Flamed by the Fire of Divine Love

Scripture: Psalm 39 (NIV)
Quote: “We have to consciously study how to be tender with each other until it becomes a habit.” - Audre Lorde

Image: original digital collage by Paige Ingram

Meditation:

After a violent and emotionally devastating Ramadan, spent protesting and organizing in Brooklyn Center, MN after Daunte Wright’s murder, I was consumed with anguish. I couldn’t access optimism, my body was radiating heat, and I couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t the atrocities we’ve been fighting against that kept me up at night. What kept me up at night was years of movement heartbreak and disappointment that crescendoed with the flash bombs and tear gas on the block I learned to ride a bike on.

I was raw. Our spaces felt unloving and unforgiving. I couldn’t figure out how I found myself not operating fully in my integrity. I was afraid of leadership. I experienced betrayal with Black people that led me to question my unconditional love for us. I wondered if creating a movement culture of belonging is actually possible. Were we all just too exhausted or too traumatized, or doing the most to feed our egos to win? Who am I to be taking up leadership in building something different when I hold these sorts of thoughts? The harm that occurs in our movement spaces is overwhelming. How could I be a part of this movement when it feels increasingly difficult to hold the tension between hope and despair?

Rooted in my Sufi theology, when I read from our Psalm, “My heart grew hot within me. While I meditated, the fire burned,” I leaned in on a cellular level. So often when I was experiencing something soul stirring and inspiring the anguish would set in all over again. I misunderstood that anguish as a negative side effect or a punishment for doing the “wrong” thing. The anguish was an agitation to recognize the truths within me not reflective in the forms I was taking in my relationships. I distinctly remember sobbing while listening to Dr. Gwendolyn Zoharah Simmons talk about how necessary love is in activism. I squirmed in the anguish of straddling the gap between the lack of care I felt in movement and my profound desire to be a person with deep, deep love for the people. The anguish that was rising up inside of me gave me information about some of my deepest motivations. This cycle happened again and again. What if the anguish I was experiencing was flamed by the fire of Divine Love?

David took a new form, seeking wisdom from outside of himself as opposed to telling off his opposition or by defending his righteousness. He sought out perspective by understanding just how short life is. With another Ramadan upon us in a week, I have committed to taking on new forms embodying risk, vulnerability, and embracing imperfection. I run towards those who are committed to co-creating what it takes to root us deeper than the vanity of our short lives. adrienne maree brown reminds us that we’re never actually doing something on our own. Our practices and experiments are “in relationship to a long lineage of people who’ve done this, and hopefully ahead of people who will do this.”

Song: “TRY” by Madison McFerrin

Reflection Questions:

1. What lessons does your body have to teach you?

2. What new forms can you take on?

3. Who can you ask explicitly to be a part of your constellation of practice?

Call to Action

Do the Lorde’s work: Ask someone, explicitly, to be in the practice of studying “how to be tender with each other until it becomes a habit.”

About the Author

Paige Ingram (she/her) is a Muslim abolitionist and reparationist based in Minneapolis. She is a Contemplative Movement Builder, Facilitator, and Artist.

Stay connected to Paige:

Website: www.impaige.com

IG and Twitter: @seriouslypaige

FB: Paige Ingram

These Black Lent devotionals were originally curated by IG: goodneighbormovement.