{"id":488,"date":"2025-04-21T21:28:56","date_gmt":"2025-04-21T21:28:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/?p=488"},"modified":"2025-04-21T21:30:46","modified_gmt":"2025-04-21T21:30:46","slug":"488","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/?p=488","title":{"rendered":"Lighthouse"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"640\" height=\"853\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/blackmanwrites.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Lighthouse.jpeg?resize=640%2C853&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-489\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/blackmanwrites.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Lighthouse-scaled.jpeg?resize=768%2C1024&amp;ssl=1 768w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/blackmanwrites.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Lighthouse-scaled.jpeg?resize=225%2C300&amp;ssl=1 225w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/blackmanwrites.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Lighthouse-scaled.jpeg?resize=1152%2C1536&amp;ssl=1 1152w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/blackmanwrites.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Lighthouse-scaled.jpeg?resize=1536%2C2048&amp;ssl=1 1536w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/blackmanwrites.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Lighthouse-scaled.jpeg?resize=1360%2C1813&amp;ssl=1 1360w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/blackmanwrites.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Lighthouse-scaled.jpeg?w=1920&amp;ssl=1 1920w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/blackmanwrites.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/04\/Lighthouse-scaled.jpeg?w=1280&amp;ssl=1 1280w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px\" \/><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>This Easter morning, I dropped Michelle and her mom off at Mass, then headed to church. Like most Easters in my life, I didn\u2019t really want to go.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The days of knowing what I\u2019d wear on Easter Sunday are long gone. No more trips to Turn Style the day before\u2014no more watching Mom, Terri, Gail, and Tammy spend hours in the girls\u2019 section while I got ten rushed minutes to grab a shirt and tie.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I realized today: somehow Dad never went shopping with us. But he always had what he needed\u2014a new suit, a fresh shirt, and that signature spring hat. Quietly sharp, like he always was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I\u2019ve worn Easter suits in powder blue and avocado green\u2014loud by today\u2019s standards, but back then? That was sharp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>This morning, while trying to figure out what to wear, I saw Easter lilies in my mind. So I put on white and yellow. I couldn\u2019t remember when you\u2019re supposed to start wearing white\u2014but I know you\u2019re supposed to stop after Labor Day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Funny how traditions live in us. Dormant until something wakes them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>After the drop-off, I headed East.<br><em>To the East, my brother, to the East! \u2013 X-Clan<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I parked. Sat for a moment. Collected my thoughts. Checked the list of things I wanted to bring to my gods. And reminded myself\u2014thank them for my unconquerable soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As I got out the car, I realized this might be the first time I\u2019d worn a hat to my church. But the older I get, the more I become my father. It\u2019s late April, but there was still a chill in the air\u2014<em>cooler by the lake<\/em>, like always. Dad would\u2019ve had on one of his spring straw hats, sharp and season-ready. Me? I had on a scully. These days, a hat\u2019s not about style. It\u2019s about staying warm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The beauty of my church is that the doors are always open.<br>There\u2019s no printed program. No agenda. The service begins the moment your feet hit the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Today\u2019s sermon was untitled\u2014until I heard the word:<br><strong>Lighthouse.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Of course.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Just yesterday, in a gathering of young Black men I was blessed to be part of, we ended by talking about being a lighthouse. A beacon. A steady presence that shines even when no one\u2019s watching. That alignment? That wasn\u2019t coincidence. That was confirmation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I cued up my soundtrack\u2014still deep in the Parliament-Funkadelic rabbit hole: <em>The Electric Spanking of War Babies.<\/em> Funk, like faith, has its own theology. And as Dr. Daniel Black says, the choir and the preacher are often at odds. But today, I let the rhythm order my steps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>My three words for the day: <strong>integrity, accountability, empathy.<\/strong><br>Again, the universe at work\u2014lining things up in ways I couldn\u2019t ignore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Just a day before, in a tough but necessary conversation, a friend pointed out a few places where I\u2019d fallen short. The words weren\u2019t said harshly, but they landed hard because they were true.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And the very next day, those same words\u2014unspoken in that conversation\u2014showed up in the circle of young Black men we gathered with. Young brothers on the verge of manhood, navigating who they\u2019re becoming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The overlap wasn\u2019t coincidence. It was confirmation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Words that should be sewn into the soul of every human being.<br>I\u2019ve seen those same words twisted in my own life, scarred with prefixes like <em>lack<\/em> and <em>no<\/em>. In the mirror. In the silence after mistakes. On the lips of people I\u2019ve let down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Sometimes, running is atonement.<br>Sometimes, it\u2019s punishment.<br>Sometimes, it\u2019s both.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>But the path is the path. Trust the process. Listen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Today, that path was different. Construction blocked the familiar route, so I had to shift course. I wasn\u2019t always sure I was going the right way. At one point, I thought I\u2019d hit a dead end. At another, I had to run down a short flight of stairs. It threw off my rhythm\u2014but maybe that was the point. Maybe I needed the disruption. Maybe I was being tested\u2014not just to find a new way forward, but to keep going when the path stopped looking familiar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Because the lighthouse isn\u2019t just a metaphor.<br>It\u2019s a mandate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>To be the light.<br>To shine when you\u2019re tired.<br>To guide even when you\u2019re uncertain.<br>To stand still in storms so others can find their way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Today, two truths became clear:<br>The ritual inside the church stays the same.<br>But outside?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>That\u2019s where the gods meet you.<br>That\u2019s where the sermon starts.<br>That\u2019s where the lighthouse shines.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And sometimes,<br>we\u2019re running <em>to<\/em> the light.<br>And sometimes,<br>we\u2019re running <em>from<\/em> it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<hr class=\"wp-block-separator has-alpha-channel-opacity\"\/>\n\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>This Easter morning, I dropped Michelle and her mom off at Mass, then headed to church. Like most Easters in my life, I didn\u2019t&#8230;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":4,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[13,12,10],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-488","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-evanston","category-inspirations","category-life"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/488","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=488"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/488\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":492,"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/488\/revisions\/492"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=488"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=488"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blackmanwrites.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=488"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}