I Remember Martin.

A few of us old heads that were around when Martin L. King was marching is still around.  I can say. “ I was there."  I remember when the doors of Black churches  were closed to MLK.  I remember when black people said Martin was irrelevant, nothing but a trouble maker and he need to go and sit down.  I remember when the militant black groups infiltrated his peaceful marches and created  chaos that resulted in violence.   I remember when members of his inner circle plotted against him and sought to take control or split his organization.  I remember the March on Washington  and his famous speech,  “I have a dream .”   I also remember waking up one morning  and realizing that the dream had ended and the nightmare had begun.

     “We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal”  This is a quotation from the Declaration of Independence, it  has been called an "immortal declaration".  It is the single phrase of the United States Revolutionary period with the most continuing importance.  Today the descendants of African slaves stake their quest for freedom  and deliverance from hatred and racism on these immortal words that is hailed as a divine conceit.

     The truth is, Thomas Jefferson, a slave owner first used this phrase in the Declaration of Independence as a rebuttal  to the prevailing theory of the day, the Divine Right of Kings.  The use of this phrase was not to set the stage for the freedom of the African slaves, as we have been told, Africans slaves were not considered as a part of that group of, “all men”, nor were women.  The first word, “We” referenced a small group of men who authored a document that said, “we do not accept the rites of kingship.” 

      The phrase has been quoted, misquoted and incorporated into speeches by a wide array of substantial figures.  The phrase was also quoted by Martin Luther King, Jr. in his famous I Have a Dream speech, as the "creed" of the United States. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: 'We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.

I Never Sang For My Father

From the book,  ( I Never Heard The Blackbird Sing)

His fondest memories of growing up on the farm  was the times he spent with his father working in the fields, driving the tractors and the silent moments they spent together.  Learning to drive the tractor at an early age he became his father's prime asset in working the fields after the older boys left home.

     Graduating from high school with a desire to further his education was a painful experience for his father.  It was his father’s expressed desire that he remain on the farm and help him.   Providence must have prepared his father for the moment  when he would leave home.  After being the youngest child for nearly fifteen years his mother gave birth to a set of twin and another son to take his place as the youngest of the family.  His days quickly became filled with helping his father in the fields and helping his mother with the three boys. 

     Before leaving home to further his education, he made a tearful and solemn promise to his  father that he would return and help out on the farm.  This was a promise that he intended to keep, but there were those who knowingly and unknowingly did everything in their power to prevent this from happening.

     That closeness that once existed between him and his father became a victim of sibling rivalary, that produced an intense hatred.  It seems as if a giant eraser was used to blot out and reconstruct his formative years, and create a persona, a person that was alien to him.   It was a hatred so great that many times he had chosen to run and hide.   A hatred born out of the misstatement of an aunt who learned too late of the Hell she had unleashed, and fuelled by the fact he was younger but the first of his brothers to graduate from high school.

          Many years he had shied away from family gathering and family reunions.  Living only thirty minutes away from the home place, years would sometimes pass without him visiting his mother and father.

     They knew him in the nursing home as the young man who would come in and sing to his father.  Day after day, month after month  he sang to the emasculated form of a once vibrant man lying on the bed.  In that process of time he made one more tearful promise while holding his father's hand not yet cold from the grip of death.  He promised he would sing, “Further along  we will know all about it, further along we will understand why…”at the close of his service.  It was another promise he was not allowed to keep….

I Just Don't Get It

 Sitting in my home office staring at my computer screens a practice that allows me to escape reality for brief periods of time.  The medical benefits of this asinine practice  is, it helps me control my blood pressure.   This morning as I drifted off into a state of unearthly bliss, the sharp ringing of my cell phone called me back to a world of reality.  The display showed a call from the VA Clinic.  My first impulse was to let it go to Voicemail, but I followed my second impulse and answered it.  The  call from my doctor’s office filled my office room with a profound sense of gloom and  depression.   For a moment I was tempted to shed a tear, but where is the relief in crying alone?  I did a mental run through of my contacts in search of a preacher I could call in this situation, finding none I staring back at my computer screen and  decided to check my e-mail.  There was an e-mail from my cousin’s husband informing me that my cousin’s treatment didn’t go very well, and he was also depressed.   His pastor had been in to pray for his wife, his wish was that his pastor took some time to talk to him.   Today also is that day I am  supposed to visit a friend of mine whose wife is in the hospital dying of cancer.

     On my way to the kitchen to get my second cup of coffee, I realized the urgent need to find and have a conversation with God.  A quick scan of the social media columns and I found God.  He was so busy giving out wads of cash and buying cars that he don’t have time for the poor in spirit like me.  I thought of the church, but it is getting harder and harder to find solace in the house of God.  The last time I went to church in search of a message of hope, I heard a beautiful message of how God wanted us to live prosperously and enjoy life.   The church was elated, and the congregation was getting their praise on   But somewhere in that crowd there were several people just just like me who sat quietly and listen.   When praises go up blessings come down was the word from God, but Jesus said in Matthew 5:3 blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Then he went on to say in Matthew 5:4 blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted.  And he explained it all in Revelation 21:4 And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither there any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”  Now I can wrap my faith around this, I am just going home. 

     Outside the day was breaking and someone tweeted how wonderful it was for God to wake up the sun and start a new day.  The vision of a god in outer space jump starting the sun did not seem  a  promising factor in my dilemma,   nor did the online prayers requesting God to rebuke death and diseases.  

     When I began this journey I became the poster child for long drawn out prayer and the laying of hands.  Many proclaimed that the healing was already done all I had to do was believe it or accept it.  If I asked a question the only answer I got was, "God is a healer."    The problem that I was dealing with was when miracles were performed in the Bible they were done in such a way that only God could receive the glory.   I am still confused as to how going to the hospital and undergoing lifesaving procedures have anything to do with the healing virtues of God.   There is no faith building moment when the young preacher speaks of the healing virtue of God after undergoing open Heart surgery.  As one pastor asked, “Why would God use a knife to heal people.”   It seems that we want the healing virtues of God to flow so bad, we make up stuff as we go along.   It is not a question of what God can or cannot do, the question is what is God doing in this dispensation of Grace.  Some churches teach that it is wrong to go to the doctor.   Church members struggle and die striving to live by faith.  Anytime questions are asked the response was, God knows what he is doing, as if this is a definitive answer.   Listen to the message portrayed thru gospel music and charismatic preachers God is performing miracles every day and people would be a fool  not to flock to the church.  People testifying of God healing them of a headache are bogus at best and God does not get any glory out of it.  Sometime I just don't Get it............

Coming of age with the preacherman

( I Never Heard The Blackbird Sing)  Hitching a ride home from Nashville with his preacher friend proved to be the most surreal and traumatic experiences of his early life.  Leaving home at such and early age his  father was concerned that he might fall in with the wrong crowd and be led astray.  When his father found out that a local pastor was attending  a school in Nashville he enlisted the aid of the pastor to help look out for his son, a naive sixteen year old who wanted to leave home and go to college in the early sixties. 

One of the benefits of this arrangement was he could ride home on the weekends. Traveling in a car was much more exciting and more personal than traveling by bus and his young mind was trying to absorb it all.  As darkness began to settle over the beautiful landscape  and the bright lights of Birmingham began to dominate the skyline, his preacher friend informed him that he was going to spend the night in the city with some friends and drive the rest of the way in the morning.   First he would find a place where we could get some food and drinks.

He had never been in a “Juke Joint”, he had heard of these places, and it did not take a rocket scientist  to know that he was in one now.  His first reaction was, “I’m sanctified, I can’t go in there.”  The preacher said, “It's ok, you are with me.”  Inside the dimly lit smoke filled room, the music  and noise was loud and boisterous.  A table was found and he was seated as his friend who seems to be well known went up to the bar to place their order.

The bartender arrived at the table with two brown bags with bottles inside,  two bowel of ice and an assortment of cokes and sprites followed by the two ladies that was sitting at the bar when they came in.   The ladies wore heavy makeup to hide their age and the smell of their perfume was stifling.  They were much older than they pretended to be.   His preacher friend paired up with one of the ladies and the other one one zeroed in on him.  “Don’t worry about a thing I am going to take good care of you.” She said as she fixed him a drink and handed it to him. He prayed for deliverance but none were forthcoming.   

Morning came and he woke up naked in a bed with a severe headache. He had no knowledge of how he got there but here he was in what he would later describe as a seedy motel room, his clothes were thrown across the  floor and his wallet lay open revealing its emptiness.  He was heart broken, all of the money he had saved for his mother was gone.  That night the innocence of a sixteen year old child was lost.   While he was getting dress there was a knock on the door, “you ready to hit the road,” his preacher friend asked.  When he walked outside he was he was crying, "She stole my money and I want it back", he said. 

"Forget your money, it gone ", the preacher said.  "I thought you better than to take your money into that room", how did I get stuck with such a dumb kid",  he added.

They rode the rest of the way in silence.  He never saw the preacher again.

From the book I Never Heard The Blackbird Sing by Earl Gillespie. Copyright 2013 by Earl Gillespie. Published by Gillco Publishing. All rights reserved.

Gotta Tell Somebody

( I Never Heard The Blackbird Sing)… At the cow barn that evening he had threatened to tell his father about his brother’s  fake accident, this proved to be the wrong move.  His brother grabbed the tail of the cow behind him while he sat on a stool milking,  squeezed it into a half circle, breaking the cow’s tail.  This was a painful agitation to the cow who began to thrash from side to side.  He was crushed between the cows.  Milk bucket, stool and him all went in different directions.  He was beaten severely by his brother’s manipulation of the cows and his brother never laid a hand on him.  He was dirty and filthy and before leaving the barn his brother sat down on a pile of cow manure  and rolled on the ground laughing to make sure his clothes were dirty and looked the part of being in a fight. 

     Now he was running trying to beat his brother home, because he knew if his brother told his story first he was in deep trouble.  He had to come up with a way to keep from getting in trouble for this thing he had not done.  He had to trump his brother's hand before the hand was played.  Left to his brother’s own devices he knew his daddy was going to whip him for starting a fight with his brother with the “fake” bad arm.   A scheme began brewing in his mind.  On the way to the barn that evening he was daydreaming and admiring the clouds with their beautiful shape and using his imagination, he had seen one that was shaped like a man.

      When he walked into the house his brother was already there getting ready to seal his doom.  He beat him to the punch.

     He blurted out, “Mother I saw a man up in the clouds,” and he said, “come unto me.”  

     His brother didn’t  stand a chance.

    The Spirit of the Lord came upon his mother and between shouting and praising God all she could say was, “Y’all go change your dirty clothes and get ready for dinner. 

A Testing of Faith

(The Irrelevant Rant of an Ambiguous Old Man...) During the late sixties and early seventies my faith was severely tested and much of what I had been taught was put in doubt...Long ago I envision the religious community as that of a group of people standing on the bank of a river shouting to a drowning man, "Swin, Swim". When calling into question as to why, the response was. "The book says all you have to do is swim and you won't drown." Days later after they recovered the body, his wife was overheard saying, "He just didn't know how to swim".  

Coming of age in the sixties was a traumatic experience for many, yet it was the birth of the new religious experiences during that era, that shook the very foundation of religion and the faith of many. Growing up in a Christian environment, I was taught to believe in the Bible. I was also taught that it was impossible to understand everything in the bible and this created a level of contradictions and confusion that caused many young people to just simply run away from the church. 

During that time God was also tested, and when God failed to step forward and avenge his name, many concluded and publicly stated that God was dead. The door was then opened for the hustlers, the players and yes the pimps, and even the used car salesman to come marching in all claiming to be a miracle worker and extracting hard cash from the sheep pouches. The Hollywood style entertainers took center stage and a new religious order began to emerge.  From the flamboyant Rev. Ike to the irresistible Jim Jones they came in droves. Their message was the same, “Give me some money (plant a seed) and God will bless you.” Nobody had the gall, then and now, to stand up to these men, because if the preacher said it, it was right. .. And there they are, on local and national Television pimping their wares.  Many times while listening to these messages I close my eyes and see a man struggling in the water, drowning, crying out for help,  while the preacher preaches, "He woke me up this morning, (aHaw) and he started me on my way (aHaw).  Ain't God good.  The church erupted in a shout as another Cancer ridden struggling soul sinks beneath the Religious waves of confusion. 

Sitting in on the religious service I was impressed at the young man's ability to work the crowd. It was a simple message of, “God love you.” The congregation was constantly reminded to touch someone and tell them that God loved them. Once the excitement began to build the message changed to, ‘God loves a cheerful giver.”  The feeling evokes the same type of euphora as that of attending a Jame Brown concert, the only difference was James Brown was honest, you knew up front it was a show and it was all about the money. You knew what you were going to pay before you walked through the door.

The Dying Light

(The Irrelevant Rant of an Ambiguous Old Man...) Standing in the hallway of the glassed CC unit I was watching the old man as he twitched and turned on the bed.  Two nurses in attendance working feverishly  to adjust his pain medication drip,  while a third one looked on as if to oversee the  procedures.   In the far corner a minister stood  clasping a Bible, his lips slighting moving as he muttered  silent prayers.    His wife sat nearby curled up in the chair with eyes closed as if meditating or trying to keep from crying, The old man whispered something  to his nurse and she turn and asked the minister to leave.  In defiance before leaving the room he shouted, “I pray the prayer of deliverance”.  The third nurse recoiled as if she had been slapped and the blood pressure monitor began to sound its  alarm. 

“You can go in now”  the nurse said as she walked by me  heading towards  her station at the far end of the hall  Dumbfounded I stuttered a response, indicating that I was not there to visit the old man.  “He asked for you by name, she said.  I looked at the old man then I looked back at the nurse to ask his name but she was gone.

The first thing I notice was his eyes, they were dark yet  they seems to be burning like charcoal,  there was a certain sadness that seems to radiate from his eyes, and when  he smiled a tear moisture the corner of his eye. 

“They want to cut me open but I don’t want them to do it”.  He began speaking slowly and weakly at first then he seems to gain strength as he continued.  “The cancer is back and it spreading, but I am at peace.  

I stood by the side of the bed  and held his hand and in time without boundaries he told me a story.   "Promise me you will tell my story", he said. “Tell my brother I forgive him for all of the pain he has caused me”….  "

On December 31, 2013 I will tell his story, "I Never Heard The Blackbird Sing."

I am so confused..

Heaven, God, Religion, Christianity or whatever name is acceptable today’s modern society, is confusing. The first level of confusion is about what it is and what it should be called. This is as confusing as trying to decide should I be called colored, black, the unspeakable word or that hyphenated one. Did I feel better the morning I woke up and realized I was no longer that “unspeakable word”? No. Many followers of the scripture touts Prayer is the solution to the world’s problems and on a daily base long boisterous prayer is casted before the throne of God. Yet the world is not getting to be a better place, amidst all of this praying the world situation is getting worst. Storms are raging and murder is on the increase amid wars and rumors of wars. Parents are no longer safe in their homes and children are no longer safe in their schools. The chilling aspect of all of this is many are praying to God to fix these problems, and doesn’t it seem like God is ignoring us? Maybe we ought to ask “why”, rather than pretending God is doing so many special things for us. This act alone has render our faith unbelievable and worship services have taken on the flair of rock concerts. Jesus said, the father cause the sun to shine on the just as well as the unjust. He rains on the just and unjust also. When Jesus was leaving this world going back to his father he said things were going to get worst. His final message was, “if you can endure, I will give you a crown of life.”

Sitting on a Stump

Sitting on a stump at the water’s edge of my favorite fishing pond, I enjoy reminiscing of the days past.  When I was young and learning the ways of life, being broke was as common as going fishing and not catching any fish.  To improve my financial situation many laid hands on my wallet and prayed while they extracted their fee.   To improve my fishing skill, a preacher suggesting anointing my fishing rods and reels with blessed oil and praying for God to let me catch fish.   Now anointing my rods and reels with blessed oil seems like a good idea to prevent corrosion, but I am not going to pray for God to allow me to catch fish, nor will I ask him to put money in my wallet.  

     There is a battle being wages against Christianity, There are more Bishops, Preachers, Apostles,  and prayer warriors stepping up to the plate, but when you check the score card (news)  the Devil is winning.  We have trivialized our God and it is the believability of God that suffers.     

     Often I am call sacrilegious or even a heathen because of my views.  Now what you pray for is your business, it’s between you and God, but I think it is time we get back to being serious about prayer and our God.    I have developed a certain respect for God that will not allow me to treat him like a banker or car mechanic, and I don’t want to approach him like a begging brat. 

     I am heading down range, battle number three is my destination, and it is a killer.  My friends and family are dropping like flies after being hit with insect spray.  I am staring past the steely eyes of death and looking for the face of God.   My immortal status he on Earth was revoked and I am in acceptance of my fate.  I am not going to spend my day begging God to do this or that, like the three Hebrew boys whether he delivers me or not, he is still God.     There may as well come a time when I look to my Father with pleading eyes and ask, “When are you coming to get me Dad?” 

An Irrelevant Rant

(The Irrelevant Rant of an Ambiguous Old Man)...I am amazed and appalled at the surreal Hell that that many of us who are dealing with sickness and death are forced to endure by those who think they are right. Most times they do it in the name of God.  We ought to know how to minister to sick sheep as well as the healthy ones. That person suffering from cancer realizes the outcome of humanity is death and is thanking God for peace and acceptance. I challenge the Minister, Apostle, the Pastor to lay aside your superficial messages, scriptures out of context, Buzz words that create excitement and speak to these human conditions. There are people suffering and dying, this is the natural course of man. According to Jesus this world is not going to get any better. We have polluted our food supplies and young people are suffering from all types of diseases. Crime is on the increase and church folk are praying more than ever. 

 We don’t need another message of Moses floating down a river in a boat. We have heard the story of Daniel in the Lion's den so many times we know it by memory.  Help us understand our purpose it’s in the book of Genesis; tell us about what God has planned for us; it’s in the book of Revelation. Get off this natural kick you are tampering with my faith and the faith of our youth. The Universities, The Institutions of higher learning and Motivational speakers are doing a fantastic job. You don’t have to be a Christian to own a car, a nice home or have money in the bank.  

I am going home and since you can’t stop me, I challenge you to help me, if not pull over and put it in park while I pass you by.