A Mustard Seed

On June 17^th, 2015, there was a Bible Study being held at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church. After someone began praying, Dylan Roof pulled out a gun, aiming it at Susie Jackson. Her nephew, 26-year-old Tywana Sanders, tried to calm him down and asked why he was attacking the churchgoers. Roof replied, “I have to do it. You rape our women and you’re taking over our country. And you have to go.” Once Roof said he intended to shoot them all, Sanders dove in front of Jackson and was the first person shot. Roof began firing at other members of church, reloading his gun 5 times. Sanders’s mother and his five-year-old niece, who also attended the study, survived the shooting by pretending to being dead on the floor. The victims say he spared one woman (aside from the two he didn’t know survived). Her name was Polly Sheppard. He asked her, “Did I shoot you?” She said, “No.” He replied, “Good, ‘cause we need someone to survive, because I’m gonna shoot myself, and you’ll be the only survivor. He put the gun to his own head, pulled the trigger, but discovered he was out of ammunition. Before leaving the church, he made another racially inflammatory statement over the victims bodies.

               I found myself outside of Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church. It was a church founded by free and enslaved Blacks in 1816. It’s the oldest AME church in the south. There were two other violent attacks performed here. In 1818, white officials raided the church and arrested 140 members and subjected them to fines and lashings. In 1822, the church was burned down, and 35 men were executed for their involvement in a slave revolt plot.

               Right here, right now, there was nothing going on. There was so much peace. So much acceptance of what the blacks are doing to our people. And I must do something about it.

               I pushed the church door open and it creaked as I did so. There were 11 members who sat across the pews. I knew the guy up front in center. Clementa C. Pinckney was the pastor of the church. I’d seen him before.

               “Welcome young man. What’s your name?” Pastor Pinckney asked.

               “Dylan. Dylan Roof.” I replied.

“Well welcome. We were just reading Matthew 17 if you wanted to find your way there. We’re-”

“I’d like to sit next to you.” I interrupted.

“Sure, why not.” He said.

While I made my way up front next to him, he continued.

“We’re at verse 20, right after Jesus casts out a demon after the disciples could not. It reads, ‘So Jesus said to them, ‘Because of your unbelief; for assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you. However-’’”

               “That’s simply untrue.” I stated.

               Pastor Pinckney glanced over at me.

               “What?” He asked.

               “I said that’s simply untrue. No one can move a mountain.”

               “Well sure, but also no. Jesus is saying that with faith, anything is possible. So, if you have faith even the size of a mustard seed, you can have such a powerful impact.”

               “So, you can move a mountain if you believe you can?” I crossed my arms.

               “I don’t see why not. All it takes is faith.” This older lady in the crowd said.

               I flopped back in my chair, annoyed. Of course, they believe that stuff.

               “Before we go into a deeper meaning of the scripture, let us pray. Sister Jackson, will you pray over this Bible Study please?”

               “Of course, Pastor. Let us all bow our heads.” The older lady said.

               Everyone did as she said, but I didn’t. I wanted to see them, each person before I shot them all.

               “Dear Heavenly Father, I pray that you would bless this Bible Study. Allow for us to hear from you and to have a clear understanding of your word. Thank you for bringing us here safely to fellowship with you Lord God. I pray that you would give us safe travels on our way home later. Th- “

               “James 4:14.” I interrupted.

               Everyone opened their eyes to look at me.

               “Excuse me?” Ms. Jackson asked.

               “James 4:14 is saying tomorrow isn’t promised. What if the next 5 minutes aren’t promised?”

               “They aren’t.” Pastor Pinckney said. “Nothing is promised to us. But we sure are believing in God to give us that time. And if he doesn’t, then it is well with my soul.”
               I reached down in my boot and pulled a handgun out. At first, I just looked at it, flipping it around in my hands. I looked up at the pastor, then the members of the church.

               “How much faith do you have that I won’t shoot all of you right now? Do you have faith the size of a mustard seed in that?” I mocked.

               “I do.” Ms. Jackson said.

               And she sounded confident in her answer too. It made me laugh. She’s so ignorant. They all are.

               “Well, you can be first then.”
               “Wait.” This guy quickly stood up. “Don’t shoot her please. This is my 87-year-old auntie. Why would you want to hurt her?”

               “I don’t just want to hurt her; I want to hurt all of you. If I could, I would hurt every black person in the world.”
               “But why? We haven’t done anything wrong.”
               “Black people are killing white people every day on the street, and they are raping white women. What I’m gonna do is so minuscule to what they’re doing to white people every day all the time.”

               “But we haven’t done any of that. Why attack our church?”

               “Don’t you get it? This is such an important place in black history. So many black ‘legends’ walked these grounds. This will shake the world. It might even start a race war.”

               The guy shook his head which only made me angrier. Does he think he can stop me?

               I placed my finger over the trigger and right before I pulled it, I heard speaking. Well not exactly speaking, but prayer. And I had no clue what he was saying, but I knew what he was doing. Pastor Pinckney was speaking in tongues. And people consider this a form of intercessory prayer. These people genuinely think they can stop me. That their faith in a fake God can stop me.

“You have lost your mind.” I laughed. “You all have lost your minds. You want something to pray about? I’ll give you something to pray about.”
               Pointing the gun back at Ms. Sanders, I pulled the trigger. But she didn’t flinch, and a bullet didn’t come out.

So, I pointed the gun at Pastor Pinckney (who was still praying) and pulled the trigger. Still, no bullet came out.

And standing right here right now, I had a revelation. God is real. Because I know this gun was loaded. And I know they both should’ve gotten shot. But they didn’t. And I believe it was because of that prayer and because of that lady’s faith. Maybe it was the size of a mustard seed. But hey, it was enough.

Then the church doors burst open and five cops came rushing in.

“Everybody get down!” The officer shouted.

So I dropped my gun. And I realized what the officers would now think. That I was the suspect. But in reality, I’m just trying to save my people.

The officers made their way up to me and slammed me to the ground. I felt their knees in my back as they pinned my arms behind me.

It felt hard to breathe, but I didn’t care.

“Oscar Grant.” I struggled to get out.

One cop closed the left handcuff around my wrist.

“You’re under arrest. Everything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law.”

“Michael Brown.”

They closed the right handcuff tightly around my other wrist.

“Kill them. Keep killing black people. Take them off the streets.” I told the cops.

But what I didn’t expect was to be charged with a hate crime. And then attempted manslaughter. Technically the bullet didn’t even come out, so it wasn’t fair. All I wanted to do was keep our white women safe. But they don’t care. Which was weird, because we all know they don’t care about blacks either. But this is what they’ll do to stop them from rioting. They know the danger that comes with their kind. I just happened to be the sacrifice.

Works Consulted