Saint first

I wanted to start this post off by saying that I came out of the womb going to church, but I don’t think that’s entirely true. I wasn’t named after Prince, but I do have purple relations. So much so, that I’m positive “I Would Die 4 U” was playing softly at the time of my afternoon ascendance (more on that later). Immediately after that, though, I was in church.

I’m a PK. And yes, the stereotypes are true.

I enjoy church, I always have and I still do. I don’t enjoy waking up early for anyone or anything—not even Jesus (can I be honest here?), but that’s where my qualms start and end with church.

I don’t have any religious horror stories of my own because I was raised in a church that embodies the “come as you are” manifesto through and through. Three-piece suits weren’t required, showers either; as we often were a refuge to the unhoused. Queer folk and their children were a part of our congregation, too. Everyone was welcome.

I’m saying all this to say that until I moved away for college, my dwelling place reflected a world made for everyone—a reality I thought everyone was living. And then I grew up.

Life has happened to me, and to those around me, and knocked a few of us out of our faith—me specifically. I’ve listened to and read about the traumatic religious experiences of those who were brave enough to share. I’ve matured, come into my own understanding, and brought my lived experiences back to “The Book”. I’ve sat down with my community, asked the hard questions, and insisted on critical thinking over indoctrination.

I’ve questioned God, too. “If I am your child, why is this happening to me?”, “If you’re supposed to be the embodiment of love, why are your people spewing hatred and then using your name as a reference?”

Me and God, we’re still in communication, but the relationship has been fickle over the last few years. And during this time, I’ve found my own, new version of God in interesting and unsuspected people and places. But no matter where I am or what I’m doing, I find myself coming back to the same cornerstone: Worship.

I’m definitely not a Kim Burrell saint, but more of a Kirk Franklin sinner. IYKYK.

We’re dual people. We worship and we sin, sometimes at the same time. We drink and then find our place of deference. We cuss and then call on the name of Jesus. And then we find our way forward—whatever that looks like. And that’s okay. All of who we are is okay.

I feel led to share a few songs in regular rotation for me. Maybe they’ll spark something inside of you, too.

When I want to feel something:

• Open My Heart - Yolanda Adams

• I Told The Storm - Greg O. Quin ‘n Joyful Noyse

• My Testimony/Let Go - Kelontae Gavin

When I want to do my little dance:

• Show Up! - John P. Kee & NLCC

• They That Wait - Fred Hammond

• Kingdom - Maverick City Music & Kirk Franklin

If you lean more spiritual than religious, Sounds of Blackness is an ancestral balm that will get you right every time.

I’ll leave you with this: The race isn’t given to the swift or the strong, but to those who endure to the end.

And if no one has told you today, I love you.

Originally published as part of BlackStack’s Week 9: Sunday Service Announcements

Week 9: Sunday Service Announcements

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