Holy Racism? Part I

Growing up in the segregated south, rejection seemed to be the norm. I will never forget the day my parents loaded me and my borrowed luggage in our old car and we headed across the tracks for my first lesson in rejection.

As soon as I settled in to college, I decided that I would find a church. I got up early one Sunday morning to begin my search. Dressed in my Sunday best I headed for what I thought would be a familiar place to be on a Sunday morning. Once I arrived I found a side door where I was greeted by a kind gentleman who led me to the sanctuary where I could wait until Sunday School started. The gentleman returned to tell me the he had called the pastor because no Blacks had ever attended the church before.

I apologized and assured him that I had not intended to cause a disturbance. Before I reached the door the pastor came flying down the stairs hurrying me out the side door before anyone noticed their mysterious visitor. He asked me if I knew the black pastor in town. I responded that I was a freshmen and did not know anyone in town. He decided I would not be comfortable in his church so he drove me to a small black church far away from campus and left me there. For the first time in my life I felt the rejection known by my ancestors.

Meanwhile God was working…Continued 2morro

By Ms. Chocolate