“One has not only a legal, but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws.” Martin Luther King Jr.
They’ve slapped labels on me like cheap neon signs: they call me a bigot, a liar, and a fool.. Let ’em sayeth I. Every jab just proves I’m still standing tall in the shadow of the Big Man upstairs. I don’t deal in lies, I play it fair even when the punches fly and I don’t bend for any tyrant. The Good Book says if this crooked world turns on you for His sake, don’t sweat it, they threw the first punch at Him, too.
I’ll be straight with you: when respectful petitioning the redress of grievances didn’t pay off, my respect for the badge went down the drain along with justice. The injustice kept coming, but I knew damn well there’d be consequences. Standing up for truth, for what’s right, leaves a target on your back. I knew there’d be a price to pay and I’m still paying it. But i ain’t spent a single night cursing the Almighty for the heat… how could I, when He already told me the narrow path is the one paved with thorns?
I’d be a liar playing a dirty tune if I said I enjoyed the bruises it’s left on my soul, but I’ve come to terms with the weight of it and to quote Giles Corey, “More Weight!” I’m still walkin’ through the furnace; they cut me off from the world, laid hands on me, hunted me across state lines, and picked my pockets until I was left with nothing but the clothes on my back more often than a crooked dealer counts cards. I’ve been cleaned out more times than I can count on my fingers. It’s been a heavy blow, sure, but it’s all just junk. I’ve come to see the grit in the suffering as a badge of honor.
The world keeps throwin’ punches, the shadows keep creepin’ in yet every day I’m sending up my timbers… nobody’s stealing my soul, it’s already bought and paid for by the Blood of the Lamb. I still shell out the smokes, I still drop the change, I still play chauffeur to the lost souls. They can try to break me, but I’m still standing tall with the Big Man upstairs, and no one can strip that away. If it ends with a bullet in my dome or a knife in my back, so be it. My soul’s got a permanent lease; this body’s just another material possession which this world shall one day reclaim.