It was Wednesday night and nine lovely people of faith had gathered together for Bible study in perhaps the most historic Black church in all of the United States. They were all remarkable individuals who had done so much with their lives and yet they often paused to learn about the Lord Whom they so loved above all else. They were pillars of their community of Charleston, South Carolina, filled with such kindness that when a stranger appeared they welcomed him into their circle. They had no fear. This was God’s house, a place of safety and refuge. 

For an hour they read from their Bibles and spoke of the glory of God. He truly lived in their hearts. They were so busy but always Jesus Christ was at the very center of who they were. They were an interesting group whose ages spanned several decades. When they came together none of their differences mattered. They were all God’s children. 

The Reverend Clementa Pickney was an accomplished man, both a pastor and a State Senator. He had become a pastor at the age of eighteen and at twenty three one of the youngest people ever to be elected as a State Representative. At the age of forty one he was well known and highly respected by all who knew him. He was a father of two and a leader. Even as he had become ever more prominent he had never forgotten the importance of maintaining his relationship with God. The young stranger in their midst had chosen to sit next to Reverend Pickney that night perhaps because he exuded such charisma and sincerity.

The Reverend Sharonda Singleton, a forty five year old parishioner, was also there. She was a mother, a speech therapist and a track coach at one of the local high schools. She was well known for the radiant smile that she always shared with anyone that she met. She loved people and had spent all of her adult life spreading the Gospels by example.

Tywanza Sanders was only 26. He had barely begun his life after graduating with a degree in Business Administration at Allen University. He was quiet and studious and even though he had great dreams of a stellar career he somehow found the time to pause long enough each week to join in the Bible study.

 Ethel Lee Lance was seventy years old. She had been a member of the church for over thirty years and served faithfully as a sexton. She had children and grandchildren who loved her and doted on her. Known as “Granny,” she was the glue that held her family together. Her love for them was as unconditional as her love for God.

Cynthia Hurd, age fifty four, had worked for the Charleston Public Library for over thirty one years. She had risen to the position of Regional Manager. So many people knew her sweet nature and her radiant smile. She was a giving person who was not only helpful to the thousands of individuals who had sought her assistance in navigating through the maze of books but also to those in need of corporal works of mercy.

Reverend Daniel L. Simmons, Sr. was a retired pastor. At the age of seventy he was enjoying life at a more relaxing pace. He attended services at the church every Sunday and loved the Bible studies on Wednesday nights. He had a beautiful face with eyes that were lit up with the spirit of God and a smile that came from a lifetime of faith.

Reverend DePayne Middleton Doctor was forty nine. Her eyes fairly danced with the happiness that she derived from being such an open and loving person. Her smile reflected the wisdom and compassion that she bore in her heart. 

Myra Thompson was quiet and unassuming. At fifty nine she had found light and truth in those times when she joined like minded people who understood the importance of learning about God and His infinite goodness. This was a special time of the week for her.

The oldest member of the group was Susie Jackson. At eighty seven she had witnessed so very much. She had grown up in the Jim Crow south. She had once been denied an equal education and had known the humbling experience of segregation. She had endured racism and hatred and yet she was at peace here among the members of this very special gathering. Her hair had grown white and she understood that at her age her time left on this earth might be quite limited but she was ready because she carried Jesus in her heart.

There among this amazing assembly of blessed souls was a twenty one year old white boy with a troubled face that spoke of anger and resentment. He sat quietly at first. Nobody could have imagined what he was thinking or what he was planning. He would later say that everyone was so kind that he had second thoughts about carrying out his self imposed mission but ultimately he did not have the character nor the morals of the people that he had chosen for his horrific deed. He was a coward who had come to slaughter innocents, a sociopath who did not care about anyone but himself. In the end he caught the unsuspecting victims by surprise when he took a gun from the fanny pack that he carried on his belt. He shot them one by one, leaving at least one woman to tell the story of what had happened and then he fled into the night.

I will not name him for he does not deserve the honor. He had accomplished nothing in his life even though he had many opportunities to do so. He was lazy and selfish and had somehow become filled with hate and venom. He had spent his days taking drugs and playing video games and mowing lawns to support himself. For months he had planned this murder spree in his demented mind. He had spewed racial commentary and had appointed himself to be the catalyst for the beginning of a race war. 

In the end he was just a narrow minded little man who embarrassed and disgusted the white people that he sought to represent. He didn’t even have enough courage to kill himself as he had vowed to do. He was captured quickly because even his friends and members of his family hated what he had done and did not waver in identifying him. At a hearing he faced the loved ones of the people that he had slaughtered. In an incredible display of love they one by one forgave him for the horror that he had inflicted. He showed no emotion as he listened to their words of peace. 

I surely hope that none of us will give this terrible person what he wanted to accomplish. We must all follow the remarkable example of the families of the dearly departed brothers and sisters who died at this terrorist’s hands. We should all love each other and bury the hatred of racism insofar as is possible in a world where evil still lurks. We must talk with our children. We need to take down the flags and the images that represent division and hate. We need to come together and to always remember not the hate filled stranger who brought down the lives of God’s most loving children but those beautiful souls who were martyrs for their faith. They died only because of the color of their skin. They now rest with their Lord in a heavenly home that they earned while here among us on this earth. Theirs are the names and the lives that we must celebrate and memorialize forever. They died for all of us. They died to remind us to love. Let us never forget.