As It Turns Out, Freedom Is Not Actually Free: On Flags, Freedom, and Racism in America

Dedicated to Paul, John and The brother from Another Mother

I typically shy away from hot button issues, first of all because they are “hot”, and secondly, because I mostly only wanted to write about The Narrow Path and the few that find it; and how the one leading us on that path is oftentimes found immeasurably missing in America.  Nonetheless, a friend of mine encouraged me to reconsider after reading my blog from last year titled: https://marknealprince.com/2017/06/09/trump-vs-everyfrickingbody-our-new-mascot-for-sticking-it-to-the-man/  He’s a black man (don’t you hate that we have to make that distinction), who is my brother from another mother, but who happened to think that particular blog struck a cord and was funny, and that I should reconsider writing more along those lines.  So here goes an experiment.  Who knows where the wind will take us, but at the very least, you will get a piece of my mind on the matter for whatever it’s worth.

Oh, and last but not least, this blog is a tribute to my two new friends (Paul and John), who reminded me just yesterday that gentleman can disagree agreeably, and that white boys can talk about the race issue too, and have something equally to say to add to the conversation as long as we are willing also to actively listen.  This is of course something that I did not realize I could do in the public square given my particular shade of melanin.  Thanks Paul and John for the reminder, and for the olive branch to take part.

First of all, my other friend I mentioned truly is a brother from another mother, and he has come to the conclusion that I would make a great black guy, or that perhaps I actually am one and just haven’t come out of the closet yet.  However, I must say that my friend and l and I differ politically, about as far as the Cleveland Browns are from a Super bowl win.  He lives in the Bronx, and probably secretly attends Farrakhan rallies, believes all black conservatives are “Uncle Tom’s”, and though I didn’t know it until I experienced it recently, has a hard time holding back his anger due to some of the racism he has both seen and experienced growing up in this country.  After emphatic listening, I still then chide him on the fact that the left already has his vote without any effort, just for the hair on his neck to raise up a little bitJ.  And after we piss each other off real good, we part with “I Love You Man” and we pray for each other.  And for the record, if I were in a foxhole, he’s exactly who I would want with me without reservation.  You see the thing is, it’s the Christian flag that binds us together and not an American one, yet it has some faint similarities at least in theory that we should talk about.

My Battle Against Racism

I’ve never experienced the kind of racism that many blacks have by a long shot, but I have experienced it nonetheless.  You see I wasn’t raised a racist.  My family didn’t talk about it.  We never heard or used colorful language to describe black people, and quite frankly, in my heart of hearts I’ve always despised those who take part in it. Likewise in my own family, I never spoke of it, never talked about it, walked away from family and friends who participated in it, and starved it’s folly from ever gaining a foothold of any kind! And so primarily the racism I experience is one of looking at my black brothers and sisters with my “I love black people” heart, and them refusing to engage me with eye contact, talking behind my back, and refusing to let me get too close. That’s about the extent of the racism as I have experienced it, and I’m not looking for a trophy, a history month, or my own channel as a result.  But it’s racism just the same.  A fact many of us I believe fail to miss.

In fact, I often talk to my friend and I ask him why we all have to draw identity flags in the first place. Why can’t we as Christians just be for “people” and not black or white?  It seems that’s the first step to fighting it to me.  We stop racism by not being a racist ourselves.  A novel idea I suppose.  He says I just don’t understand, but then as I seek to understand, though I get it, as a Christian with a broken halo I really do believe this is where the rubber meets the road.  I would even be so bold as to say as I have shared with my brother, the fact that years ago when racism was “systemic” (a loaded word for sure), it’s a damn miracle black people didn’t rise up and decrease the surplus white population!  Thank God, they found a leader who knew better and had the secret love sauce, and I pray his message continues to resonate, because I believe it has been long forgotten.  And the fact that black people have used restraint for the most part is a testament to them, yet I really believe it is by and large due to the God that they serve, whom they know is the only one who can cure the sickness that is the individual human heart. You see racism isn’t just found in America.  It’s found in humanity, and it has been so since man first put his foot on the floor.

NFL and the Flag

As I got into a somewhat political conversation on Facebook yesterday (never advisable), I was reminded by some of my new black friends that the racism issue is somehow behind this whole NFL and the flag thing, something I guess us white boys miss.  Though admittedly I think it shouldn’t be about that, I guess I’m starting to see why.  However, there is one thing I’ve learned in my almost 54 years of life sometimes the frickin hard way, and it is that people reject what they don’t understand.  And thus the genius of communication always lies in making sure people have been communicated to properly about what all the fuss is about. Until then, we’re just throwing pearls to swine.

And so my personal perspective is that kneeling on a field doesn’t actually protest anything that accomplishes whatever end game is envisioned.  It’s kind of like trying to get someone to do something you want and then you start talking about his or her mama!  The gloves then come off, and there’s not much anybody can do but pick up the broken men pieces.  Case in point.  Wearing a t-shirt saying, “I can’t breathe” is easy.  Kneeling is also easy and sexy, but it does nothing but tick off the very (majority) of people (right or wrong), who equate Americanism not too awfully shy of the Holy Grail, and of whose flags and blood of their black and white fathers also runs deep into the sinew of their bones.  As a result, I think the strategy misses the mark, and I also refuse to buy into the “systemic” narrative as an overarching belief system. What I do believe however is that there are people who are racist (shocker), and there are systems than can have racism as an overarching demon as it’s marionette, pulling long term belief system strings that now run on autopilot.  When and where those systems are exposed, after peeling back the layers of that complex onion (a rarity), it is at the apex of the matter that protests and communicative voices have their most dramatic effect.  And believe it or not, that core is found in our very constitution that cries out, even when not always practiced, that “All men are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights”and that “among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness”.  Now to deny that America has been grossly hypocritical in holding up that standard at times would be uncritical (in a Republic, not a democracy), yet it is still those very laws that a wise Atlanta bred and born turned Alabama preacher once used to push a new narrative to replace an old one. And he was descriptive of the biblical dictum, as one who was “wise as a serpent, and gentle as a dove”.  Where may I ask are his descendants?

Now to Really Piss You Off

On a very sensitive note, if I really wanted to piss my friend off, all I needed to say (however guarded and thoughtful) was that I didn’t think Obama was a really great President.  I said I believed that he is a good man, one of the greatest orators of our time, is a faithful husband and father, but quite frankly was a liberal ideologue that did not deliver “hope and change”.  In fact, I believe that by his tone deafness or subtle racist innuendo, he pushed the narrative away from what seemed to white people at least, to be a country having for a couple of decades gone in the right direction, back to where racism was again all up in our grill. He would then get on to me and say, “Mark, what is it about you white boys?  Can’t we have just one damn black President and be proud, when yall have had so many crackers”?  And to that I’d say, “Well, we’ve had a ton of terrible white ones, why can’t you have one bad black one”?  And perhaps we need to be reminded again that the same people that voted Donald Trump into office, were those that voted for the hope and the change twice!  That seemed to tell us that at least individual people and a good majority of the collective whole were starting to look past that dark period of our history and actually vote as thinking people on issues instead of skin color.  However, I’ve been informed that this is now no longer the case across the board.  Perhaps I’ve been sleeping under a rock, or so it seems.

Freedom Is Not Actually Free

The truth of the matter is, that freedom is not actually free; something I’m afraid that we have long disregarded.  It wasn’t free for Martin Luther, for MLK, or for Rosa Parks.  Our founders knew this as well as they risked their own lives from threat of the crown should they have failed.  And so they gave us a Republic and not a democracy, with limited government accept to protect its citizenry, and to uphold laws that would ensure their initial vision, where all men would be given the freedom to equally be able to live as they so wished without oligarchies, dictators or the sole will of majority rule.  And though the experiment was not perfect by a country mile, as an anomaly that it was in terms of nations, it created correctives and checks and balances so that the people would sense when it ran amuck (assuming the people are good), and would challenge the laws that were to be upheld to reform itself, and as such as a nation always reforming.  But in a Republic, we cannot legislate people into being non-racists, as much as you and I might wish that we could.  In fact, this can only be accomplished at around the same time that pigs start to fly, or when politicians want anything more than another vote!  Because you see, individual sin-sick hearts are free also to be bigots, yet all the while you and I are free to ignore and not concede to their intolerance, and equally to collectively call it out when we see it; while in the meantime “refusing” to be the racists looking in our mirrors reflection.

This is a tribute to Paul and John who also believe in my right to disagree, and to my brother from another Mother; and to those who died for our freedom to equally protest the motive and sacrifice they made.  But it is more so a tribute to all my black brothers and sisters, to let you know some of us crackers are really listening, and we hate racist bastards right along with you. But if it’s OK, we’d really like to talk about it with you, and not at you.

Selah

“Honey, Just Tell Them We’re Home-Churched”

Back to Basics

I guess today it’s high time I get back to why I started writing this blog in the first place. You know, getting back to the narrow path and the Jesus I see missing in America and all; which by default also means the one missing in the American Church…oh yeah, and I guess in me too. But anyway, let’s get on with that why don’t we.

Home-Schooled

First, let me explain a little bit about my title here, just to set you up for my forthcoming psychosis in prose.  I guess you could say my wife was one of the early pioneers of the “Home-School” movement, at least in the sense of one who felt legitimately called to do so some 25 years ago, with me as her supportive, yet also reluctant sidekick.  This of course was back when friends and family alike looked at us like we had lost our freaking minds, and perhaps were building a cult of other homeschoolers and their whacked out Mom’s and Dad’s on an abandoned ranch somewhere secretly plotting the apocalypse!  Yet in everyday settings there were the “deer in the headlights” looks we would get when we’d be at a local store or somewhere during the day, when both younger and older people alike would take it upon themselves to be our judge and jury with questions behind a “shit-eating” look on their face such as, “Why aren’t your kids in school”?  It was then that my wife and I would cut up behind the scenes at times and role-play back and forth about whose response would be the best to such shenanigans. My favorite was, “We don’t need no stinking school man”,or something like, “School is for losers”or something like that.  And I must say, the shock value was worth all the popcorn and candy you could muster up for the show.  In the end however, we settled for the proverbial nail scratch down the chalkboard with the words, “They’re Home-Schooled”.  And of course as you could imagine, there’s nothing like the truth to just throw people off and make them bat-ass crazy, which would cause them to then shortly thereafter commence with questions such as, “Well, what do they do for testing”, or “What about their socialization skills”,or my favorite was when some wise ass would try and trick them with a math question or something like that.  It was all I could do to bite my tongue, but I bet they wouldn’t ask too much about the socialization one these days now would they?  After all, just ask any local SRO officer.

Nonetheless, fast forward to today, and by God’s grace and in spite of all the demons that surrounded us from both educators and our beloved friends and family, two are now done with college, one is finishing, and the fourth one will be headed that way in two short years, and all of them are just as deep in debt to satisfy everyone who desired we fit into their moldJ.

Home-Churched

But I guess you figured that there’s kind of a correlation behind this rebel no one thinks has a cause relating being “Home-Schooled” to being “Home-Churched”.  Well I thought you’d never ask!  In fact, another running joke of ours is along those lines. For as most of you know, I have had my own quiet little battle with the church, which is why I write a blog where I can say “shit” and “damn” and get away with it, because nobody’s hiring me anyway.  LOL.  And yet the truth is, it really hasn’t been a battle, but just a lot of questions; the very thing church’s and churchmen don’t like, when it would be much better, if like those early naysayers of the status quo of what school was to look like, if we would have just simply “fell in line”.

But there is no question that we have had our time with finding our place since we finally stepped out of the role of being behind the scenes churchmen ourselves, and nursing our kids slowly but surely back from being a “PK” (preacher’s kid), back to faith again, while giving equal attention to ourselves in this regard.  But the truth is, after nursing our wounds from BCS (Bad Church Syndrome), we really do love the “idea” of the church. We really do.  In fact, that’s why most Sundays we visit to try and find where we fit in, and then typically settle down for a year or so, and then look at each other, and exit again, still I guess in Bonoesque fashion not having found what we’re looking for.  And as you can imagine, the same questioners, naysayers, and self-proclaimed prophets have their role to play.

Most quite frankly just say we’re “church hoppers” and wishy-washy, and wouldn’t know what we wanted if it smacked us upside the head.  Others say things like, “There is no perfect church, but we have a perfect Lord”,or other goodies like, “There is no perfect church, and besides, once you and I entered it wouldn’t be perfect anymore”…yawn.  And then other more astute practitioners of BCS can philosophize a little better about our disorder, and relate it to being a product of the sixties and early seventies rebellion, and the resultant non-committal nature and allegiance of any institution for goodness sakes.  And others simply continue to build their predictable house of cards to remind us that the one’s on the outside are the one’s with the real problem.  And I’ll have to say, these maxims have worked their way through my complex mind and heart more times than they could possibly know, and I keep coming out on the other side with the same questions.  And so when people ask me where I go to church, and I look at my wife, she simply says, “Honey, just tell them we’re Home-Churched”.

Liquid Drano

And I will have to say that the struggle is real man, let me tell you.  Though two of my four sons show me up pretty good, and both are committed church acolytes at their institution of choice, the so-called teacher of the class is playing hooky sometimes. And I’m afraid that I have enough Protestant guilt built up to last for a good long while for doing so.  And I keep deliberating over the same types of things I guess as to my reason for this.  Things like the lack of real community that you can truly sense, rather than a marketing approach that makes you feel like you’ve been bent over without the necessary foreplay.  Or sometimes it’s the total lack of a message from someone who supposedly spends more time in the word of God and prayer than the rest of us each week, who might actually serve up a steak and baked potato for us to chew on and wrestle with, somehow anointed with a thing called “The Spirit” that drives us to our knees and action. Or perhaps it’s the predictable cliché of “two songs/greeting/awkward handshakes/one song/communion/offering/sermon/two songs/dismissal” (The Restless Church) that just wears me slap out, wondering why I didn’t just go to the beach to read my bible and pray there instead.  And then again, it could be due to the ever-predictable form of godliness we portray with refined reason and logic, yet negligible of the visible power thereof to really make a difference, and actually do at least some of the things that Jesus did.  Or even more so, maybe it’s the fact that I can’t seem to get past all the money it takes for all those buildings and pastors of specialty for each demographic, with little to no money left over for taking the gospel to the ends of the earth and feeding the poor and needy, or visiting the orphans and widows in their distress. Meanwhile, back at the ranch, church pundits remind us of the 10% we owe to the Lord as a possible reason why the church is in it’s present state of decline.  Yet somehow the Math doesn’t really add up, which proves you probably really don’t need Algebra to figure this thing outJ.

Perhaps they’re right, and I’m wrong.  For sure, though none of my x-church practitioners would ever comment on my blog or admit that perhaps myself and other renegade prophets could really be on to something worth wrestling with.  After all, like the corporate world of sharks, the ecclesiastical butt kissing line is a long and winding road as well.  And though I am not against the church in any way shape or form, I am increasingly weary of the same predictable answers to legitimate questions of people who are honestly trying to find their way back in.  The truth of the matter is, some say there’s a swamp in Washington that needs to be drained, but I’m just wondering if perhaps a little liquid Drano is needed in Christendom as well.  Meanwhile, the beach is very inviting.

 

Selah