness and closer to reconciliation.  No placebo at all.  In fact, quite effective in producing change.

    Prayer may appear passive, but don’t be fooled, it packs a powerful, “one, two…punch.”  Prayer is teaching me the wisdom in speaking to God first in order that I might more effectively speak to others.

    “We use God’s mighty weapons, not worldly weapons, to knock down the strongholds of human reasoning and to destroy false arguments.” 2 Corinthians 10:4 (NLT)