A Letter to Whiteclay.....

This has been one of our most read posts and we are reprinting it with a little updating in both text and images. Please take a moment and read the "letter" God gave me a year ago. It was all Him. I can't take credit for a single word. As Mama T (Mother Theresa) used to say..."I am a pencil in the hand of a writing God sending a love letter to the world."





Whiteclay, Nebraska is a town of approximately 14 residents and 4 liquor stores. The first oneconveniently sits 250 yards from the border of the "dry" Pine Ridge Indian Reservation; a reservation that has been shattered into a million little pieces by the ravages of alcoholism.  If Whiteclay could read...I might send it an e-mail something like this....



To: hey-i-am-not-breaking-any-laws@shame-on-you.com



Dear Whiteclay,

You don't know me...and sometimes I wish I didn't know you. But I have walked your streets, talked to your homeless, slept in your zip code, and prayed in your fields. I know you perhaps better than you know yourself. You're not fooling anyone. You fly the flag of capitalism (and when no one is looking you salute it), defending yourself all the way to the bank. In the way that matters to you, you are successful. In the way that matters to anyone who has seen you at work....you are the equivalent of
twist-off-top atomic bomb. They hand you a few dollars and you hand them destruction as complete as Hiroshima...only no one comes back to rebuild the nation.

The first time I met you, you frightened me, I'll admit it. I locked my car doors, didn't make eye contact and set my GPS to find the corner of "get me the hell out of here" and "what was I thinking?" I was kinda hoping I wouldn't run into you again, but it seemed everywhere I turned on the Pine Ridge Reservation I met people who had visited your house.  What kind of neighbor, knowing the house next door was made of flammable material, would pour gasoline on it...and light a match?  

But here's the deal. My God is here to put you on notice. I believe there are spirits in the invisible realm. I believe some are so petty that a thousand of them could fit in my shoe. I also believe some are huge, having fed themselves on injustice and evil for many generations. They have gorged on unforgiveness and fear and washed it down with hopelessness. When they open their wings they cover an entire valley....or an entire First Nation.  There is a darkness to their shadows that lingers.

But there is a renaissance afoot; a revolution marching to the beat of creativity, original language, pride, and in step with God and His Son and The Holy Spirit.  The Lakota people you have tried your best to destroy are determined to be a mighty Sioux Nation again. They are warriors. God made them that way. They know how to stand and fight and they know how to get on their knees...and fight. You are no match for the seventh generation. You are no match for the Cross....and the God of the Angel Armies. You think you are safely surrounded by the cloak of darkness that will hide you...but in reality you are surrounded by armies of light that can only be put into motion when the people pray. And the people are praying, Whiteclay. From the four directions...they are praying.

We may not be able to foreclose on your physical residence, but we can take the streets back and there is nothing you can do about. We will love you right out of the neighborhood. Feed them, clothe them, visit them....you get the picture. You tried more than once to shut down this pool of love, but we are ripping off the "Keep out" sign and jumping in the deep end. As a matter of fact your dark notoriety will be our diving board. For as surely as the world has been stunned by the sight of the shattered spirits you roll into ditches...it will have no choice but to take notice of the love that pulls them out. Our hands are raised and we are shouting His name...which from what I have come to understand means that you have to go. Shriek, howl, curse....whatever you gotta do. The shadow of the Cross has fallen across your gutters and you have to go.


Pine Ridge will be a City on a Hill...a light to show the way to other nations of First People. And you Whiteclay, the dark room that you are....will have no choice but to give way to the light. For when light enters a room...darkness has to flee. This is your notice. Consider yourself formally served.


All For Him....KC Willis

light-up-the-darkness@ordinaryclaypots.com