The Forty-Day Journey of Promise

Day Twenty-One: Thank God I Shall Not Live Here Always!

Note: Welcome to The Journey, our forty-day blog series from MLK Day through the end of Black History Month. We’re learning life lessons from the legacy of African American Christianity. The series is based upon material from my book Beyond the Suffering. To learn more about Beyond the Suffering, including downloading a free chapter, click here.

Future Memory

Pastor Peter Randolph describes how enslaved African Americans consoled each other as they parted at the end of each secret worship service.

“The slave forgets all his suffering, except to remind others of the trials during the past week, exclaiming, ‘Thank God, I shall not live here always!’ Then they pass from one to another, shaking hands, bidding each other farewell, promising, should they meet no more on earth, to strive to meet in heaven, where all is joy, happiness and liberty. As they separate, they sing a parting hymn of praise.”

What an interesting phrase. How can people simultaneously forget their suffering and remind others of their trials?

Actually, it’s quite brilliant. We can’t truly forget the evils we have suffered. Nor should we try. Instead, we should remind ourselves and others of our trials, but we must remember the past while remembering the future. “Thank God, I shall not live here always!”

What perfect “balance.” Don’t deny the past. Do dialogue and trialogue (you, your friend, and God in a three-way spiritual conversation) about the past in light of the future—eternity, heaven.

A Slack Grip; A Taut Grip

Their grip on this world was slack. “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. Here today. Gone tomorrow. Like a vapor. Like a fading flower and withering grass.”

Their grip on the next world was taut. “Into Thy hands I commend my spirit. Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus. Maranatha.”

The result? They are deeply connected with one another—passing from one another, shaking hands, bidding farewell, promising to meet again, some day, somewhere.

They are genuinely content within their own souls—knowing joy, happiness, and liberty, though outwardly experiencing the opposites. They are profoundly communing with Christ—singing a parting hymn of praise, certainly not for their circumstances, definitely in spite of their situations, but preeminently because of who God is.

How amazing it would be to leave every worship and fellowship service like enslaved African American believers did. If they could, given their lot in life, why not us?

Join the Conversation (Post a Comment for a Chance to Receive a Copy of Beyond the Suffering)

1. What might it look like in your life to remember the past (hurts) while remembering the future (hope)?

2. How would our congregations be different if we did this with one another regularly?