Living Compasses
The guides we need for these deceitful days
One of the strange dynamics experienced by people troubled by societal injustice is how efforts to seek justice, articulate visions of justice, and nurture communities of justice are perceived by many of our fellow citizens as unjust. So legal efforts to address educational inequalities through affirmative action, or an academic paradigm like Critical Race Theory that attempts to understand entrenched racial disparities, or children’s literature which aims to rectify the historical scarcity of racial representation, or corporate strategies to diversify their executive leadership are all crudely recast as reverse racism, as racism against white people. These bizarre claims of injustice, despite all evidence to the contrary, are made with a straight face, fierce determination, and, increasingly, the justifying force of the law.
Under these distorting circumstances, those who pursue justice not only face the challenges of dislodging deep-seated inequities, but the very fact of these injustices also has to be repeatedly proven. Time after time we are told we have not seen what we have, in fact, seen. That our eyes have betrayed us. That those suffering under oppressive systems are not trustworthy narrators of their own lived experiences.
To seek justice is to subject yourself to our society’s long commitment to gaslighting those who would tell the truth.
In 2025, the gaslighting has intensified. The presidential administration and its powerful allies vilify DEI, treat white South Africans as the only acceptable refugees, speak of conspiracy theories about immigrants as though they are obvious facts, ban books and censor museums which describe unflattering chapters of the nation’s history, and so on. During these months I’ve spoken with mentors and peers who’ve confessed to the toll these powerful and persistent deceptions have taken. The constant misdirections, denials of reality, and, most painfully, the quiet acquiescence by so many friends and neighbors to obvious falsehoods, all of it introduces heavy confusion.
I can’t be the only one who finds it disorienting having to so regularly justify justice.
On Thursday night I joined a group of Christians from around the country in a small Atlanta church. Our guests for the evening were J.T. Johnson and Lula Joe Williams. Mr. Johnson was an assistant to Martin Luther King, Jr. and Ralph Abernathy and one of the Southern Christian Leadership Council’s younger leaders. Ms. Lula was also a young participant in the Civil Rights Movement and became one the first female field staff workers for the SCLC. She told our group about a mass meeting in Rev. Abernathy’s Montgomery church during which a white mob surrounded the building. At one point tear gas poured into the sanctuary, choking those who’d gathered. Mr. Johnson told us about the time in 1964 when he and a few other Black protestors jumped into a whites-only hotel swimming pool in St. Augustine only to have the owner pour acid into the water to chase them away.
I’ve heard these two veterans of the freedom struggle a few times over the years and always notice the moral authority granted them by our group. Their faithful and costly witness to justice grants weight and wisdom to their words. “We marched morning, noon, and night,” Mr. Johnson recalled, “and they beat us morning, noon, and night.”
We invite Ms. Lula and Mr. Johnson to tell the stories that might otherwise be forgotten, but on Thursday they also spoke about the current moment and its many discouragements. “The writing is on the wall,” murmured Ms. Lula. And then, more forcefully and with indignation in her voice, “All the rights that we fought for – for you! – will be taken away.”
I’m writing this on Friday morning, on the bus with our group as we make our way from Atlanta to Montgomery, the next stop on our racial justice pilgrimage. Last night and again this morning I’ve noticed how the confusion and disorientation of the preceding months faded in the presence of Mr. Johnson and Ms. Lula and their testimonies. Despite the absolute barrage of misinformation which characterize these days, the truth shared by these faithful and courageous saint is powerful enough to cut through the lies.
Those who would refute our description about injustice, whether from the historical or sociological record or from the bruises and trauma of our own experiences, have behind them the power of media, finance, and government. Despite how pervasive this delusion-making is, I find myself still exhausting time and energy attempting to prove the truth about our shared reality to those who benefit from its denial. Our evening with Lula Joe Williams and J.T. Johnson has reminded me to direct my attention elsewhere.
The testimonies of these saints, rooted in the moral authority that comes with courageously confronting systems conceived in evil, is the compass we need right now. When Ms. Lula, surveying our current events, noticed that the writing is on the wall, I believe her. I trust her. Her life is a witness to the truth born of sacrificial love. When Mr. Johnson, at the end of this talk, his voice straining under his eight decades, asserted, “I don’t fear death, I just have more work to do,” I believe him and want to be a part of the work to which he plans on giving his remaining years.
The presence of these enduringly faithful elders orients us through the static and noise, past the elaborately spun falsehoods and shockingly obvious lies. Their lives are a reminder that there are still reliable guides available to us. Their words, seasoned with the conviction that some truths are worth suffering and dying for, point to the world as it is and as God intends it to be.
It’s not every day that we get to sit under the direction of people like Ms. Lula and Mr. Johnson. But there are tried and tested saints in our communities, people who are not confused by the bewildering spirit of the age. Find them, listen to them, and then act as they would were they in your shoes. There are also those whose wisdom and witness is available through their writing; I’ve been returning regularly these days to James Baldwin, Wendell Berry, Ida B. Wells, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Fannie Lou Hamer, Óscar Romero, Dorothy Day, Ivan Illich, the Old Testament prophets, and others who can clear the cobwebs from my conscience with bracing speed.
Earlier today I saw an old black and white photo of the moments before a lynching. In it, a Black man stood bound on a wood platform raised high above a white mob gathered to watch his murder. On the beams below the condemned man’s feet, someone had painted JUSTICE. Not every one of our society’s justifying lies is so demonstrably demonic, but the same devilish spirit that would describe racial terror and murder as justice is working feverishly today. There’s a reason so many of us have been feeling uncertain of our steps and strategies. Thank God, then, for the faithful saints who can still teach us to tell the truth. Thank God for the living compasses who can still show us how to live with purpose and courage no matter what sort of foolishness tomorrow brings.
(Photo credit: Andrew Neel.
The View From Here
Ms. Lula was kind enough to pause for this photo after her presentation. Should you ever be interested in joining me for one of these trips, you can learn more about the Sankofa Journey here.