Love Walk Sparks Civil Rights Revelation

As a practicing agnostic, I have often wondered why the civil rights movement began in the Church. Christianity has always seemed antithetical to black liberation to me. After all, it is the white man’s religion, with a white Jesus imposed on our people during the degradation of slavery. I have been dissatisfied with my people’s devotion to a God we would not even know without our conquest.

This question was running through my mind as I descended with members and supporters of Shiloh Missionary Baptist Church for their 54th annual Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Love Walk through the streets of East Rock, LA. state’s longest celebration honoring Dr. King’s life and accomplishments.

I didn’t really want to celebrate Martin Luther King’s birthday on Monday. Here we are, in 2024, continuing to march for the same things that Dr. King marched for over 60 years ago. What really broke my heart was seeing the children marching through the streets of New Haven.

We need to spend time justifying our desire to just be treated like everyone else. And here are these kids parading around in freezing temperatures on their day off instead of talking shit to each other about Fortnite.

This march has been going on for 54 years. Will these children be walking in 54 years? Will there be a time when we can just be people instead of being activists and martyrs, even from a young age?

By the time we returned to Shiloh for the service following the walk, I was feeling depressed. Things have obviously improved since Dr. King’s murder in Memphis, but not so much better that our children have the luxury of sleeping in on his honoring day.

I stood in front of the church for a while, bending over to go home and wallow in my feelings. It was at this time that the first notes of the Gospel came out of closed doors.

Agnostic or not, I love gospel music, so I decided to go in and enjoy it while warming up. I entered the church as the singers began to play Lord you are good:

Lord you are good
You were so good
Lord you are good
You were better than good
I can’t praise it enough
I owe you my life
I can’t congratulate you enough
Even though I tried
Because you were… so good… to meeeee

I could feel my brain trying to come up with a cynical retort to the words, but it didn’t form.

My sadness evaporated with each major chord struck by the organ. The singers – Divine, Cherish, Naja and Alea – had only been singing together for two years, but their harmonies sounded like they had spent their lives performing together. The people sitting on the benches were standing, swaying to the music and singing. Melancholy had given way to joy.

I was ready to welcome Reverend Samuel Ross-Lee when he took the stage after the performance to deliver a sermon. He took over, in a quiet but powerful style that had everyone, including me, hanging on his every word.

“It doesn’t matter if people don’t work for you, just because they look like you,” he said. He said the words softly, but they hit like a hammer. Dr. King and his words have been used for all kinds of nefarious purposes since his assassination, and some of the people who contributed to this dastardly enterprise are the very people he was trying to save.

By the end of the shift, I was ready to get back out into the cold to walk again. I had gone to church.

Regardless, Black Americans have the heritage of Christianity as part of their culture. I think the civil rights movement began in the Church, not just because of the ability to organize or the moral clarity. It started there because it is hard and depressing work, and it must be balanced with hope. Even if that hope comes from the white man’s Jesus, it might be better than wallowing.

I didn’t see the kids at church for the sermon, at least. I hope they can go home and play Fortnite.