The year is 1968. The place: Memphis, Tennessee. Elvis Presley is living at Graceland with his wife Priscilla and newborn daughter Lisa Marie. He is glorying in the Grammy he has just won for his second gospel album, How Great Thou Art. In the minds of many, he is "The King."

But in March of that year, another King comes to town. The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., travels to Memphis to lead a march in support of city sanitation workers. These 1,300 workers, most of whom are black, have been on strike for safer working conditions, higher wages, and equal treatment. Unfortunately, several militant groups turn the march violent, and King announces over a bullhorn to the crowd, "I will never lead a violent march, so please, call it off." He promises to come back to Memphis in early April to lead a march that is nonviolent.

King returns to Memphis on April 3, 1968. Several death threats have been directed at King, and tension is high, but he feels that it is important to press ahead and speak at a rally on behalf of the sanitation workers. In the course of this address, which turns out to be the last speech he will ever give, he tells the story of an earlier attempt on his life, one that brought him perilously close to death. According to Ralph Abernathy, his friend and successor, Martin Luther King stood up that night and just "preached out" his fear.

[Phil Beauchene stands and offers this speech as a dramatic reading]

You know, several years ago, I was in New York City autographing the first book that I had written. And while sitting there autographing books, a demented black woman came up. The only question I heard from her was, "Are you Martin Luther King?"

And I was looking down writing, and I said yes. And the next minute I felt something beating on my chest. Before I knew it I had been stabbed by this demented woman. I was rushed to Harlem Hospital. It was a dark Saturday afternoon. And that blade had gone through, and the X-rays revealed that the tip of the blade was on the edge of my aorta, the main artery. And once that's punctured, you drown in your own blood, that's the end of you.

It came out in the New York Times the next morning, that if I had sneezed, I would have died. [Some time] after the operation, after my chest had been opened and the blade taken out, they allowed me to move around ... and to read the mail that had come in from all over the states and the world. Kind letters had come in. I read a few, but one I will never forget. I had received telegrams from the President and Vice President, but I have forgotten what those messages said. I received a visit and a letter from the Governor of New York, but I forgot what was said.

But there was another letter, that came from a ... young girl at the White Plains High School. And I looked at that letter, and I will never forget it. It said simply, "Dear Dr. King: I am a ninth-grade student at the White Plains High School." She said, "While it should not matter, I would like to mention that I am a white girl. I read in the paper of your misfortune, and of your suffering. And I read that if you had sneezed, you would have died.

And I'm simply writing to you to say that I'm so happy that you didn't sneeze." And I want to say tonight, I want to say that I [too] am happy that I didn't sneeze. Because if I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been around here in 1960, when students all over the South started sitting-in at lunch counters. And I knew that as they were sitting in, they were really standing up for the best in the American Dream. ...

If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been around in 1962, when Negroes in Albany, Georgia, decided to straighten their backs up. And whenever men and women straighten their backs up, they are going somewhere, because a man can't ride your back unless it is bent. ...

If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been here in 1963, when the black people of Birmingham, Alabama aroused the conscience of this nation, and brought into being the Civil Rights Bill.

If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have had a chance later that [same] year to tell America about a dream that I had had. If I had sneezed, I wouldn't have been in Memphis [tonight] to see a community rally around those brothers and sisters who are suffering.

I am so happy that I didn't sneeze.

[End first portion of dramatic reading]

" I am so happy that I didn't sneeze," proclaimed Martin Luther King. If he had sneezed, he wouldn't have witnessed the lunch counter sit-ins, the Civil Rights bill, the March on Washington, or the sanitation workers' strike. If he had not remained very still, very calm, and very peaceful during that attempt on his life, he would not have been part of one of the greatest movements for justice and equality that our nation has ever known.

Not that King took personal credit for his survival. He gave all the glory to God. In his autobiography he wrote, "If I demonstrated unusual calm during the attempt on my life, it was certainly not due to any extraordinary powers that I possess. Rather, it was due to the power of God working through me. Throughout this struggle for racial justice I have constantly asked God to remove all bitterness from my heart and to give me the strength and courage to face any disaster that came my way. This constant prayer life and feeling of dependence on God have given me the feeling that I have divine companionship in the struggle. I know no other way to explain it. It is the fact that in the midst of external tension, God can give an inner peace." (Martin Luther King, Jr., The Autobiography of Martin Luther King, Jr., Chapter 12: Brush with Death, www.stanford.edu/group/king/autobiography/chp_12.htm)

In the course of his life, Martin Luther King walked through many dangers, toils, and snares, but through it all he knew that God was walking with him. The Lord was his divine companion in the Civil Rights struggle, giving him the strength and the courage to face any disaster that came his way. He had the very same faith as the writer of Psalm 139, the ancient poet who said to the Lord, "You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it" (vv. 5-6).

Although life is fragile and full of danger, we can draw comfort from the knowledge that God is with us, in all that we do. In the midst of external tension, God can give an inner peace. This peace gives us courage and confidence, inspiration and insight, serenity and strength.

Most of all, this peace frees us to do God's will.

This last point is important, because divine peace doesn't necessarily protect us from pain and suffering -- it doesn't shield us from the hardship that comes from taking bold stands for the Lord in a world that so often resists his reign. In fact, in the short life of Martin Luther King, death by an assassin's bullet came just one day after his speech at the rally in Memphis.

God's companionship didn't give King long life, but it did give him inner peace. This peace enabled him to say to the Lord, along with Psalm 139, "I come to the end -- I am still with you" (v. 18). And it made all the difference in his work for racial justice.

Just think: If King had not felt inner peace, he would not have been able to organize the Montgomery bus boycott. If he had not felt God's inspiration and insight, he would not have been able to give his "I Have a Dream" speech in Washington. If he had not felt God's courage and confidence, he would not have been able to launch the major voter registration drive "Crusade for Citizenship." If he had not felt God's courage and confidence, he would not have been able to defy death threats and stand with the Memphis sanitation workers.

The Lord's peace always frees us ... frees us to do his will. It also frees us to die for what we believe in. King knew this all too well on the night before his own death.

[Phil offers second portion of dramatic reading]

It really doesn't matter what happens now. I got into Memphis this morning and [people] began to talk about the threats that were out on me ... about what might happen to me from some of our sick white brothers.

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. (Martin Luther King, Jr., "I've Been to the Mountaintop," April 3, 1968, www.drmartinlutherkingjr.com/promised.htm)

[End second portion of dramatic reading]

God does not free us from all troubles and toils, struggles and snares, stumbles and sneezes. He knows that we're bound to hit potholes along the road to the promised land, and that we'll need his presence and his power to stay on the right path.

Like Martin Luther King, we're never going to be free from adversity. But we are always free to serve our All-Powerful Lord, in every time and place and situation.

May our freedom be used to do the will of the one who is our King. Our Heavenly King. Amen.

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