A few weeks ago, InterVarsity Christian Fellowship’s Washington DC Urban Program sent student leaders from around the DC area to Corhaven for a mid-project retreat. We posted about it here. What follows is a reflection from Medina Anderson, Bowie State, ’18 and participant on the program, about her time at Corhaven this past summer. The program is called “Bridge DC”.
“I just want to let you know what we are doing this weekend so you won’t be alarmed, we’re going to a slave cemetery.” As if Bridge hasn’t been challenging enough. Honestly though I didn’t know what to expect when Kate told me this. I didn’t know what to expect since I arrived at Bridge. What I did know is if I pressed in this too would be an opportunity to see God, the love he has for his people.
The week quickly rolled by involving joys and disappointments. Friday arrived and the retreat Kate had also mentioned in the conversation on Monday was well needed. …
The retreat housing was holding up and sleep was awesome. We woke up to box cereal and bible study, Jeremiah 29:11 used in the right context. This reminded me of African Americans brought into exile as slaves. In that moment, I knew what to expect going to a slave cemetery and I was anxious, scared and mad. I did not think I could do it. I was slightly calmed when the owner of the retreat house and owner of the land where the slave cemetery was located was a white man who lived in DC and had been pursuing racial reconciliation in urban communities. We watched a quick video then, headed over to the cemetery avoiding cow poop and anticipating the upcoming thunderstorm.
During the background information presentation, I began feeling very weak. I felt like I was going to pass out. All my feelings became very physical and I had to just sit. I had to take it all in: the reality of being an African American woman whose roots are planted in the history of slavery. The reality of slavery, it was not a movie, it was not a show but, it was life, real life for my ancestors and these people who were in the grave where I was standing right next to. The grieving was as one of a close kin. The thunderstorm hit us as we closed with songs of future hope. Talking and praying with my ethnic group brought healing and comfort. In the end I felt hope. It also brought out a calling of informing African American about our history, how important it is and Jesus role in the midst of out pain. Yes, this too was another opportunity to see God and his love for his people, his love for my people. I am so thankful for Bridge and the many stories it has given me. My prayer is that Jesus can move all in this way somehow, somewhere bringing hope to the hopeless and love to all who feel unloved.