Can these dry bones become a movement?

Langston Hughes challenged our consciousness by asking, “What happens to a dream deferred?” What results when hope, aspirations, callings, and promises are delayed, put off, postponed, or thwarted? Were they flawed expectations? Do such deferred dreams become burdensome desires that fade and never manifest, forever haunting us?

Six months after Michael Brown was fatally shot by a white police officer in Ferguson, Missouri—where I serve as a pastor—there are families still wrestling with the question, “What would have happened if...?” Since August, our nation and our humanity have had to confront the critical question of dreams deferred. Countless direct actions, judicial proceedings, investigations, religious exercises of all sorts, political pandering, burned businesses, and awkward conversations have resulted in more questions than answers—and in relatively no change. More time has been spent processing, planning, and politicking than effectuating change to the systems, leadership, and culture that gave rise to this communal crisis.  

Ezekiel 37 explores the “what if.” The bones in the valley are the remains of a community torn apart by tragedy, not unlike Ferguson. Both the dried bones and the drought-stricken landscape suggest trauma of historic portions. The scale of such devastation points to a systemic cause. It also indicates that cultural practices have perpetuated violence and an attitude that others are disposable.