When Calling Interrupts Comfort
In February of 1960, Clarence Jones was living the dream. A recent graduate of an Ivy League law school, Jones and his new wife made the long trek from New York to southern California, where they bought their dream home just north of downtown Los Angeles. I can see him now as he pulls into the driveway after a long day at the law firm he was recruited to. He walks in, kisses his wife, makes himself a drink, and then kicks back as he gazes at the palm tree growing in the middle of his home (yes, that was a plus for him…who knew?). And then there’s a knock on the door. Jones gets up to answer, and staring up at him is Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the up-and-coming leader of the Civil Rights Movement. Clarence calls him in, and after some small talk, King gets right to the point. Turns out nonviolent protests look great on paper, until you begin to get into the legalities of it all. A lot of people going to jail with no money for bail or legal representation was a burden neither he nor anyone in his orbit could bear. Overwhelmed, Dr. King goes on about how the movement is in need of a lawyer, and particularly a black one to lead their efforts; and it’s uncanny how every time he asks for a recommendation the name “Clarence Jones” keeps coming up. So here he is…at the home with the palm tree. Oh, one more thing, King says: while the work is clearly full time, the pay would have to be pro bono, as in nothing. Free. Zip. Nada.
I can see Clarence doing his best to contain his laughter. I mean, he had just gotten off the “struggle bus,” with years of burning the candle at both ends in undergrad and law school. Now it was his turn to reap what he had sown. This was an obvious no. No need to even bring it to his wife for discussion. After gently turning down the future Nobel prize winner several times, Clarence was invited by King to come hear him preach the upcoming Sunday at the Baldwin Hills Baptist Church. Clarence Jones agreed and told King he’d see him Sunday.
This wasn’t the best choice a person could make if they were trying to enjoy their palm tree.
Sunday comes, and Jones slips into one of the pews. Eventually Dr. King gets up to preach, and when he finished, Clarence was all in. Years later, Jones would reflect, “And from that point on, I was a Martin Luther King Jr. disciple. From that moment until the assassination on April 4, 1968, I served as Dr. King’s personal lawyer, political advisor, and draft speechwriter. It was the most important relationship I’ve ever had” (Clarence Jones, Last of the Lions. I will get the page number to you). Ever heard of King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”? That would never have seen the light of day if it wasn’t for Clarence Jones, as he took the scraps of paper King wrote on and helped to shape the document into what would become the movement’s prison epistle. Ever heard of a “little” speech King gave called “I Have a Dream”? Yep, there goes Clarence Jones again, helping to write the early drafts of what would become one of the most iconic and inspirational orations in human history. And remember all those worried Birmingham parents whose kids had been thrown into jail for protesting? There goes Jones again, standing in a bank vault with one of the Rockefellers, getting an obscene amount of money to deliver these children safely to their parents. It seemed as if every seminal moment in the struggle for equality there was Clarence standing in the shadows, masterminding the whole thing. And to think his initial reaction was to keep his feet kicked up and stare dreamily into the branches of his beloved palm tree. Dumb tree.
What moved Clarence Jones from a life of ease and indulgence to one of sacrifice was the invitation to something so much greater than himself. And this is what moved a few fishermen, a tax collector, and apprentices in the family business to abandon life as they knew it to follow an up-and-coming revolutionary named Jesus. All but one of these men would die a martyr’s death, with the other (John) spending years in exile away from home. Yet for all their struggle there’s not a trace of regret. Just the opposite—these men died full of satisfaction because they left their own palm trees of comfort for something much greater.
And then there’s you and I. Professor and author, Arianna Molloy, in her wonderful book, Healthy Calling, gives us a helpful paradigm for how we view work. For many, work is a job, an opportunity to earn revenue, to pay some bills, and eke out a living. Others have a career, putting in the time to advance up the corporate ladder. And then there’s the rare few who function out of a call. Frederick Buechner said that “The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” I like that. My dad says calling is that thing which makes you pound the table and weep. And the apostle Paul universalizes this idea of calling, applying it to all of us when he wrote of us being “God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (Ephesians 2:10).
Yeah, Clarence could have stayed on his couch and had an amazing career, but God taking him off his couch was something no amount of money could satisfy—calling. It was only when Clarence Jones linked the narrative of his life to the larger narrative of racial equality that his life took on meaning. And it’s only when we hitch our lives to the metanarrative of Jesus and the kingdom of heaven that life truly satisfies.
Bryan Loritts
For more stories like this where people and moments of black history provide spiritual insight, see Bryan’s book, Grace to Overcome: 31 Devotions on God’s Work through Black History.
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