One late evening, there was a knock at my door.
I opened it. To my amazement, in the doorway stood Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr! He was dressed exactly the way they dressed in the 60’s. Only–he was in black and white like an old movie–and the rest of our modern world was in color.
Dr. King explained he had been gone for quite some time (over 35 years). He knew that the world had changed. He hoped I wouldn’t mind helping him navigate his way through our current society so he could find his way back to his family.
I invited him in.
As Dr. King made his way over to my couch, and sat in front of my entertainment system, he asked me about all the gadgets connected to my TV set. I explained that one was my CD player, one my VCR and one was my DVD player.
Dr. King marveled at the new, uncharted technology.
And had a host of questions. I explained it all to him the best I could and he was astonished. Then he asked about the ’other’ box. I told him that was my cable box. Based upon the confused look on his face, it was apparent that this, too, needed explaining.
I turned on the television and after a brief description and instruction on the use of the remote control, he clicked from channel to channel. He was very impressed by the fact that there were so many channels geared towards specific interests, including one of his old favorites, the original ‘Star Trek’. Dr. King continued further and eventually stopped at one of the national music channels airing its hip-hop programming.
Dr. King asked, “What IS that?” I explained that it was a music video; a way today’s music is presented to the public.
As one video after another was aired, I noticed a pause in his questions. Dr. King was silent. His facial expressions changed from amazement to distress and disappointment.
He asked. “Is THIS what our music has come to? Is THIS supposed to be progress? “Why do our women condone this obscene portrayal of their womanhood?
“WHY have our men allowed this take place?”
“Have BOTH forgotten the emotional and physical abuse that OUR male and female ancestors had been subjected to?”
“Our Black men and Black women NOW view each other as the enemy,” I said. “We spend much of our time today running down and running each other away, rather than uplifting each other.”
Dr. King said nothing for a little while and kept watching the video production. He soon spoke again.
“And why do our young men act this way? Obsessed with materialism and being disrespectful to our women?”
I told him it was called, “thuggin”.
He asked me to explain what “thuggin” was.
“It means to be hard and unfeeling, uh, you know? A gangsta? Cash rules everything! Ride or Die! Having no respect for anything or anyone. Any negative quality about a man.” I said.
After several strange looks and double takes from Dr. King, I realized that there was no way to explain or justify “thuggin” to him. I tried, to my embarrassment, to change the subject.
Abruptly, Dr. King asked if anyone else could view these videos?
“Anyone who pays for cable–or DSS,” I replied.
“You–mean–to–tell–me–that you actually PAY money to WILLINGLY witness this?” Dr. King inquired, sounding so much like my late Grandfather, a Baptist preacher.
I could only, sheepishly answer “yes”.
Dr. King continued his questioning. “Is this behavior accepted by everyone? Where have all the ministers, pastors and leaders gone? Why haven’t the pulpits spoken out against this?”
I told him, there haven’t been any who are willing to step out there and put it on the line since he left here. “Besides, folks don’t take church and the Bible seriously anymore.” I added. “They just go–for show.”
“Are you sure of this, or are you guessing?” Dr. King asked, then continued, “I never worried about leaving here because I was so sure that there would be more who would come after me…the Lord had been so GOOD to me–to US!” The music videos continued to drone on. Dr. King, becoming more and more disgusted and angrily thundered; “THIS is how we…OVERCAME?”
He grabbed my cable box, ripping it from the back of the T.V., and smashed it on the floor.
He was right. I couldn’t get mad.
As we stood there looking at the wreckage, Dr. King then apologized and asked could we please leave
because he just wanted to see his family.
“Is there any place that I can go to get some gifts for my family?” Dr. King asked. We soon got into my car and headed to the mall, ‘spinners’ and all.
We WERE a sight to SEE.
Dr. King was fascinated by the size of the mall and selection of different stores.
It must have been a weekend because as we started to walk around, I noticed that the mall was filled predominately with teenagers. Many of them were loud and using profanity.
Dr. King asked a young brother in front of a group of his friends why is it necessary to be so profane and conduct himself in way that was not only disrespectful to himself but to his people.
The young brother said, “F—- you man! Ni**a, you ain’t my daddy!” I had to restrain Dr. King from disciplining the young brother with some curbside justice.
I asked the teenager, “Do you know who this is?
He replied, “Hell naw, he ain’t ‘iced’ out so why should I care!”
At this point I–WAS READY to snatch my man–but Dr. King urged me to leave the young brother be.
Soon, we were both able to calm down. However, he had skillfully realized that the young people were only imitating what they had seen in the music videos earlier.
“They have been mentally infected with the ignorance of the images they covet. THIS is the direction our future has taken?” He asked. “Have we come down off the mountaintop to take up residence in the grave?”
I suggested that we just get the gifts and go. As I started to walk further, I noticed Dr. King hurriedly walking back towards the door we had originally entered.
I ran after him, shouting; “Hold up Dr. King, where are you going?”
With a distressed look, Dr. King said, “I’d rather go back–I must go back.”
“Why?” I asked.
“You wouldn’t understand,” He mourned. “Try me, Dr. King.” I stated, as I watched the tears form in his eyes. “You see…I never got to see my kids grow up. I missed the holidays, graduations and birthdays, all in the name of sacrifice. I felt it was necessary to bring about equal opportunity and a brighter future for this generation. All I see is that a few of us got rich and the rest became slaves again.”
I said, “What are you talking about, this isn’t slavery!” Dr. King looked at me and replied, “Oh it ISN‘T?”
He turned and walked towards the doors and exited the mall. I tried to keep him from leaving but out of nowhere a security guard grabs me and tells me that I can’t leave with Dr. King.
I twisted myself away and bolted out of the exit.
Once I got outside, Dr. King had vanished. The dreamer, the visionary, the Drum Major for Justice once again became lost to one of those who should have been considered his blood kin.
As I stood outside in the parking lot trying to find him, I wasn’t paying attention to the traffic. An Escalade on “24’s” bumpin’ some ignorant thug anthem came at me. All I could do was brace myself for the impact.
Mercifully, before it hit me, I awoke out of my dream. As I lay in a puddle of sweat, I tried repeatedly to shake the dream, but I couldn’t. I tried to turn on my entertainment system, but quickly turned it off.
I remembered our ancestors who sacrificed their lives for us. I wondered what it would be like if we had to stand before them and justify what we have become as a race. What about our vote? What about our achievement? What about our struggle? What about righteousness?
Why was I picked to have such a dream?
After hours of thinking, rationalizing, and table tapping, I concluded it was probably GUILT–the guilt of knowing that in our modern era we had ’flipped the script’ on Dr. King’s dream. And replaced that dream, with a cheap copy in our ‘quest’ to have ‘the best!’
Then it hit me–the reality of the dream.
If I were that GUILTY in front of Dr. King, how would I feel in front of the God who gave us the Bible AND Dr. King? Could I justify what I had been doing with what I had been given? Would I be able to justify the blessings I had reaped at the expense of others who had come before me?
It was a True Knock–At Midnight.
Author Unknown–Discovered On Line 8/04
Lift up Christ and lay the sinner low. –C. H. Spurgeon
