Am I a racist or a reconciler? That is a loaded question. And like most uncomfortable questions, it can only be answered by you. It would be an audacious exercise in impertinence for me to attempt to craft a reasonable response from inside your soul. I don’t belong there. That’s between you and God. We are unique people with unique perspectives and unique stories to tell. All I can do is share my own story with you. In light of the current widespread discussion on the need for racial reconciliation, I’ve been pondering my own journey this week.
I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama. When I was in elementary school, I saw signs for colored and white water fountains every time I went into a store. I never questioned the status quo. That’s just the way things were in the 1950s. As a teenager with a summer job, I was kicked out of a diner when I popped in for lunch with a black coworker. It was aggravating, but I didn’t say anything to the angry waitress who yelled at us. I shrugged and went down the street to buy hamburgers for us to eat outside. That’s just the way things were in the 60s. I rarely thought about the pervasive racism of my youth. I was shielded from the harsh reality by my local community and by my whiteness. Birmingham was a hotbed of protests and marches and violent reaction by the authorities. I was oblivious. All that happened far away from the trajectory of my normal everyday life. I heard an occasional news snippet when I passed by the television on my way out the door to hang out with my friends. It never occurred to me that those terrible events were worthy of my attention. I was in college when I finally read about the bombings, the water hoses, the marches, and the murders of four little black girls who died because they decided to go to church on a Sunday morning.
I grew up in Birmingham, Alabama. When I was in elementary school, I saw signs for colored and white water fountains every time I went into a store. I never questioned the status quo. That’s just the way things were in the 1950s. As a teenager with a summer job, I was kicked out of a diner when I popped in for lunch with a black coworker. It was aggravating, but I didn’t say anything to the angry waitress who yelled at us. I shrugged and went down the street to buy hamburgers for us to eat outside. That’s just the way things were in the 60s. I rarely thought about the pervasive racism of my youth. I was shielded from the harsh reality by my local community and by my whiteness. Birmingham was a hotbed of protests and marches and violent reaction by the authorities. I was oblivious. All that happened far away from the trajectory of my normal everyday life. I heard an occasional news snippet when I passed by the television on my way out the door to hang out with my friends. It never occurred to me that those terrible events were worthy of my attention. I was in college when I finally read about the bombings, the water hoses, the marches, and the murders of four little black girls who died because they decided to go to church on a Sunday morning.
That was fifty years ago. I don’t live in Birmingham anymore. And I’m no longer oblivious. Decades have come and gone. We’ve crossed the threshold into a new millennium. Surely, things should have changed by now. Unfortunately, little has changed at all. Racism continues to thrive. The video of a white man pressing his knee into the neck of a black man until he died was all over the news a few weeks ago. It was the latest atrocity in the unending parade of violent hatred. The murder of George Floyd was the catalyst for nationwide protests against continued systemic racism. Voices of hatred, derision, and suspicion clutter my social media feed. Is that just the way things are in 2020?
Maybe not. Other voices are speaking out for justice. Large numbers of folks are coming together to demand an end to the violence perpetrated against people of color. I'm no longer an oblivious child. I'm an adult and I have a choice. I can remain silent. That’s certainly the safest option. But if I say nothing, that makes me complicit in the continued marginalization. I can declare I am not a racist a million times. But if I do nothing else, if I say nothing else, those words mean absolutely nothing. So, I've decided to say this.
Maybe not. Other voices are speaking out for justice. Large numbers of folks are coming together to demand an end to the violence perpetrated against people of color. I'm no longer an oblivious child. I'm an adult and I have a choice. I can remain silent. That’s certainly the safest option. But if I say nothing, that makes me complicit in the continued marginalization. I can declare I am not a racist a million times. But if I do nothing else, if I say nothing else, those words mean absolutely nothing. So, I've decided to say this.
Black lives matter. Every single person on the face of the earth is created in the image of God. We are all a part of the beautiful mosaic that reflects God to the world. The prevalence of racial hatred fills me with sadness. When the words of derision come from those who claim to follow Christ, it breaks my heart. The majority of white Christians in white churches said nothing while all the hate was spewed fifty years ago. In 2020, some churches still choose to ignore the present reality and others actively promote racial division.
I’m encouraged because some churches are stepping up and speaking out. White and black pastors are meeting together, listening to each other, looking for a way forward. White pastors of predominately white congregations are inviting black pastors to fill their pulpits. Adam Hamilton, senior pastor at Church of the Resurrection in Kansas City, the largest Methodist Church in the country, recently invited black pastor, Rev. Dr. Emanuel Cleaver III, to preach at Church of the Rez. I encourage you to listen to his powerful and enlightening sermon, “Time to Step Up.”
I’ve seen racism in action for over fifty years. It’s been going on far longer than that. The problem seems unending and overwhelming. Am I a racist? I hope not. I'd rather be a reconciler. I’m a believer in Jesus Christ. Through the lens of my faith I see that God, the Father, relishes diversity. He made a world teeming with variety and beauty expressed in countless ways in nature and in people. Jesus, the Son, gave me an example to follow during his time on earth. He rescued the marginalized, healed the sick, fed the hungry, and ministered to everyone regardless of their race, sex, or perceived place in the society of his day. The Holy Spirit compels me to love everyone and to be a peacemaker who values mercy, justice, and grace.
I’ve seen racism in action for over fifty years. It’s been going on far longer than that. The problem seems unending and overwhelming. Am I a racist? I hope not. I'd rather be a reconciler. I’m a believer in Jesus Christ. Through the lens of my faith I see that God, the Father, relishes diversity. He made a world teeming with variety and beauty expressed in countless ways in nature and in people. Jesus, the Son, gave me an example to follow during his time on earth. He rescued the marginalized, healed the sick, fed the hungry, and ministered to everyone regardless of their race, sex, or perceived place in the society of his day. The Holy Spirit compels me to love everyone and to be a peacemaker who values mercy, justice, and grace.
I’ve been thinking about tangible ways I can promote racial reconciliation in my little corner of the world. I only have one small voice. I intend to use it. I will speak up when someone makes a derogatory racist remark and politely ask that person to refrain from using language that demeans a person created in the image of God. I will listen to my black brothers and sisters in Christ to learn from them what it is like to be a person of color in America. I will ask for their suggestions about ways to stop racism. I will read books by black authors to help me understand their reality. I will support people of color who experience specific incidents of racially motivated hatred. I will use my writing platform to promote justice and racial reconciliation. I will share social media posts like this video from my beloved University of Alabama football team: All Lives Can’t Matter Until Black Lives Matter. I will step up and speak out. I will do whatever I can do to make a difference. Because I don’t want to be a racist who is part of the problem. I want to be a reconciler who is part of the solution.
Practical Priorities Newsletter
Free Newsletter! Join the Practical Priorities Email Friends Crew to get real food recipes, fibromyalgia recovery strategies, healthy living tips, devotional of the month, and practical life hacks about everything delivered right to your inbox. Just fill in your email address, check the box to opt in, and click subscribe to newsletter. (Note: My newsletter service will only send newsletters to those who check the box.) Thanks for joining the growing Practical Priorities community!
Let's be friends. Join my social media community
RSS Feed