Faith in Action

7:11AM - racing down my street toward the main road.  Yes - I’m a little above the speed limit and weaving a bit in and out of traffic, but I’m not driving recklessly. (I don’t think so anyway)  I don’t drive crazy when I’m running behind schedule.  I refuse to make hair-raising turns, ride people’s bumpers, or rush pedestrians through crosswalks.  Driving like that is just rude to me.

I’m making pretty good time.  I’m praying as I approach every traffic light and yes - God is answering my prayers.  All I see is a long line of “greens” - allowing my foot to remain heavy on the gas.  It’s early so there’s not too much traffic on the road. 

I’m in downtown Baltimore now and about to get on 95 headed toward Annapolis.  I’m sitting at a red light eating my peach flavored oatmeal when a white woman with a blue coat and a cardboard sign begins to walk down the aisle of vehicles.  Her sign reads: “I am homeless and hungry.  Can you help me?  God bless you.”  I don’t feel too good about giving the homeless cash these days, but I knew that I could help.  I rolled down the window:

“Good Morning Sis - do you like turkey sausage? ”

“Sure - oh yes.”

“Here you go.  My wife made it for me this morning.  I didn’t even touch it yet.”

“God bless you thank you so much”, she said showing her yellowing teeth, but a true smile in her eyes.

“No problem.  Have a good one.”, I said wondering if I just gave an angel a piece of turkey sausage.  Light turned green.  Back to the road.

 I realize that the longest part of my drive is still ahead of me.  It’s 7:35AM.  I’m speeding down 95.  When I’m pushing it on the highway I don’t drive in the “fastlane”.  My Dad taught me that when I first started driving.  Officer Friendly (also known as “PoPo”, “5-0″, and “Jake”) tends to sit on the shoulder looking for speeders and the thought is that they start their search in the fast lane.

It’s 7:45AM. 

I’ve not even hit 97 yet.  I’ve come to the realization that I’m going to be late.  I pick up the cell and call the staff assistant to get an estimation as to when I’m slated to speak.  No answer.  I call another number - no answer.  I’m hoping that the council will have other business to attend to before getting to the Darfur bill. 

It’s 8:00.  I ring the phone again.  “Hello?”  There’s an answer! Thank the Lord. 

“Good Morning Sis. E. This is Rev. Brown and I’m running a bit behind schedule, but I wanted to know where the bill will be placed in the hearing.”

“Good Morning Rev.  I think the bill will be heard first (I think: “Oh great”), but don’t worry we have a few other speakers before you.  You still have time.”

“Ok.  Can you sign me up to testify?”

“I sure will.”

Good.  I’m signed in and there are others that are speaking before me.  My foot is still heavy on the gas.  I concentrate on lowering my stress level.  What will be is what will be.  It’s not the end of the world, bruh.

You’re right.  I’ll get there and if the hearing is over - it’s over.  I tried.  The people of Darfur won’t know I tried, but God will know I tried. 

Cruising along 97 now and all of a sudden I see my worst fear.  Brake lights on the highway.  Followed by a long…and I mean LONG line of cars inching along.

“LORD, HAVE MERCY!” 

Well, I can’t do anything about it.  I can’t get off on an exit and I can’t turn around.  I re-familiarize myself with the brake pedal and begin inching along like everybody else.  OOOO K.  Radio time.  Donnie Simpson - Nope.  Tom Joyner - Nope.  Russ Parr - Not today.  Steve Harvey - Sorry, no.  92Q? - Definitely not.  Radio off.  Silence is golden and needed.

It’s 8:15.  I’m confident now that I’ve missed the hearing for the Darfur Divestment bill so I begin thinking about what other things I can do while I’m down in Annapolis. 

I inch a long until I see what caused the morning commuter’s bottleneck syndrome to flare up.  A fender bender on the shoulder.  Ok folks, move it along - there’s nothing to see here. 

I find that gas pedal again and I’m gone.  It’s 8:35AM.  I finally drive into Annapolis and whip around to my parking section.  I find a spot back the vehicle in and I’m out of the car before the engine can shut down all the way. 

Running across the street toward the Senate Building.  Security guard at the door is my buddy.  “Good Morning, Bruh” “Hey now.”

Keep moving - I race to the elevator - get to the 3rd floor and hear testimony coming over the speakers about Darfur. 

“Hot Dog!  Thank you Lord.”

I’m in the hearing room now and as nonchalantly as I could; eased into a seat next to a senator friend of mine.  We exchange silent “heys”.  “What are you here for?”, she asked.  “Darfur bill.”

Tap on my left shoulder.  “Hi, Rev. Brown, I’m Sis. E.” 

“Hey Sis.  How are we doing?  Did I miss my turn?” 

“Nope you’re right on time.  Do you have a copy of your testimony?”

I hand it over and she goes to make copies.  While she’s out of the room with the only copy of my testimony that I had the Chairwoman of the committee says, “Alright, next up to testify on the Darfur Bill is Rev. Walter Fauntroy, Mr. Joe Madison, and Rev. Heber Brown, III.” 

SHUUUUT UP!  Did she just say Walter Fauntroy and Joe Madison were testifying along with some guy named Heber Brown??  I’m instantly on cloud 1 million.  These two guys are legends to me and men that I greatly respect.  Fauntroy preached the baccalearate when I graduated from Seminary.  Madison has been a champion for Darfur for years using his radio show as an instrument of information and mobilization on this issue.  I had no idea in the world that I would be sitting next to these two giants testifying about Darfur! 

God whispers, “Why are you surprised?  You said you wanted to be “great” and this is what “great” people sacrifice and do - testify at 8 something in the morning concerning an issue of social justice on the behalf of people that they will never meet.”

I guess you’re right, God.  If I’m going to study great women and men in society and try to make my life parallel to theirs in many respects, I shouldn’t be surprised that our paths cross. 

As Joe Madison is testifying it hits me.  I don’t have my testimony in front of me?  Oh goodness.  I immediately begin assembling my thoughts - remembering the main ideas - rehearsing how I’m going to say it in my head.  Why did I give Sis. E. the only copy of my testimony?!  Lord, when will this rollercoaster end? 

Would I sound like a stammering fool sitting next to Fauntroy and Madison without my testimony?

What did the committee ask me to do right before speaking?

How did God BLOW MY MIND after the hearing?

Find out the answers to these questions and more in the upcoming final installment of A Day for Darfur.