Camden, S.C. 1969

[This piece was origianlly posted in slightly different form on Jan. 16, 2006]

“But I will harden Pharaoh’s heart . . .” (Exodus 7:3)

When I was in the second grade in Camden, South Carolina I became good friends with a black boy in my class. The year would have been around 1969. The Civil Rights Act had been signed into law. The Voting Rights Act had also become the law of the land. But real change, social and personal transformation, wasn’t brought about by debate in the house and senate, nor was it obtained by a president’s signature. If such things had been effective in bringing about change, the effects were not yet being felt in Camden – or at least not in some parts of Camden.

At some point during that second grade year my mother received a phone call from my teacher. She was expressing concern that I spent too much time with one child in the class. She thought it would be a good thing for me to expand my friendships, include other kids. My mother was able to read between the lines. Being the pastor’s wife, my mother didn’t want to be rude to a church member – but I think mom knew what was going on. She told me about my teacher’s concerns regarding having “more friends.” To my Mom’s credit, she never forbade me to associate with this classmate. I was given no mandate in the matter, but something changed with my friend, or changed with the way I saw my friendship with him.

Years ago, on MLK weekend, just before dozing off for a Sunday nap, I caught a few minutes of a documentary on MLK. One of the men remembering MLK spoke specifically of the day Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act. The film showed Johnson seated, signing the legislation, King and many others standing behind him. There is a smile on King’s face, a look of deep gladness and satisfaction. It was clearly a significant moment, one long waited for and prayed for. But now, roughly 40 years later, what seems clear is the powerlessness of law to change human hearts. And until hearts are changed, King’s dream remains elusive.

The church my dad served in Camden, the church to which my second grade teacher belonged, didn’t escape the tremors sent through the nation (especially the south) during the racially tense 60s. On one Sunday morning about 20 students from the predominantly black Mather Academy came to the First Baptist Church and seated themselves in the sanctuary. As my dad tells it, that event sent shock waves through the congregation and provoked a moment of decision. Would black people be seated in worship services at the First Baptist Church? About two months after the event the congregation met to vote on the question. The result was that the church voted to seat any and all persons who came to worship.

But the real story happened at the end of the meeting. As a traditional way of ending and dismissing on a positive note, my dad asked that a hymn be sung. I can only imagine the emotion in the room. After all, votes don’t change hearts and there were surely some bitter people among the relieved and triumphant. But something happened during that hymn. An elderly woman, Mrs. Richburg, slipped out of the pew and made her way to the front of the sanctuary where my dad stood. No “invitation” had been extended with the hymn – but she came anyway. She told my dad that she had come forward to make a rededication, a renewal of her commitment to Christ. After Mrs. Richburg came, others came to do the same. The meeting became revival, lasting another 45 minutes. It may surprise you to know that the Spirit was at work in Camden, S.C. in 1969.

When you read about the plagues, this much is clear. God held the heart of Pharaoh in the palm of his hand. God changes hearts. That’s true power. Legislation is necessary for a just society, but it’s the Spirit that changes hearts and causes old southern women to make recommitments to Jesus. And it is by the Spirit, not legislation alone, that the dream will be claimed and lived.

Prayer:
Almighty God, you alone hold the power to change our hearts. I invite you to change mine in the places where I’ve hardened it against your will and your ways. Don’t give me over to a stubbornness born of comfort and habit. Change my heart and use me to change the world. Amen.