A Devotion for Juneteenth by Barbara Baker
Good morning! Today our Lord is speaking to us in 2 Corinthians 3:17:
“Now the Lord is the spirit; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.”
2 Corinthians 3:17
For the last few months, Holy Spirit has been speaking to me about writing on freedom, and I supposed, based on my traditional roots, that I was being led to write something for our nation’s July 4th celebration.
And that is true, but more recently I was directed to start my devotions on June 19th , or Juneteenth, our nation’s commemoration of the emancipation of slaves in 1865. Over the years, this holiday has unfortunately had to struggle to gain traction and national holiday status. It has been marred by hatred and violence way beyond my comprehension.
Praise God, we are past most of that sadness, so that we can now see this as not just a day to celebrate freedom for our black brothers and sisters – which is powerful in itself -but additionally a time to focus on our oneness in Christ and seeing beyond the color of our skin.
We are children of the God Most High, the Creator of the Universe, who made us unique yet equal in His
sight. He doesn’t sort us out by color like livestock. He loves us all unconditionally and without measure!
After my grandpa died when I was almost seven years old, we had to leave the farm and Granny couldn’t afford for us to live in a middle class, white neighborhood. We lived in a city – not unlike most large metropolitan hubs – that had barrios or ghettos for different nationalities or skin colors. Granny couldn’t pay the rent on time or all the time, so we moved a lot – usually in the middle of the night. Granny was unabashedly an English white woman and my older brothers looked much the same, but my sister and I, coming from a Spanish mom, could be mistaken for Mexican or Puerto Rican in these neighborhoods. We could pass.
Despite her pale skin, my dear grandmother had a bold affinity for black, spirit-filled churches, so she took us. We learned that people danced in church and shouted while the preacher was bellowing out his sermon, and the people there loved us like we were their own.
I remember my sister and I being the only white children at a birthday party and holding hands with various children when we played circle games – black hand, white hand, white hand, black hand. Granny might have struggled to keep us fed, but she taught us the beauty of all God’s children and how much He loves all of us.
Today, Juneteenth, let’s celebrate freedom for all captives. We are all sinners and fall short of the glory of God, so those of us who have accepted Jesus as our Lord and Savior have received liberty for eternity. Praise His Holy Name! Black hand, white hand, white hand, black hand – all children of the God Most High!
Jesus loves you! Me, too!