Dear Reader,

I must be the most unlikely person to have become a follower of Jesus Christ. As a product of the Black Power, Pan African and civil rights movements, I was an Afro-centric, bumptious, radical young woman who understood life through the lenses of the “isms” of the day – neocolonialism, capitalism, communism and imperialism, and through the lives of black heroes past and present.

The struggle for social justice and equality meant everything to me, and the vicissitudes of the protracted nationalist stirrings and agitations, including in my own country in the late 60s and 70s, defined my world view and served as the fuel for my thoughts and my actions.

As an undergraduate at Hunter College in New York City, I basked in the world of pure academia and made friends with a brilliant young professor who taught courses in African religion and culture. My professor’s life’s work became my own. The tenured scholar had completed her doctorate at the New School for Social Research and had written her dissertation – all 263 pages – refuting and discrediting everything in the Bible. Her research set out to prove that the Good Book was racist, sexist, classist and imperialist, and was nothing more than a ploy by Jews to manipulate and control the world and to subjugate and exploit those who were not “chosen”. The claim that black people are the “children of Ham”, descendants of the curse placed on Noah’s son, and the Christian collusion in the brutal quest for Empire, served to stoke my mentor’s anti-Christ crusade.

I gravitated naturally to the anti-Bible, anti-Jesus philosophy, and argued every point with the same zeal and skill with which Saul of Tarsus (later the apostle Paul) bedazzled his contemporaries. I was sure that I knew it all and that I had all the answers – that is, until I came face-to-face with Jesus Christ, and my life would never be the same again.

As I reflect on the current state of affairs of my beloved country, it seems to me that the very same healing balm of Jesus Christ that massaged my wounds, brought comfort to my soul, and turned my life around is exactly what Jamaica needs right now. And by the way, I’m not talking religion. I’m talking reality.

With more murders now than perhaps any other place on earth, and with the savagery associated with the murder of men, women and children of all ages, including beheadings and the cutting of throats, it is an undeniable fact that the country needs divine intervention, and not the type that comes gift-wrapped in the packaging of the prosperity message or the type articulated by preachers who enter their elevated platforms after praise and worship is over, but leave the church building before talking to the poorest parishioner. I’m talking about the spirit and the example of Jesus Christ, and the promotion and articulation of the kind of society in which the image of Jesus Christ is recognised, honoured and nurtured in every human being.

The problem with Jamaica is that with the influence of rabid materialism and with the help of highly placed unbelievers in the society, we have succeeded in taking God out of the centre of national life, and have arrogated power unto ourselves. We have forgotten that it was Jesus Christ and no other, whose love and mercy brought our people out and up from slavery, and who was the mainstay of generations of Jamaicans, including that of my parents. I remember that when the stresses and burdens of life were too much for my mother to bear, she would sigh deeply and exclaim, “Jesus, Saviour, pilot me.” He did, and that poor, black-skinned country woman from deep rural Westmoreland, sent every one of her children through school, and would perpetually thank God for making us “pass the worst”.

The interesting thing about Jamaica is that despite the “dark side” that exists and the destructive elements that operate, there is a quality and a spirit of goodness that resides just below the surface, and there is a hunger and an eagerness for the “good news”. The success of the World Bank award-winning project for “unattached” youth carried out by PACT (People’s Action for Community Transformation) in the Grant’s Pen community bears out my observation. With a heavy dose of love, and utilising a methodology that focused on the history and heritage of great black civilisations, their leaders and their achievements, young men between the ages of 15 and 25 chose to turn their lives around. In an incredibly short space of time they moved from being “irredeemable” to becoming leaders in their personal and community lives. The Grant’s Pen model proved that love for God and love for neighbour are the most powerful tools we have in our collective arsenal.

As our country’s two political parties continue to self-destruct as a result of their unwillingness to regenerate themselves, there must be a groundswell that will move the country toward healing and restoration. I add my voice to those calling for a truth and reconciliation campaign that will allow every single one of us to say we are sorry, to ask for forgiveness, and to make amends. An “each one help one” campaign to link uptown to downtown, and rural to urban, would be a powerful, pragmatic programme that would accompany the truth-telling and forgiveness exercise, coupled with a national remedial education campaign driven by a volunteer corps of retired teachers and a cadre of high school and college leavers, among other critical national initiatives.

It must be obvious to all of us now that no amount of police or military brute force can fix Jamaica. What the country needs is a return and a refocus on the values, the teachings, and the standards that served to calibrate and propel our people forward over many generations. In short, Jamaica needs Jesus Christ.

With love,

bab2609@yahoo.com