A Different Kind of Saint

Being a convert to the LDS faith, I am very blessed to have had the opportunity to develop a love for His word. While I have a firm testimony in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I really enjoy going back to my family church, the Pentecostal church, to listen to the preachers and to allow the music to fill my soul and testify to my spirit. I love gospel music and one of my favorite artists is Ms. CeCe Winans. One of her songs "Alabaster Box" is a story that I think many of us can relate to:

"The room grew still

As she made her way to Jesus

She stumbles through the tears that made her blind

She felt such pain

Some spoke in anger

Heard folks whisper

There's no place here for her kind

Still on she came

Through the shame that flushed her face

Until at last, she knelt before his feet

And though she spoke no words

Everything she said was heard

As she poured her love for the Master

From her box of alabaster"

As a teenager I was given a beautiful cross necklace by one of my relatives. I had no idea that wearing it to the LDS church would create such a frenzy. The reaction that I received from other members especially the adults was very hurtful, and if I didn't have a steadfast testimony in the Gospel, I might have left the church. I couldn't understand why they continued to tell me "We don't wear crosses." Who was "we?" And why don't "we" wear crosses? Umm, when I got baptized that wasn't one of the things that the missionaries said we couldn't do.

For those members who have a long family history in the Church, who come from what some members like to call “Pioneer stock” it must be difficult to deal with converts that march to the beat of their own drum. Yet, still manage to stay in rhythm with the rest of the saints. Does it really matter if some people take the Sacrament with their left hand?

"And I've come to pour

My praise on Him

Like oil from Mary's alabaster box

Don't be angry if I wash his feet with my tears

And I dry them with my hair

You weren't there the night He found me

You did not feel what I felt

When he wrapped his love all around me and

You don't know the cost of the oil

In my alabaster box"

We all at some point find ourselves searching for His image in our countenance. A few years ago, I was wandering through a store in an area with a predominantly white demographic, and noticed a picture of Jesus Christ. It was an image of Jesus portrayed as a black man. I grabbed the picture and found myself in the longest line ever. Being short on time I put the picture back with the intention of returning for it when I had more time.

When I returned I found that all of the copies of that particular image were gone. I inquired as to how I could order a copy of the image only to have the sales clerk disappear to the back room and return with a copy. I inquired about why the picture was in the back and was told that the image of Christ was offensive to some of the customers so they were told to pull it.

It doesn’t shock me that white people tend to gravitate toward images of Christ that favor them, just as people of color may gravitate to the images of Him that look the most like them. We all want to feel that we were indeed created in His image.

"I can't forget the way life used to be

I was a prisoner to the sin that had me bound

And I spent my days

Poured my life without measure

Into a little treasure box

I'd thought I'd found

Until the day when Jesus came to me

And healed my soul

With the wonder of His touch

So now I'm giving back to Him

All the praise He's worthy of

I've been forgiven

And that's why

I love Him so much"

The message is: My relationship with the Savior is personal. The way I choose to worship and show gratitude for what the Savior has done for me may be different than what you were taught, but that doesn't place less value on me in the eyes of my Savior, does it? I'm really grateful that as a youth I was taught in a church that encouraged and pushed me to figure out for myself the type of relationship that I wanted to have with God, Jesus Christ and my earthly brothas and sistas.

I'm happy for the example of the Brethren and the way they LOVE people. All people. They seem to embrace the people and the cultures they come in contact with. I've even witnessed them singing and clapping along while they listen to a gospel song, Negro spiritual, or giving an Amen, and I often wonder...what is it that they know that the rest of us don't.

"You don't know the cost of the oil in my Alabaster Box"

Your Sista in the Gospel,
Sista Beehive