(My thoughts from a year ago. Not much has changed; I still don’t really know persecution. And I’m still very thankful for Dr. King.)
Typically, I just quietly observe this day roll by, not commenting or even reflecting much. I think this comes from a fear of not being qualified or of being perceived as insincere. What do I know of racial persecution or what can I rightly add to the ongoing conversation? Maybe there is nothing for me to add, and maybe it would be wise for me to once again quietly observe. I don’t know. But I suspect those aren’t good reasons any more, for any of us.
The truth is, I have no idea what it’s like to be routinely singled out or hated or hurt or wanted dead because of the color of my skin, no clue what it feels like to fear such for my children, or to live in the looming shadow of the maddening atrocities experienced by my ancestors because of their skin tone or nationality; honestly, I know somewhat my own heart, and I’d be tempted to stew in hatred, were I the victim of such things.
So today, I’m more thankful than ever to be able to reflect on a man among men, a light in the darkness who stood up and addressed head on, with grace and mercy and at great personal cost to himself and his family, those atrocities and that hatred, inviting us all along on the journey to freedom.
I don’t think it has yet turned out the way he dreamed. But, as I believe Dr. King knew, there’s another King coming!
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