A Message From The Publisher: 14 For God does speak—now one way, now another— though no one perceives it. 15 In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falls on people as they slumber in their beds, 16 he may speak in their ears and terrify them with warnings, 17 to turn them from wrongdoing and keep them from pride, 18 to preserve them from the pit, their lives from perishing by the sword. Job 33:14-18
By Bobby R. Henry, Sr. | As we step into a New Year, confused and uncertain, I can’t help but wonder—where are we truly headed? Disaster seems inevitable when we continue down this path of disregard for life and mutual respect. Wars are fought without purpose or preparation, and communities are torn apart by division. Families are pitted against the government, citizens against police. Who will emerge victorious from such chaos?
It feels as though we are stranded on a desolate island, straining our eyes for a rescue ship, only to see the ghostly figure of “The Flying Dutchman” on the horizon. Where is our hope? Where is our recovery?
I reach for hope, but it feels as fleeting as steam escaping from a turbine—intangible, searing, and elusive. Yet, the strength of my spirit, shaped by generations of resilience and ancestral determination, refuses to stop reaching. Slowly, I come to realize the hope I seek isn’t somewhere out there—it’s within me.
Still, we face a world riddled with problems: the poor can’t afford health care, and even the wealthy struggle with home insurance. People move in search of a better life, only to discover that hate and ignorance follow them. Disease, violence, and injustice seem to touch every corner of society. Homeless camps stand as stark reminders of a nation failing its most vulnerable.
Drive-by shootings, police brutality, and the heartbreaking separation of families persist like a haunting refrain. Morning after morning, the news greets us with fresh reminders of pain and suffering. Is this the America we dream of?
Our struggles have always been fertile ground for growth. Like soil that must be broken to plant a seed, adversity often paves the way for change. As I reflect on these challenges, I find comfort in the words of the poem, Mother To Son by Langston Hughes
Well, son, I’ll tell you: Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair. It’s had tacks in it, And splinters,
And boards torn up, And places with no carpet on the floor-Bare. But all the time I’se been a-climbin’ on, And reachin’ landin’s, And turnin’ corners, And sometimes goin’ in the dark Where there ain’t been no light. So, boy, don’t you turn back. Don’t you set down on the steps. ‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard. Don’t you fall now- For I’se still goin’, honey, I’se still climbin’, And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
In the spirit of the New Year, I’ve been pondering my resolutions. As I walked into my office recently, the stench of forgotten garbage struck me—a stark metaphor for the baggage we carry into each year. Cleaning out the trash took a bit of effort but was surprisingly straightforward. It made me wonder: why can’t we approach our resolutions the same way?
Resolutions, at their core, are about renewal and self-improvement. They’re an opportunity to take out the trash in our lives, clean our inner selves, and make a fresh start. My first resolution this year is to Improve my health in all that that includes, from seeking spiritual wisdom with physical strength and understanding to guide me.
On a broader scale, we all need to address the “trash” in our lives—be it bad habits, toxic relationships, or societal injustices. And if we see someone else struggling with their “trash,” let’s lend a hand with clean hearts and pure intentions.
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