Dharius Daniels - I'M A Savage

The Book of Kings, Second Kings, Chapter 5, beginning at verse 1. This is what it says, everybody: it says, «Now Naaman was a commander of the army of the king of Aram. He was a great man in the sight of his master and highly regarded because through him the Lord gave victory to Aram. He was a valiant soldier; listen, it is true, but he had leprosy. Now bands of raiders from Aram had gone out and taken captive a young girl from Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, 'If only my master would see the prophet in Samaria, he will cure him of his leprosy.' Naaman went to his master and told him what the girl from Israel had said. 'By all means, go, ' the king said. 'I will send a letter to the king of Israel.' So Naaman left, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of clothing. The letter that he took to the king of Israel read, 'With this letter, I am sending my servant Naaman to you, so that you may cure him of his leprosy.' Wherever you are, I want to talk today from this topic as we begin the first lesson in this series of sermons called Hidden Figures. I want to talk from this topic: I’m a savage. Family, allow me to make a statement in this introduction that I believe summarizes this series. Here it is: Write it down, take a picture, type it out: The success of the people you do see is often a result of the contributions of people you don’t see. I’m going to say that one more time. Catch this: The success of the people you do see is often the result— the consequence— of the contributions of people you don’t see. The people who make the greatest impact are often the ones who get the least recognition; they are hidden figures. This film powerfully portrays this reality. This film, released in 2016 and called Hidden Figures, exposes the accomplishments of some Black female mathematicians who worked for NASA during the space race. The space race was an unspoken competition between the United States and the Soviet Union to determine who would be the first to achieve space flight capacity. One of these female mathematicians was a brilliant and beautiful Black sister named Katherine Johnson, and she calculated the flight trajectories for the first human space flight program. Watch this: The men who got into space received the credit, but it was women like Katherine Johnson who made the contribution. Are you hearing what I’m saying? The men who got into space were famous, but the women who figured out how to get them there were great. And please don’t confuse greatness with fame. Now, can you be famous and great? Absolutely. Jesus, in his day, was famously unequivocal. When five thousand women and children come and sit on grass to listen to you talk with no mic, you’re famous. When you can stand in the middle of a boat with no microphone, you’re famous. When you try to go to the other side, and people run behind you trying to get to you, you’re famous. So yes, you can be famous and great, but everybody great is not famous, and everybody famous is not great. Some greatness is couched within hidden figures. The astronauts— I’m going to see if anybody’s going to talk back to me in your living room—if I’m teaching already, somebody put 'preach' in the chat right now and add exclamation points if you mean it! If you’re the type of person that will say it like you mean it in church, say it like that in the chat! If you can do hearts, do hearts—hearts are the new hallelujah! But if I’m teaching, say 'preach.' Listen to this, y’all—don’t miss this: The astronauts were able to go higher because of the help of a woman. And as I reflected on this reality, I had a revelation: what these hidden figures did for the astronauts, the women in my life did for me. Oh, the success of whatever it is that you think you may see is only the result of the contributions of women you didn’t see. There are some heights I wouldn’t have reached if it weren’t for some hidden figures in my life. When I think about seasons in my life—listen to this—when I think about seasons in my life where I needed encouragement, consolation, and comfort, I got some of that from hidden figures. And I believe that this reality exposes something that is countercultural, uncomfortable, and unsettling that we need to lean into, but it’s true. There are some heights—oh, I’m about to get in trouble, but it’s the truth, so I’m standing right here with it. I’m not moving; I don’t apologize. I already said it, and I don’t apologize. Here it is: There are some heights we cannot reach in our culture, some heights we cannot attain in our communities—come on, Daniels, some heights we cannot accomplish in our churches—until we lose the hidden figures. We’ve got to lose the lionesses if we are going to reach our redemptive potential. We don’t want to talk about this because our theology has been perverted with patriarchy, and all of a sudden, when the tables are flipped, we don’t know what to do. We expect every woman to learn from every man in the Bible, but when the script flips, we don’t expect men to have to learn from women in the Bible. Oh, I’m getting in trouble now, but I don’t apologize. Yes, if a woman can learn from David, then a man can learn from Esther.