For the post suicidal colored girl who found hope in rainbows

If I were a suicide note what would I be?

The brief echo of a broken cord Some ghastly sound from a bruised heart Erupting into a barely sharpened lead number 2 pencil

Just a faded sketch of a dream deferred but on Harlem’s Spanish side They’d hate me if I were that note A note? Are you kidding Me? 30+ years and all there is is this crumpled note

Words that aren’t even worth the cheap notebook paper they were neatly scribbled on I’d be despised My sharp writing and artistic curves Accents just for embellishment You’d be sick at my girlish attention to enhancing the beauty of letters from A to Z

glaring angry eyes on me numb and cold I’m sorry, but I am what I am Just a trajectory of tormented thought longing to be free If I could be letters used to tell a romantic story don’t you think I would be?

But my author sought rainbows in a world of chaos And was told this cosmos was ruled by a cold and sovereign God So one day she stumbled and gave up her pursuit of this awesome and aloof God Lost all her confidence in knowledge as power or proof of a relationship With a God who required no righteousness

Engulfed in sorrow she plotted her end Looked at me and said this is what I’ll need you for to lay down your life so I can tell this story Of how I tried but failed to please Him with sacraments & pagan things

They called it essentials to send me on my way But it wasn’t the essentials but the non essentials like Let’s do away with the Sabbath Day That left me beffudled but trust me I scuffled with God like Jacob did

He blessed me with the Word who brought to mind all the things He had previously said I know I just stumped ya cuz I just said Christ will teach us all things And you’re like she’s buggin’ But Script says that Christ has become the life giving Spirit so where’s your doctrine now?

I know I’m a heretic becuz I challegened the words of your Reformers but I’m just repeating what the Bible says, but I know You want me to just take this essential pill and Trollop on my way But that’s just it I’m no horse with bit you can’t tell me what to think

Cuz I have the Spirit to teach me So no man can twist me with every wind and teaching fit I’m thru with the monkey bizness I’m obeying the pieces of words Jesus’ God and Father Wrote on a stone Because I’m tired of sinning and asking for forgiveness for the same tired blues my flesh plays

I wanna love Him and please Him I need to hear what He has to say. Because he communicated to me through language much like These words on a simple page

If I were a suicide note I’d be grief in your heart but rest assured I’ve found the cure for brittle and feeble knees Obedience means love And that’s what I’ve found to bring me to my knees I’ve found peace. I’ve found joy and I’m taking it day by day

So, I’m not really a suicide note but thank you for taking the time to consider what strange fate that would be I’d much rather leave you with hope and joy for me

Work in Progress…

Hood Love

I don’t have a lot to say because this update is about the simple things like, being able to order tasty Chinese food in the hood with no “pork on my fork.” It’s about risking being shot DOWN if you attempted to ask to use the bathroom that’s situated past the gated & duly locked door that keeps the distinguishable differences between locals & so called foreigners static. We glare at reflections forgotten almost as soon as they’re recognized. “They hate us,” we say. And for all we know, they’re right. But one day last month, I took the

chance and popped the question. They said, “yeah…” gated door buzzed & opened…and the walls came tumbling down for a few moments as I delightfully walked the narrow way past the kitchen staff and into the bathroom of my local Chinese food joint.
As you might imagine, the General Tso’s Chicken wings & shrimp fried rice were extra delicious!

God’s Glory & the Failure of Sin to KO for Perpetuity

Musing the thought (my own) that one way that God gets glory from sin is by the believer learning & choosing to truly submit to Him. The believer learns that the fight is just that, a fight; a continual battle with man’s ancient foe. Sin isn’t going anywhere. It’s not gone for good just because you may have been valiant in fighting it this time around.  If you should find yourself failing on an occasion, it still doesn’t mean you’ll fail always. Failing and being lavished over with every spiritual blessing means you can endure. Isn’t that the point of fighting? You may get roughed up in rounds 1,2, and 3, but you don’t have to strike yourself out. Life isn’t baseball.  You can be restored and get up and fight until you’ve obtained the victory. So, it is about enduring to the end. You can’t be excited because you know all the right moves, but don’t do them. Kind of reminds me of a mixed martial arts fight I just saw. Each person fighting that day displayed a combination of technique before their fight. It’s called a demo…fighters demonstrate moves from the style(s) of martial art they train in. But the demo is not the fight. Likewise, reading Scripture alone, attending “church”, retaining dense theologies from the scholars of ekklesia are the demo…but the fight is where we learn to pull all of the weapons of our warfare out & use them. I’m still learning, fighting, failing, repenting, crying, wailing, being forgiven and asking for forgiveness too, trying to see a vision of Him that will keep my mind renewed. It’s hard though and I’m exhausted.   

Before The Throne of God Above

 

Got to sing this with a few people before the throne of God above…It’s one of my favorites!

A little bit of heaven for your ears.

Undignified Worship

 

 

Flawed doesn’t have to mean useless or at least that’s what I’m discovering.

 

Dichotomies are interesting. Interesting to aknowledge that mankind is totally depraved and yet able to recognize when someone is not being treated with this dignity that is apparently an inalienable right. Where did this apparent right come from?

 

It’s there, no doubt. There is something so utterly human about possessing dignity. I would even go so far as to say that even when men are called to worship God, we are moved to do it in ways that express the fullness of our humanity. In ways that show off the order, uniqueness, and usefulness of the creation. 

 

No man deserves grace. Yet God has certainly extended quite lavishly according to Ephesians this peculiar gift to many. But even before this grace was made manifest he crowned us with such dignity and honor. He made us in His image…and though flawed He determined that we were worth redeeming.

 

I often think about how freed Africans were forced to worship God in less than dignified and humane ways…

 

Emancipated from the Shadows is a short piece The New York Times did, which featured pictures of the slave gallery at St. Augustine’s Episcopal Church on the Lower Eastside of Manhattan.

 

So amazing that Christ thought enough of our humanity to become human, live in an inhumane world under another corrupt empire to set captives free…even those who like the Hebrews some thousands of years ago would be freed from their oppressive masters and sought out by a God who desired that these few would be able to worship the divine image of Christ apart from the bondage of a cruel Pharaoh.

 

In undignified manner, African Americans used to have to climb stairs to the slave gallery at CHURCH!  Their very own section at church. I try to imagine how humiliating that must have felt…my struggle finding relevance or worth in the church as a woman, seminarian, and sometimes a Black person often helps me in that pursuit.

Check out, Sequestered in Spirit which is a 7 picture slide show of St. Augustine’s and the slave gallery.

Thank God he requires us to worship Him in Spirit & Truth and that He graciously removed the chains of racism that kept many of us from worshipping Him in a dignified…no, in a human way.  I know the battle continues.

 

Here’s to the intrepid Spirit of Christ who freed Hebrews, Africans, and all those who are His yet continue to fight the oppressiveness of sin.

 

Sin wouldn’t relent and let me be, but bless the Lamb who has strengthened feeble knees and led me with an easy yoke to His presence.

 

Dignified Worship In and by Christ alone.

 

Pleasure Principle

I was talking with a friend today who graciously expanded my view of God.   I really don’t feel like writing, but I’m going to try and push past the feeling for as long as I can. Thinking deeply is exhausting, but writing about it is downright draining at times. 

My friend said, “you can’t get away from grace!”

I’ve tried! Believe me I have. 

I’ve militantly scouwered my dead sin cells with passages from hardcore Scriptural truths out of Romans, raging Old Testament prophets including John the baptizer until I’ve oozed a sort of loathing for my existential plight.

I hate the reflection in the mirror and I don’t blame God for not being able to let “His face shine upon me.” I barely take in long glimpses of myself without feeling nauseous.  What a worm am I and as such I know only seeing Jesus will please my Father.  Every failure screams, “still not good enough!”

O! Where is the rod of Hosea? Allow me to go po-po with the baton of being reminded that I am an unfaithful whore married to a holy bridegroom.  He doesn’t deserve my unfaithfulness.  Why do I keep choosing everything and everyone other than Him? Clearly, I do not value Him above those things! I cannot be elect! I will not! But everything else is anarchy and I know it! I’m getting off this rollercoaster of life! My body follows the cue in of tragic inevitability…I should not be here. I should be dead.

It’s a shame. No, I mean it really is what’s-its-face? Shame. 

And then Mars destroys and renews again and I don’t feel the same about anything anymore.

It’s a very slow process, but just as I was suprised to find the LORD’s cords of kindness in Hosea, I am regaled with knowing that He definitely delights in me.

And His grace keeps following me…this is the principle of pleasure. 

Nasty Naj but grateful to be a brand plucked from the fire.  

And btw, He is gorgeous!

As a matter of fact

Forgot to say that I’m going to being doing some travel writing…yeah, going to see how far a Metrocard will take me! Don’t feign interest! I know you were expecting me to talk about Jamaica or Turkey…cute places like that! Welp! I’m broke so just stay tuned for pictures and journaling from a crusty New Yorker!

 

N

I Swear!

It’s January 28, 2012 and I’m back!  I always hear that line in Shai Linne’s voice with that bubble busting boasting pin say, “but nobody was asking where I’ve been…”

I hope ya’ll still there and still slightly curious about what I’m going to write next.  I have a lot to say and like I’ve been saying in all my spooky undertones, I feel like Mars (again). I’m changing and I think I’m beginning to feel like God loves me a lot. 

But here’s my random as ever rant for today!

Some people really have the entitlement game down kids! I was on the train coming here… [Don't ask where...you know full well I'm in Starbucks. Where else can you take advantage of free wifi while drifting into a caffeine induced coma and look at home doing it with the rest of the Starbucks zombies?]  Anyway, I try to stay off the subway as much as possible.  There’s something about that window seat above ground on the Select buses the MTA is ramming down our throats.  I just feel a lot more at peace on the bus! Today, I gave up some of my peace and pandora tunes to take the straight route here.  Tell me how now that I’m an infrequent rider I am able to sort of bump into the same crazy people on the train?

There is this one lady who we’ll call the give-up-your-seat captain! Last time I rode the train she was chastising an insouciant young woman in her twenties.  I think it was for the best that the girl was oblivious to what was going on.  She sat straight ahead and looked that perfect cross of aware and in a zone.  You know that thing New Yorker’s have branded.  It go, I’m chillin’, no mean mugging, just bumping my music in the earphones and minding my business. Mind yours! Yeah that’s the NYC neutral mug, but don’t get it twisted, the guard is still up! O…K…now, Captain move it or lose it was on a mission to secure a seat for the gentlemen I initially believed was her husband or in the very least traveling with her.  As soon as she got in the subway car she starts in on this young lady.  Idk…something about if she was sitting there, she’d have given up her seat.  I think someone else may have gotten up though, but I’m not completely tight on the details because it was awhile ago.  Anyway, I perceived that the Captain was a racist. Yeah, I said it!  I rode that conclusion home because I’ve observed other white women appear to use their white skin privilege to do things like this in the past.  It’s infuriating! Alright, so the young woman was African American and nothing really came of it except that I was on the edge of my seat angry because the old Captain was unwilling for awhile to let it go. Plus, it turns out the guy is NOT even with her!

Fast Forward to today. SAME LADY! LOL She gets on the same car as me and promptly begins to say to any and everyone in her come on guys tone,”he would like to sit…”  Two people moved pretty quickly and she and her traveling companion (no more assumptions from me about her tolerance for so called minorities or marital status, sorry!) I’m like, what the? She and buddy cozy up in their seats and she’s smiling from ear to ear. 

Am I bugging or is she doing too much? I get that the law is that if requested patrons of the MTA are required to give up their seats to the elderly or handicapped, but do you ever bristle when you see people going hard to promote their rights? Why do you think that is? How do you even promote rights in a non offensive or non belligerent way…with humility?

And let me get back to minding my own business…lol

N

I’ll Be Honest

I’m not a cheerleader for America.  That might have a lot to do with the way my people have been historically treated in this country.  At the same time, I identify as an American.  Clearly, I was born here and I know no other place as home.

No I wasn’t born in Ghana/But Africa’s my mama/and I did not end up here from bad karma

I’m An African by Dead Prez

There aren’t many times that I can agree whole heartedly with DP, but this one gets a ‘Like’ from me.  It never ceases to amaze me how the Lord plops me into atmosphere’s entirely different from the ones I’ve lived in…

I’ve had the privilege of being in the company of not a few U.S. patriots.  It’s made me consider my upbringing a lot.  Here are a few of the things I’ve noticed:

• I’ve nursed a hostility and distrust of police officers for much of my life
• I’ve been highly suspicious if not blatantly confused as to the merit behind joining any branch of military
• I’ve never felt fully American
• As would possibly follow from the above, I’ve never felt threatened by America’s enemies
• I’ve never felt as though the Constitution of The United States of America spoke to me or my community
• I’ve always been reticent about casting my ballot one way or the other
• The Civil Rights Era…try as I may, *gosh* it seems so far removed from me
• I am a Democrat by default…my mama votes that way, so I picked up the mantle
• I don’t trust any politician
• I’ve never found myself sandwiched between the views of so called Conservatives or Liberals – frankly, I’ve never cared!
• I’ve never viewed the above as mostly Christian or non-Christian
• I am basically apathetic about the political process
• As ignorant as I am about the happenings, I find party lines to be lame and second only to small talk.  I hate both.

What is bugging me out is that I am beginning to see that I and many other Americans who hold to these sentiments above are quite possibly in the minority.  Many Americans are second, third, or fifth generation flag wavers.  So?

So, I’m examining my suspicions, fears, and ignorance.

I’ll let you know how it goes.  Talk to me about your journey, why don’t you?

From One Sleepless City to the Next

I feel like a black militant taking over the government/can’t turn my back on the hood/too much love for them/probably end up back in the hood… Nas

Always had a sort of hankering to say that about my home.  I feel that way.  No matter the cycles my life has taken, no matter the cities I’ve lived in, no matter how clean the suburbs or how white the church buildings I’ve entered in for worship appeared, there was always this feeling…it’s like a swift wind that passes by on a summers night.  It’s telling you that fall is on its way, the season has changed.  That it has.

Home to the hood – at least for a moment.  Home to my beautiful nieces, one I have yet to meet and two who are growing so quickly, it literally makes me cry.  One has fancied her aunt ‘N’ to have “made it out.”  Ha!  On to talk about what that means to her and to entertain her strange interest in Marilyn Monroe? *sigh* Anticipating hugging my mother more and being a part of God’s redemptive plan for my city.