(The people of Jena, many in fear of the unknown, await the arrival of an angry nation who have no idea who we are.)

Many people of the small town of Jena, Louisiana, are locking in for tomorrow's coming storm. This time it isn't a hurricane from the Gulf of Mexico or a tornado from the west: It's a whirlwind of judgment from the four corners of America. Even as I type these words, buses all over America are rolling south, redounding with chants and songs, destined for what has become America's poster child for racism, our quaint little town of Jena. Our citizens do not understand the fuss. We don't comprehend how an entire country has turned on us like this. We don't recognize the community we see on television. We gaze at one another, opened mouth, wondering just how far this thing could go. Rumors of race battles between the Black Panthers and the KKK abound. Talk of "burning this town to the ground" has made its way into the ears of our citizens. Moms, dads, grandmothers and grandfathers wonder how to tell their children there is nothing to fear, but they can see it in our eyes and in the tones of our voices. Fear of the unknown is always overwhelming. President Roosevelt's famous quote about "nothing to fear but fear itself" comes to mind.

Tonight there was a community prayer meeting in Jena at the First Baptist Church. Christians from across this town, from every denomination, both black and white, gathered together to pray for our community. To pray that nothing bad happens to the thousands of sojourners on the long, winding roads America is traveling to tell us personally how outraged they are with us. To pray for law enforcement officers who will lay their lives on the line to protect both citizens and demonstrators tomorrow in the searing heat of Louisiana. The media did not film us at the church house. They were busy at the court house. And that is fine with us.

When America leaves our town tomorrow, feeling good about itself for sacrificing our tiny community for its own sin of racism, we pray that it will address the bigotry and prejudice in their own cities, slums, and burrows. Tomorrow is doomsday to many of the people of Jena. Our prayer tonight was that it become a day of rebirth. That the thousands who visit our town will leave feeling differently about us than they did yesterday. And that the divisions wrought from all the attention poured upon our town will give us a bit of self-reflection as well.