Like you, I awoke on Saturday to the news of the nighttime marches in Charlottesville. Shrouded in the darkness of the night and, dare I say, fueled by a darkness in their hearts, they marched.  I could not shake the images, so I carried the news with me on my morning run.  Running is where God is able to find me.  “Father forgive them for they do not know what they do.”  Luke 23:24   I was having a hard time with those words of Jesus.  They knew exactly what they were doing.  Again, I knew my need for a savior.  Lord have mercy on me.

On that same Saturday morning, in Hayneville, Alabama, there was a different march, the annual pilgrimage in remembrance of Jonathan Myrick Daniels and others martyred during the era of Civil Rights.  I try to go every year.  I go to be thankful; I go so that I will not forget; I go to be disturbed. We marched in the light of day, and we marched for the sake of love. 

It is always a curious mix of people who march, and if we are able to catch a glimpse of heaven on earth, I see it each year in the people in Hayneville.  “So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”  Galatians 3:26-28

As I marched, an older man who had a pronounced limp caught my attention.   Hunched over and very unstable on his feet, he was helped along by a younger man that I assumed was his son. When we finally arrived at the site where Jonathan was killed, this same man stood in front of everyone else, but it was not as if he did so in order to be seen.  By his eyes, he seemed to be elsewhere.

After a reading of the account of Jonathan’s martyrdom - among others - he wobbled over to a small cushion, and knelt precariously in order to pray.  I was unsure if he would be able to stand up.  His son rushed over to help.  

When the procession finally arrived at the courthouse for the closing Eucharist, again I saw this unassuming, frail man.  He was sitting near the front in the jury box.  As the service moved into the announcements the deacon who organizes the annual event introduced Richard Morrisroe who was with Jonathan the day he was shot.  As Jonathan took the first shotgun blast, Morrisroe grabbed another young woman who was with them to rush her away.  Morrisroe was shot in the back, leaving him seriously wounded. He would never fully recover, always walking with a limp. 

The deacon asked Morrisroe to share a few words, and the man I had watched all morning stood.  He shuffled to the podium.  And he spoke.  He encouraged us to keep working for freedom for all.  He challenged us to teach our children.  And he gave thanks for his life.  So humble.  So kind.  No screaming or yelling.  No anger.  No resentment.  Another voice echoed in my mind, “How beautiful are the feet that bring good news.”  Romans 10:15  
Lord, move my heart and my feet to bring good news, too.

The final experience from my weekend involves my nephew.  His name is Connor.  He is a 9 year old, precocious boy who is keenly aware of the world around him.  Connor was adopted by his parents at birth.  He is bi-racial.

Because he asked, his parents have explained to him why his skin is so much darker than Mom and Dad.  Connor has studied about the Civil War and the history of racism. Connor lives in Charlottesville, VA. On Saturday morning, as he watched the news of the hatred and bigotry erupting just a few miles from his home, Connor was overcome by fear. He asked his father, "Daddy, are they gonna make me a slave again?"   

I still do not know what to with that.  I do know this - the way of hatred, veiled in words like pride, alternate-right or heritage, is sinful. For the sake of Connor and all who are afraid, I dare name it evil. It is not the way and truth and life of Jesus.  

When I say that Christ Jesus is my Savior, I am making the most inclusive confession about God that I can make.  When I say I believe in Jesus, I am committing myself to his way and truth and life.  It is the way of love; it is the truth of peace and mercy; it is the life of compassion and kindness.  For all.
Lord help me. 

As I walked into church yesterday, the words of the collect of purity pierced my heart,
Almighty God, to you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid: 
Cleanse the thoughts of my/our heart[s] by the inspiration of your Holy Spirit, 
that I/we may perfectly love you, and worthily magnify your holy Name; 
through Christ our Lord. Amen.