Among Richmond’s ghosts, I discovered grace — and a deeper faith in freedom
The sun beats down as I walk the Richmond Slave Trail in Virginia. I've been walking across America, raising funds and awareness for Project H.O.O.D. to build opportunities in Chicago's forgotten neighborhoods. But today, in the former capital of the Confederacy, this walk feels different. As I trace the path where enslaved Africans were marched in chains toward auctions and anguish, I feel that I am walking with ghosts and grace, and I have been thinking about God more deeply and intensely.
Richmond is a city of ironic and historical conflicts. Once the heartbeat of division, where the Confederacy plotted to preserve slavery, I now walk its streets, a Black pastor from the South Side of Chicago marching for unity and hope. My walk isn't about erasing the past — it’s about moving on from it, one prayerful step at a time.
The Slave Trail winds along the James River, past the lots where slave pens once stood, through areas where human beings were bought and sold like cattle. Those enslaved ancestors didn't choose their march; it was forced upon them in iron shackles. My walk is voluntary, but it's no less a battle against modern chains: poverty, government dependency, violence, and hopelessness.
As Galatians 5:1 declares, "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free." The first freedom battle was physical slavery; today's is spiritual, economic and educational bondage. Project H.O.O.D. is part of that modern emancipation from devastating liberal policies – breaking cycles so our children walk toward opportunity.
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Scripture has been my constant companion on this road, turning miles into meditation. Like Abraham in Genesis 12:1-4, God told him, "Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you." Sometimes, walking in faith means trusting God with the next mile, not the whole map. I stepped out from Chicago without knowing every detail, believing faith would reveal the path. Every blister, every mile, is faith in motion.
Then there's Joshua at Jericho (Joshua 6:1-20). God commanded him to march around the city for seven days, and on the seventh, the walls collapsed. Joshua’s walk wasn’t about distance, but about obedience and endurance. Some walls don’t fall by shouting – they fall by steady steps of faith. Here in Richmond, I think of those enslaved people who trudged these trails in silence, enduring for a freedom they might never see. They yearned for freedom in a way that should shame those in my Chicago neighborhood who are free and yet choose not to exploit this gift fully.
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On the Road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35), the disciples walked in confusion after the crucifixion until "Jesus himself came up and walked along with them." I started this walk to raise money, but along the way, I’ve been raising faith – because I keep meeting Christ on the road. In strangers' smiles, in locals sharing stories of Richmond's progress, Jesus joins me. One elderly woman, a granddaughter of slaves, walked a block with me. "You're walking for us all," she said. In that moment, the journey revealed Him.
Paul’s missionary journeys (Acts 13-21) remind me that this is a calling. "And so we too have been called to bring this good news to others" (Acts 13:47). Paul walked through persecution to plant hope. I’m walking through my weakness to build opportunities. The road was rough for him – shipwrecks, beatings – but divine. But like Psalm 23:4, "Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me." I’ve walked through shadows and silence, but never alone. God's rod and staff – His presence – steady me with each step.
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Hebrews 12:1-2 urges, "Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus." Though it says "run," the spirit is endurance. I’m not racing for records – I’m walking for redemption. The ground beneath Richmond remembers both bondage and freedom – and it calls this generation to choose which voice we’ll follow.
The trail through Richmond is the road to revival. As 2 Chronicles 7:14 says, "If my people who are called by my name…" will humble themselves and pray. If Richmond can change – from auction blocks to avenues of freedom – so can America’s struggling neighborhoods. But revival starts one step, one prayer, one heart at a time.
As I leave the Slave Trail, my legs are weary, but my spirit is soaring. The slaves who marched here didn’t just endure — they prophesied. Their unbroken faith declared that one day their children’s children would walk these same streets in freedom, trading iron chains for opportunity.
I walk with them, for them, and for every child in Chicago who deserves the opportunity to discover their purpose in life. After all, freedom begins when a purpose is born.