Dr. Crowder shared the following in a letter to future Living Waters Region Clergy on Thursday, April 23.

Thursdays in Black in a Time of Epidemic Violence

Beloved Colleagues,

Thursdays in Black is a statement that something is deeply broken in our society. Though we wear black on Thursdays, it is not about fashion, but about bearing a sacred witness. It is grief made visible. It is a protest without a microphone. It is a refusal to accept violence, especially against women and children, as the cost of living in our time.

It is quite obvious, to me, that we are carrying too much.

We grieve the killing of Dr. Cerina Fairfax a mother, a professional, a life ended in the very place that should have been safest. We remember the legacy of Barbara Deer, a public servant whose work strengthened our community, now mourned in a season already heavy with loss. We are shaken by the murder of eight children and the shooting of their mother. A violence so devastating it resists language. And we add to this the shooting in Centralia, Illinois, another community now marked by trauma.

These are not disconnected headlines. They are signals: We are living in an epidemic of violence.

Not metaphorically, but structurally woven into homes, neighborhoods, and systems that too often fail to protect the vulnerable. Domestic violence continues to hide in plain sight. Misogyny still shapes attitudes and excuses harm. Easy access to weapons escalates moments of anger into irreversible tragedy. And our collective attention moves on too quickly, leaving communities to grieve alone. The Thursdays in Black campaign calls us to resist that silence. Originating as a global movement against rape and gender-based violence, it invites people of conscience to wear black each Thursday as a sign of solidarity and a commitment to change.

But a symbol, by itself, is not enough.

This all came home for me as I recalled my gathering with the College of Regional Ministers, in Indianapolis, last week. The former Regional Minister of Florida and current Director of Development at Christmount, Rev. Dr. Betsy Goehrig, met with us and shared that her daughter, Brittany Nicole Steier, was murdered in 2020 in an intimate partner violence attack. We surrounded Betsy, in prayer, there were many tears in that circle. In that sacred moment, I found myself reflecting: if this moment is to mean anything, it must move us beyond acknowledgment into action.

• Let us name the crisis honestly.
  Violence in our homes and communities is not “private” or “unfortunate” it is preventable and unacceptable.
• Let us protect those at risk.
  We must invest in shelters, counseling, and intervention programs that reach people before violence escalates.
• Let us challenge harmful norms.
  Misogyny, control, and aggression are learned and they can be unlearned through education, accountability, and cultural transformation.
• Let us support responsible policies.
  Sensible safeguards around firearms, stronger protections for survivors, and coordinated community responses save lives.
• Let us stay present.
  We must refuse the cycle of outrage followed by amnesia. Real change requires sustained attention.

I believe that people of faith have a responsibility in this hour. We cannot preach peace on Sunday and ignore violence the rest of the week. We are called to be sanctuaries not only in word, but in practice places where survivors are believed, where abusers are held accountable, and where healing is actively pursued. There is a spiritual dimension to this crisis. Violence distorts the sacredness of human life. It fractures trust. It breeds fear where there should be belonging. And yet, faith at its best refuses to surrender to despair. It insists that even in the face of death, there is a call to choose life again and again. So we wear black. We wear it for the children who will not grow up. We wear it for the mothers whose lives have been shattered. We wear it for communities learning how to grieve together. We wear it as a sign that we are still paying attention. And then we do the harder work of building a world where one day, such a witness will no longer be necessary.

Until that day, we cannot be silent.