Marshall, Texas: Where Hymns are Birthed from Grief and Freedom is Found Wrapped in Grace

In Marshall, Texas, the place where I grew up, art rises like a pleasing aroma to the Lord. Here, art comes up from the deep well of ancient gospel choirs, the old call-and-response of sermons, and the hands of students at Wiley College writing speeches that once challenged segregation with Holy Scripture and intellect. Here, in Harrison County, among the faded cotton plantations, art sings stories like a worshipful hymn.

You see, every story isn’t told through paragraphs, just like some truths never find their way into speeches. There are times when our deepest cries aren’t heard spoken in words, but seen painted in bold, living color, with a heartfelt rhythm, and in raw defiant silence. These stories—our stories—are heard in the brushstrokes painted in an old church basement or spoken with quiet resilience woven in a grandmother’s quilt.

You see generations of stories in the innocent painted faces of children and in the hopeful eyes of their parents at community celebrations, like Juneteenth, 4th of July, the FireAnt Festival, and the Wonderland of Lights.

In this red clay play land, art not only remembers, it reclaims. Art wonders, it hopes, and it offers. Maybe, a change has finally come. Here, amid the tall pines, art heals and honors.

In Marshall, Texas, and places like it, art serves as the vessel for what the tongue dares not say. The artist’s hymn is more than melody; it’s testimony. Rooted in faith, in family, and in the familiar, artists carry the sacred memory of struggle, bearing witness to what was, what is, and what will be.

Here, in Marshall, Texas, art is a cry for freedom found wrapped in grace.