Help When Hope is Elusive — Becoming Rev. Rolle

I was asked to pray on Sunday.

I’m always grateful for the invitation to help with church service, even when I can’t do the thing. I’ve come to the point where church feels like church to me when I’m part of the liturgy. So, this past Sunday when I got the request for HBCU weekend to put on my FAMU gear and do the altar prayer & invitation I felt a good bit of joy at the prospect.

But when I got into the process, when I thought about what to pray for, my heart got heavy.

People were waiting for a verdict for the Chauvin trial. Chicago was trying to keep it together after police shot down a young kid. Another officer accidentally shot a kid when she claims she intended to pepper spray him. All of this, on top of our regularly scheduled oppression.

I know that our faith is supposed to be about hope, but we need help.

So I prayed for help.

“American history has taught me to be wiser than to expect good news from bad seeds.”

Honesty in faith is important. Saying that we don’t know the way forward, that we don’t see the light right now, that we want to rejoice in the few good things around us but we’re afraid something else is going to go wrong, all of that confession is holy work. Why waste time gathering the saints if we’re just gonna lie to God?

It is not okay.

We are terrified.

No one knows what to do.

It feels like God’s promises are far from reach.

We need help.

That’s the prayer that I have right now. That’s why I need help, Oh God.

“I’m sitting here, as a Black woman in the south, realizing that the only reason that I can vote is because someone stood on a bridge for me. Someone blocked traffic for me. Someone had hope for me. “ — “I’m sitting here, as a Black woman in the south, realizing that the only reason that I can vote is because someone stood on a bridge for me. Someone blocked traffic for me. Someone had hope for me. “

Today, my heart wants to believe that help is coming. That the tide is turning. That trends are changing. That the organizing and the protests and the advocacy and the public education and the communications and messaging strategies are working.

I want today to feel like hope.

But honestly, I just feel tired.

I had no real hope from today’s verdict. American history has taught me to be wiser than to expect good news from bad seeds. I had been silently bracing myself for heartbreak. Funny enough, even in this guilty verdict that seems like what justice is supposed to be, my heart is still broken.

The international protests that required local authorities to take this trial seriously are the same protests that Florida’s governor just made illegal yesterday. Georgia is attacking voting rights. Florida is attacking the means to protect voting rights.

And I’m sitting here, as a Black woman in the south, realizing that the only reason that I can vote is because someone stood on a bridge for me.

Someone blocked traffic for me.

Someone had hope for me.

For me, it has been 20 years of community outreach, organizing and ministry.

I’m tired.

Today I’m going to rest my head and my heart. Tomorrow I’m going to thank my God and my ancestors for renewed strength.

Next week, I’ll look at the next strategic move.

Today, I’m going to rest.

God help us all.