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During the second century, there were many Christians who were tortured and put to death for being Christian. There was one named Sanctus* who, when tortured, simply answered, "I am a Christian."  By my personal choice, I became a Christian at the age of 14, and I shall expect to always be a Christian regardless of the racial bigotry I experienced, not only at the hands of non-Christians but also at the behest of my fellow believers.

Insanity has been defined by some as repeatedly performing the same task again and again and expecting to get a different outcome. In my experience,   I have discovered that sanity and achievable goals can be reached, and obtaining a different result requires one to change the process, inspect the input, weigh the investment, and monitor the pursuit. Certain adjustments and evaluations have to be thrown into the equation.

In the mid-'70s while pioneering a church in the Southern region of the USA, I was invited by a friend to attend revival services of a then still segregated church.  I do not recall how he obtained my phone number, but the pastor called me the next day requesting that I not return.  In 1992, on the West Coast of the USA, after completing an interim pastoral assignment with a church in my denomination, I began a regional search for a pastorate in my denomination. the regional superintendent assisted me for a while until he admitted to me that I would probably not succeed in my search due to certain demographics. That was another way of saying that nearly 100% of the churches were white people and I was black.  He gave me no hope of ever being accepted as a senior pastor in any of the churches in his pacific region of the USA. It did not take me long to understand that my days with the organization with which I had been credentialed for 20 years no longer boded well for me and my chosen career in the gospel ministry.

So I allowed my credentials to expire and left my denomination. That forced decision changed the course of my entire career, and I have not pastored since the summer of '92. Neither my God nor my relationship with him had changed, but my understanding and personal experience with a racially biased Christianity shifted and my approach to church and ministry were forever altered.                                                                                                   

For years I had known and lived with the fact that the democracy and equality written in our country's documents and constitution were different from what I experienced and lived with. What became even more painful was the realization that the Biblical Christianity that I had learned both scholastically and experientially was far different from what I faced in my pursuit of ministry.  It did not take a rocket scientist to recognize that one of, if not the most, segregated hour in America was the Sunday morning worship throughout America.

These are just two of my stories, but like many African Americans, multiple are the putrid stories of my journey through this land of the free and home of the brave. Although at times the racially charged air is toxic and the breathing is challenging, in the words of a young man I heard a few days ago, "The dream is still alive". 


060620PSCtest, I Can't Breathe, Richard Lamoureux                                                                                                                          *The Story Of Christianity, Justo L. Gonzalez, pg. 46
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