Luke 7: 18-23

John Lewis’s memoir is titled Walking With the Wind. The title comes from an incident in his childhood when lovely summer day turned into a fierce storm. "About fifteen of us children were outside my aunt Seneva’s house, playing in her dirt yard,” he wrote. Aunt Seneva gathered them inside the little shotgun house. Their laughter and play had given way to quiet terror. The wind howled, the rains pounded, and the house began to shake, then to sway, and the wooden floor boards upon which they stood began to bend. “And then,” he wrote, “a corner of the room started lifting up…This storm was actually pulling the house toward the sky” with all of them inside. Aunt Seneva instructed the kids line up and hold hands and to walk together toward the corner of the room that was rising. Back and forth they went from the kitchen to the front, “walking with the wind, holding that trembling house down with the weight of [their] small bodies.” Lewis reflects, “More than half a century has passed since that day, and it has struck me more than once over those many years that our society is not unlike the children in that house, rocked again and again by the winds of one storm or another, the walls around us seeming at times as if they might fly apart.” “It seemed that way in the 1960s, at the height of the civil rights movement, when America itself felt as if it might burst at the seams—so much tension, so many storms...