musingsofaregenerateheart

[musingsofaregenerateheart]

Musings During Holy Week

In years past, I had been a passive observer of Holy Week. I felt as though I had read/heard the Gospel story many times before over the course of my life so there was no real need to read them again. So every year when Resurrection season rolled around, it was no different than any other weekend. In fact I think I put more excitement and hype into the Easter Egg Hunt for my four year old son than I did the Single Most Important Event In The History Of The World.....

This year I have been particularly challenged in the area of “re-gospeling,” which is a term coined my Matt Chandler of The Village Church that simply means that as Christians we must keep the gospel (and it’s implications) at the forefront of our life everyday. The gospel should NEVER become mundane. It should NEVER become a dull story that we hear over and over and it eventually has no effect. Quite the opposite should be true...every time we hear it should increase our joy in Him. 

Since I have been practicing “re-gospeling” everyday--well, most days (I’m a work in progress!)--it has transformed my life. I have come to love and crave the glory of the Savior even more than I have perhaps since salvation.

So this year I decided to do a Bible Reading Plan where I would walk the trail toward Calvary in the gospels, and I am seeing Jesus like I never have before. For the first time I am reading the story as a participant. These are not just characters in a story but real people living out a real life event--and I am on the side of the road taking it all in. I am in the crowd yelling “Hosanna!” when he comes through on a donkey. I at the table for the Last Supper/Passover feast soaking up the last opportunity to physically fellowship with him on Earth. I am in the Garden of Gethsemane where the angst has overtaken him so much so that he sweats BLOOD. 

Tonight, I will continue on my journey toward the arrest and trial of Jesus that leads to death on a cross on a hill called Calvary. 

This is life changing. 

[musingsofaregenerateheart]

Digging Deep Into James 1:1

In D-Group we are memorizing the first chapter of James. I have to admit that when I first heard that we would be knocking down an entire chapter, I started shaking in my snow boots. I can't remember the last time I memorized something on purpose. I mean, in this Information/Technology Age, there really is no need for memory space in our brains because we literally have gigs and tetras at our fingertips! But I knew there had to be something golden about this process--the memorization of Scripture. There are several scriptures that admonish us to "hide the word in our heart" and "meditate on the word day and night." What better access is there than to call it up right from our brains? 

So the process began. I have memorized James 1:1-5, and I am quite proud of myself *pat on the back* 

But that's not what I want to talk about. 

I grew up in the Church, which means I am no stranger to the book of James--especially not the first few verses of chapter one. But I asked the Lord to help me look upon this text with fresh eyes, and no sooner than I prayed this prayer and start my memorization did verse one hit me:

"James, a servant of God and of the Lord Jesus Christ. To the Twelve tribes in the Dispersion: Greetings." (James 1:1)

In all the years I've ever heard James 1 preached or referenced, I had never heard anyone really talk about or mention verse one. Who are the Twelve Tribes in the Dispersion? What is the Dispersion? I started doing a little background research and discovered this:

The Twelve Tribes in the Dispersion are the early Jews-turned-Christians who were scattered abroad (widely presumed the after the stoning of Stephen, the first Christian martyr). These were the first Christians who had enjoyed the peace and harmony of the gospel together in Jerusalem for some time and then came the outbreak of the persecution and the killing of Christians (Stephen among the first). When news spread of the persecution in Jerusalem, the Christians began to flee. The word dispersion comes from the word diaspora which means "scattered."

James, the half brother of Jesus, was writing this letter to the many scattered Jews-turned-Christians to encourage them in their faith as they were facing this very huge, life-changing, terrifying trial. This letter is thought to be the first letter of what we would later come to know as the New Testament. 

This brought whole new meaning and understanding to the rest of the letter for me--particularly verses 2-4.

 "Count it all joy, my brothers (and sisters!) when you face trials of various kinds for you know the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect that you may be perfect and complete lacking in nothing" (James 1:2-4). 

"Counting it all joy" has nothing to do with being happy about the trial. There is not way those scattered Christians, who were fearing for their lives, were happy about the circumstance. It was deeper than that. That joy is the sustaining power of the hope that is bigger than the circumstance, namely Jesus Christ. These trials are also something to rejoice in because they test/prove our faith in order to increase our steadfastness (patience).....and according to that last verse patience is EVERYTHING. It completes us and we are satisfied (in Christ!) not lacking anything or worrying/focused on the implications of the trials. 

Digging deep,

jm

[musingsofaregenerateheart]

The mere thought of this blows my mind. The fact that I even believe this is a miracle in and of itself. It is not natural to accept this as truth. That is the miracle of the gospel.

[musingsofaregenerateheart]

Welcome To My Musings

This is the space where I work out my theological {theology: study of God} understanding of the God of the universe as He has revealed himself through the Scriptures {The Bible}. I believe that Jesus Christ is the one and only son of God who came to take away the sins of the world so that you and I could be reconciled to God. This is the good news {gospel}!!! However, because I am a resident of this world and I possess this body, there are struggles. As a writer, I tend to work out my issues with the pen. 

So, I welcome you into this space as I engage with the Lord intellectually and emotionally, loving him with my heart, soul, and mind {Matthew 22:37} and work out my salvation with fear and trembling {Philippians 2:12}. Please feel free to engage with me, and it is my prayer that we "walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as {we} were taught, abounding in thanksgiving {Colossians 2:6} 

[musingsofaregenerateheart]

"...continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose" (Philippians 2:12b-13)

Philippians 2:12b-13

[musingsofaregenerateheart]

Your post on Dark Girls completely misses the point of the documentary. The point was to highlight the plight of the dark girl, and in particular, what its like to be the darkest girl in your particular race, ethnic group, or culture. That's why there were also Asian and Latino girls who were highlighted. The point was not to create an us versus them or somehow imply that light skinned girls don't also have a plight. This was just about dark girls. Period.

I understand your point, Tiffcrit and I agree with you as far as the reason why the documentary was done. However, my point was not to counter their experiences as I feel every single one of them was validated in their experience. My point was put the voice of the "light girl" out there so that the dark girls would know that we too have a struggle as many have already admitted did not know was true. My point was to let them know that they are no alone in a struggle with skin discrimination and that we really have parallel journeys (hence 2 sides of the same coin). I just wanted to open the conversation up so that this issue DOES NOT perpetuate an "us against them" mentality as is so prevalently seen where I come from. 

[musingsofaregenerateheart]

A Response to "Dark Girls" From A Light Girl

**DISCLAIMER**

I value the opinions and perceptions in the spirit that they were told, and I applaud every person who was brave enough to share their heart in the documentary. I just want to shed some light on the light girl’s perspective through the lens of my personal experience, and I am in no way trying to diminish anyone else’s.

Last night, the Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN) aired a documentary entitled Dark Girls, which explored the complexities and implications of colorism in the black community within the larger context of America and the global society. The story was primarily told from several dark girls’ points of view in which they all painted the picture of the world’s perception of them through some very thought-provoking commentary.

 I’ll be honest. Within the first 20-30 minutes of the documentary, I was a little bit unsettled. As a “light girl” who has always considered herself a part of the “dark community” (i.e. people of color; non-white), I immediately felt ostracized and polarized by my dark skinned sisters as they shared their experiences and perceptions on the screen. Almost everything I heard was negative toward the light skinned people of color. I kind of felt like I was the enemy, and those abominable feelings of my childhood began to rear their ugly head and forced me to go back into a place that I thought I had abandoned a long time ago…

Life for me as a light skinned sister ain’t been no crystal stair! I was born in New Orleans, LA, which according to a dear friend of mine is the “American Capital of Colorism” (Thanks Khadija Adams!). New Orleans is a place that is clearly divided by the color line among blacks and you are made to feel it not matter what side of the line you’re on. I was born into a dark skinned family where I had the “pleasure” of being the lightest member. I was raised with one sister (the other sister is 12 years my senior so we weren’t really raised together) and two female cousins. They ranged in color from beautiful, creamy milk chocolate to rich mocha brown, and their eyes reminded me of the dark, rich silt that sits in the delta of the Mississippi River. They looked like they belonged in our family. No one ever questioned their heritage like they did mine.

I can remember being teased by my older sisters and cousins about having been adopted because my skin was so much lighter than theirs. I endured the “your daddy is the milkman” jokes from family and friends alike, as my skin color could not be justified by the physical representation of either of my parents.

In my eyes, my sister and cousins were little brown goddesses. However, I can remember being set apart by others at a very early age. I was often called “beautiful” or “pretty” because my skin was light, I had “good” long hair, and I had “big, beautiful brown eyes.” People seldom even noticed that my sister’s and cousins’ black was beautiful.  I distinctly remember thinking as a little girl, “If these things make me pretty, what does that make my sisters and my cousins?” I didn’t think there was a difference between us. We all grew up in the same household, wore the same clothes, and got our hair combed the same way, yet there was an invisible chasm beginning to shift us a part. And it was defined by the color line.

I began hating my light skin, long hair, and brown eyes because it set me a part from my family. It made me feel like I didn’t belong despite a striking resemblance to my mother. Then, to make matters worse, my skin became a bone of contention for me in elementary and middle school. Many dark skinned girls didn’t like me, and I became a victim of the presumptuous, “She thinks she’s all that…” I was taken advantage of, backstabbed, and even bullied by one girl because of the physical characteristics I could not control. One time, I even got into a fight with one of my friends because she hated the fact that I was so “light skinned and pretty” (her words), and so she attacked me. What she didn’t know was that I hated being light skinned and pretty too…because it made her and everyone else sting with jealously and slight hatred for me—a girl who just wanted to be liked and loved for everything that the eye could not see.

By the time I got to high school, I had escaped the taboo of my light skin in the sense that I wasn’t blatantly hated or bullied. I went to a magnet high school, and I think we had a greater social consciousness by then, but I still didn’t escape the presupposed implications of the light skin and all that comes with it. My friends still made occasional comments about it and insinuated that I would have preferential treatment from the boys because of it. Yes, the boys did like me, but it wasn’t because I was smart, funny, and able to hold an intelligent conversation about the world around us. They didn’t like me because I was a talented writer, graduating with honors, and headed for college. They liked me because I would make them look good. Because being seen with a “nice, red bone” would score them points in the game of life, and they would be lauded for their prized catch. So their attraction was of no consolation for me. Therefore, I ignored them. And in some circles my back was quickly stamped with a label that read “STUCK UP.” 

This light skinned phenomenon ran roughshod all over my self-esteem. I hated everything that it stood for. I hated the way it separated me from my loved ones, and I was determined to make it a non-factor in my life. After I left for college, I went through this period of time where I didn’t want to honor my beauty. I deliberately did things to appear unattractive. I couldn’t really do anything about my light skin, but there were other factors that I was determined to control. I wouldn’t wear make-up, I cut my long, beautiful hair off. I wore glasses instead of contacts to hide my beautiful brown eyes. And I wouldn’t wear clothes that accentuated my figure. I was tired of these existential elements defining who I was as a person. I was tired of people forming an opinion about me solely based on my looks. I was determined to change everyone else’s mind by not giving them something to look at on the outside so they’d be forced to look at the inside….

And then one day it hit me. There is absolutely nothing I can do about the way God made me. He gave me this skin. He gave me this hair. He gave me these eyes. And it was all crafted in His image—not mine. I realized that my physical characteristics were a gift instead of a curse, and they played a part in the narrative that is my life on this earth. I slowly began to start accepting myself for who I am, and I must say it makes life much, much easier.

As I walk away from this film, I want my dark skinned sisters to know one thing: being light skinned has been no walk in the park as some may think. We certainly have our challenges in this life just as you do. Our stories are really two sides of the same coin, and if we want a chance at changing the way we are perceived by our ourselves, our community, and the world, then we must take a stand—TOGETHER.