I can hear Marcia saying, “Go deeper. Go deeper.”

She always prodded me and others to move beyond surface answers and  to plumb the depths of our minds and hearts for deeper truths. That’s what she always tried to do. Her curiosity about life and the meaning of life drove her to ask this question countless times, “What is my purpose?”

It is a question we all should ask and revisit from time to time as we seek to live a life steeped in faith.

My friend Marcia Slacum Greene lived a determined life until her death about two weeks ago at age 57.  She exuded passion when she talked about her work as a journalist, writing stories about people who had been marginalized, victimized and dehumanized by society. She did what she did not for prizes or accolades, but because she wanted to make a difference in the world.  

With equal fervor in her latter days, she latched on to her child-like trust in God so tightly that I was forced to question my own hold on His words and to pray ”Lord, what purpose do you want me to fulfill for you?” Go deep, Marcia life’s demonstrated, in your work, in your relationships with each other and most importantly in your faith in an all-knowing God.

As a journalist for more than 30 years, Marcia changed lives through the stories she wrote. The long list included revelatory stories about babies who had been born to crack-cocaine-addicted mothers, young black males, gang members, struggling families and others who had been marginalized by society. She also held politicians accountable for the trust the public placed in them.

“She spoke truth to power,” the minister said at her memorial service last Tuesday attended by more than 200 people.

“She changed a community,” said the man who took Marcia into some of D.C.’s most dangerous neighborhoods in search of gang members who would tell her their stories.

As much as she expressed passion for her work as a journalist, she also poured herself into her family and friends. Young people, especially, occupied a soft spot in her heart and she often urged them to find their passion and to live by godly principles. She and her husband, Jackie, once held a weekend workshop in their home to help their young relatives and godchildren recognize what it took to live a purpose-filled and successful life. The young people still talk about what they learned about budgeting, careers and goal-setting that weekend.

 Together, we celebrated weddings, birthdays, graduations, holidays and other family milestones. My daughter became her goddaughter, and on more than one occasion she would tell me what I needed to do to make an event special for Olivia. 

Over the last 18 months, I saw Marcia shift from telling other people’s stories to giving her own testimony whenever, wherever she could. Hers became a testimony of determined faith, of supreme trust in the will of God.

Even as her struggle with pancreatic cancer weakened her physically, her spiritual stamina increased. She went deeper in her search for God’s purpose for her life and took me along with her. I read Scriptures and devotional books to her that gave us insight into spiritual healing and God’s unconditional love for us. Inspirational music that we listened to on our rides to the hospital in Baltimore took on new meaning. Her hope was contagious.

One day last fall as we sat in a neighborhood restaurant before taking a trip to the Shrine, she disclosed how she had not talked much about her faith before getting sick. She said work had been her focus and she had channeled her energy and insight into that. “Now I see things differently,” she offered.

Always a voracious reader, she began devouring the Bible every morning for comfort and for healing. She doved deeply into the Word of God, searching for answers to her most pressing questions. She prayed alone and with friends every day. She looked for ways to apply what she was learning  from the Scriptures to her daily life so that she could encourage someone else.

On the last day of her life, Jan. 4, she sat in a wheelchair by a large rectangle window in an upstairs bedroom where she could look out on her backyard as workers hurried to finish the stone fountain she had wanted.

My pastor and I had come to visit and pray with her. As Pastor Cynthia T. Turner was reading Isaiah 53: 5, which says in part, “… and with His stripes we are healed,” Marcia, who had been listening intently with her eyes closed, spoke.

 ”It has been done,” she said in short gushes of breath. “It has been done.”  Her words signaled resolve, not resignation.

 I left expecting to see her again, but nearly five hours later, she gasped her last breath.

Behind she left this echo for each of us, “Go deeper, go deeper.”

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