Integrated Church... Not Yet

I attended the First Baptist Church of Tuscaloosa,Alabama from the time I was 4 until the time until I was about 11 or 12.  That year, we were sitting in the sanctuary waiting for the morning service to start when there was mild disturbance at the back of the sanctuary (which would have been the front entrance of the church).  We would later learn that an African-American couple had come to the church to worship, but they were turned away at the door by some of the greeters.  My parents were appalled and we left the church shortly after that.

My parents were good like that, though our family was not perfect at all.  While all people were welcome in our home, racial jokes still slipped into our conversations from time to time and there were some very well-meaning comments about “those people”.   While imperfect, there was a stark contrast between my family and some of the others in our area.  We had hateful and threatening notes tacked to our door by a neighbor when my parents invited ALL students from local schools to Youth for Christ meetings in our home.  My mom was hesitant when I wanted to invite my friend, Henry Pickens, home from elementary school because there were still those that openly and actively sought to segregate our society and who responded with anger and hatred.  On this Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, I am grateful that things are not as they were.

Because of my experiences as a child, I am so pleased when I see a growing mix of race in my current congregation in Nashville (First Baptist Church). I am also sure that things are not the same at the First Baptist Church of Tuscaloosa as they were in the 70’s.  I love that it is a person’s desire to be present in church and their desire to worship God rather than anything else that makes them welcome in our buildings.  I realize that the dream of Dr. King has not yet been fully accomplished.  Our churches are still predominately segregated by color.  Racism has gone underground and become more hushed.  People realize that it is not acceptable to hate out loud, so they do it quietly behind closed doors and in their hearts.  Sometimes I hear people say, “I’m not a racist.  I just think…”  Whatever comes out next is almost always a racist statement.  People have not yet owned all of their biases and we have not come to place where all people are truly seen as being created equal.  We keep finding new groups of “others” to alienate and segregate.  However, I know it is not as it was when I was a child.   I continue to pray for a day when our children will be judged not by the color of their skin (or their nationality, or any other external quality), but by the content of their character. 

Me and Mrs. Jones

     “Me and Mrs. Jones” was a number one hit for soul singer Billy Paul in 1972.  I have always loved the song and not because of its questionable themes (at the time this song’s release, those themes were lost on my naïve 8 year-old self).  I always liked the song because it made me think of my second grade teacher, Mrs. Jones.  While I don’t remember a whole lot about what we learned in the second grade, I remember Mrs. Jones.  Mrs. Jones was a kind and wonderful woman who made each day at school a joy.  She had way of making me feel welcomed and important each day.   When Mrs. Jones spoke to me, I felt cared for.  There were other teachers that I had through the years that stand out to me for many reasons – some rich and wonderful and some not so much.  However, what makes Mrs. Jones unique was that she was African-American. 

                I grew up in Alabama (Birmingham and Tuscaloosa).  As I have learned my history, I realize that it was no small thing for me to have black students in my class and black teachers in my school.  What is so wonderful to me now is to realize that, for me, it was no big deal.  Because of the sacrifice of others who fought for equality and a higher calling, I grew up without knowing a world of segregation and separation.  Because of the openness of my parents to have high school and college students in our home of every color and nationality, I learned of our common humanity and not a separation of color.  I did grow up in a culture where there were vestiges of the old ways in the form of blatant and many more subtle forms of prejudice.  Over time I began to try to rid my life –as best I could – of those things that were still a part of my life.  I did this because of people like Mrs. Jones and many others.  How could I tell certain jokes or say certain things I had learned through the years about the kind and wonderful people who had such an impact on my life.

                On this Martin Luther King, Jr. day, I am saddened by the heritage of division and hatred that has existed in this country and around the world.  It is even more disheartening to see that these things still go on in various forms.  For me, Mrs. Jones was not my “black teacher”; she was a kind and wonderful woman.  I pray that one day our children will live in a nation where people will not be judged by thecolor of their skin (whatever color it is), but by the content of theircharacter.