A Bike Ride – Spring of 2020

As much as we like to criticize our churches for being too conservative, they do provide a stable social support system that is not being replaced as they become less and less relevant. I was on a sixteen-mile bike ride this past Sunday when I took my first water break six miles into the ride – under a tree located next to St. Thomas Church.  Evidently, despite COVID-19, the congregation, exclusively African American, was finishing up their outdoor service.  As I stood near my bike listening to a testimonial being delivered by one of the congregants, I was motioned by a woman to come closer so I could hear better. So, I did. 

After a few minutes, one of the other women standing nearby asked if I wanted to say something to the crowd.  I froze for a few seconds, not knowing what to say.  Not only was I the only white person in the crowd, I was the only one wearing a biking outfit.  I was even walking strangely because of my clip biking shoes.  What were they thinking of me?  However, before I knew it, I responded with “Sister, I have one heck of a story to tell!” What in the hell was I thinking?  Somehow, I do not know where it came from, but I was moved by the Holy Spirit.  It was a God Moment.  And before I knew it, I had the microphone in my hand laying out my soul to these strangers. But there was so much love and acceptance. 

So, I told them very quickly about growing up in Louisa County without a father, about growing up with no indoor plumbing, and about Mineral Baptist Church – the church that helped save me.  I told them that churches are the backbone of many communities and provide the social support structure than many need.  And I thanked them for letting me speak and to be a part of their gathering.  Again, I do not know what came over me, but I began singing “Let There Be Peace on Earth,” a song that speaks about universal brotherhood and that it starts with you.  It was my go-to song many years ago when I sang solos in the youth choir at Mineral Baptist Church.  I cried as I sang it to these wonderful, gracious people, who let me into their intimate space.  Not once did I mention the racial tension that our society is currently experiencing.  I did not need to.  It was understood by them and by me that the only way we are going to fix this is by one experience at a time, by one encounter at a time, and by each of us calling out discrimination when we see it.

After I was finished, I was handed a few tissues to wipe my eyes.  I wished we could have hugged, but instead I gave a few of them elbow taps.  And I got back on my bike and rode off – back to my life, knowing that my skin color had given me some privilege as I attempted the climb up the socio-economic ladder. I say that not to feel guilty, but to acknowledge what I believe to be a truth.  As I continued my ride through the countryside of central Virginia, I thanked God for the opportunity to worship with the good people of St. Thomas church and for giving me the courage to be vulnerable.

Somehow, we must find ways to give the underclass a sense of being valued and an opportunity to contribute, and to hold them and the communities in which they live accountable. But unless we also address systemic racism and social-economic discrimination, holding people of color and their communities accountable alone will not fix the problem.  With that said, I am grateful to live in the United States of America.