There Is Only One Me, There Is No Duplicate Key:
A Divine Call to Inclusive Ministry
Dr. Darius Omar Williams
Assistant Professor of African Diasporic Theatre Practice/Performance
California State University – Sacramento, CA
“Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.”
—James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time
In responding to the Lord’s divine calling on my life to become a servant of the ministry, I was immediately struck with initial feelings of shame and unworthiness that because I am a Black Same Gender Loving man, my reconnection to Christ would be stifled by the ridicule, criticisms, and historical dogma of a select number of Christians whom I consider family, colleagues, even dear friends. While these stunning thoughts of anxiety and fear were attempting to overtake me, immediately whispered in my spirit was simply: BE STILL AND KNOW.
The voice within, God’s voice began to calmly reconcile my illogical preoccupations with ‘what will they say’ or ‘what will they even think’ as the Holy Spirit began to purpose upon my heart a clear understanding of who I was getting ready to become and where I was being prepared to go. Therefore, the shift in my consciousness and in the atmosphere was an affirmation Bishop Carlton Pearson reminds us in his book The Gospel of Inclusion, “we are all the chosen people and God does not show partiality when it comes to people.”
Today, I look at my Black face. It is the face of Ossie Davis and Ruby Dee. It is the portly peace of Bayard Rustin, Bishop Walter L. Hawkins, and Archbishop Carl Bean. It is the bald head lover and hot Mississippi of Sojourner-Griot-Spirit Woman Beah Richards. Beyond my face, I too see the faces of my beloved Ancestors—the copper brow of my grandaddy Walter Lee Evege, Sr. who fought in World War II and lost two fingers to boot, then worked as a janitor the rest of his life. Mind you, my dear Mama and nary one of her siblings were ever left unclothed, unchurched nor unfed. Yes Honey, God—may I kiss my hands and dance juba–lift them up because I can see a pink house on Eastview Street who remembers mama crouching to her knees and I hear in the quiet memory of her weeping—a weeping Black Mama praying for her five Black sons. May I taste and know that the Lord is Good, as broken, and unworthy as I am, with unimaginable suffering—its profundity which may or not so easily be forgotten. May I remember to remember what my brother Pastor Dameon Demil Williams reminded me Saturday night. Yes, my brother Pastor Dameon, the Knee Baby in our family, ministered to my soul when he said, “Our relationship with God is personal. For God is pleased by our obedience. Obedience is better than sacrifice. Why? Because when you’re young often sacrifice is a product of the flesh. Why? Because 9 outta 10, you have your strength before experiencing your first major spiritual blowout.” Finally, Pastor Dameon, an ordained minister since 19, gently whispers to me, “When you’re a God chaser, your mind is stronger. When you put in the work to honor God, God honors your stewardship. Amen.” THERE IS ONLY ONE ME. THERE IS NO DUPLICATE KEY.
