I have no recollection of why I was there. A long haired, twenty something, blue jean wearing hippy preacher from Louisville had been invited for some reason so there I sat. The rest of the table was filled with black folks and I remember Joseph Lowery was one.
I also remember quoting Malcolm X a lot though I don't know why. In Seminary I'd become a devotee of Liberation Theology much to the chagrin of the Southern Baptists. The writings born in third world poverty had led me to Malcolm and, of course, Martin. I'm sure I quoted him arrogantly.
Later I sat in the Ebeneezer Baptist Church and decided to leave the service and explore the building. So I got up from the wooden pew where people flocked to hear Martin Luther King preach and wandered into a hall.
"Hello," said a surprised but incredibly poised Coretta Scott-King.
I'm not certain I said anything though she shook my hand warmly.
A few years later I would be with her again though I have no recollection why. She wore a black dress and we actually talked. I asked her a lot of questions and she smiled at young enthusiasm. I remember her smile.
I don't know why, or how, I've gotten to do so many things in my life. For divine reasons I suppose, I've ended up in the right places at the right times. I spent hours sitting in Will D. Campbell's cabin in Tennessee, in the pulpit of Mack Jones Church in St. Louis, and conducting services with Ron Bobo.
Guy Salyes and I once spent an afternoon in the home of Florence Jordan, wife of Clarence, the only prophet Southern Baptist have ever produced.
Milliard Fuller was a friend of mine.
Every year on this day, these things come to mind. I count myself blessed. I don't know why I got to do these things and be with these people.
"Anybody here, seen my good friend Martin?"
I never did though I walked over hills with friends of his.
And I'll tell you what they've me.
"Red and yellow, black and white, all are precious ..."
