I'm nearly 50 years old and for most of my life I've been trying to figure what I believe and why I believe it and recent events are helping me solidify my convictions.
I was raised by a single mom for the first nine years of my life. She gave her all to working and providing for me and my beloved felines. She went without a lot so that we would have what we needed. She never let on just how strapped things were, but I vividly remember being allowed to choose two pairs of shoes for the year: one was sneakers for gym and the other was the pair that had to go with everything else. I expended a lot of thought trying to determine which color and style would be the most versatile because that pair was it until next year's pick came up. In the same way that my mother modeled financial wisdom without ever explicitly saying, "we need to be wise with what we purchase" she modeled treating everyone-regardless of race, creed or culture--equitably by what she did and what she allowed me to do.
I grew up in a bastion of progressivism smack in the middle of America's dairyland. We had folk singers come to my elementary school who lamented the "Dioxin blues," I saw my teachers protest for fair contracts and when I left Madison, at age 15, the headline was about a lesbian couple was suing the YMCA for the right to have a family membership just like everyone else.
The majority of my peers were fairer than I was (Wisconsin in the 70's and early 80's was land of Scandinavians and there are more varieties of Lutherans than skin color, for the most part) they tended to come from two parent, well educated families, thanks the the presence of the University. Even though my mom and I were somewhat of anomaly, being just the two of us and living in an apartment on the edge of town, my school friends included me in their gatherings and from an early age I heard from and had modeled for me by adults in my life that education was important, that I could do anything I set my mind to and that the world is full of people different from you and that's a good thing. I don't know exactly how it all coalesced in my young mind, but I do know that those are the messages that were woven deep into my consciousness. So when my mom received a letter (no email, no cell phones then!) from a relative that her young son had reacted with shock upon seeing a black person for the first time, but warmed up quickly, I was indignant and swore that I would do a better job with my own kids. Mind you, this relative was simply sharing an anecdote about what was going on in her life-she wasn't expressing any sense of superiority or judgment, she just lived in a very homogenous area and so this was a new experience for her elementary aged child. Still, I had a strong, if not haughty, sense that I had definitely gotten that better deal living in an eclectic, open minded college town.
So you can imagine that I had a bit of culture shock, when, at age 15, I moved to suburban Southern California. Lots of racial and cultural diversity, for sure, but (in my experience) much less focus on intellectual musings and much more on the living a pleasant SoCal life...who can blame the sun-hypnotized for not craving a lesser lifestyle. Still, for all of its differences, Southern California was equally as open minded and my group of friends came from a wide variety of backgrounds, many of them first generation Americans. I'll always be grateful that I had the opportunities I did, like attending Buddhist ceremonies with my best friend and, of course, eating some of the best food on the planet.
When I arrived in New York City for college (I never succumbed to the allure of sun and surf!) not only did I think I was pretty openminded, but I assumed I was pretty well-versed in what we'd now call "cultural literacy." Little did I know...college was eye opening for me in many ways: first and foremost I was surrounded by people who seemed to have had infinitely more academic preparation for the rigors that lay before us, but who had much greater sense of their place in the global community. I spent my college years discussing a lot of seeming abstract concepts and trying to figure out how to apply them to my very concrete life. I bobbed along in the ebb and flow of the thought trends at my urban campus but it wasn't always clear to me that there was a right and wrong side of arguments. Life was getting more muddled as I was becoming something of an adult and seeing that just because people were passionate about causes didn't mean they were always right, or consistent in their actions. Adding more dimension and, sometimes confusion, to my thoughts was that I'd recently become a Christian. In the middle of New York City on one of the most renown and, arguably, anti-establishment campuses in the world, right there is where God met me.
I wasn't exactly a skeptic to start with. I'd been a fairly regular church attender and church was always something that felt like it was supposed to be part of the routine, but attending church and knowing Christ were not the same, as I found out. It's one thing to feel an allegiance to an establishment that you can keep at arm's length, it's quite another to know that the God of the universe wants to be in relationship with you and that He uses his church to draw you into His community. There's no better place to find your faith than the City because there are no cultural pretenses to wade through. All around you are messages that you alone are enough, that dependence on anything but yourself is weakness and that religion is the opposite of open-mindedness. That means that churches in New York either draw on people who attend out of an ingrained sense of obligation or are places where people are drawn in because there is something different than what they've previously experienced. For the first time I was at a church where I was hearing a message that the gospel, or good news of Christ, was not a facet of life to be pulled out and put away at convenience, but rather the paradigm by which life was to be lived. The gospel is fundamentally relational. God desires relationship with humanity through Christ and therefore, as Christians, this must necessarily play out in our relationship with others and with our world. The model is one of selflessness, of sacrificial love. Religion has often been used as a weapon of division, but truly living out faith should embody reconciliation. And that brings me back to the topic at hand: Black Lives Matter and the state of our country.
I do not believe that faith and politics line up in a particular fashion. I do not believe Jesus would call himself either a Democrat or Republican. And I do not believe politics, or politicians can ever bring us the lasting peace so many of us seek. But that does not mean we give up the process entirely. We put our faith in flawed, but hopefully ethical people seeking to serve their country and the nation's people selflessly.
So back to Black Lives Matter. I remember when the movement first came about and there were the predictable responses toward this grassroots mobilization of "what about this group and what about that group" as if, to quote an over quoted meme: "equality is not like pie. to give someone else equality doesn't mean you get less!" I was running a half marathon in Savannah that year. The course took us through all different neighborhoods, including historically black ones. I remember vividly a black woman holding up a sign as she cheered us on that said "All Lives Matter," It's a phrase that had been tossed around a lot by a lot of reactionists, but receiving it from her caused me to tear up. At a time when she could've, and arguably should've, been focusing on herself and her community, she instead looked outward. She was seeking to build a bridge across a chasm of hurt. That is the gospel applied to real life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there was one "right" and one "wrong" path to choose, but she definitely chose the road less traveled and she radiated supernatural strength and beauty as she did it.
So why do we, people of the dominant culture, those of us who don't get up and daily wonder how our skin color will affect our standing in life, so often resist graciously giving to our brothers and sisters of color who've endured so much? There can be only one answer: because we don't believe that what they say is true. We don't trust that they're not over exaggerating or over dramatizing the plight of people of color. We think they're lying because we trust in ourselves--the spectator reading muddled fourth and fifth hand accounts, and our own experience more than the words of the victims themselves. That's institutional racism. It's also antithetical to the gospel. If you profess to be a Christian then your calling is to a life of reconciliation. It is to love your brothers and sisters as Christ first loved you. It is not about arguing about exceptions to the rule or justifying your behavior because you've never personally (knowingly) inflicted pain on someone else. It is about humbling yourself and saying to the offended "I'm sorry and I ask for your forgiveness." But more than that, it is about finding a way forward and committing to walking alongside of our brothers and sisters in the continuing fight for justice and dignity to be granted to all.
This is my conviction as a Christian. There are a lot of fabulous people who've come to the same conclusion but not from a place of Christianity. There are plenty of people who have and live out a very strong sense of justice and I applaud them for it. But I raise the issue of faith because I live in a traditionally "christian" culture and it is grievous to see people who profess a belief in Christ and then have such a disconnect from the obvious starting point for living out their faith. Again, in that sense being a Christian in New York City is a lot more desirable. Take, for example, Redeemer NYC's statement regarding the recent killing of innocent black men and women:
Statement on Grace and Race:
As of May 27, 2020
Once again our hearts are broken and our souls irate as the blood of yet another person of color cries out to God from the ground. The vile brutality of racism in America has been unmistakable in recent weeks as the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd have each been brought to light.
As Christians and as the Grace and Race Ministry of Redeemer Churches & Ministries:
We lament the deaths of these beloved Image Bearers and weep with those who will forever miss their son, daughter, brother, sister, uncle, aunt, nephew, niece, cousin, or friend.
We remember that throughout Scripture, God shows particular care for those who are most vulnerable, he commands authorities to be characterized by righteousness and justice, and he holds nations accountable for how they treat the least powerful groups and persons in their societies.
We recognize the pervasiveness of sin, we acknowledge that the bloody history of racially motivated violence in the United States continues to this day, we denounce any doctrine of racial superiority, and we join the many calls for systemic change in a nation that has often failed to uphold God’s vision of justice and has persistently worked against people of color. We pray that local officials will exercise their authority to pursue justice for Mr. Arbery, Ms. Taylor, Mr. Floyd, and countless others whose stories have been neglected.
We repent of the ways that we as Christians have far too often failed to adequately stand against the evil of racism and violence: diminishing its severity, averting our gazes, and even perpetuating such injustice deliberately or complicitly.
We realize that for many of our brothers and sisters, the revelation of these deaths is but another reminder of an everyday reality, and that even now as we lament the loss of these lives, many others are overlooked while being subjected to cruelty and death due to the color of their skin. Even still, we remember that “nothing is covered up that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known.1”
We cry out to the God of peace and justice, asking together with the psalmist: How long, O Lord? How long must our black and brown brothers and sisters be killed without consequence? How long must fathers and mothers weep over their dead children? How long will racial violence persist in this nation? How long until your true justice reigns?
And yet we resolutely hope in Jesus, the Prince of Peace who suffered and died at the hands of both mob and state-sanctioned violence and who ultimately conquered evil and death itself. We long for the day when his perfect justice will roll down like waters,2 when his power will bring utter darkness into the light,3 and when his love will forever join together every race and tongue within the family of God.4 Until that day, we will continually commit ourselves to the furthering of Christ’s kingdom here on earth.
1 Luke 12:2
2 Amos 5:24
3 Job 12:22
4 Revelation 7:9
https://www.redeemer.com/r/grace_race_statement_may_20202 Amos 5:24
3 Job 12:22
4 Revelation 7:9
Now read an excerpt from the BLM statement of beliefs:
Every day, we recommit to healing ourselves and each other, and to co-creating alongside comrades, allies, and family a culture where each person feels seen, heard, and supported.
We acknowledge, respect, and celebrate differences and commonalities.
We work vigorously for freedom and justice for Black people and, by extension, all people.
We intentionally build and nurture a beloved community that is bonded together through a beautiful struggle that is restorative, not depleting.
You cannot read the two and not see the overlap in themes of personal dignity, justice and reconciliation. I'm nearly 50, been married for almost 20 years and a parent for 16. Four years ago I became acutely aware that I had to look my daughters squarely in the eyes and explain my choices to them and, more importantly, I need to model my choices to them. That feeling has only intensified in the wake of the plethora of criminal killings against men and women of color. I want my kids to be social activists and feel a compulsion for equality but I want them to see that the driving force is that it is because these men and women are our fellow image-bearers, that their lives are inherently worthy, that the Constitution and ultimately the Scriptures teach us this truth and that no leader or backlash movement can alter that.
One of the basic premises I teach my students about the Civil War was that just because someone was "anti-slavery" did not mean they were abolitionists, or morally opposed to what was happening. Most were anti-slavery out of convenience, economic gain or spite. Then and now the only way our society is going to change is through transformative heart change. You can't weep empathetically if you don't hurt for the oppressed and underrepresented. You don't advocate for your neighbors if you don't see in their faces divine craftsmanship. I'm not hear to tell you that actively endorsing the the official Black Lives Matter organization is the "right" thing to do. But I will go so far as to say that respecting it and championing the reasons for which it was formed-the fact that it needed to be created-is the right thing to do. Because black lives, all lives matter. It's just that simple. If we can't stop prioritizing ourselves and wincing at every conviction of truth, even if it's presented imperfectly, than we are hopeless hypocrites.
The next time we want someone to understand where we're coming from-because we all come from places of pain-consider how you expect to be heard, expect to be believed and expect to be validated and how incensed you would be if your expectations weren't met. Start with reflecting on the last time you got "really mad" about how you were treated. I'd wager it doesn't come close to what we are seeing in the news right now. Personal reflection and repentance is the starting point for any heart change and it may take awhile. But if that happen how do we expect to change as society?
So as I round the corner to 50 and I can say that I do know more about why I believe what I do than when I was 18 (good thing!). It's a nice place to be, there's a certain level of ease in knowing that I articulate my convictions and passions, but here's the thing: all that becomes rote if we think we've figured it all out and if our concern is more about defending our crafted position than in listening to what others have to say. Even more worrisome, though is that in drowning out others with our own clamor we merely reveal ourselves to be fools.
