I have carried a pain in my soul since I could remember. A pain that was placed there by the songs of my ancestors. A pain deeper than the waters of the Caribbean Sea. The wind continues to blow the memories of humiliation. The rivers continue to carry the blood and tears of our darkest hour. That pain… that pain so easily provoked! Where did this pain comes from? So easily provoked by the cry of a piano, by the whisper of a violin, by tender melodies and sincere voices.
Oh, I have joy! The joy that the Lord Himself gave me when he saved me… Oh, I have peace! That peace that passes all understanding, but the pain of my ancestors torments my heart every now and then, like a river of iniquity. Taken from their country, snatched from their communities and torn from their families! Children witnessing their parents taken… wondering… why? Afraid… confused! So much pain! Husbands who stood powerless, unable to protect their wives and daughters…their manhood taken… so much pain!
We were victims of the devil’s hate, an evil passion for our destruction. Oh, but the hope of glory sings a greater and lauder song. The river of living waters seems dry now, but it will overflow my people one day. Joy, joy, joy… will come in our prophetic morning! The last shall be first… the last shall be first… This word will not come back void.
I see the riots, I see the lies, I see the abortions, I see the violence, I see the murders and our own blood crying out like the blood of Abel. I hear the voices of those who say they care, those who say that our lives matter, but their message is tinted with strange colors. The colors of a banner that rejects God’s truth; a devious rejection of family filled with unrighteous alternatives. “I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? 2 My help comes from the Lord…” Psalm 121:1-2 (NIV) Not from presidents, not from senators, not from congressman or judges; but from God! I heard that change will come and, it will, but not through the civil rights voices, not through political agendas or distorted ideologies. Change will come through the One who was, the One who is and the One who is to come… Jesus Christ our King of Glory! Oh tell your neighbor, we are not victims… we are survivors of the devil’s hate. Share this word, for it comes from heaven for you and for me!