During the civil rights movement...
Illustration
During the civil rights movement of the 1960s, a college student grew deeply impressed with the courage of the pastor of his home church. The pastor spoke openly and often against restrictive housing codes in his suburban community. As a result, the man became the object of hate mail, threatening telephone calls, and a nearly successful effort to remove him from the pulpit. With determination, and apparently without rancor, the pastor held to his preaching.
Years later, that student still cherished the memory of his pastor's courage. He found too an even more valued recollection pressed itself upon him with increasing frequency. One day, while home on vacation, he and the pastor had shared lunch. He had offered the man his support, his admiration, even his enthusiasm. The pastor accepted this offering with half a smile, but also with some obvious discomfort, and then went on and spoke what was on his heart. "It's not really courage," he said. "It's Jesus. If we take him seriously, he forces us to choose. That's a painful thing. It divides. It splits people apart. Heaven knows, that's wrenching for us. I'm sure it pains him. But that is what we have to do. Choose."
Now, twenty years later, that student found himself wrestling with his own list of pressing choices. Could he speak for the man in his neighborhood dying of AIDS? ... for the homeless? ... for the victims of a racism that persisted still?
Years later, that student still cherished the memory of his pastor's courage. He found too an even more valued recollection pressed itself upon him with increasing frequency. One day, while home on vacation, he and the pastor had shared lunch. He had offered the man his support, his admiration, even his enthusiasm. The pastor accepted this offering with half a smile, but also with some obvious discomfort, and then went on and spoke what was on his heart. "It's not really courage," he said. "It's Jesus. If we take him seriously, he forces us to choose. That's a painful thing. It divides. It splits people apart. Heaven knows, that's wrenching for us. I'm sure it pains him. But that is what we have to do. Choose."
Now, twenty years later, that student found himself wrestling with his own list of pressing choices. Could he speak for the man in his neighborhood dying of AIDS? ... for the homeless? ... for the victims of a racism that persisted still?
