Read No Weapon Formed (Boaz Brown) for Free Online Page A

daughter. “What planet are you on? Seth is black. And
even if he never looks black, Zoe sure will. You’ve got to see things for what
they are. America will label them black. And that label comes with the black talk . You have one in elementary school. Have another one when their
hormones kick in, especially for boys. Another one when they go off to college,
the military or wherever.”
    I contained my wincing as
Stelson sat down near my foot, causing the bed to bounce slightly. This
certainly wasn’t our first disagreement about the kids. I believed in swatting
Seth’s bottom any time he disobeyed. Stelson was more on the “save spankings
for major infractions” page, use “time out” for everything else.
    He thought I bought the kids
way too many clothes. I said our kids represented our family and should be
well-dressed.
    I believed in lavish
Christmases with a ton of gifts under the tree. The joy of watching Seth open
them filled my heart. Stelson believed kids should only get a few toys for
Christmas because it’s a celebration of Christ, not us.
    Hands down, Stelson was
better at listening to my arguments. Or at least he’d pretend to listen. In the
end, if he didn’t change his mind, we usually defaulted to his leading since he
was the one who had to report to God on behalf of our family (I learned that in
a Titus 2 class at church).
    Anyway, that night was no
different. He stopped churning through his anger and disbelief and genuinely
asked me, “What is the black talk anyway?”
    “It’s where we sit them down
and tell them about our history in Africa and America. Then we tell them there
are still some people who will look down on them because they’re black. We let
them know that when people see black kids, they’re prejudged. We teach about
Emmett Till and Rodney King and Treyvon Martin. Teach them not to run from
police officers or be disrespectful because cops will shoot first and ask
questions later,” I filled Stelson in.
    “Being disrespectful and
running from cops is a bad move for anybody , not just black people.”
    He wasn’t getting it.
    “Shondra, when and if Seth
faces discrimination, after pointing to Christ, I’m going to refer to President
Obama so my son will know that if a man with the same racial makeup can become
the President of the United States of America, there’s absolutely no reason why
Seth can’t achieve his goals as well.”
    Stelson’s brow drew into a
knot. “Is this what black people are telling their kids?”
    “Society will tell them if we
don’t.” I rubbed my husband’s strong, muscular arm. My heart ached for him and
I could only imagine how his heart must have been breaking with the news that
he would have to prepare his children for a future he couldn’t imagine.
    But instead of agreeing with
me, Stelson shook his head. “No. I’m not going to pour the fear of man into
Seth and Zoe.”
    “We have to prepare them for real
life ,” I said.
    “Life in Christ is real life,” he argued. “I don’t want Seth and Zoe to think that the promises of
God end where their skin color begins.”
    “But the world is not
in Christ,” I reasoned.
    “Since when does the world
determine anything? I mean, do you think when God declared ‘I know the plans I
have for you’, He forgot to say that the plans are only valid if you’re not
black?”
    My entire schema as an
African American and as a believer clashed almost as much as when I’d found
myself falling in love with Stelson. There I was again, deciding which side to
lean on: my blackness or my faith.
    “I can’t do this tonight.” I
gave up as Stelson’s new philosophy coursed through my head, all the way down
to my throbbing foot.
    “Let’s pray,” he offered.
    He kneeled on my side of the
bed, his bald crown reflecting the light from our ceiling fan. My poor husband
had tried to hold on to the sides and front, but he finally had to let them go
when someone told him he looked like George