All in All, I Shall Not Look Upon His Like Again

Forty years ago, Martin Luther King was killed, I was born, and our country was being born again—or at least being given the opportunity to.

If we had just had ears to hear—and not just hear, but perceive. If we had just been ready, as a people, as a country.

God sent a man. His name was Martin. But like most holy men sent from heaven, he was largely ignored, and of course, eventually, inevitably, killed. Like Bob Marely asks in Redemption Song, “How long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look?”

His message was one of love. That’s how we know it was from God. For God is love. He that does not love, does not know God.

“At the center of non-violence stands the principle of love,” Dr. King said. “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that. Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.”

He went on to say, “I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant. ”

He, the right, was temporarily defeated, evil momentarily triumphing, triumphing in some ways still, but his message lives on, his hope for equality for all people, his dream.

It lives in me.

Born the year he died, I feel not only a desire to embody the dream, but a responsibility to proclaim it, as well.

Of course, it’s a lot easier now, but standing with Dr. King, boldly being a part of his movement, proudly proclaiming his message, is not without costs. I count them. I stand with him.

Mark me down as a friend of Martin Luther King, a follower of his message, someone who spoke up, for as he said, “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends. History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.”

Where do you stand?

Hear his haunting warning: “He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.”

And what is the message we have heard from him and declare to you? That God is love. That God is light. That filled with love and light, Martin was given a dream.

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

We’re not in that nation yet. We must repent. We must turn.

“I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together. I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.”
We should all have that same dream.

When pressured to turn his back on love, to resort to the same violence being perpetrated on his community, Martin stood strong, saying, “That old law about an eye for an eye leaves everybody blind” and that the “Means we use must be as pure as the ends we seek.” Encouraging his oppressed people to “Never succumb to the temptation of bitterness.”

Cut down at the age of 39, everything Martin did and said was as a young man. He accomplished more in his short life than most of us would if we were given ten long ones. And under enormous pressure, threats, acts of violence, criticisms from every corner, and in the face of staggering odds, he faced down an empire of oppression, like Jesus before Rome, maintaining the moral superiority, never giving in to hate or ego or violence or retribution or retaliation.

Living under the very real possibility that he could be killed at any moment of his young life, Dr. King believed that “The quality, not the longevity, of one’s life is what is important,” adding prophetically in his final speech on the night before he was gunned down, “I just want to do God’s will. And he’s allowed me to go to the mountain. And I’ve looked over, and I’ve seen the promised land! I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land.”

As a people, as a nation, we are making baby steps toward the promised land. Thanks to Dr. King we know what it looks like, know what we must do to get there. Some of us, like him, have even glimpsed it, but we’ve got a long way to go. Yet the darkness and wilderness around us must not make us give up hope. We must press on, these words of Martin Luther King ringing in our ears: “I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality. I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word.”

Please, God, let those have the final word.

Martin was just a man—the greatest man our young country has produced, in my opinion—but just a man. But as far as men go, I’ve yet to find a more true hero, a more worthy mentor.

As Hamlet said of his father, the king, I say of my spiritual father, Dr. King, “He was a man, take him all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.”