And Don't forget to Be Authentic. Bible Entertainment Class 2011---

Why do I love my husband?

I was reared to be prejudiced against 2 groups of people,{excuse my french} "White people" and "Uncle Toms". And then the Lord saved me. I was somewhat young, when God arrested my affections and taught me to love Him, first. He certainly took alot of time and attention to wrestle my affections from stereotyping people, from those 2 categories. An "Uncle Tom" would have been considered anyone with that awe inspiring condescension to white people. Most Black Baptists were seen to be in this category. Their heads would genuflect, as we did as Catholics, at the name of Jesus. They would do this when a White person walked into the room. I saw them do it and I saw the look of glee in the person's eye to be thus exalted. God took years to wrestle these categories from my breast. God taught me to see the importance of loving "white people" and "uncle tom's" and to see that even these sins are cleansed by the blood of Jesus. Maybe, only they will be in heaven. The scriptures state that we must exalt others as better than ourselves. I have learned these things from my precious husband and he has learned not to genuflect in the presence of "White people". My precious husband and I have grown up together, learned to see and appreciate one another's views and value the credibility of Scripture above labels and stereotypes. If a brother or sister is in one of his prejudicial categories and is a Christian, he asks me for assistance in dealing with his own reticence in loving them with the love of the Lord. If he is fearing their faces, because they are White and he grew up to honor that group of people, that is where my gifts come into play. I do love people, and even those whom I have been taught to despise, in Christ, but what I hate is that spirit that has grown up in this country, in covert, that is antagonistic to the spirit of Mordecai. The spirit that would feel comfortable when others bow in their presence and doesn't immediately throw that pride off, scares me. I run like the plague from people who are comfortable with Black people feeling subservient to them. That is why and what I love about my husband. He teaches me where subservience is godly and where it is excessive, from scripture and from experience. He is a tremendously gifted man who has humbled himself and given himself to the tasks at hand and been stepped upon and used by those who have seen his submission as weakness. God knows!

Superlatively Impressed! "Crumbs from the Queen's Table"

I am so impressed by the exportation of hope, from America, to the hope ravaged country of South Africa. It is unimaginable, that in so short a time we have grown to a point where we are exporting an impression of respectful and respectable Black womanhood. The carrying of an African American First lady and daughters and mother, to the apartheid shadowed nation, is something that was unimaginable when I was a child. It was only a dream to me. A very longed for dream, but a dream, none the less.




The example of Melba Moore paying homage to the mother and queen of soul, as she did, in the introduction to her most famous and beautiful rendition of "Lean on Me" is the message that I would have carried to South Africa, today, were I given the privilege of speaking to the ladies. Honor your mother, by hitting that note and holding that note and doing "it", as Melba did. She called it crumbs from the queens table. They were crumbs, meaning that this was the b side of the "45" and she made it a single! Let us do what our mothers do. Let us honor what they had to endure and carry it to the next level. Let us take what they endured on the b side of the 45 and take it to a single, Not throwing out their memory, but accepting the "crumbs from the queens' tables".

Confessions of an Antifeminist...

Mon and Del were the first to challenge my father's old fashioned and severe tactics of parenting. Everytime they came over, a challenging, agressive argument ensued. I saw him peruse their introductions to the reasoning method of discipline. Nope, it rarely budged him. He would stew over the new concepts around the house and spouted arguments for a few days.
I really loved that my daddy was transparent to us. He let us see his development of thought. He allowed us to look at his adulthood as a growth process. He wasn't in charge because he was right, but because he was dad. We learned to respect hi. s authority, whether we agreed or not. I respected that he made it clear that he didn't have a father and he was going to give his children something he didn't have. He recited every observation of masculinity to me and how it shaped him.
In terms of his severe discipline, with girls, Monica was the only one to stand up to him. In our family respect didn't always mean agreement. Those two disagreed, most intensely. First cousins they were, Monica was the voice of higher education.
I do remember the first Thanksgiving the happy and adored couple came home for Thanksgiving with their 2 toddlers. They were beautiful. They were educated, emancipated and equals. He was tall and powerful, a runner, a coach, a professor. She, now a mother was making it very clear that she was not about to let motherhood slow her down in her taking life by the horns. I am still in competition and growth in my profession. No talk of diapers and child development, except to challenge the status quo. She was all of our, intellectual superior, we all knew that. We should all be sitting at her feet. She had speed of thought and command of language. It was clear that the happy couple were teammates. This was a completely new concept for us all. No servitude and commander, teammates. She said things to Del that made us all look at eachother and say, who is the boss here?

I remember the glowing look that they both had, in their late 20's and I in my early 10's. They were the special guest star at the family celebration, anytime they came home.

The song, Young Gifted and Black seemed written just about them. Still, I never said that is what I want to be when I grow up. Dad always said it. You will be like, Monica. He admired her greatly. No.
As soon as she opened her mouth, I recoiled. Her words seemed to me to be dissembling our family and the command method that we had learned.

I know now that because of my headship of being an older sister, the thought of each person commanding themselves was a blow to my ego and my totalitarian headship of my younger siblings. I had little mercy, in those days. Commands were to be followed immediately and without question. I walked away from her little disciple group, sadly. I cannot embrace her words, as much as I wanted to. It would mean the end of my regime as well as my father's.

Confessions of an Antifeminist

Believe it or not, I am old enough to remember the early days of the feminist revolution. I remember most women, being married with children. Definitely, on TV, this was the case, even if it wasn't in my life. My mom was an at home mom, but both my grandmas were single mothers and very savvy with themselves; tremendously believers in women's rights.
Because my daddy had been reared in a female dominated family, he felt it his mission, to share the pitfalls of living in such a state. Anything, that hurt my daddy used to hurt me. I understood the look on his face of loss and grief, when he saw others' fathers, interacting with them.
I told you, this morning dear Evvie, about the development of family concensus in our family. The attacks and some of the effects of the philosophies that grew up in the 60s.

A Prayer for the New Generation of Princesses

God’s evident intention of royalty.

It is such a temptation to devalue traditions of our parents and to regard the traditions of position and respect as being a relic of the Dark Ages. It is certainly covered, as is exemplified in many of the Disney renditions of princess stories, to be covered with ivy and thorns and thistles and even a maddening mysticism. These traditions of royalty are ours by inheritance and they are ours by practice, but are they profitable to us spiritually? Are they blessed? Are they symbols? Are they glorifying to God?
In every station of life, God can be glorified and in every station of humanity God can be denied.
My Grandma had a large picture of Queen Elizabeth. I remember seeing her looking down on us, when we had tea. All of the traditions of the elders were questioned through the hippie generation and this was one of the traditions that was diminished in the wake of that revolution {cultural revolution}. We throw away royalty and we throw away respect.
I remember the stories of how seriously Elizabeth was trained to emulate respect and respectability, in days of want for many people. It was to the benefit of many that there was a family that had everything and yet they were careful to use thought as to how to express themselves in such a state of life.

What is God expecting me to show my children in my exaltation as mother?
What is God expecting me to show my children in my exalted position as wife?
What is God expecting me to show my children in my exalted position as a child of God?
Blessed with the incorruptible riches of the knowledge of God, in a day where the dearth is palpable and the darkness so deep is the most exalted state of human life. We have the light of the promises of God and the heart of His expression of His will on the earth. He is exalted and lifted up, in the lives of His people. Winning the lost is just one way. Living in the light of the glory of God in our condition of life does more to win others than talking.

God is exalted. God is the eternal royalty. Emulation of God in royalty is the emulation of beauty and power and glory, with the absolute utmost humility. None of us can attain to that and we needn’t try. If we are exalted, we must be that and be humble and if we are abased, we must be that and be humble. It is not the exalted or abased part that is difficult, but the humble part.

If I had a daughter {and my daughters are already royal}, but if she were going into the crucible to public attention to her, like Kate Middleton, I would pray for her soul. I would let her watch the Little Princess. I would pray that she would learn to abhor highmindedness and prejudice. I would pray that she would learn to think before she speaks and think before she acts. I would pray that she would learn to put her errors behind her, quickly and learn that those will be more looked at and remembered than her gifts and graces. I would teach her to give the glory to God in her life so that she needn’t be afraid that the accolades that others shower upon her would take from God’s glory, because each day she is at the altar of the Lord, pouring her praise upon Him and begging for all the glory to go to Him. It needn’t be said to people in every sentence, or it becomes trite, but it does need to be said to God in the secret place where all is seen in His presence. Lord, my heart is open and bear before You and I give You all the glory, to Whom all the glory is due. Then, a young woman is prepared to take the hand of the prince and live out her vow to God, for His glory, in whatsoever state that she is. Learning to be content.

Some days she will wake and it will seem like a bad dream. Too much Lord. Too much attention, when will these people back off and mind their business and care for their own needs. They don’t back off, though. Some times it will seem like a good dream, stars and wonders that other humans only wish for. All the time God is there and He always deserves the glory. He always deserves my heart to hold His hand. What do you want me to learn from this, Lord? Where do you want me to go with this, Lord? Prisoner of Zenda would be the second movie that I would show. The picture of the princess who is bound to her kingdom and her God, even before the wants of her own heart. We are all called to that kind of consistency. I want my way, but God has placed the path of duty before me. This is not the kind of consistency that is self wrought, but begged for and God-wrought, so as not to cause others to fall to their eternal destruction and to be true to the calling that God has placed on your life. Help me not to be a cast away Lord. Help me to adorn the cause of Christ in my station and not to upbraid it.

Play your position!

On the Volleyball court, I was never known to be one who played only my position. When men play their position, women can play their position with honor. Wifing and mothering is an honorable job. It feels like nothing in the midst of the days. When God is using the men and they are in his hand, it is tempting to leave the Lord's hip, to want to become a weapon instead of a sheath. You can get hurt doing what you are not intended to do. You cannot be effective as a sword, if you are a sheath. When God is sharpening the swords and doing His bidding He needs His women supportive and effectively keeping the homefires burning brightly{to change the analogy}.

I want to fight in the war with the men. Just because the world has a backward perspective, we don't have to be. We miss the reality of the beauty of the work that God intends for His women.
Jesus, help me support the work in prayer and praise and see You use each piece of Your work for Your own glory.