Martin Luther King Changed My World, and I Am Thankful
The racial world I grew up in and the one we live in today are amazingly different. Racism remains in many forms in America and around the world. But in the days of my youth the segregation was almost absolute and the defense of it was overt and ugly, without shame.
- In 1954, seventeen states required segregated public schools (ABW, 99);
- In 1956, 85% of all white southerners rejected the statement, “White students and Negro students should go to the same schools”;
- 73% said that there should be “separate sections for Negros on streetcars and buses”;
- 62% did not want a Negro “with the same income and education” as them to move into their neighborhood (ABW, 144);
- In 1963, 82% of all white southerners opposed a federal law that would give “all persons, Negros as well as white, the right to be served in public places such as hotels, restaurants, and similar establishments” (ABW, 139);
- And in 1952 (when I was six years old), only 20% of southern blacks of voting age were registered to vote.
The upshot of those statistics was an unjust, unsafe, condescending, unwelcoming, demeaning, and humiliating world for blacks. Have you ever paused to ask yourself what separate water fountains and separate restrooms could possibly mean except: You are unclean — like lepers. It was an appalling world.
Between that racially appalling world and this racially imperfect one strode Martin Luther King. We don’t know if the world would have changed without him, but we do know he was a rod in the hand of God. Leave aside his theology and his moral flaws. He was used in the mighty hand of Providence to change the world so that the most appalling, blatant, degrading, public expressions of racism have gone away.
For that, this MLK day is worthy of our thankful reckoning.
Martin Luther King, Jr. gave his life to change the world. And toward the end he was increasingly aware that “the Movement” would cost him his life. The night before he was assassinated by James Earl Ray outside room 306 of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis on April 4, 1968, he preached at the Bishop Charles Mason Temple. He had come to Memphis to support the black sanitation workers.
His message came to be called “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop.” He began it by surveying world history in response to God's question: “When would you have liked to be alive?” King answered, “If you allow me to live just a few years in the second half of the twentieth century, I will be happy.” Why? Because “I see God working in this period of the twentieth century in a way that men in some strange way are responding. Something is happening in our world.”
What was happening? “We are determined to be men. We are determined to be people.” We are standing up. “A man can't ride your back unless it is bent.” For a brief window of time — just long enough — MLK was able to use his voice to restrain violence and overcome hate: “We are masters in our nonviolent movement in disarming police forces. They don't know what to do.” He kindled a kind of fire that no dogs could quench and no fire hoses could put out.
It was “a dangerous kind of unselfishness.” Like the Good Samaritan. “The Levite asked, ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’ But the Good Samaritan reversed the question: ‘If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?’ That's the question before you tonight.”
A dangerous unselfishness.
So dangerous it would cost MLK his life. And he saw it coming. That morning there was a bomb threat on his plane from Atlanta to Memphis. He felt it coming. So he closed his sermon prophetically:
We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn’t matter with me now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life — longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over, and I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land. And so I’m happy tonight; I’m not worried about anything; I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
Ten hours later he was dead. My world was changed forever. And I am thankful.
Related resources —
- John Piper, book, Bloodlines: Race, Cross, and the Christian (2011)
- David Mathis, blog post, “MLK’s Dream and the Nightmare of Black Genocide”
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