I’m Tired … But Still Pressing

I’m Tired … But Still Pressing (Guest Post)

This post was written by my cousin, The Unlikely Missionary. She wrote this article in response to the recent incidents of police brutality. She encourages us to press on in the fight for freedom and to trust Jesus for the healing of racial injustice in our communities. You can see more of her posts here. 

“Going a little ahead, he fell on his face, praying, ‘My Father, if there is any way, get me out of this. But please, not what I want. You do what you want.”

-Matthew 26:39

Being the mom of a little black boy is in equal parts joyous and terrifying. Holding my son in my arms, I cried both tears of joy because he was here and safe, and tears of terror because I knew that as a little black boy in America, I couldn’t always keep him that way.

That is the dichotomy of being black in America. Equal parts joy and pain. Finding the balance of existing and surviving. Holding your breath every time your loved ones are out of your sight and hoping they will make it home safe.

I often wonder, “Lord can you take this cup from me?” It’s hard to feel the burden of holding your world together without being able to control the factors that seek to destroy it. Factors that seek to destroy my husband who is big and tall. My son who is smart and growing like a weed. My daughter who is sassy and independent. All because of our color.

When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane, He asked God the same thing, “Father, is there anyway to get me out of this?”

When Jesus came to earth, the Jews were in a similar situation as we find ourselves now. They were oppressed. They were existing under a government that didn’t value them. They saw Jesus as their immediate Savior, although His purpose was much greater.

So Jesus, sitting in the Garden at this point in His journey, deeply resonates with me. Just being tired. Wanting to know if there is another way because this burden just feels so crushing. Wanting to know why they hate me? Why they see us as a threat? Why they seek to destroy us when we just want to live?

George Floyd was killed by police last week and his name is added to the roll of black people killed in this country for the past 400 years. And as a person who is already scared when her husband leaves the house or who is scared for her son because of how this country criminalizes black boys, it’s a mix of fear and anxiety that rushes to the surface every time these things happen. A trauma that has been simmering below the surface, that rears its ugly head and causes tears of anguish.

If I could cry tears of blood, like Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane, I think I would.

It is just so heavy.

But when I think about it, as Jesus did, I’ve learned that we must keep pressing on.

Jesus took His time to grieve the moment. To let it out. To deal with and express the emotions He was feeling and then He got up and pressed forward.

Not my will, but thine will be done.

If it was up to me, I would gather my loved ones in a bubble and shut them off from the world. But I can’t do that. There is much work to be done. Although my destiny isn’t to be the Savior of the world, I believe that I am poised to be an agent of change. In my home. When I vote. In my children’s lives and in the lives of others through the work I do. God’s will is that I continue to fight for survival, to demand justice, to step out boldly in the freedom He died for me to have, and to be an example for the future generations.

I love being Black. I love my culture, my people and I love who God has made me to be through this journey that is often hard and fraught with danger. Thus is life.

While I am sad, angry and hurting, I find comfort in knowing that my Savior has been in a similar moment and that He is in this moment with me now. I cannot take the cup but with Jesus, I will keep on pressing forward.

The Unlikely Missionary
DHW