I really didn’t plan to watch the whole thing. I logged on line to catch a brief glimpse of the memorial Service for Michael Jackson. I caught quite a bit of it. Smokie Robinson, Barry Gordy, Brooke Shields, Marlon Jackson and the final words by Michael’s daughter.
I caught enough of it that I was overwhelmed with the pain and grief I have unintentionally suppressed for months and years. The whole situation was so sad and it brought back the death of my brother, along with the death of Chris Jackson, Bishop Gimenez and Bishop Saunders, just to name a few. It brought back the pain of separation from my family and friends. It brought back the tugging on my heart to just give up and quit.
It brought so much because Michael Jackson was just a regular person with an extraordinary gift. He was one of millions of us Black Kids growing up in the 60’s, especially those of us who grew up in talented, musical families in the Midwest. His success and the Jackson’s success, was our triumph and success.
Now, to see them all so vulnerable and in so much pain was beyond what I could take. The images stayed with me all evening. I tossed and turned all night. I interceded for the family because I know how they feel.
No matter how much dirt is in a family and no matter how much we fight, it still comes down to the reality that all we got is each other. No amount of money or fame can take the place of that simple reality. Their mansions will feel emptier from now on. Their Mercedes will just be transportation from here to there. Their clothes will just be garments. Their jewelry will never shine like it did before.
I pray that the emptiness and pain will lead to a new conviction and commitment to God. I pray that this family will not become hardened, but that they will be become tender toward God.
We have never known much about the Jackson family beyond the stage. We don’t know their personalities, their wildness, their angry outburst, their vices or their true values.
But in this brief moment in time, we share something painfully real and we have something in common. We know how they feel.
I caught enough of it that I was overwhelmed with the pain and grief I have unintentionally suppressed for months and years. The whole situation was so sad and it brought back the death of my brother, along with the death of Chris Jackson, Bishop Gimenez and Bishop Saunders, just to name a few. It brought back the pain of separation from my family and friends. It brought back the tugging on my heart to just give up and quit.
It brought so much because Michael Jackson was just a regular person with an extraordinary gift. He was one of millions of us Black Kids growing up in the 60’s, especially those of us who grew up in talented, musical families in the Midwest. His success and the Jackson’s success, was our triumph and success.
Now, to see them all so vulnerable and in so much pain was beyond what I could take. The images stayed with me all evening. I tossed and turned all night. I interceded for the family because I know how they feel.
No matter how much dirt is in a family and no matter how much we fight, it still comes down to the reality that all we got is each other. No amount of money or fame can take the place of that simple reality. Their mansions will feel emptier from now on. Their Mercedes will just be transportation from here to there. Their clothes will just be garments. Their jewelry will never shine like it did before.
I pray that the emptiness and pain will lead to a new conviction and commitment to God. I pray that this family will not become hardened, but that they will be become tender toward God.
We have never known much about the Jackson family beyond the stage. We don’t know their personalities, their wildness, their angry outburst, their vices or their true values.
But in this brief moment in time, we share something painfully real and we have something in common. We know how they feel.
