For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
—Romans 8:38–39
We were blessed, we were confused, and we were headed back to Detroit. CeCe arrived first, and after a year living on my own in Charlotte, I decided to return to Detroit, as well.
Back in Detroit, I faced discord and hate of a different kind. All people are terribly contradictory—that’s the only thing I’ve found about people that remains the same. And all of us fight the contradictions in our lives. Some of us fight them until the end, and some of us learn to accept them. That’s what I tried to do once I returned to Detroit.
My fears about our new style of music were not unfounded. I nervously waited for the reaction that our music would make in our neighborhood. The news was not good. Our new record, Lord Lift Us Up, had made the rounds, and the word got out after our performances. It might have been a vocal minority, but plenty of people were angry about the songs we were singing. These songs weren’t Gospel, and, they complained, they weren’t praising God either. They were outright blasphemy. I don’t know what hurt the most, accusations coming from people I grew up singing with or from the people I didn’t know at all.
* * *
You can absolutely believe these things upset Mom and the rest of the family. She couldn’t believe that our community didn’t rally around us and our success. One minute, our neighbors were complaining that white people were trying to keep black people from succeeding, and the next, they were furious at the particular kind of success that the Winans kids had achieved. I would soon really understand that the root of most of it was jealousy. Whatever it was, they were not as open and as accepting as Mom and Dad had been. Mom and Dad loved us, loved our music, and saw the way that it gave glory to God.
But sometimes people just aren’t ready for a change. I don’t think anybody’s ready for change, including me. Change, I’ve learned, is a wonderful thing. But we become comfortable with where we live, who we hang out with, and what we do in life. Bills are paid. Life seems wonderful.
Then, all of a sudden, God says, “Time for change.”
“Have you lost your mind, God? I’m not going anywhere. Everything’s good, and this is what I prayed for. And this is what you gave to me,” we reply.
Suddenly we know more than our Heavenly Father? We know more than the one who created us? We don’t desire change, but the lyrics to the song “Everything Must Change,” by Benard Ighner, remind us that “everyone will change / no one stays the same.” That’s for sure. But an even greater certainty is this: God never changes, and He is faithful all the time.