From Psalm 81:16 comes the promise to a people of being fed by honey out of the rock. Honey – an ancient substance, sweet and nurturing. Rock – an elemental strength, enduring the winds of time. The metaphor of sweet honey in the rock captures completely these African American women whose repertoire is steeped in the sacred music of the Black church, the clarion calls of the civil rights movement, and songs of the struggle for justice everywhere.
I've never really been a person who falls prey to road rage. Sure, I have my moments when I can't tolerate the "idiot" driver in front of me or I feel the need to shoot a menacing glare at the "dumb-ass" that just cut me off, but for the most part, I'm not an angry driver. I have plenty of other things that regularly piss me off. Frankly, I don't have room to add many more instigators of frustration, annoyance, and irritability.
That said, I'm finding my rage levels spiking upward more and more as the school year progresses. Every morning from roughly 7:15 a.m. to 7:50 a.m. as I traverse Lincoln roadways across the city to Southeast High School and then back across the city to my workplace, it seems as if my blood pressure rises higher, my mouth starts spewing the nastiest of phrases more frequently, and my "you're really pissing me off" game face gets pulled out used more often.
In no way am I proud of this. In fact, I pretty much hate it. I hate being a passenger in a vehicle where the person behind the wheel lets every little frustrating incident be the cause of an inflammatory reaction. I hate that people's emotions are so quickly manipulated and played when they're behind the wheel. What the hell is it about driving that induces the Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde phenomenon, turning a normally pleasant person into a barbarian? It's as if you can see the horns and claws come out. It's a wolfman transformation. It's ugly and scary and sometimes brutal.
Literally, I'm physically starting to notice the toll the stress of driving in bumper-to-bumper morning traffic, coupled with my growing intolerance for little ole' lady drivers, is having on my psyche. By 7:59 a.m. I'm ready to beat someone's ass. Anyone. This morning was no different.
Thank the sweet,sweet Lord for Sweet Honey In The Rock. This beautiful band of ladies came to my rescue just when I need it rescuing today, providing sweet, sweet salvation. Pretty much at the time I was ready to go to work banding my forehead against the steering wheel to relieve the pain mounting inside my anger-filled, throbbing skull, I heard these incredible words come pouring out of my car speakers, delivered in a heaven-sent, a cappella, spine-tingling, mind-altering, soul-pacifying, rage-reducing touch of brilliance in the form of "I"m Gon' Stand":
I just can't tolerate racism.
I just can't tolerate injustice.
I just won't tolerate exploitation.
What you going to do?
I'm gon' stand.
I'm gon' stand.
I'm gon' stand.
Yeah.
Divine intervention? Heavens, yes. Suddenly, the lion was tamed. The beast was soothed. I was a changed man. A calmer man. I gentler man. A better man.
Damned if it doesn't take a woman to set the coarse straight. Damned if the voices of beautiful, God-fearing, faith-toting women of conviction can't make a narrow-minded, short-sided, easily-swayed man see the error in his ways.
Damned if I won't praise the power of Sweet Honey In The Rock from now until eternity.
Want to feel the power yourself?
Take a listen yourself here.
Buy the song here.
See the influence it's had on others here.
Praise to sweet honey.
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