He Had a Nightmare that Day

On Wednesday, August 28, 1963, he watched and listened as Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech to those participating in the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom.

He had a nightmare that day.

He had a nightmare that society was changing in ways that were irreversible.

He had a nightmare that little black children would be going to school with little white children.

He had a nightmare that there would be no more places and privileges reserved for white folks.

He had a nightmare that day.

He had a nightmare that he would not be guaranteed higher standing because of the color of his skin.

He had a nightmare that there would no longer be people on whom he was assumed to have the right to look down.

He had a nightmare that all people would be regarded as people.

He had a nightmare that day.

He had a nightmare that “one nation” meant “one” and that “liberty and justice for all” really meant “for all.”

He had a nightmare that every person really was God’s child.

He had a nightmare that for others to have a larger piece of the pie could mean that he would have a smaller piece.

He had a nightmare that day.

He had a nightmare that people of different races might start marrying each other and producing children.

He had a nightmare that his assumptions would be proven wrong and his prejudices would be exposed as sinful.

He had a nightmare that people who were on a lower rung than he was on the socio-economic ladder would be able to climb as high as him and maybe even climb past him.

He had a nightmare that day.

He had a nightmare that he would be judged not by the color of his skin but by the content of his character.

He had a nightmare that his church might no longer be a gathering of only people who looked and thought like he did.

He had a nightmare that a quality education might cause some folks to think they were smarter than he was.

He had a nightmare that day.

He had a nightmare that somebody he regarded as beneath him might become his boss.

He had a nightmare that black and brown folks might want to live in a house as nice as his and maybe even in his neighborhood.

He had a nightmare that one of them might even get to live in the big White House.

He had a nightmare that day.

He had a nightmare that fifty years from that day, his children and grandchildren would not fear what he feared.

He had a nightmare that fifty years from that day, progress toward justice, freedom, and equality would have been made.

He had a nightmare that fifty years from that day, Christians would have come to live up to the ultimate meaning of their Scriptures and Americans to the ultimate meaning of their founding documents.

He had a nightmare that day …

Are You a Fragment of the Cross?

A few days ago, archaeologists announced that they had made a significant find in the ruins of a church that had been built in the year 660 in present-day Turkey: a small stone coffin containing a wood fragment that was in the past venerated as coming from the cross of Jesus Christ.

That such an object was so venerated is not unusual; fragments that supposedly come from Jesus’ cross are still around today, including at the Shrine of the True Cross in Dickinson, Texas. According to legend, in the fourth century Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine, traveled to Jerusalem, located the cross of Jesus, and had pieces of it kept in Jerusalem and distributed to Constantinople and Rome. Fragments then made their way to locations throughout the world.

There is no way to know whether the fragment found in Turkey, or any of the other fragments or any other relic—think of the Shroud of Turin--for that matter, are in fact what some of the faithful believe them to be.

When I read the story about the find in Turkey, though, I couldn’t help but imagine the folks in the lab on CSI or Bones or NCIS—it would be a real kick watching Abby from NCIS deal with it—checking the fragment to see if it contained some of Jesus’ DNA. The problem would be that we don’t have any known examples of Jesus’ DNA or any known physical descendants of Jesus—Dan Brown’s entertaining fantasy in The Da Vinci Code notwithstanding—to which the experts could compare what they found on the cross fragments.

When you stop and think about it, though, Jesus does have close kin who are alive right here and right now; that would be you and me and all others who are his sisters and brothers. We share his spiritual DNA—we are members of his family and he of ours; God dwells in the Church and the Church dwells in God.

Here’s the hard question: if Abby from NCIS could conduct a test on us to determine how close kin to Jesus we really are, what would it show? How many markers—how much love, how much mercy, how much grace, how much forgiveness, how much service, how much sacrifice, how much humility, for examples—would we share in common with Jesus? The good news is that by the grace of God, by the work of the Spirit, and by the practice of Christian disciplines like worship, solitude, prayer, and study we can continuously grow in those characteristics that define a brother or sister of Jesus.

Physical DNA test results are what they are; spiritual ones can improve.

Thanks be to God!