UNFOLDING DELIVERANCE

Unfolding Deliverance Friday, December 24, 2010 Wednesday, January 23, 2019 By Rev. Dr. Larry Delano Coleman “It ain’t over.” That was the last sentence he heard before falling asleep. Awakening hours later to find that he was still in bed, and fully dressed, Booker Barca Bailey, age 12, unfolded the lovely, red, black and green-crossed damask spread wrapped, catawampus, around him. Recalling that sentence, he wondered aloud: “What ‘ain’t over?’” as he stretched and yawned, shaking off dusts of slumber. Booker, his first name, was from Booker T. Washington, famed founder of Tuskegee University. Barca, his middle name, was the surname of Hannibal, the great Carthaginian general. Bailey was his daddy’s surname, who had named him at birth. Climbing out the bed, and neatly refolding his aunt’s damask spread, which she had brought back from out of the country, Booker ambled down the deeply-padded carpet, in sock-feet. “The sleeper has awakened!” teased his uncle, as Booker entered the family room. “How about some breakfast, champ?” he asked. “All that noise you were making surely woke him up,” his mother pouted, petulantly, enfolding him in her arms. “Morning, Booker.” “Morning Mama,” he replied as she him released. “It’s time for you to get up, anyway. Nothing comes to a sleeper, but a dream.” Said his father as he winked at their only child. Faintly smiling, secure in familial comfort and love, he asked “What ‘ain’t over? Y’all were talking about this topic last night before I went to sleep. It’s the last thing I remember hearing.” “’You all were” corrected his mother, a school teacher. “The word ‘ain’t,’ is an African American linguistic contraction, now deeply imbedded in the American lexicon. But it is still improper English.” “You all were talking about this topic last night before I went to sleep.” said Booker as he carefully, slowly, modulated each syllable. Only recently, his junior choir had sung the hopeful gospel version of “It ain’t over” in his Uncle Abednego’s church, Mighty Congregation African Church, near St. Louis, Missouri. He was in its dynamic youth choir, “The Morning Dews.” Then too, he had also sung, a raunchier, more hip-hop version of “It Ain’t Over” at school, during lunch with friends. Which version was being discussed? He wondered. Just then, it came on again, toward the front of the house: “It ain’t over until your victory is won …” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnHDDgdJ7Y8&feature=related It was being softly, plaintively, sung version by Maurette Brown Clark. He recognized it from church and smiled placidly. Uncle Abnego picked up his tattered Bible and read expressively from Genesis, Chapter 15: 12-15-- 12 As the sun was setting, Abram fell into a deep sleep, and a thick and dreadful darkness came over him. 13 Then the LORD said to him, “Know for certain that for four hundred years your descendants will be strangers in a country not their own and that they will be enslaved and mistreated there. 14 But I will punish the nation they serve as slaves, and afterward they will come out with great possessions. 15 You, however, will go to your ancestors in peace and be buried at a good old age. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” quipped his aunt, somewhat facetiously. Earlier, she had covered him while he slept with her damask spread of many colors; it was one that she had acquired on one of her occasional, fabled shopping forays abroad. Now she was refolding her spread as she had unfolded it on him. Booker wondered if they had been up all night long “debating” the ways of black/white folk, their usual topic. This one, though, had a sharper edge to it, unlike its more pallid predecessors. “It means there’s more to come, more to follow. It means ’Stay tuned!’” continued Uncle Abednego. “This scriptural passage applies to black people, to African-Americans, as surely as does the universally acclaimed, Negro spiritual, ‘Go Down Moses!’” “The struggle for black folks’ freedom ‘is not over’ either, baby.” smirked Booker’s aunt. “Just ask your Uncle Abe. He is about to involve us all in this 2019 African American deliverance scheme!” “He was just about to explain Abram’s dream, when you came half sleep-walking through the door. Weren’t you, baby?” cooed Booker’s Aunt Sidney, smooching her lips to blow her husband of ten years a mockingly petulant kiss. “Booker’s sleep was ‘deep’ like Abram’s,” interjected his father. “And ‘deep’ like that of our own African American people’s sleep. But, if one is to go into deep space for 400 years, sleep helps!” “I’m still trying to hear your interpretation of what that scripture means, Abe. Abram was obviously a Jew. Not African, not African American,” Aunt Sidney stated, rising to her feet with a sigh. “So, how you can equate that with us is not quite clear to me,” she said, pulling Booker toward the kitchen. “You want hot oatmeal or cold cereal?” she asked familiarly. “I want cereal.” Booker said. “What kind do you have?” “Nothing that sugary kind, like you 12 year old kids like. How about some Cheerios?” “OK” “Go wash your hands in the restroom. By the time you get back, everything will be ready,” she said. She adored her nephew, her sister’s son. Being childless, herself, she loved to play ‘Momma.’ When Booker returned to the kitchen, a bowl of Cheerios, containing cut-up bananas and strawberries was waiting on the table, beside a spoon and a glass of milk. Aunt Sidney had already rejoined the others in the family room conversing. “Jew or Ethiopian, it’s all the same to God.” interjected Shadrach, Booker’s father, Uncle Abednego’s older brother. Amos 9:7 say: “Are you not as the Ethiopians unto me O children of Israel?” “Pass me that Bible. I want to read that one for myself.” Tamara, Booker’s mother said. Searching for Amos in the Old Testament, she found the place and read silently. “Well it does say that. But … I’d always thought they, the Jews, were God’s ‘chosen people.’ In fact, I believe I have read that, somewhere, in the Bible!” “If you’re reasonably healthy, and still breathing, you’re already ‘chosen’ in my view.” Said Aunt Sidney. “The rest is up to you.” “Oh, it’s in there, Tamara. But the Jews’ and everybody else’s utter destruction is also in there. The Lord gives and takes away. The point is: God does not play favorites. He made of one blood all men.” answered her husband, Shadrach, Booker’s father. Rising to his feet, Uncle Abednego began to preach, using his hands for emphasis. “I am using a mystical, allegorical and spiritual interpretation of scripture.” “And historical,” interjected Shadrach. “Don’t leave that out! Too many black preachers, black people, either don’t know history, nor care for history. Therefore, most folks run from all history.” “White ones, too!” added Tamara, emphatically. “They run too! Their history is often fake, weak and often biased against blacks!” “’Yes. Historical, too, Shad and Tamara.’” Resumed Abednego. “We came to Jamestown, Virginia as indentured servants in 1619, serving a term of years, till we were freed. About 50 years later, the colonial Virginia legislature made us lifelong slaves, to divide and to separate us from our fellow white and Indian indentured servants, who continued to serve a term of years. This happened back in the 1660s, after the so-called “Nathaniel Bacon’s Rebellion” in Virginia. “Wasn’t there another Nathaniel somebody in Massachusetts who rebelled after the American Revolution in the 1780’s, over the lack of equitable land distribution?” asked Tamara, quizzically. “That was Daniel Shay’s Rebellion, Dear.” answered Abednego. “Nathaniel Bacon, a rich white planter, himself, had led a rebellion against the colonial oligarchy. Bacon’s brigade consisted blacks and whites and Indians, indentured servants all. This dangerous combination of indentured folks had to be broken up, as it threatened good colonial order, land, and power. So, the Virginia colonial legislature passed laws setting different rights between black, white and Indian indentured servants, after Nathaniel Bacon’s Rebellion was crushed. This all happened during the middle 1660’s. Nathaniel Bacon died mysteriously and that ended the rebellion. He might have been poisoned, some say.” “Fascinating” Aunt Sidney quipped. “Coffee anyone?” she asked “This is year 2017. In year 2019, 400 years will be up, since “we” symbolically came here. That’s when our deliverance will fully unfold, in year 2019. That Genesis scripture is allegorical, relating to the sojourn of black people in America. That’s only 2 years from now.” Explained Uncle Abednego, “Abe” for short. “Do you really believe that?” asked Aunt Sibley slightly miffed. “Allegorical? I thought the Bible was to be taken ‘literally,’ not allegorically.” She stated feinting to dodge an imaginary blow. “The Apostle Paul uses the word “allegory” in the New Testament. Jesus spoke in parables, frequently. Jesus also admonished his disciples to be discerning, able to see through facades, exteriors. Let me go back to the study and get my study Bible. I can tell right now this is going to get deep.” Said Abe rising to leave. “Bring me one, too, Abe.” Cried Sidney. “Me, too,” said Oscar. “Well, Obama was elected President of these United States of America—in 2008!” added Booker’s dad, flippantly. ”That was something I’d thought that I would never see happen in my lifetime, or ever. After that, I can believe almost anything else. ” “And from that Harvard lawyer’s miraculous election as President you can deduce that black folks are going to be free in two years?” snorted Aunt Sibley. “’Tamara, chastise you husband, please! while I check his brother.’” she said, gesturing to Tamara in mock contempt. “’Girl, don’t you know by now! They’re flip sides of the same coin!’” Mom gushed. “’It is no use! Abe and Shad are joined at the hip in politics and just about all issues related to black folks.’” “Getting back to the subject at hand,” interjected Uncle Abe, “It’s not just the election of Obama. This momentum has been building for 400 years! The election of Barack Obama or Deval Patrick as Governor in Massachusetts or Douglas Wilder as the Governor of Virginia were all just “heat checks”. Tremors before the real deal! This 2019 piece makes more sense than anything I’ve heard, yet. Plus, it is futuristic, historical, and Biblical. Therefore prophetic.” “And allegorical” Dad added. “That 400 year thing is deep.” “But is it practical?” asked Aunt Sibley. “How are you, how are you going to get black folks to believe in their own deliverance in 2 years, much less work to bring it about?” she half-teased. “’You?’ What do you mean by ‘you’? How do ‘you’ get the tides to rise or the seasons to change? You don’t. ‘You’ don’t. These things are divinely ordered, just like 2019.” Dad said.” Our job is to prepare ‘the least of these’—that would include practically all of us—for the benevolent receipt of this blessing, of this “unfolding deliverance,” this divine dispensation, that is inscribed in verse.” “So, if we don’t do anything, the 2019 prophesy just will happen on its own? Will the fact and the act of spiritual liberation--black liberation, whatever-- happen on its own? Which is it anyway? Spiritual or black? That is my question. Like the ‘tides and the seasons,’ you said. That’s all Mother Nature? Will it require some work on anybody’s part, everybody’s part?” asked Tamara. “That’s a whole lot of questions to answer at once,” Abe said. “You’re starting sound a lot like my wife, Tamara!” He said, stealing a sidelong glance at Sidney, now smiling cherubically. Sidney responded on cue. ”Flip sides of the same coin, my brother,”she replied, in a playfully mock salute. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander! ‘Measure twice. Saw once.’ That’s your clichéd-mantra, Dear Husband. Call this our ‘due diligence!’” She said. Sashaying over to Tamara they exchanged a sisterly, ritualized high-five in slow motion, laughingly. “Colored women,” cracked Abe throwing up both hands, “make me want to holler, sometimes. Throw up both my hands!” “That’s ’Inner City Blues’—Marvin Gaye! Jam that!” Cried Shadrach. “I’ll get it myself.” “Work? Somebody say ‘work’” mimicked Shadrach. Isley Brothers say “’…Everybody’s got work to do…to-do, to-do.” I’m still confused” said Aunt Sidney, sighing and looking down on her well-manicured nails. “I don’t see the big deal. If 2019 is for everybody, and God is no respecter of persons, then everything is everything. There’s no difference between 2017’, by the way—“HAPPY NEW YEAR, again, to all”—and 2019, as far as that goes.” “For lawyers like you and Obama there may not be a difference, Sidney. Oh! ‘Happy New Year!” back at you, again, too, my Beloved.” chimed Uncle Abe, Sidney’s doting husband. “Preachers, like me, steeped in history, appreciate the potency of pregnant prophesy. Even before Jesus was born, there was the Annunciation, the star in the East, the long held prophesies of the coming of the Messiah. Pass me that Bible, please. The first chapter of the Book of Luke reads: 26In the sixth month the angel(AY) Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named(AZ) Nazareth, 27(BA) to a virgin betrothed[b] to a man whose name was Joseph,(BB) of the house of David. And the virgin’s name was Mary. 28And he came to her and said, "Greetings,(BC) O favored one,(BD) the Lord is with you!"[c] 29But(BE) she was greatly troubled at the saying, and tried to discern what sort of greeting this might be. 30And the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for(BF) you have found favor with God. 31And behold,(BG) you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and(BH) you shall call his name Jesus. 32He will be great and will be called the Son of(BI) the Most High. And the Lord God(BJ) will give to him the throne of(BK) his father David, 33and he will reign over the house of Jacob(BL) forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." 34And Mary said to the angel, "How will this be, since I am a virgin?"[d] 35And the angel answered her,(BM) "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of(BN) the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born[e] will be called(BO) holy—(BP) the Son of God. Sidney said, swell, I sure hope you’re right. But, it sounds too simple, too easy to be real.” I’ve got that one, too, dear. It’s like a dream. Psalms 126 reads: I When the LORD restored the fortunes of[a] Zion, we were like those who dreamed.[b] 2 Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, “The LORD has done great things for them.” 3 The LORD has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy. “All of that is well and good in here. But, how will it play in Peoria?” Asked Sibley. “That is the $64,000 question.” “Isn’t that why we are gathered here, Dearly Beloveds? To try to figure out how to make it play in Peoria and Kansas City and Chicago, too?” Shadrach asked. “I’ve been up all night laughing and joking…” “And eating,” interjected his wife, smoothly and sweetly. “Put on that Maurette Brown Clark CD, Booker. It should be on that rack behind you…No! Better yet! Sing us a few bars of ‘It Ain’t Over’ accappello”, commanded Uncle Abe. So Booker began to sing the song in a sweet tenor falsetto: “’I know the odds look stacked against you. And it seems there’s no way out. I know the issue seems unchangeable. And that there’s no reason to shout! But, the impossible, is God’s chance, to work a miracle, a miracle. So, just know it ain’t over, until God says it’s over, it ain’t over till God says it’s done. Keep fighting till your victory is won. When people say you can’t, remember he can! Hold your head up high, you’re going to win. It ain’t over till God says it’s over. Jesus defeated all your enemies way before the fight began! But, the impossible is God’s chance to work a miracle, a miracle. You’re going to win. So, just know, It ain’t over until God says it’s over… Until God says it’s done. Keep fighting, praying, fasting… pressing, progressing, moving…keep reading, interceding, believing…keep fighting until your victory is won.’” Swaying and humming, Aunt Sidney and Tamara hummed in the background, while Shadrach interjected bursts of encouragement. Uncle Abe cried, openly and unashamed. His wife came over and comforted him. Through it all, Booker, with his eyes closed, just kept right on singing. “It ain’t over, until God says it’s done!” #30