Do you speak your truth? Do you speak up and say what you have to say? Do people know what you think and who you are?
If someone were to ask you who Suzette is, could you tell them? Have I talked the talk and walked the walk authentic to who I am and what I believe? As I look back over my life, where I am is a far cry from where I use to be. What a journey! This morning, my sister and I revisited pivotal moments that beckoned me towards my purpose. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why she called cause I pretty much took over the conversation…lol. Oh Lord! Most folks who know me would say “yep, that’s what you do.” What can I say?
They say that what you are called to do has a lot to do with what you have had to overcome in life. For some, their purpose is revealed in conquering some fear, some trauma, some insecurity. Those vulnerable times in our lives where we were not handled correctly. Someone molested as a child may find purpose in foster parenting. They may feel called to keep other children safe. To provide a high risk child with a home, a family, and a healthy environment in which to grow and thrive.
I grew up a church child. I laughingly tell folks that I might have been born in church! Tongue-speaking, falling out in the floor, holy dancing church. I use to love to sit beside my Grandma Cannon. She’d always wear high heels and I’d love to hear those heels rhythmically tapping against the hard wood church floor synchronized with her double clapping. I’d try so hard to get my short legs to the floor and double clap with my Grandma. So much has changed. Or maybe I should say so much has been revealed. Yeah, that’s a better recollection for the beliefs of those I grew up with and the church culture I was raised in was never ever fully shared by me.
I’m sure that comes as a surprise to many who heard me and my sisters sing at YPHA’s and other church meetings. For those who I praised beside, sang in the choir with and shared a dorm room with during the Sunday School Convention or some other summer church retreat. We were considered those "sangin" Randolph Sisters--well-behaved “good girls.” We were from a Christian home. What nobody knew was that I questioned e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Nothing I was taught about God made sense. So many contradictions. Wearing earrings, makeup and pants were forbidden. When I’d ask why, I was either accused of being rebellious, stubborn or someone would turn to the Old Testament and point out that the women took off their gold earrings to make the golden calf. Orrrr that the Bible said that women weren’t to wear anything pertaining to a man. “What that got to do with now?,” I’d ask.
I was very in tune with my feelings back then. It simply didn’t ring true, so I had a hard time accepting their explanations. Like many parents whose children ask why, why, why, my mom and dad would get irritated with my persistence and pull that "because I said so" card. I was reprimanded harshly for challenging the traditions, the beliefs, the doctrine, the contradictions. If it wasn’t my mom and dad, it was in the testimonies at church or the fire and brimstone sermons.
You’d have thought I would have shut my mouth or retreated inside myself. Not me! I can’t remember a time that I stopped talking. I chuckle when I think about it. Instead of getting quieter, I would become more debating. I would come from another angle cause it just didn’t make sense! I would point things out that nobody wanted to hear. My parents believed that when grown folks were talking, children weren’t suppose to join in. It was considered disrespectful. I learned to stop doing that, but trust me when I say I’d revisit the matter when guests left and it was just us.
What folks don’t know is that there were two things constantly on my mind. Maybe it was because these two things were preached about repeatedly. I already mentioned one, wearing makeup, jewelry and pants. The other was speaking in tongues as evidence that you’ve received the Holy Spirit. I know for some of you, this is foreign. You didn’t grow up in church or the church you attended was nothing like what I am describing. You’re probably glad. Nonetheless, maybe you had a different belief. Every religious practice has some oddity, some belief or practice that you struggle with. Concerned about my two things, I asked my mom for answers. She said to me, “You saved (born again) ain’t you?” “Yes,” I said. “Then God will speak to you.”
God speaking to me? This was difficult for me to comprehend given that up until that time I had no clue what God’s voice sounded like. Folks in church would always say “God said this,” or “God said that” but he won’t sayin NOTHIN to me. “You go in your room and you pray until you hear from God. Don’t you come out until He’s spoken to you,” my mom said firmly.
What happened that day changed my life forever. I sat in the middle of the floor and matter of factly told God I was having a haaard time. I told Him how much I wanted to please Him but I was having difficulty with the dressing thing and with the Holy Ghost thing. I cried and told him that I didn’t want to be rebellious. I didn’t want to be sinful. Cleanse me. In the midst of my self-abasing, my penitent regurgitations modeled after those prayers I heard my mom and dad pray or the older people at Friday night prayer meeting, God spoke to me. I can’t explain how I knew it was Him but somehow I knew. It wasn’t an audible voice like someone was in the room with me. Rather, it was a profound realization that was so intense that it spoke to me. It spoke to the real me and I felt validated.
He was direct. To my concerns about pants, jewelry and makeup, He said simply, “I don’t care what you wear. I just want your heart.” What about the Holy Ghost? After all, I was told you had to tarry until you are “endued with power from on high.” God’s answer made every hair on my body stand at attention. “The Holy Ghost is my gift. I give it whatever way I want to.” I was startled. I never ever expected God to say that. It was so different from anything I had ever heard….EVER. And as if He wanted to leave no doubt, He said, “Don’t put me in a box. I’m too big for that.” For the first time in my life, it rang true inside of me. I ran out of the room with tears streaming down my face, gasping because I had actually heard from God. God, the one I had only heard could talk, actually talked to me!!!
I ran to my Mom. “What did God say?,” she asked with anticipation. I’ll never ever forget the power of that moment. It was like God had shared a secret with me, a piece of Himself that nobody else knew, and I was soooo excited to share it with my mom. Imagine my excitement in telling my mom, my spiritual giant, my spiritual authority of all things God. Imagine me telling her exactly what God said. And her response? Wait for it...wait for it. “Baby, you need to go back. God wouldn’t have told you that.”
That was the day...the hour...the moment when I lost my voice.
