AdvanceBlog

I spent a large portion of my formative years at New Hope Tabernacle Church.  My parents made certain that my brother and I attended Sunday school, morning worship, afternoon service, night service, prayer service, and bible class.  Many of my fondest childhood memories stem from my time in youth choir and attending Vacation Bible School.  We were at church so much that the church members became family.

Our church family matriarch, Evangelist Mona Lisa Lockhart, was my favorite Sunday school teacher.  Perhaps it is because by the time I was in her class, I was old enough to make connections from Bible stories to real life.  Perhaps it was because she was such a passionate instructor.  More than likely, it was a combination of those things and more.

Because I was raised in Detroit, I had a degree of separation from the cultural traditions of southern Black folks.  I remember being puzzled at the notion of someone putting “roots” on someone.  I recall being absolutely befuddled at the thought of people living in places that did not have interstate highways.  I laugh at the memory of my first visit to the rural south when extended family members bellowed in laughter at my inquiry of “what else are we going to do?”  For you see, after the fish fry, everyone just sat around outside and talked.  There was no television, no basketball court, and no corner store, just family and rehashed and revamped stories.  Needless to say that first visit was a massive culture shock.

Nevertheless, it was an overwhelmingly apparent Southern charm that really endeared me to Evangelist Lockhart.  Initially, I found humor in her southern dialect and inflections.  But with each year of living, I uncover more wisdom within her numerous rural colloquialisms.  Of which, the most frequently used was “yo’ shack in glory gonna tell da story.”  Actually, the printed word does not capture the heavy twang in which the syllables in “glory” and “story” were more pronounced as “glo-reeey” and “sto-reey.”  Our adolescent chuckles never deterred her from sharing that nugget of wisdom.

Because we were in church, it was assumed that the “shack”, “glory”, and “story” of which she referred were heavenly or religious concepts.  Sometimes she would elaborate that she was not going to have a shack but rather, a mansion.  Because her intentions were to convey that our Christian efforts on earth will be reflected in our heavenly rewards.  As I have matured, I have found the “shack” and “sto-reey” also has implications for our earthly lives.

Since I last sat in those wooden folding chairs listening to Evangelist Lockhart and admiring the distinctiveness of that hats she wore, I have come to realize the results that one achieves in life are indicators of two things: their circumstances and their effort.  It would be impossible to assign a percentage value to circumstances or effort but I can attest that the former is often beyond our control and the latter is totally within our control.

When people refer to their circumstances or environment as cause for their life success or lack of success, I understand.  Indeed some use circumstances as an excuse to underachieve, but beyond that, circumstances do contribute to who we are and the methods used toward what we can become.

However, our effort plays more of a role in what we become.  Our effort determines whether we will earn metaphorical shacks or mansions.  Our efforts are the largest indicators of what type of results we will earn.

No, this is not a pronouncement of “pulling yourself up by your bootstrap” because that notion is fallaciously shortsighted.  Instead this is a prompt for reflection.

• Are you satisfied with the results you are getting in life?
• In what ways have your efforts contributed toward the results you have?
• If you are unsatisfied with your results, will you change your efforts?

Arthur Ashe would tell us to:

Start where you are.  Use what you have.  Do what you can.

It can be that simple.  We can choose today to exert efforts that determine what story our place in glory will tell.