Lord, Have Mercy (eBook)

Chapter One

Wandering, Warring, Wading in the Wilderness

In the year of 2008, I made a pivotal life decision, one I did not know would be so critical to my spiritual life and my relationship with God. To give that some context, I have to go back a few years, and in doing so, fondly recount a new perspective I gained about the act of praying. In retrospect, gaining this new perspective is an informative examination of theory versus practice.

It was 2005, and I was in seminary – again. I had returned to the Candler School of Theology at Emory University in Atlanta to pursue the Master of Divinity (MDiv) degree after answering my second calling to the ministry. In response to my first calling, I received the Master of Theological Studies degree from Candler, which enhanced my work as a journalist and college instructor. This time, I was answering my calling to ordained ministry. At the time, my denomination, the African Methodist Episcopal Church (AME), required the MDiv in order for one to be ordained an Itinerant Elder, which is its highest level of ordination. When I answered “my call to preach,” I had zero intentions of returning to seminary. I did not need a third Master’s-level degree. My first Master’s-level degree is the Master of Arts degree in African and African American Studies (Literature Concentration) from Clark Atlanta University. My undergraduate degree is in Radio-TV-Film from Northwestern University (Evanston, Illinois). I would have considered a terminal degree (Ph.D./D.Min./J.D.) but not another Master’s-level degree.

Nevertheless, one day, I followed the strong urging of the Holy Spirit and I called Candler. The Dean of Admissions told me I had called just in time. I had been out of school long enough, but not too long to use my previous credits. I could return to Candler that fall, using eligible credits from the MTS degree to apply toward the MDiv degree. Thank you, Jesus.

Upon reentry to seminary, my first class was a class on worship. I do not recall the name of the course. The course was taught by Dean Barbara Day Miller, who is now Associate Dean Emerita of Worship and Music at Candler. On the first day of this 8:00 a.m. class, Dean Miller began teaching about something called a “collect.” It took me several minutes before I figured out that she was saying c-o-l-l-e-c-t. Pronounced like: //. Rather than pass “Go” in Monopoly and collect $200, or give me a minute to “collect my thoughts.” It seemed everybody in the class had heard of this collect thing except for me. I hid my private embarrassment. Wow. I thought I knew something about church stuff. “So, this is why I need that MDiv before I go strutting up in the pulpit,” I said to myself. Yet, I was puzzled and disturbed by this new knowledge. I was being taught to follow a form, a structure, when talking to God. I was supposed to open by describing attributes of God, then explaining who God is/what God does, followed by petitioning God for something, then expressing the desired outcome, and ending the prayer in the name of the triune God, complete with a description for each part of the Trinity – God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit – in gender-neutral language. Whew. How does one remember all of that? I wasn’t sure how to mentally and spiritually process that prayer had to have a form. So, wait, all of these years I have been praying to God – in the name of Jesus – I had been doing it wrong? That question troubled my spirit.

As the course progressed, I began to enjoy the process of writing these collects. I began challenging myself to describe the goodness and wonders of God in new, inventive, illustrative, creative ways. I began to be more thoughtful about prayer and the workings of the Holy Trinity. After the course ended, I was being called upon more often to pray publicly at my church, Big Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church on Auburn Avenue in Atlanta. I began to put my new-found prayer-writing skills in to play. I pushed myself to create collects extemporaneously, and expand the prayer’s form each time I was called upon to offer prayer on behalf of God’s people. I was proud to be putting my seminary training to good use.

I graduated from seminary. And then a shift happened.

About six months after I graduated, my life started unraveling. Over the next five years, there were many moments when I did not know if I could hold it all together. At times, I felt as if I was grasping for threads of an identity, livelihood, dignity, and purpose – uncooperative threads that refused to be tied or stitched together. I thought I was going to lose everything – including my mind. I recall a moment when I was convinced this must be what it feels and looks like right before a “nervous breakdown.” It was not as if I was passing the time idly. Either with my mother or on my own, I helped launch a line of beauty care products, opened a hair and nail salon, owned and operated beverage and snack vending machines, created a line of t-shirts, revised a screenplay, edited a friend’s book, worked as an independent copy writer, copy editor, and public relations consultant, pitched in as a cashier for a friend who owned a beauty supply store, worked for the U.S. Census Bureau, showed my work as a photographer in exhibitions, served as the Chaplain of the Day for the Georgia House of Representatives, taught as an adjunct instructor at two institutions of higher education, served as an assistant curator for a gallery, wrote-produced-directed an independent, award-winning documentary, and preached, occasionally, as a member of the ministerial staff at my church, and at other churches – by invitation of the pastor.

But first, before I did all of that, I graduated from seminary in 2008 – right before the economy crashed. And I mean crashed. When the crash happened, I was a happy staffer on the Obama Campaign. I was the lead Field Organizer for Fulton County based at the Georgia headquarters office in Atlanta at 1080 Spring Street. I was responsible for managing the daily operations of the field office, which was, essentially, the front office, staffed by teams of dedicated volunteers who kept things running smoothly. I was usually the first paid-staffer with whom the general public interfaced when they visited the headquarters to phone bank or ask for a coveted yard sign. I worked with countless super-volunteers, and I conducted many training sessions for volunteers who showed up en masse on the weekends, ready to knock on doors.

It was a weary, beautiful experience. But there were no offers for the West Wing or any of the federal agencies after the historic victory. I learned the hard way that working tirelessly for a winning presidential campaign does not mean one will be hired to work in the new president’s administration. Admittedly, I was quite naïve. Although Obama-Biden staffers were provided a post-campaign, special portal for online résumé submissions, there were so many more variables at play – and especially since President Barack Obama did not win the electoral college votes from Georgia. Our team moved the needle farther than the previous presidential election, but not far enough. Regardless of circumstances or variables, I understood later that being a part of the Obama Administration was not a part of my divine destiny. But before I arrived at that understanding, after November 2008, I teetered on shaky ground. I put my self-employed-consultant-writer hat on. However, in a chaotic economy, no one was hiring or contracting anyone to think back then. It was rough.

I have always had a heart for public service. In 2009, I ran for a seat on the Atlanta City Council. I was brave enough to announce my candidacy while a 30+ year incumbent held the office. Spiritually, I knew he was going to retire before the election. When he announced his retirement the first day of the qualifying period, the field of candidates suddenly flooded. While I possessed the courage to seek the seat early in the process – courage that would have benefitted our community greatly – in the end, I came in third out of nine candidates on election day. There was no run-off. Atlanta politics is a treacherous system to beat, indeed. Yet, as I reflect on the experience, I now understand that being elected to the Atlanta City Council was not a part of God’s plan for me either. Still, at the time, it was a heartbreaking loss.

As the songwriter pens, my soul looks back and wonders how I got over. People like winners, not losers. My phone stopped ringing. I was no longer a reporter for WABE 90.1FM, Atlanta’s NPR (National Public Radio) station, or a freelancer for the Atlanta Journal Constitution newspaper, or a consultant for the National Black Arts Festival. Invitations to stuff stopped arriving. I lost the car I was leasing. It was my second red BMW 325i – sedan. After proudly purchasing my first red BMW 325i – sedan in my 20s, I had fallen in love with the BMW vehicle, and I was joyful to be behind the wheel of another one. However, I could not afford to renew the lease, so I turned the car in. My mother shared her car with me for three or four years. (Yes. That long.) I almost lost my house multiple times. During this five-year period, every utility, my cell phone, and cable/Internet was turned off at least once – for a few hours, overnight, or even a few days – depending on what it was and how critical it was to my existence. Yes, I was “paying my tithe.” Yet, every dollar in my household was allocated for...