Our Newsletter
Our newsletter, "Cross Current" is published each Sunday.
Along with an up-to-date rundown of congregational activities, each edition features an interesting and challenging cover story that connects faith to real life.
Written by Rick Gamble, these articles are published the following week in the Brantford Expositor where Rick is the Religion and Ethics columnist. More than 30 other Postmedia newspapers across the country reprint the column.
To have these free, no-strings-attached articles delivered weekly to your mailbox, drop Rick a note at info@followers.ca
Our newsletter, "Cross Current" is published each Sunday.
Along with an up-to-date rundown of congregational activities, each edition features an interesting and challenging cover story that connects faith to real life.
Written by Rick Gamble, these articles are published the following week in the Brantford Expositor where Rick is the Religion and Ethics columnist. More than 30 other Postmedia newspapers across the country reprint the column.
To have these free, no-strings-attached articles delivered weekly to your mailbox, drop Rick a note at info@followers.ca
Home, Free
During the Civil War, there was nothing unusual about a runaway slave. But this one took a Confederate warship with him. His name was Robert Smalls.
In May 1862, the 23-year-old was a wheelman on a ship called the Planter. His job was to steer through the tricky waters near Charleston, South Carolina where the war had begun a year before. Though he knew failure could cost him his life, Smalls resolved to escape, the first chance he got.
It came when the Planter's entire white crew went to a fancy dance. The gutsy slave commandeered the gunship, eased away from the wharf under cover of darkness, and made a a quick stop to pick up other escapees, including Smalls' wife, Hannah, and their children.
To fool harbour guards, Smalls put on the straw cap the Planter's captain always wore. He slid out of Charleston but still had to pass two Confederate strongholds. The mood aboard ship was tense as the steamship glided past Fort Johnson, then Fort Sumter where the first shots of the war had been fired. Smalls and his accomplices had already agreed that, if about to be caught, they'd join hands and jump to a watery death rather than be executed or returned to slavery. “Although born a slave,” Smalls once recalled, “I always felt I was a man and ought to be free, and I would be free or die.”
But nothing scuttled the escape. As soon as the Planter hit the Atlantic, the rebel flag was replaced by a white sheet. At dawn, a Union clipper called the Onward nearly blew the Planter out of the water before seeing the white flag. When the Planter was boarded, federal sailors could hardly believe their eyes.
As word spread, the South seethed and the North exulted. Smalls became a national celebrity, an inspiration to other slaves, and a bridge between the white and black communities. Even President Abe Lincoln insisted on meeting him. Soon, the hero became the first black commander of a U.S. navy vessel — the Planter.
After the war, Smalls learned to read and write, ran a store and a newspaper, and went on to represent South Carolina in Congress for five terms. He died at age 75 in 1915, in a house he bought with his own money — the same house in which he was born a slave, to masters Henry and Mary McKee.
But here's the thing. Henry — who was likely Smalls' father — eventually died, and Mary suffered dementia. According to Smalls family lore, she found her way back to the house she'd lived in for years but was unable to understand that the home — and Smalls — were no longer her property. Still, the war hero, a Senator by then, was gracious and patient, inviting her into his home and gently trying to explain, day-after-day, how things had changed.
Many of us live a personalized version of this story. It begins when we refuse to remain slaves: to the sins of our own pride and appetites, the control or expectations of others, all-consuming consumerism, or any other influence that makes us less loving or steals our dignity. But conviction must be combined with courage, despite the cost we may have to pay, including the loss of friends and family, popularity, or a higher paycheque.
Neutrality or half-hearted resistance isn't enough. We only find full freedom by switching sides entirely, from sin to righteousness, self-centredness to sacrificial service, or religious legalism to a real relationship with Jesus based on love and grace. 'Don't let sin control the way you live; don't give in to sinful desires,” says Romans 6. “Instead, give yourself completely to God, for now you have a new life. Sin is no longer your master.” (v.12)
When that's our new reality, we can use all the things that once enforced our own enslavement to help free others, by surrendering and turning over to God our time and talent, energy and experience, or our money and very mission in life. If we do, we demoralize the forces of darkness, and inspire others to resist. We become a bridge between believers and the unconvinced, and encounter our Commander-In-Chief who sends us back to the fray in a way that makes good use of who we are, what we have, and what we've been through.
“If the Son sets you free, you are truly free,” Jesus said (John 8:36). Free, not to become a Christian clone of anybody else, but who you were always intended to be. Free, not to run from responsibility but to embrace its most meaningful expression. And free, not to substitute one set of rules for another, but to live a grateful life of service to others that leads to peace, purpose, and productivity. It's not enough to know the truth. We must live the truth — about God, ourselves, and the world we live in — and “the truth will set you free” (John 8:32)
But there will always be those who can't comprehend our newfound freedom and try to take us back to the way we were, imposing on us their opinions, preferences, and priorities. Those who are immature, self-centred, or lack a spiritual perspective expect us to serve them, oblivious to the dramatic changes that have brought us liberty, dignity, equality, and serenity. Still, we must be patient and loving, forgiving, and gentle but absolutely uncompromising.
Be free or die. It's okay to be a slave. But only a slave to freedom.
Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications. Share your thoughts with Rick at info@followers.ca
In May 1862, the 23-year-old was a wheelman on a ship called the Planter. His job was to steer through the tricky waters near Charleston, South Carolina where the war had begun a year before. Though he knew failure could cost him his life, Smalls resolved to escape, the first chance he got.
It came when the Planter's entire white crew went to a fancy dance. The gutsy slave commandeered the gunship, eased away from the wharf under cover of darkness, and made a a quick stop to pick up other escapees, including Smalls' wife, Hannah, and their children.
To fool harbour guards, Smalls put on the straw cap the Planter's captain always wore. He slid out of Charleston but still had to pass two Confederate strongholds. The mood aboard ship was tense as the steamship glided past Fort Johnson, then Fort Sumter where the first shots of the war had been fired. Smalls and his accomplices had already agreed that, if about to be caught, they'd join hands and jump to a watery death rather than be executed or returned to slavery. “Although born a slave,” Smalls once recalled, “I always felt I was a man and ought to be free, and I would be free or die.”
But nothing scuttled the escape. As soon as the Planter hit the Atlantic, the rebel flag was replaced by a white sheet. At dawn, a Union clipper called the Onward nearly blew the Planter out of the water before seeing the white flag. When the Planter was boarded, federal sailors could hardly believe their eyes.
As word spread, the South seethed and the North exulted. Smalls became a national celebrity, an inspiration to other slaves, and a bridge between the white and black communities. Even President Abe Lincoln insisted on meeting him. Soon, the hero became the first black commander of a U.S. navy vessel — the Planter.
After the war, Smalls learned to read and write, ran a store and a newspaper, and went on to represent South Carolina in Congress for five terms. He died at age 75 in 1915, in a house he bought with his own money — the same house in which he was born a slave, to masters Henry and Mary McKee.
But here's the thing. Henry — who was likely Smalls' father — eventually died, and Mary suffered dementia. According to Smalls family lore, she found her way back to the house she'd lived in for years but was unable to understand that the home — and Smalls — were no longer her property. Still, the war hero, a Senator by then, was gracious and patient, inviting her into his home and gently trying to explain, day-after-day, how things had changed.
Many of us live a personalized version of this story. It begins when we refuse to remain slaves: to the sins of our own pride and appetites, the control or expectations of others, all-consuming consumerism, or any other influence that makes us less loving or steals our dignity. But conviction must be combined with courage, despite the cost we may have to pay, including the loss of friends and family, popularity, or a higher paycheque.
Neutrality or half-hearted resistance isn't enough. We only find full freedom by switching sides entirely, from sin to righteousness, self-centredness to sacrificial service, or religious legalism to a real relationship with Jesus based on love and grace. 'Don't let sin control the way you live; don't give in to sinful desires,” says Romans 6. “Instead, give yourself completely to God, for now you have a new life. Sin is no longer your master.” (v.12)
When that's our new reality, we can use all the things that once enforced our own enslavement to help free others, by surrendering and turning over to God our time and talent, energy and experience, or our money and very mission in life. If we do, we demoralize the forces of darkness, and inspire others to resist. We become a bridge between believers and the unconvinced, and encounter our Commander-In-Chief who sends us back to the fray in a way that makes good use of who we are, what we have, and what we've been through.
“If the Son sets you free, you are truly free,” Jesus said (John 8:36). Free, not to become a Christian clone of anybody else, but who you were always intended to be. Free, not to run from responsibility but to embrace its most meaningful expression. And free, not to substitute one set of rules for another, but to live a grateful life of service to others that leads to peace, purpose, and productivity. It's not enough to know the truth. We must live the truth — about God, ourselves, and the world we live in — and “the truth will set you free” (John 8:32)
But there will always be those who can't comprehend our newfound freedom and try to take us back to the way we were, imposing on us their opinions, preferences, and priorities. Those who are immature, self-centred, or lack a spiritual perspective expect us to serve them, oblivious to the dramatic changes that have brought us liberty, dignity, equality, and serenity. Still, we must be patient and loving, forgiving, and gentle but absolutely uncompromising.
Be free or die. It's okay to be a slave. But only a slave to freedom.
Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications. Share your thoughts with Rick at info@followers.ca
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