Martin Luther King Day: A celebration of Faith

  • Published
  • By Master Sgt. Mark A. Gilliard
  • 48th Medical Group, Health and Wellness Center
ROYAL AIR FORCE LAKENHEATH, England --  I have many memories of my childhood. Some are good and some, of course, are bad. One of the most significant of those memories is the spring of 1968. April 4 started out just like any other day for a third-grader who didn't have to go to school -- wandering the streets of Savannah, Ga., with my friends in search of blossoming apple, peach and plum trees.

On this particular day, we had collected a rich bounty of the fruits, and were returning to our "headquarters" to divide our delicious treasures. 

Eventually, we came across a group of young white teenage boys who appeared to be celebrating in the street. There were older folks sitting in chairs on their porches who seemed to be joining them in cheers. 

As my friends and I tried to walk around them, they stopped us, grabbed our bags of fruit, cursed at us and called us derogatory names -- and then they told us to run. I don't know which was greater at that time of my life, my arrogance or my stupidity for as my colleagues retreated, I stood firm -- but it did little good. 

One of the rowdy teenagers asked how I felt about "King" being killed earlier that day. At that age, of course, I had never heard of Dr. King and said so. My innocent honesty was interpreted as a wisecrack and he signaled to the others with a snap of the fingers and a "let's get him!" 

And they did. I got beat up pretty bad that day. 

Somehow though, I managed to get away and ran home. My mother tended to my cuts and bruises and dried my eyes and said, "Honey, we have to have faith that things will get better." 

Today, whenever I remember that time, I am no longer angered by its ugliness and I reflect on the things I have learned since then. I have learned that the actions of those few ignorant souls that day in Savannah in no way represent the hundreds of white people I have met since then, many of whom I now call "friend." I have also learned that the man whose death they asked me about was a great man with a great dream, shared by people both black and white. And I learned about the legacy of hope and faith Dr. King articulated and passed on to us all. I have learned that this legacy of hope and faith has helped African- Americans endure with dignity and discipline not just for years, but centuries. 

It was faith that kept African- American slaves strong as they languished in fields and in bondage. The slaves would often sing what appeared to be simple hymns as they worked giving their "masters" the impression that they were submissive to the injustices they endured. 

In reality, however, many of the songs they sang were to encourage each other to be strong and faithful. Some of the songs also were a form of code instructing other slaves about an upcoming attempt at escape, or which way to travel once they had made their "break" for freedom. Through the strength of their unity they survived and through the faith of their prayers and songs they endured. 

I grew up in a very large family, the eighth of 10 children. My parents worked very hard to provide a home for my siblings and myself, and instilled in us is a background of God and faith. 

On Christmas mornings, we would always gather around the tree and pray before opening our gifts. No meal was ever consumed in our home before giving thanks and the blessing of the food. Every Sunday we were dressed up in our "Sunday best" and paraded off to church. At Easter, we would rehearse and embarrassingly perform our speeches before the pastor and the large congregation. It was awful and it was wonderful. 

I can remember my older brother and me promising, "When I'm old enough, I'm not going to go to church anymore!" 

But of course I am now a "grown-up" and I still attend church and pray each and every day. The values of faith and prayer that were taught to me as a child are still with me today. 

Yes, I still think of that April day now and then but these days I am thankful not just for having survived the incident, but also for hearing the wisdom of my dear mother's words. I am thankful that because those that came before me were strong in their faith and were able to endure hardships that you or I cannot imagine, this world is a little bit better place for us all. 

Because of the faith that is abundant in the African-American family, our lives are also a little bit easier to live. Thanks to educators like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. -- and my precious Mama -- we have learned to sing new songs: songs of unity, songs of dignity, songs of togetherness and songs of love and hope. 

As Dr. King said in his famous 1963 speech, "With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair, a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day." 

Yes, Mother, we have to have faith!