Today’s Daily Office comes from Psalm 95 verses 23 and 24:
23 Love the Lord, all you who worship him;
the Lord protects the faithful,
but repays to the full those who act haughtily.
24 Be strong and let your heart take courage,
all you who wait for the Lord.
“Can we watch the video of Martin Luther King and the white woman who wouldn’t let him play with her son?” one of my own sons — age seven — asks in the kitchen.
“We can watch Martin Luther King. But I don’t know which video you are talking about. Was it something you saw in school?”
There is a nod as I google Dr. King and click on the first video to pop up. It’s an excerpt from the end of the “I Have a Dream” speech, the famous part about the dream. The boys watch while I clean some things in the kitchen.
“Ugh, why does he keep saying, ‘I Have a Dream’?” This is the same son asking. He’s on the autism spectrum and doesn’t quite have the art of rhetoric down.
“Oh, he’s just preaching,” I say.
“Yeah, Dr. King was a Baptist preacher — like dad,” my other son, age five, says with a smile.
“Dr. King was a little better preacher than your dad,” I say with a wink at the boys’ older sister.” She smiles, knowingly.
“Was Dr. King dark black?” the seven year old asks, his eyes still attentive to the screen. He’s trying to figure out race. It’s hard for him because it’s so illogical. How can someone be brown and yet we call them black?
“Well, he was kinda dark, probably a little darker than mom.”
“I’m a little bit white, and a little bit black, and mostly brown,” he says.
“Yes,” I say. “You are biracial — black and white.”
The video nears its end and Dr. King continues his litany. We all continue to watch, transfixed together.
“little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today . . .
This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, “My country, ‘tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing . . .’
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring . . .
And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring . . .
“Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”
“Free at last, free at last,” my five year old echoes in his deepest little preacher voice and then looks up and smiles.
“Did the white people not want to play with Dr. King?” his brother asks. “Would they not eat with him?”
“That’s right. A lot of white people didn’t want to play or eat with black people back then.”
“Did God want them to eat with Dr. King?”
“Yes, God wanted them to.”
“Did God want them to play with Dr. King?”
“Yes, God wanted them to play with Dr. King; but there were rules that said they couldn’t.”
“Yeah, but Dr. King changed the rules,” the five year old says shaking his head at me. “Right?”
“Right.”
“Was God okay with Dr. King changing the rules?” the seven year old asks seriously.
“Yes. God was okay with it. Bad rules are called unjust laws and God knows they need to be changed.”
“Now, y’all need to get ready for bed.”
I am done with the cleaning and I move from the kitchen to the living room couch. Both they boys follow.
There is a rare silence. The silence is then broken by a very serious tone in the five year old. “But how did he do it?”
“How did who do what?”
“How did Dr. King change the rules?”
“Well, God was on his side,” I say.
“But there were more people on the other side,” he says.
“Yes,” I say, “that may be true. But God was on Dr. King’s side and one plus God is always a majority. Do you know what a majority is?”
He shakes his head no.
“It’s the winning side. One plus God is always the winning side.
“Now, y’all really got to go to bed.
Good night boys; and sweet dreams.”
A sweet, sweet dream indeed.
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