Broken Things

Yesterday marked the first anniversary of George Floyd’s death.

I’ve shared before, that the weeks following his death, were some of the most emotionally exhausting days of my life. I was tired in a way I had never experienced before. It felt as if the fight, pain, hard work, and grief of my ancestors were all channeled into my soul at once. I know others felt the same. However, I didn’t have to fight. I didn’t have to sweat. I didn’t have to die. I felt sadness and gratitude at the same time. Sadness because another black man died at the hands of someone who should have protected him. Gratitude because I believed that his death would open the eyes of many hearts.

And it did.

For the first time, friends were calling, texting, and messaging, asking me how I felt- how Mr. Floyd’s death affected me. They wanted to know about my experience as a black woman. They expressed sorrow for never noticing the pain or discomfort behind my eyes. I, of course, was quick to forgive because. . . I had never told them. 

Too many of us have rarely spoken up because many times when we have, nothing changed. It was more painful to speak out, then in return, be disregarded. So we often stayed quiet. Anyone who has been part of a group whose pain or struggle has been disregarded over and over again can understand. Almost every person reading these words is part of one of those groups or another. Every one of us has the experience and capacity to empathize with this occurrence.

This time, through the exhaustion, I, and many of my brothers and sisters of color, as well as others who always dreamed of justice and equality, took a collective deep breath of hope that this time, this death, would make a difference and lead to change.

There was division, there was strife, but what I chose to focus on and feel gratitude for was the unity I witnessed. More than ever before people all over the country were coming together for the common goal of justice and peace. People began to TALK. There were difficult conversations. There were tear-filled conversations. Some were angry conversations, but there were also conversations full of hope and peace. Many of us sought to understand situations and people we never considered before. 

“Unity is vision; it must have been part of the process of learning to see.” – Henry Adams

God was doing a great work in our country, and whether or not we chose to acknowledge it, each one of us was bearing witness to that work. As Christ-followers, we know “...that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

God didn’t make these things happen, but I believe He rearranged the universe to work this difficult season and his broken people for good. God is still working, It didn’t end last year, and it won’t end this year, but I pray each of us will choose to see and be a part of God’s amazing plan for peace and unity. That means working hard to be part of the change. We must be intentional in our conversations and actions. God calls us to be peacemakers, not just peacekeepers. That takes boldness and love.  I pray each of us will choose peace, unity, and love. 

 

I pray we choose each other.

 

“Make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace.” (Ephesians 4:3)