On MLK Day weekend, my twelve year old told me that he believed protest doesn’t do anything; that it’s hopeless to speak out. The fact that the twelve year olds are already hopeless broke my heart.

I had heard the call for clergy to go to Minneapolis already, but I didn’t particularly want to go. I’d have to miss too much, spend too much money, and it would be hard, scary and cold.

And then I got up into my weary old pulpit and preached these words: “God may have made me like Isaiah, with the mouth of a sharp sword, but I’m actually not at all brave. I try to carefully craft statements that can be heard. I hold back a lot of what I think is true so as not to cause further damage to our already fractured country. I am lulled into shopping and social media to numb myself against the hurt and rage and killing and kidnapping and child abuse I see absolutely everywhere.

Dr. King said, “It may well be that we will have to repent in this generation. Not merely for the vitriolic words and the violent actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence and indifference of the good people who sit around and say, "Wait on time.”

I don’t mean to be one of the good people who sits around waiting on time. I’m just not really sure what to do instead. I wake up in the morning and still can’t believe this strange dystopian world I’m living in where all news is fake, human beings interact increasingly only with screens instead of flesh and blood community….a world in which no one seems to care about truth, empathy, compassion, complexity, morality or integrity at all anymore.

Meanwhile, Martin’s dream is turned into a commercial to sell Dodge Rams. Meanwhile, babies and children are being tear gassed in their cars driving home from school. Meanwhile, innocent people are being killed and disappeared, children are scared to go to school and schools in Minneapolis have gone back to online. Meanwhile, the people in power tell dangerous lies, and stage cover ups. Meanwhile, the federal government goes to war with American cities.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, in his letter from a Birmingham Jail, wrote:

“Though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." Was not Amos an extremist for justice: "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream." Was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: "I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." Was not Martin Luther an extremist: "Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God." And John Bunyan: "I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience." And Abraham Lincoln: "This nation cannot survive half slave and half free." And Thomas Jefferson: "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal . . ."

So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic scene on Calvary's hill three men were crucified. We must never forget that all three were crucified for the same crime--the crime of extremism. Two were extremists for immorality, and thus fell below their environment. The other, Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth and goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.”

In Minneapolis last week, just hours after Renee Good died, a white male pastor was on his way into his church and heard a fracas down the street.

He walked toward the noise with his whistle, and in his own words, this is what happened. “I saw ICE agents circling a young woman who appeared to be Hispanic. I said to them, “take me, stop harassing her. One of the agents got in my face, pointed a gun at me, and said, ‘are you afraid now?” To which I said, “I am not afraid.’ The next thing I knew, they were putting handcuffs on me and put me in the back of an SUV. I asked them if I was under arrest. They left and came back three times, saying each time “are you afraid yet?” Every single time, I said no. Finally, they said to me, “well you’re white, you won’t be any fun anyway, and let me go.”

This pastor was the creative extremist for love Martin Luther King asked us white folk to be, and his rallying cry was “I am not afraid.”

Beloved, you and I need to be creative extremists for Love, truth and good. Anything else is too light a thing. We were made for God’s glory, to be the light of the world. Do not be afraid.”

I decided to listen to my own words, and show my son that showing up to be extremists for love matters. I’m going to Minneapolis on Thursday and Friday with my fellow religious leaders to be supporters of my colleagues in Minneapolis, witnesses of history, and peace-makers in the midst of the war on our American cities waged by the federal government.

One of my congregants is coming with me. Plane tickets are expensive, and they want us to contribute $500 each in addition to airfare and lodging to contribute to the effort there. We will be trained and knowledgeable about what to do when the battlefield moves to Massachusetts. We will be trained in nonviolent resistance. Every little bit helps us to pay for our plane tickets, and to mutual aid funds for Minneapolis.

Thanks for considering!