Changing Law and Changing Hearts
How the Legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. Inspires Our Mission
Since Sr. Danielle and I began the journey of founding a new community of religious sisters, many surreal things have happened. People often tell us, “You should write it all down.” If only we had the time.
Today, we want to share something that happened a few months ago that continues to echo in our hearts and memories.
Last year, not long after we had shared our stories with The Pillar and were navigating the difficult aftermath of going public, I received a letter from Martin Luther King III and his wife, Arndrea Waters King. They invited me to contribute to a book honoring the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
The book came out at the beginning of this year. It was an unexpected and humbling honor. Dr. King has long inspired me. People who risk their lives for the cause of justice inspire me to also put my life on the line for what is good and just. Contributing to the book felt like a strange blip in a very strange year. Then Martin Luther King III reached out again—this time inviting Sr. Danielle and me to join a delegation commemorating the historic Selma to Montgomery marches in 1965.
We were honored by the invitation but the timing wasn’t ideal. We had just returned from Rome and were in the middle of relocating to the Diocese of Lexington. Still, as we talked it over, we realized: this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So we said yes. And we’re glad we did.
The weekend was unforgettable. We traveled with an inspiring group of people. As our bus caravan made its way from Atlanta to Selma, a police escort led us through morning traffic. It was a striking moment. We were honoring the memory of Bloody Sunday, when peaceful marchers were beaten by police, and now we were being led by officers ensuring safe passage. It was symbolic and profoundly moving.
At the close of the weekend, the group gathered to reflect. One by one, people shared what had moved them. Then David Oyelowo—the actor who played Dr. King in Selma—stood up. He challenged Martin and Arndrea directly. He said that parts of the weekend had felt “performative” to him and he criticized one of their recent initiatives: encouraging 100 million hours of service in honor of Dr. King’s 100th anniversary of his birth.
The room fell quiet. People shifted in their seats. But I leaned in. I love honest conflict—I think it’s where real conversion and conversation can happen, if all parties are open to it. I looked at Martin and Arndrea. They didn’t seem angry or even slightly irritated. It was clear they had heard similar concerns before. Then Arndrea stood and responded to David with poise and passion. She acknowledged his concerns and affirmed his desires. Then she reminded the room of something essential: that Dr. King’s philosophy of nonviolence had two goals—justice through changing laws and justice through changing hearts.
“Which one,” she asked us, “do you think is harder?”
The room responded: “Changing hearts.”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
I still think about this moment sometimes. I was not sure why God had provided the opportunity for us to attend this event at first. But it became clear in that moment. I understood deeply what Arndrea was talking about and the difficulty involved. “Changing hearts” can sound like impossible, naive work. But it’s the most important work that exists. It’s God’s work.
As Arndrea spoke, tears filled my eyes—her words carried a prophetic weight that reminded me of her father-in-law. I was surprised at how deeply what she said resonated. The mission of the Sisters of the Little Way has similar principles. Yes, we believe that some reforms and clarifications are needed in canon law. (We’ll speak more about this in our upcoming audio documentary.) Good laws matter. Transparent, consistent application of those laws matters even more.
As Dr. King once said, “It may be true that the law cannot change the heart, but it can restrain the heartless.”
But law alone is not enough. The harder work—the more lasting work—is conversion. We can write all the right policies when it comes to abuse in church settings but if hearts remain untouched, if our preaching of the Gospel excludes rather than centers on the vulnerable, if we cling to image instead of truth, we will just be noisy gongs and clanging cymbals (1 Cor 13:1).
None of this is easy. But as Dr. King did every day of his life, we are called to risk everything to do what is right and to speak the truth. Because justice in the Church, or anywhere for that matter, will not come through policy alone. It will come when enough of us—and not just survivors—are willing to bear the cost of truth. We believe this is possible. The fire that drove Martin Luther King Jr. still burns in the hearts of many Christians today—those who choose integrity over image, who refuse to pursue justice at the expense of truth, and who center the wounded instead of the powerful.
That’s the path we try to choose every day and we’re grateful not to walk it alone.
 | A guest post by
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Beautiful! I'm grateful to share the mission of changing hearts with you.
> 100 million hours of service
Potentially, these are hours of getting proximate to people we would not otherwise have met. This is not a guarantee of being changed by an encounter (the rich man passed by, or maybe stepped over, the beggar Lazarus, hardening his own heart lest it be moved with pity and painful love and a nascent demand that justice be satisfied from his own means, very dangerous, like opening the door to what might have been Gandalf stopping by for tea) but it is a possibility, a scratch-off ticket in which the prize is metanoia.