The Gospel According to Gabrielle

From Worldly to Whack: Tye Tribbett Keeps Challenging the Church

Disclaimer: I didn’t listen to the Breakfast Club interview. I have never listened to any Breakfast Club interview. Unless and until they are interviewing one of my relatives, I will probably not listen to any Breakfast Club interview. Please do not tell me I need to listen to the entire interview. I’m not interested.

When my kids were young, we wore that Victory (live) album out. I bet if I put it on right now, my whole house would be dancing. I think we even got to see him perform with our church’s youth group.

I was grateful for the opportunity. The conservative Baptist churches I grew up in would never have allowed such a thing. All that jumping around and dancing would have been frowned upon. They would not have cared about the message, because the method was too radical in their eyes.

Tye Tribbett’s music helped to push the church forward. His high-energy, hip-hop influenced style spoke to a generation of people who were unmoved by quartet style gospel. His music was deemed too “worldly” by many congregations.

I’m going to be honest. I haven’t listened much to Tye Tribbett since the Victory Live album. I have gotten older and my music tastes have become more conservative. So I was a little caught off-guard when he was trending. I started seeing the clips on-line. My favorite podcasters were discussing the interview. I was surprised to learn that the interview had drawn harsh critique, especially since most of the people on my timeline had agreed with at least some part of what the gospel artist turned preacher said.

“The institution of the church is whack!”

Hold up, Mr. Preacher-man. What did you just say?

The church was having a fit, and not the good Baptist kind, either. Mr. Tribbett then acknowledged how he has benefitted from the church systems, and how he felt when he learned that God was not the church.

Now some critics argued that this discussion was equivalent to airing dirty laundry or that this was a discussion that should have been kept in-house. I don’t wholeheartedly disagree with that argument. As a long time member of autonomous Baptist churches, I don’t believe all church business is fit for public consumption. But it is my understanding that the Breakfast Club radio personalities all professed to be “church” people at some level or another. The problem, then, was not this small group discussion. It was the broadcasting of the discussion to millions, many of whom might not have any affinity or relationship with local churches.

Here’s the thing. Tye Tribbett was just saying on the radio some things some of us have been thinking for years. Some of us have been ostracized from our local congregations for saying it out loud. A lot of our churches have got to do better at administration, accountability, and transparency. That means that we, the people of these congregations, have to do a better job at having these hard, but necessary conversations, about how our churches can be better and implementing change.

I have heard several coaches and leadership experts talk about the difference between a “calling-out” and a “calling in”. When someone is called out, it is usually done in front of an audience. The exchange can be confrontational and there are rarely corrective suggestions. It’ a just a recounting of what you did wrong. When someone calls you in, it is generally a private meeting. Mistakes and corrective action are discussed, and it usually ends with a word of encouragement.

It is my belief that Tye Tribbett wasn’t calling out the church, so much as he was attempting to call us all in. I think he was trying to say that there are different and maybe even better ways to serve God and humanity than the way we currently do it.

Would I have said the institution of the church is whack on a nationally syndicated radio broadcast? Probably not, but that’s mainly because nobody is inviting me on said programs. Have I said similar things in the privacy of my living room, or in a church leadership meeting? Absolutely.

The difference between gossip and a productive conversation is the audience. In a productive conversation the audience has the power or ability to address the problem.

Who was Tye Tribbett trying to reach in that interview? If it was you, how are you going to address it. If it wasn’t you… why are you still talking about it?

Look Deep Before You Leap: What “Seekers” Can Learn from “Who TF Did I Marry”

So earlier this week, I was captivated by a young woman on social media who was recounting her experience of an early pandemic relationship. The poor lady had obviously been traumatized. She took responsibility for her role in this fiasco, as she told us the details of her failed marriage. She told the world the story of how she met, married and divorced a man in a span of about a year and a half. She told this story in 10 minutes increments, and the whole thing took around 5 hours, (less if you watched at 1.5 speed, like I did.)

The gist of the story is she met a man on the internet. They matched on a couple of the dating applications. On the way to meet him for the first date, her tire blew out. The man came to her location. He put the spare tire on her car, followed her to a repair shop, and paid for a new tire. He then took her to the cheesecake factory where they shared their hopes and dreams. They stayed up talking until midnight, and the woman became smitten almost immediately. They both said they were looking for marriage. Two weeks later, the world shut down due to the Coronavirus and they decided to quarantine together in her townhouse. She became pregnant. They started looking for a house and became engaged. He took her car shopping, but never bought her a car. They looked at houses. He claimed to make offers on a couple of houses, and they both fell threw. But he kept paying all the household expenses. He experienced multiple deaths in his family and immediate circle, but they persevered. She got pregnant and had a miscarriage. They got married. She caught him on the apps messaging other girls, and they wound up in marriage counseling after two months of marriage.

After some quick detective work, she learned that everything this man had ever told her was a lie. He lied about his job and income. This man was lying to her on a daily basis about his family and relationships. He lied about his parents and his siblings. The people she thought were his relatives were not really related to him. She says he was a pathological liar. I am not qualified to make such a diagnosis, but something was obviously wrong this man. As it turns out, the job and income he claimed to have belonged to a TWIN brother from whom he was estranged. The sisters he claimed to have were actually a cousin, and a stranger. The brother he had claimed to be speaking with on a daily basis didn’t exist. He had been married twice before, and to make matters worse, many of the people he claimed that died in the pandemic had been dead for more than a decade.

Poor Ms. Reesa-Teesa. For a year and a half, she dealt with this man and his shenanigans. The story ended in divorce and him being carried away in a police car. I’m sure that’s not what she thought she signed up for. The Tik-Toker says she recorded this information to help somebody, and while I as a happily married woman, don’t really need dating advice, I definitely gained some insight.

So here are the top 5 things church seekers can learn from the “Who TF Did I Marry?” series:

A good first impression is not enough. It’s great that the church’s website answered all your questions. The online sermon clips blessed your soul. The choir sounds good and the preacher’s sermon had you shouting in your seat. Hold your horses their friends. One Sunday morning service is not enough to determine if this is the right place for you. Go to a Bible study. Attend a mission meeting. Do something other than Sunday morning. Anybody can make a good first impression.
The second lesson is closely related to the first. Be willing to take in new information. Our blogging friend kept comparing what she saw to what she thought she knew, and her first impression won out every single time. When new information presents itself, we have to learn to process it. When confronted with one of her ex-husband’s lies, Reesa-Teesa actually looked for ways to let him out of it. That’s not cool, friends. Being a good Christian does not mean letting people take advantage of us. Not pastors, not husbands, not friends. We have to be willing to be honest with ourselves.
Talk to your people. The blogger isolated herself. She didn’t tell her friends what was going on. She didn’t talk to her aunt, her mother, or her grandfather. She made decisions without receiving feedback from people who loved her. When considering uniting with a church, it is important to get opinions from people who are close to you. Find a friend or relative who has no intentions of leaving their own church to get an unbiased opinion of your prospective church home. And when they speak, listen. They will generally have your best interest at heart.
TALK TO THE EX. If the church you are planning to attend is the offshoot from another congregation, it’s a good idea to check out that former church, too. Don’t go in looking for trouble. But do go looking for the truth. Sometimes churches split for good reason. Sometimes, its a holy hot mess. It’s best to know which one you’re walking into.
Last not but least, know when it’s time to leave. Do not stay in a place that is not safe or good for your well-being. Get out when it’s time to go, but do not let your experience keep you from the faith. The Baptist church covenant says “We moreover engage that when we remove from this place, we will as soon as possible, unite with some other church”. I am four years removed from active engagement in a church congregation and I am quite comfortable telling you that I am in no rush to recommit to a body of believers. Am I in violation of the covenant? Maybe. But the truth is, the words “as soon as possible” are relative. Rushing into a new relationship, whether with a romantic partner, or with a religious body , is a bad idea. We need to learn from our mistakes. We need time to process and heal from our trauma. Then, and only then, can we carry out the spirit of the covenant and the principles of God’s Word.

I have been married for quite a while, but I hear there is pee in the dating pool. I don’t want to be discouraging, but there might be a little residue in the baptism pool, as well. In the words of one of the Divorce Court judges, “Look deep before you leap.”

Wanna Be

I really needed some good news this week. This week has challenged me to the point of tears on multiple occasions. I needed to hear from heaven, and my normal courses of action were not breaking through walls around my hardened heart…and then I saw a picture of the incredible Rev. Dr. Gina Stewart standing at the pulpit at the National Baptist Joint Board Session. Tik Tok and Youtube report that she is the first woman to ever do so. I knew I needed to hear what she had to say.

Rev. Dr. Stewart is a well-trained speaker in the tradition of a Baptist preacher. She gave us a good old-fashioned church prayer before the sermon, thanking God for last night’s slumber and the waking of the day. She acknowledged the dignitaries in the room, and called many of them by name. She thanked the presiding officers. She recognized her church congregation, and her intercessors prior to taking her text and then she read her text from the Bible. Her sermon was titled “What Then Shall We Do with Jesus?”, taken from Mark 15: 1-15, and Mark 27.

The sermon was a little long for my taste, and I didn’t love her use of repetition. I also hate when preachers tell me to turn to or talk to my neighbors. No thank you. That being said, the lady gave us a good solid sermon. Let me tell you how good it was. My teenage daughter, peeked her head out of a closed bedroom door to find out who was speaking. It is not an uncommon for me to be in our living room watching sermons on Friday nights…but rarely does it elicit responses from anybody else in the house.

The first thing that I noticed is that Dr. Stewart quoted other women preacher/scholars. Most notably, she quoted Dr. Renita Weems, twice. Dr. Stewart not only walked through the door that was opened for her, but she held that door open for the next woman behind her. The second thing that I saw was her ability to speak truth to power. This woman stood up in a room where she was probably barely welcome by some, and told her fellow preachers to stop using their spirituality as a cloak for their sexism, homophobia, and whatever other biases they had. (My daughter and I both gagged at that point!) The third thing that I noticed was how aware Dr. Stewart was of her surroundings. Her sermon, while anchored in ancient and spiritual truth was also full of present day applications and references. When she started speaking in tongues (Did I mention that this was a Baptist gathering?), she was quick to point out her Baptist bona fides, but acknowledged that she was also charismatic in her beliefs.

Dr. Stewart ended her sermon by saying she wanted to be like Claudia, the wife of Pontius Pilate. She said that she, too, wanted to speak up for and defend Jesus, to stand up for justice, and to fight for those who would not or couldn’t fight for themselves. As I was watching her sermon, I felt like she was already doing those things.

When I was a kid, being a “wannabe” was an insult. It meant you were trying too hard to be something you were not. I don’t think it applies here. The Rev. Dr. Gina Stewart belonged on that stage. The church would be doing a disservice to itself by silencing voices like hers. After hearing her, I want to be more like Jesus. I want to be more like Claudia, but I also kind of want to be more like Rev. Dr. Gina Stewart.

Go watch for yourself, and let me know what you think.

Church Girl: The Chorus (or The Importance of the Congregational Hymn)

Music is the universal language of mankind.” Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Music is an important part of many people’s worship experience. Whether you’re attending a cantata in Latin at your local cathedral, or joining in a Hebrew nigun at a historic temple, so many of our religious and spiritual services are enhanced by the beauty of song.

As a Baptist baby, I get excited when I walk into a church and see hymnals in the pews. Not only do those red or blue or sometimes even green books, serve as a good writing surface for when you’re passing notes in church (Don’t act like you haven’t done it!), they are a source of encouragement, and engagement for a lot of folks in the pews. When I was a kid, our weekly responsive reading was found in the back of the hymnal…except on first Sunday when we read the church covenant as our call and response selection.

I recently attended a Unitarian Universalist service, and one of the the first things I did was grab the hymnal to see if I could find familiar songs. I was delighted to see many songs that I had known since youth. The UU hymnal changed a word or two, so as not to offend, but the lyrics were mostly unchanged. That immediately made me feel a little less anxious.

Music has a way of bringing people together, and putting them at ease. Songs of celebration and songs of mourning cheer and comfort those in need. Music can be an all-inclusive experience…which brings me to Beyonce.

I seriously doubt that there was a soul at that concert who didn’t know any of the lyrics. Some of us even knew choreography. Everybody was singing and dancing. The Renaissance tour was a communal experience, and that’s what I believe our churches are aiming to be.

Have you ever walked into a church, and not recognized the decor, or the flow of service, or felt like you didn’t fit in for whatever reason…but then they sang “Amazing Grace” or recited a psalm you know? The relief that washes over you when you find something familiar in a foreign place in unparalleled. That’s what I want people to experience when they enter our churches.

We don’t necessarily need to change our music, but make it as accessible as possible for those who enter our spaces, already feeling like they are out of place. If you need an example, think back to the last time you attended a Vacation Bible School. Do you remember Father Abraham? I’m not talking about that new-fangled version with the hip-hop beat. I’m talking old school, nod your head, turn around, sit down, Father Abraham. The kids and the adults alike all jumped in. Even the shy quiet kids participated, singing loudly, laughing at each other, laughing at ourselves,. That’s the power of congregational singing.

Almost every church has access to those fancy PowerPoint systems now where you can cast the words to the screen. Or you could go old school and bring back the hymnal. Or just sing the chorus until everybody catches on…but the church is missing out on something when we can no longer sing together. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good solo. Nothing brings tears to my eyes more than a strong soprano singing “Great is Thy Faithfulness.” But there is so much power when we lift our voices in unity.

The Renaissance Movie is coming out this weekend, and I’m probably going to take my girls to see it. I’m looking forward to the visuals, the clothing, and the commentary. But I’m most excited about watching my girls, and countless others in the theater sing along to their favorite tunes…and I cannot lie. I’m probably gonna hum a note or two myself.

Look at the videos of Beyonce singing “Love on Top” when the audience modulates the key higher than she planned to go. She lets them run with it. She laughs, and sees how high they are are willing to go. Isn’t that what the church is supposed to do with the gospel? Run with it. Have fun with it. See how far we can take it… Judea, Samaria, and even unto the ends of the earth.

Just a thought.

For inspiration check out Tevin Campbell’s One Song.

Church Girl (Verse 1):

I’m just going to come right out and say it. The Beyonce concert was better than any of the church services I’ve been to all year.

I don’t say this lightly. I am a confirmed and confessed “Church Girl”. I was baptized in 1988. I believe in Jesus Christ. He is the giver of all life. From heaven he came down. Wait, those are song lyrics. I can state the Apostles Creed, but more importantly, I believe the words. I am faithful, maybe even to a fault. I love God, and I love God’s people and God’s church.

Yet, on Sunday, I chose the discomfort of stadium seating over the discomfort of a church pew. I could have honestly done both…but let’s be honest. This 40+ year old body needed rest if I planned to stay awake for the whole concert. Y’all know we could all use a nap after church. Plus, I wanted to participate in pre-concert festivities, which for me just included some last minute shopping, and hanging out with a good girl friend.

So, I know that there are several pastors and public theologians who are anti-Beyonce, and that’s their prerogative, but here are some things I would like for them (and you) to consider.

The church is always talking about people of every tribe and every language getting together and being on one accord, like the Acts 2 church. I have never seen that in any church I have ever attended. Most American churches are as homogenized as the milk in the dairy section of your local grocery store. The crowd at Club Renaissance was not. What can your church do to draw a more diverse crowd?
The performers were prepared. We have all been to church services where it was obvious that the choir had not rehearsed, the praise dancers were making up their solos on the spot, or worse yet, the preacher had barely even read the scripture before he got up to speak. At the concert, every single performer hit their marks. The whole thing was very well produced. How can your church improve the production value of your services?
The concert was something I looked forward to attending. I was happy when I got there and I was happy when I left. From what I could tell, that was true of most of my fellow concert-goers. This was my first Beyonce concert, but I know that there were people who had seen the Renaissance tour in other cities who flew to KC for this final performance. They seemed just as excited as I was. What can your church do to encourage excitement for first-time visitors, and committed members?

The church could take a few lessons from Mrs. Knowles-Carter’s team. I’ll probably have a few more to share next week. And yes, I will still be talking about the concert next week. It was that good! I hope you can say the same for this week’s church service.

Have a good one.

The Burden of a Broken Body

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about the blessing of a broken body. The universe heard me, and just a few days later, my own broken body betrayed me and I wound up in urgent care. I didn’t tell anyone, but my siblings and the people I live with.

Since I went to the internet to talk about the blessing of a broken body, I feel the overwhelming responsibility to share the burden of a broken body, as well. It’s only right.

There is a special sense of shame and embarrassment when your body doesn’t function as you expect it to. There is the pain of the actual affliction, and then there is the pain of not being able to trust your own body to do what it has been designed to do. When knees won’t bend, and steady hands begin to shake, you heart aches for what used to be.

No matter what your ailment, when your body fails, you feel a smidge of shame and a bit of sorrow. At least , that’s true for me. It’s why not even my best friends knew about my trip to urgent care. I was literally on the phone with my aunt when I pulled into the parking lot, and I never even told her. The burden of a broken body is that you often feel the need to carry that burden on your own.

Shame. Embarrasment. Loneliness.

I wonder if that’s what Jesus felt, as his body that was broken for us, hung from the old rugged cross. I wonder if that’s how he feels when his body, the church, fails to do what he specifically designed it to do.

Jesus, in his infinite wisdom, is ever-loving, and overtly forgiving of his failed body. I believe he’s calling me to offer that same grace to my own body.

My prayer for all of us is that we are grateful for the bodies we have, no matter how broken they are. May we use whatever energy we have to bring light into this world.

Thank you, Lord for the blessing and the burden of this broken body.

Amen.

The Blessing of a Broken Body

This morning, I read I Corinthians 11:23-26 as I took communion by myself. (Today I used Ritz crackers and cranberry juice because I didn’t want to crack open a full bottle of red wine.) As usual, I broke the cracker in half, as I do with my wafers when I’m in a church setting. I know it’s just symbolism, but by breaking the wafer myself, I feel I am acknowledging the role I played in the suffering of the savior.

I know a little something about broken bodies. I am not at my healthiest. I have multiple systems in my body that are not functioning as they should be. My knee might give out at any given moment. I need new glasses, and those are just the things I’m comfortable enough to share. It’s been just a few years since my last emergency surgery, and I am always aware that it could happen again. My body might not be completely broken down, but it is headed that direction. Sadly, I had friends who didn’t even make it to adulthood, so I know it is a blessing to be able to be in my body, as frail as it, and to be in my right mind enough that I recognize it’s frailty.

I am so much more dependent on the Divine in times of my own weakness. I have never called out to God more earnestly than from a hospital bed, or on the floor which has far too often been the case. The only other times I have called on God with such fervor is in times of grief.

I knew today would be hard for me. For the last few years, I’ve been one of my mother’s caregivers. (Huge shout out to my aunt who has been the primary caregiver for the last couple of years, and to my little sister who has stepped up in a major way these last few months.) Anyway, we are preparing to move her to a nursing home because she needs more care than we can provide. In January, she caught COVID and she has never fully recovered. Watching a loved ones body break down doesn’t feel like a blessing at all. There have been tears, swear words, and some stuff I’m too embarrassed to even write.

I am grateful today, for my mother’s body even in its weakened state. I am grateful for feet that that tread paths so that my way might be easier. I am grateful for her kind and open heart. Though I didn’t inherit those traits, I benefit from them more times than I can count. I am grateful that I can use whatever strength I do have to help care for her in her time of need.

Dealing with my mom’s health issues has taught me to be patient and prayerful. It has reminded me that God’s grace is sufficient, that his mercy endures forever, and his truth endures to all generations. The blessing of a broken body is that even it can be used for the glory of God. So I will give thanks and do what I can while I can. I do so in service to the one whose body is broken before me, and in remembrance of the one whose body was broken for me, in hopes that I make them both proud.

You’re Welcome!

My mother had a medical procedure that required us to check into the hospital at 6:00 am. As such, I spent the better part of my morning walking around a hospital campus. While others brought blankets and books, I brought my refillable water bottle and a set of headphones. I am not the type of person who can sit in a hospital waiting room for three hours. After a walk around the entire outside of the hospital, I found myself walking through the hospital, first in search of food, and finally in search of a water refill station.

If you know anything about me, you know that I also spent a little bit of time in the hospital chapel. I am always and forever in search of a sanctuary, be it in the noisiness of nature or in the sterility of a medical facility. I will always look for a place where people go to meet with the Creator. This particular hospital had a Catholic name, so I expected a prominent crucifix, and a Holy Bible. I found both. I also found the lectionary reading for this week, and an African- American hymnal that I’d never seen before. (I immediately flipped through the pages to see what songs I would recognize.) I was a bit distraught that “Holy, Holy, Holy” was not on page 2, as it is in the hymnals I remember. But I soon found a few songs whose lyrics were as dear to me as some of the Psalms themselves, the melody of which I could pluck out on a piano…And while this was an amazing find…it was not the best thing I found today.

Off to the side of the chapel, was a little room called the prayer room. This room beckoned to me much more than the chapel, so much that I visited it first. What I found there was a place so holy, that I felt like I was trespassing when I set foot in the outer room. When I crossed the threshold, the first thing I noticed, were the two large washrooms where you could wash your feet. Then I saw the sign on the door that led to the inner room that asked that I please remove my shoes…I would have but I wasn’t wearing socks. (I did mention we had to be at the hospital at 6am, right?) So I stood in the doorway, entering only with my eyes, making sure my shod feet never set foot on this holy ground. There was no altar, just a wooden partition, where maybe a prayer leader or speaker would be. I saw prayer rugs and cushions in a corner, and I knew immediately that while the space was clearly marked with a sign that said “All are Welcome,” that the space was not intended for me.

I wonder how many of our churches look like that to people who don’t look like, think like, worship like us. We hang out the signs to invite them in, but upon entering, they know immediately that the space is not for them. Heck. I’ve been to quite a few churches of my chosen denomination that made me feel like I didn’t belong. But if our churches truly are places where heaven and earth meet, then all should feel welcome when they enter our doors.

Can you worship in a place where you don’t feel welcome? I absolutely believe that you can. I have worshiped in places where it is absolutely forbidden (i.e. my job). My ancestors found holiness amongst people who doubted their humanity. I believe that if you seek God you will find God. But I also believe that many of our churches make God seem less accessible to some people.

I have no doubt that the Lord would have met me in that prayer room today. But I defaulted to what was more comfortable, so I spent a majority of the time in the Christian chapel. I marveled at the stained glass windows, and muttered a brief prayer of thanksgiving at the altar. But I feel like I missed an opportunity. I know that God exists in unfamiliar places, and maybe, just maybe, God wanted to meet me in a place I’ve never been before.

How many times in my life have I reverted to what was comfortable over what is calling to me? Lord, have mercy. How many times have I chosen what is familiar over what is fascinating? Lord, have mercy. Help me to make my spaces more inviting, and help me to accept the invitations that are truly meant for me. Help me not to stand in doorways peaking around corners, when you are inviting me into something deeper.

Amen.

Mothering my Mother

I help her bathe and get dressed. I feed her breakfast before I go to work in the mornings, and I check in with the sitter periodically to see how their day is going. I worry if she is getting the proper nutrients to sustain her. When I get home from work, we talk about her day. I make sure she eats dinner and help her prepare for bed. I’m exhausted by the time I get everything done. ,She watches from her chair, as I sweep around her, clean the kitchen, and try to prepare for work the next day. She seems to be oblivious to all the work that goes into caring for her. She doesn’t notice that I’ve had to rearrange my house so she would have a safe and comfortable place to sleep. She doesn’t seem to realize that I’m taking days off every week to tend to her needs. She doesn’t seem to care that I’ve busted my entire budget trying to make sure she can get to where she needs to go. I wish I was talking about my disaffected teenage daughter. Instead, I’m talking about my convalescing mother.

She moved into my home nearly 3 months ago after a serious health scare. She needed a great deal of rehabilitation, and her home was neither safe for her, nor presentable enough to let strangers inside. So I made the difficult decision to move her in with me. Except it isn’t just me. There’s my husband, of course, who was not all that thrilled with the situation, but resigned to it just the same. Then there are my three rambunctious children, who take up all of my time and most of my space.

I suppose I should have seen this coming. My body seems to be falling apart and I am thirty years her junior. Getting old happens to us all, if we’re lucky. You would think that since I work in social services, I would realize that Medicare kicks in at age 65 for a reason. Besides that, we kind of fit the profile. According to www.caregiving.org, the average African-American caregiver is a female who is 44.2 years old, and is caring for 66.3 year old relative. ( I’m a few years younger, and she’s a few years older than that.) This isn’t her first health scare, but it was the first one that ended up in a hospital stay.

Several years ago, she was struck with a mysterious illness that caused her to temporarily lose her sight. She was misdiagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Eventually, that was ruled out, but they never came up with an explanation as to why she went blind temporarily, or what caused her sight to come back. She’s been on blood pressure medication and has carried an asthma inhaler most of her life. Since those two things disproportionately affect our community, I should not have been surprised.

There is a whole range of emotions that comes with the transition to becoming a caregiver. I think my initial reaction was confusion. How could the woman who taught me how to balance a checkbook at the age of 10, not be able to tell me how much money was going in or coming out of her accounts. Bills started going unpaid. Shutoff notices were ignored and eventually her phone was shut off. My mother has had the same phone number from the time I was in Kindergarten until late last year. It was not uncommon for people looking for any one of my siblings or myself to call the phone number we wrote in their yearbooks 20 years ago, and receive the same greeting that they always had. “Hayes residence,” she’d say her voice lilting as if she was asking a question, even though she was making a statement.

I was confused because every Saturday morning, we had to get up to clean the whole house, from the baseboards and floors, to the cobwebs on the ceilings. But somehow, her house has fallen into such disrepair, that we stopped having family meals there. The floors don’t look like they have been cleaned in months and the living room is so cluttered that there is barely a place to sit down. I’m confused because she looks the same, but things are not the same.

I’m not just confused, I’m also tired. It’s not just that I have to start hosting the family dinners now. It’s that I also have to help her in and out of the bathtub. I have to maneuver her equipment in and out of my house. I’m blessed in that my mother is ambulatory for the most part. I don’t have to lift her, unless she falls, and so far that has only happened once. But exhaustion is not always physical. Caregiving takes its toll mentally as well. It’s that I have to schedule and get her to and from all of her appointments. It’s that I have to keep track of her medications, and remember where she put her checkbook. Nevermind the fact that I’m not sure I know where my own checkbook is at the moment. It’s that I have to talk to insurance companies, and customer service agents with whom I have no relationship. It’s that I have to do all of that and still manage my own very busy household. I, like more than a third of all Black caregivers in the United States, have minor children in my care(caregiveractionnetwork.org).

I’m not just confused, and tired. I’m also sad. I’m sad that our mother-daughter lunch dates have become more of a chore than a source of respite. Gone are the days of brunch buffets at the local casino. It’s easier for her to sit down to a bowl of soup that the waitress brings her than to try to balance an overflowing plate and her cane. I’m sad because she dozes off and loses track of time, so she can no longer keep my children. We have to put the home I grew up in on the market to cover the cost of her care. I’m sad because I can’t go to her for advice on how to handle this situation.

I’m angry because I don’t feel like I was given fair warning. Nobody told me what this would look like. I’m sure it’s different for everybody, but I know there are some similarities. She was about my age when her mother got sick. She didn’t tell me about handling my grandmother’s finances or sorting out her affairs. She didn’t tell me about giving up precious vacation days to run errands or to sit in waiting rooms. She didn’t tell me how hard it is to feel helpless, and still have be able to give help.

I want to curl up in a ball and cry to my mommy about being confused and tired and sad and angry. I want her to rub my back and tell me it will all be okay. But today she is looking for that same reassurance from me, and I just don’t have it to give.

A social worker visited my home shortly after my mother moved in. She was checking the home to make sure it was okay, but she was also checking to see if my mother needed additional services I could not provide. After talking with my mom for a while, she told me that while my mother was healing, the roles would be reversed. She pointed me in the direction of some important resources, and then asked me if I got it. “I’ve got it,” I replied. I was lying. That too, is something that is common among black women caregivers. One website, www.caregiving.org says that this subsect of caregivers reported little to no physical or financial stress, and a moderate to low amount of emotional stress as a result of caregiving. I’m three months in and I know that this cannot possibly be true. We are either lying to the researchers, or to ourselves. I suspect a bit of both. There is no way that being a caregiver leaves us unscathed. Some of us have actual battle scars, while others of us have heart wounds that no one will ever see.

I confided in a friend that it feels like I have another kid. “You do, kind of have another kid.” That’s when it hit me. I am mothering my mother and it hurts more than anyone will ever know.

*I wrote this three years ago. Some things have changed and some have not. Mom rallied, and was able to live independently for a while, but since the beginning of 2023, her health has rapidly declined. She mostly uses a wheelchair to get around. She is blind in one eye, and her awful doctor is now saying she does have Multiple Sclerosis. (In my life, I have wanted to fight two doctors. Both of them were supposed to be “caring” for my parents. Neither of them seemed to be very good at their jobs.”

While mom is no longer in my home, she will soon need constant care. I spent a full eight hours yesterday tending to her needs, and I have never been so tired in my life. She has the same amount of medical appointments as my three children this month. It’s 7:39am on a Sunday morning, and I literally just received a text about her most recent test results. On the plus side, she got to enjoy a tea party with four of her seven grandchildren.

I do not know if I have the energy to parent today. I don’t even want to get out of my bed. Of course, neither of these things is really a possibility. I have already ordered groceries, and need to make the calendar for the week. I’ll need to coordinate additional care for mom, and try to find an assisted living or nursing facility that is private pay that she can afford. I have to pray that the nurse we’ve hired to come in a few days a week doesn’t quit, and that my aunt who is there on the nurse’s off days stays healthy enough to continue.

Today is Mother’s Day, so I’m going to enjoy a mimosa, or several. I’m going to hug and kiss my children, and I’m going to be grateful for the privilege of still being able to call my mother, even though, now she is the one calling me.

If Mother’s Day is a struggle for you, please know that you are not alone. Treat yourself well today, even and especially, if nobody else does.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Friendly Cooperation

I want to say I was shocked by the announcement that Southern Baptist Convention voted to boot out one of the biggest churches in the country. But as someone who is truly “Baptist-Born, Baptist-bred, and when I’ll die I’ll be Baptist dead”, I barely shrugged my shoulders.

Saddleback Baptist church has 19 campuses and weekend attendance can reach upwards of 30,000 people. In the early 2000s, the church’s founding pastor, Rick Warren, published a book that changed the way churches across the company operated. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are still churches in my city who are using one of his small group studies today. The Purpose-Driven Life was read across the world and was published in 50 different languages. It was probably one of the SBC’s biggest success stories.

So how did we get to the point that the SBC’s board voted Saddleback and four other congregations were no longer considered “to be in friendly cooperation”? Well, it’s simple. The church named a woman as “pastor”. You need to know that the woman in question, Stacie Woods, is not senior pastor, but the wife of senior pastor, Andy Woods. Some of the other churches may have had women serving as lead pastors. Apparently, in the year 2000, Southern Baptist Leadership affirmed a rule that only men could serve as pastors. You read that right. Not the 1960s, not the 1980s, but in the year after we took Prince’s advice and partied like there was no tomorrow, the denomination decided that women pastoring churches was the line they weren’t willing to cross. As a Baptist who has had to sit through the sermons of known philanderers, drug addicts, and suspected thieves, (We even had one pastor in the metro who dressed as a woman when he gambled at the casinos. ) I find this line… questionable (Insert eye roll.)

Any organization that automatically disqualifies 50% of their constituents from leadership is doing itself a disservice. And I’m being nice. I know that I have been to Bible Studies and Prayer meetings where the women outnumber the men by a wide margin. I’ve been in services where the only man present was the pastor. It’s unfair to the pastor, and it is certainly unfair to the congregation he is serving.

Despite the fact that I haven’t been to church on a regular basis since the pandemic began, I am still very much a Baptist. On the first Sunday of every month, I wake my kids up with a medley of songs about the blood. I take communion, albeit, by myself. I even have been known to bake my own wafers. I teach my kids hymns, and I ask them random Bible questions, just because I can. But what I won’t do is subject my children to teaching that tells them that my son is more qualified for anything, simply because he was born a male.

How can a church that has been telling us that we’re in the last days for at least the last 100 years, not believe that the Lord is pouring out his Spirit on all flesh? How can you hear Rev. Renita Weems, or Bishop Vashti Mackenzie and doubt that they, too, are called by God to lead God’s people? (Bishop Mackenzie was appointed Bishop in the same year that the Baptists voted not to have women as pastors. I’m pretty sure that is not a coincidence.)

As for Saddleback and the other churches, they can appeal this decision, but I’m not sure they should. One of the hallmarks of Baptist churches is the autonomy of the local body. Unlike some other denominations, there isn’t a governing board who decides what pastor should be matched with what congregation. Each Baptist church is supposed to have its own processes and procedures for governing the church, including choosing its own leaders. The SBC is supposed to support these individual congregations, as they try to preach the gospel to the world. This move doesn’t sound all that supportive. I think the church in California will probably be just fine without assistance from the SBC. But some of the other churches may have greatly benefited from the SBC’s support.

I still believe in the Baptist ordinances and I hold the church covenant close to my heart. I aim to be faithful in my engagements and exemplary in my deportment.

But…

I’m for bodily autonomy for individual churches… and for individual people (that’s another blog for another day), and unfortunately, that might make it hard for me to find a Baptist church where I can fit comfortably. For this (and many other reasons )I don’t see myself joining a church any time soon. I think I’ll just remain in friendly cooperation with a number of congregations for the time being.