Black Land Loss Summit: Personal Thoughts

Tillery is both a place in space and time and a personal space and place for my wife and me. We first met Gary Grant, members of the Black Farmers & Agriculturalists Association, the Concerned Citizens of Tillery, and the Open Minded Seniors in June, 2005. Seems like we've been friends for much longer. The actual number of times we've traveled to this rural, farming community escapes me at the moment. There are the other occasions in which we have met up with these good people and other advocates for justice.

This event required preparation in a number of ways. Knowing that I was to speak and knowing the gravity of the Summit required time and energy well in advance. I am never quite prepared for events, conversations, and presentations. They have taken on a life of their own with us.

"Still Fighting, Still Farming, Still Eating" reads like a riveting title. 12th National Black Land Loss Summit is likewise riveting.

The Biblical passage printed on the conference brochure reads like something from church, "For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places." Sound familiar? Paul's letter to the Ephesians, chapter six, verse 12.

We fly into RDU, travel by rental car to Roanoke Rapids, marvel at the beauty along the way, check in to the motel, rest a bit, and then meet up with Gary and Spencer. It's on. A challenging evening of conversation, issues, and challenges and opportunities is just the beginning.

The next day, we head out to the Community Center after doing a few errands in town. First task of the day? Sweep the floor. We are family. We sweep the floor. After a light lunch, we set up the display table, a chronology of previous summits and gatherings in the form of t-shirts and booklets. Participants begin to arrive. The crowd swells. Dinner, "We Shall Not Be Moved," and more engaging conversations. On the way back to Roanoke Rapids from Tillery, we sing songs and tell of their origins with a person who has flown in from Alabama to join us.

Saturday morning, we shift to Halifax Community College. Displays set up, technology in place, the people begin to arrive. A stimulating day of debate, information, food, conversation both public and private, new friends who have traveled hours and hours to get there, and plans for the future. The "A Man Called Matthew Award" will remain memorable as long as I have memory.

Photos taken, goodbye exchanges made, more dinner conversation, more goodbyes, and a final trip back to Tillery. That is a skeleton outline of the weekend. More in the next post on this page.

How to capture it? People, racism, farming, farming against all conceivable odds, different perspectives of the world, a collision of ideas and ideologies, friends forever in a common cause for justice.

There is much to be done.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Farmer

This morning you came to mind as I read Psalm 103.

I was reminded of our conversation several months back as we sat in your kitchen there in your home not far from the Raleigh/Durham area. You were willing to talk with me, a researcher from a small west Texas university about your struggles with the USDA.

I knew I was an unwelcome guest when one of your sons came in asking "who is the clown" who parked in the middle of the drive way. My car was not in the middle of the drive way, Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, but that question served notice that there was an unwelcome guest in your home. That unwelcomed guest was me. I suspect he was trying to protect you from people who look like me. I am a white man, and I was a stranger to you and those who loved you.

I took no offense at the harshly tenored question. You were then elderly, and now even older, and an honorable son would not want his parents to be further wounded and disadvantaged by anyone. His tone and his words did put me on edge, and justifably so.

During those early moments of the interview, and even later toward the end of the interview, you commented Mr. Farmer, while Mrs. Farmer stood over against the refrigerator in the kitchen, that "He will take care of things. Pay day some day. God will take care of those who hurt people."

Then an older son came in. Mrs. Farmer, you had called him to notify him that the interviewer was there and wanted to talk to him as well. He challenged me left and right, didn't he? I personally had done no wrongs to you or to him, but "my people," those of us whose skin is white had harmed all of you. Those of us whose skin is white who live and work in positions of power and privilege had indeed harmed all of you.

You had lost your farm. You like other black farmers had been shoved to the back of the line in terms of programs and policies within the local county FSA office, a division of the USDA. Because your skin is darker than other folks, they saw you coming, ignored you, made you wait, altered your farm operation plans, and then gave you less than what you needed, and later than you could use. Then the unspeakable happened, a disaster year occurred, like it did to other farmers, yet they received disaster relief funds that saw them through, and you were not afforded the same opportunity.

There was a lot of hurt and anger, tears and sadness, and bitterness and rage that day. Some of your kin could have died. They have heart conditions. Yet they remain true to God.

They believe similar things as did the writer of Psalm 103.

I hope you all are right, that God will settle the score, that in the end things will work out right.

I only wish, Mr. and Mrs. Farmer, that you owned your land, and that your sons worked the land you and they owned.

I still remember that day in your home, Mr. and Mrs. Farmer. That day is indelibly printed in my mind and in my heart.

I still remember.

Words to the graduates

These are the words that I spoke over the MFT/ACU graduates on Thursday night, August 7. In that audience were seven members of Justice Team III and three members of Justice Team IV.

The work of these teams has always been a "co-curricular" thing. While the students do take a research course in which they explore via quantitative and qualitative methodologies these things that we write about here, the experiences of travel and interviews and all have been above and beyond the curriculum. They are going to make a huge difference in the world. Already has started.

We Serve a God of Extravagance

MFT Department Graduation Banquet

August 7, 2008

There is a time and a place to speak of extravagance, not in the ostentatious sense of the word, but in the God-intended sense of the word. As I see it, we serve an extravagant God who creates extravagantly, a God who loves extravagantly, a God who gifts extravagantly, and a God who calls us to extravagant living and loving out of our giftedness.

So we come to this place to honor those who wish to honor their calling. I think it is something like this. And then there was a star on the horizon, just as there is every evening as the sunlight fades. Then there is a second, a third, a fourth. Some show signs of brightness, but soon they burn out; perhaps they're not stars but meteors that only exist temporarily. Others find a different orbit than the rest. Some travel widely across the sky and for longer periods of time than the rest of us, Jeff Holland and Gretchen Etheredge, while others are a bit younger, Sarah or Kimberly or Rebecca. Others take rather circuitous routes to reach us, Ruqayyah or Kristi or Carlos or Ty, while others are a little more direct, Jordan, Mindy, or Daniel.

Whatever the path, we wind up in the same place and the same space for a span of time. We don't feel like stars, and we certainly don't always feel terribly gifted, but there are those moments when our calling is clear. It may be after moments of terror with either a professor or a client, but then the chosen and the choosing merge into something meaningful.

It's clear that we're not always in charge of our paths, that obstacles are placed in front of us, to challenge us or to refine our faith as of by fire, or to encourage us to continue in our calling. Back when I was in graduate school, one of my professors who intimidated me immensely, Dr. Jack P. Lewis, coined the phrase "ministry of study," and that, I think is what you do here, while practicing on people, so as to reach that incredible balance of understanding how theory does indeed drive practice and within that context of the therapy room, that intimate, lived moment, we actually get to see attitudes and behaviors change.

It's also clear that someone is in charge of "seasons" of our lives, and that it's not us. The teacher of old wrote, "There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven."

And so, there's a time to be born and a time to die;

a time to think about MFT and a time to accept the invitation;

a time to plant and a time to uproot;

a time to receive the scholarship offer and a time to ask more from Dr. Halstead;

a time to kill and a time to heal;

a time to wonder if Abilene is the right place and a time to drive away from it nostalgically;

a time to tear down and a time to build;

a time to sit in your first lecture with Milholland and a time to hear Goff for the last time;

a time to weep and a time to laugh;

a time to put the first letter on the first page of your first paper and a time to put the period at the end of your last reference page;

a time to mourn and a time to dance;

a time to watch Hinson interview a family and a time to say,"I can do that, too;"

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them;

a time to feel the anxiety of the client hour #1 and a time to experience the emotional tug of the last hour, whatever the number;

a time to embrace and a time to refrain;

a time to be reluctantly supervised and a time to welcome the coaching;

a time to search and a time to give up;

a time to wonder if you'll ever be worth what folks will pay you and a time to realize that a laborer is worthy of his or her hire;

a time to keep and a time to throw away;

a time to buy those books on bestbookbuys.com and a time to sell them to incoming, unsuspecting first years;

a time to tear down and a time to mend; and

a time to doubt your calling and a time to embrace it tenaciously.

So, how do you put God, extravagance, MFT, stardom, your sitting here tonight, and your calling together? I think it goes like this, and just a little further on in that particular section of Biblical text. In that section, rewritten tonight, is "He has also set eternity in the hearts of people; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end."

My prayer for you is that you will embrace the eternity within you, that you will live out your calling extravagantly, and that you will inch ever so closer to fathoming what extravagant things God has done and is doing through you, and by doing so you will both honor your amazing giftedness and make the world a better place.

And, a PS to the social justice team graduates:

A time to consider joining and a time to jump onto the team after much prayer;

a time to ponder the overwhelming injustices in the world and a time to decide that 'I can do a little something about them' in my corner of the universe;

a time to read of the plight of the Black farmer and a time to hear Hinson tell their stories and a time to go and talk to them directly;

a time to write letters to the President of the US and the secretary of the USDA and

a time to read their letters of response;

a time to grieve at the injustices wrought upon Black farmers of our land and a time to be astounded at their resiliencies;

a time to read about the plight of the Black farmer and a time to listen to the interviews;

a time to wonder how you'll be received if you tell your family and friends what you're up to and a time to get in the mail an article from an aunt or an uncle who is now aware of the struggle; and

a time to pray, 'Lord will these meager efforts ever make a difference,' and a time to do them again, and again, and again.

My personal journey

Growing up in the Dallas Ft. Worth area I quickly learned that economics play a significant role in people's lives. The extravagant status symbols and shopping opportunities of the North Dallas suburbs provided an eerie juxtaposition to the quiet desperation of poverty in urban Dallas. Prime real estate was gobbled by strip malls while families struggling to gain footing found themselves without affordable housing.

Larry James and Central Dallas Ministries organized opportunities for local communities of faith to spend a few hours walking alongside people intentional to pair the breaking in of the kingdom of God with the transformation of citizens in Dallas. These multiple encounters through my early adolescence reoriented my thinking towards the poor. One misguided friend once spoke in terms of bringing God back to the inner-city, he was quickly corrected with a wise man saying, "We cannot bring God back to the inner city because he never left it in the first place!" Wonderful work is done here alongside those with whom the work benefits the most.

My grandfather farmed for many years in West Texas before working for the state department in the Texas Water Commission. I sometimes forget that agriculture is in my blood. When I'm reminded of this heritage I recall family gatherings where wonderful stories about the hardships and blessings of working the land. There is a palpable sense of fulfillment, pride, and accomplishment in these stories.

My time spent with Dr. Waymon Hinson afforded me yet another reorienting experience. I've come to learn that not all farmers have been treated equal, more than that, many have been treated inhumanely. Many family's stories about farming are laced with pain, tragedy, and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. Access to loans and vital information have been withheld along racial lines. Dr. Hinson regularly comes into contact with people who's life is forever altered by these discriminations and actively pursues resources while advocating for systemic change.

Both of these reorienting experiences remind me of something Jesus would be apart of. Jesus did not come to help a distant disenfranchised people group but rather called out for justice, mercy, and love from in middle of a crowd. He surrounded himself with people who were in need of healing and were in need of a voice. Jesus calls out for us to dive into the river social of justice and advocate alongside our fellow sisters and brothers against every injustice in existence. Injustice incarnated in the form of biased economic policy, short-sided legislation, systemic racism, or overlooked and underrepresented people groups. Our purpose is to join the chorus of those calling out against injustice and oppression in all its forms.

-Scott
MFI Intern

Preliminary thoughts: 2007 Farm Bill

The 2007 House-passed Farm Bill is an important piece of legislation dealing with agricultural policy that affects the lives of farmers and consumers alike. Additionally, and more to the point, the Farm Bill has important implications for the continuing fight against injustice and discrimination towards Black farmers who farm under USDA guidelines. Although the 2007 Farm Bill attempts to increase aid to socially disadvantaged farmers, most see the bill as a colossal disappointment. The EWG statement (http://www.mulchblog.com/2007/08/ewg_statement_on_house_farm_bi.php)
regarding the Farm Bill sums it up nicely by stating that it will be remembered as a “missed opportunity for reform of federal farm policies that are broken at their core.” This missed opportunity includes the chance to adequately acknowledge and correct the inequities in USDA policies in dealing with black farmers.

Link to the Farm Bill: http://agriculture.house.gov/inside/2007FarmBill.html

Check out this summary found at the Environmental Working Group web page from earlier this week: http://www.ewg.org/node/25509.

More on this later from the team as we read responses to the bill from around the country.

Sarah Hugman

Challenging the silence

It was nearly midnight when my friend signed online and sent me an instant message. The conversation began just like many others we have had in the past. A polite and casual “What are you up to?” followed by my typical and mundane reply, “Not too much.” I thought for a moment as my fingers rested on the computer keyboard and I stared at the words I had just typed. The irony of my own words made me chuckle.

I clicked back onto the online article I had just been reading: “…USDA employees lobbying against Black Farmers…” It was almost too infuriating to believe. The injustice of it all…the outright discrimination…the lack of voices speaking out against the racism…the lives that are being damaged by the silence of those with power…

And there were my words. My silence. What was I doing? “Not too much.”

“Actually,” I said to my friend, “I am reading about the injustices that have been done to Black farmers.”

I could feel the confusion emanating from my friend hundreds of miles away as he read the words for the first time. “Why in the world are you doing that?”

I spent several minutes explaining how year after year land continues to be wrongfully taken out of the hands of black farmers and placed into the hands of white farmers; how the USDA has withheld financial support from black farmers that it does not withhold from white farmers; how people’s lives and families are being shattered by prejudice and discrimination that still exists within the USDA.

His response was disheartening, but yet, unfortunately, not unexpected. He resisted the idea that discrimination could actually occur in today’s world, with such awareness and sensitivity to racism. His first reaction was to deny and to look for plausible explanations. I understand his reaction. It feels better to believe that we have won this battle. But the truth is - we still have a long way to go.

I learned a good lesson from our conversation. I learned that I have a part to play in this battle, however small that part may be. My part is to challenge the silence about this problem, to start a discourse with others who deny unfairness, and to encourage others with a heart for justice to do the same.

Sarah Hugman

We missed it, but who was watching?

Do you and I remember the same thing? I was just a junior high kid living in East Texas. Where were you? Seems like it wasn't that long ago.

Falling strongly under the church's influence and its preachers as my "mother" and "father," perhaps what was passed on to me was also passed on to you. The context was a school meeting at which our preacher spoke, and at which time we recited the pledge of allegiance and prayed the Lord's Prayer. Don't actually recall if this was before the assembly or afterwards, but the preacher, good man though he was, influenced by the times though he was and we were, still, he led me astray. He insisted that praying the Lord's Prayer was wrong since the "Kingdom had already come." The church had arrived, so it was wrong to pray a prayer that had already been answered.

That one curious sound bite in time captures the theology of the time, that the church had arrived and that the church and the Kingdom were synonymous. Mike Cope does a good job of capturing these ideas in a recent blog. What had led up to that, you and I might ask. Our church historians say that there was a collision between the worldview of Barton W. Stone and his apocalyptic vision and the worldview of Alexander Campbell and his rational view of scripture. In the life and times of David Lipscomb, this clash played its way out, and the influence upon salvation of the individual came to the forefront as the church engaged meaningfully in the world receded into the background.

Placed over against salvation was the "social gospel," something that I knew as a kid was terribly, terribly wrong, despite the fact that I was clueless as to what it was. We were doing the right thing by preaching truths of the gospel and encouraging people to become followers of Christ, although it was languaged perhaps more succinctly as "join this church, or this movement," but we missed out on injustices in the world, a serious omission.

We did not do much in terms of feeding the poor and finding the homeless places to stay, and this was long before we could even think about ministry to the addicts alongside the road of life, despite the fact that they were indeed there. We did not speak as to the injustices of racism, segregation, and the Jim Crow laws.

We did not march with Martin Luther King, Jr. Neither did our African American churches and our brothers and sisters in those churches. A lot of people were marching with him, just not those of us from restoration roots.

We were doing right things, but not all of the right things. Maybe this time around we can get the people right, our theology right, and our activism right, to use Landon Saunders' phraseology from the recent ACU lectures.

Maybe there are causes for which we can march these days. Maybe it's not too late to protest for righteous causes.

Championing justice and going, sending, praying

Gary Haugen's book, Good News about Injustice: A Witness of Courage in a Hurting World, is compelling reading. He challenges us to "take up the challenge," and to reflect upon our hope in God who is a God of justice, compassion, moral clarity, and rescue. Especially convicting is his quote: "Let there be no mistake, evil and injustice thrive on moral ambiguity, equivocation, confusion, and the failure to commit. Remembering that injustice is the abuse of power, we must know that injustice is strong, forceful, committed. In every case it will prevail against the uncertain, the unsure and the uncommitted" (p. 90).

He's keen on planning: get the facts, substantiate the facts, and collect all related evidence. There are risks along the way. There's the risk of developing trust and asking the hard questions that validate the injustices while those mistreated simply know because they were there. There's the risk of physical harm. There's great need for medical and legal experts, for those with expertise in gathering information.

In his final chapter, Haugen asserts that we are all qualified to seek justice. Every Christian can do one of three things: go, send, or pray.

So, readers of this post today, are we, you, me, and the collective us, going, sending, or praying?

Hopefully we're doing some of all three.