We cannot unsee what God calls us to witness

We have seen some things. Not secondhand. Not in a textbook. We saw it. We witnessed it. And once you have seen it, there are some things you cannot unsee.

In 1955 — seventy-one years ago this month — a fourteen-year-old boy named Emmett Till traveled from Chicago to Mississippi to visit family. Accused of offending a white woman, he was kidnapped, beaten, mutilated and lynched. His mother, Mamie Till, made a decision that shook the world. She demanded an open casket. She said, “Let the world see what they did to my boy.” Mamie Till understood a spiritual truth before it ever reached a pulpit. Seeing creates accountability. Witnessing demands a response. The Civil Rights Movement was not sparked by theory. It was ignited by what could not be unseen.

Mamie Till needed a witness. God still needs a witness.

Exodus tells us that one day, after Moses had grown up, he went out to his own people. Scripture says he went out to his own people. Do not let the palace fool you. Do not let the car fool you. Do not let the job fool you. Kissed by nature’s sun, Moses knew where he came from. I thank God for my degrees, opportunities to travel, and the chance to attend prestigious institutions. But I know who I am. Proximity to whiteness and privilege does not have to define us.

Moses had seen suffering before. Yet something about that day hit differently. He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew. Folks say Moses snapped. No. Scripture says he looked this way and that way. That means intentional. Deliberate. Calculated. He looked left. He looked right. Here is the problem: Moses never looked up. Sincere motive. Right desire. No submission. Sincerity without submission is dangerous. Highest intentions. No prayer. No waiting. No discernment.

Here is the truth: when we follow God’s plan God’s way, we avoid emotional and professional setbacks. Rush God and you invite a divine setback. One moment cost Moses forty years in the wilderness — healing from something he never processed.

Now let us tell the truth. If we are going to build a more just and compassionate culture that is trauma-informed, we have to begin asking different questions. We keep asking, “What is wrong with you?” The real question is, “What happened to you?” Trauma shapes behavior. Oppression, abuse, unchecked emotions. Family, we too often spiritualize what God is trying to heal. Moses hid the body in the sand. Hiding for purpose differs from hiding for cover. Privilege does not erase pain. Degrees do not heal wounds. Corner offices do not fix broken places.

Trauma pushes us to control. Control leads away from God’s purpose. The death of trust. The death of credibility. The delay of your calling for a season. When Moses tried to advocate for his people again, the people said, “Who do you think you are?” You have no right to show up here now with any authority. Translation: we know your story. How can the community trust you now?

God values maturity more than tenure. At some point you have to grow up. You can grow older and never grow up. Let me say that again: have you grown up or only grown older? Moses was educated, refined and polished. He was raised in the palace. He was upper middle class before middle class had a name. Degree. Job. Benefits. Protocol. He knew culture, power, systems, strategy, science, medicine, law and the arts. Moses needed maturity before truly making an impact on the community.

Moses had to heal in Midian. Bleak. Barren. Hot. Sand. Gravel. Rock. All that striving failed him. When he reached the end of himself, God provided a well. Healing happens there. Wherever you find yourself today, God will provide a well and heal you there — if you are willing to sit by the well.

We cannot unsee Emmett Till. We cannot unsee the trauma carried in Black bodies. We cannot unsee injustice. Yet hear the good news. God restores. God heals. God redeems. God transforms. If you have seen God do it before, you know God can do it again. Go sit by a well and let God heal your trauma so that you can join us as we seek to heal our world.

The Reverend Dr. Anthony L. Riley serves as the 14th Pastor of the historic Central Baptist Church of St. Louis, the 2nd oldest Black church in St. Louis.

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