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silence and noise
*this post is all about racial reconciliation in the church.
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i am not a teacher of this subject, nor do i want to be. i am just a student who’s sharing her notes. i struggled to write this. i didn’t want to do it. i can honestly say that sentiment remains. i wasn’t sure how people would react if they heard what i had to say. i wasn’t sure if i’d be judged or labeled as being angry, impatient, unloving, critical—divisive. that uneasiness led to fear. we all are fearful at some point or another, and that fear usually leads to silence. i chose not to use my voice (in this online space), and i’ve watched my friends, peers, and church leaders use faint or vague voices or remain silent altogether.
i used to live in cambodia, and there's a simple phrase they would use that became more complex the longer i lived there. they would always say, "same same, but different." yes, we all bleed the same. yes, we all experience the same spectrum of emotions. and yes, we all are of one body. but our experiences are so different. that's when i have to remember that God made no mistake when he created each of us. he was intentional when he knit us together. our, sometimes, stark differences were deliberate. true diversity brings him glory. he never intended uniformity. it does not reflect him, nor is it of him.
he was also careful about planning our time here on earth (acts 17:26). it reminds me of when mordecai spoke to esther and uttered the well-known phrase, "for such a time as this" (esther 4:14). but his words did not have a positive ring to them. he was criticizing her for being focused on self, for not exchanging her comfort for sacrifice. she needed someone to point out that her position, responsibility, and resources had been given to her for that specific time in history. sometimes we have to be reminded of our purpose. we have to be encouraged to set aside our personal interests and enter areas of contention. but our fight is not against each other. it's against the evil that plagues this world (ephesians 6:12). peter reminds us that God has given us everything we need (2 peter 1:3). every area of our lives can be used for his divine purposes. our very being has the power to bless nations if we allow it.
at this point, or even prior to this, you might be asking yourself, “why are black people suddenly making such a fuss? not everything is about race.” well, we have never stopped talking about these issues. we have always spoken about them. this is just the first time you’ve noticed; this is the first time it’s being discussed at your sunday service. second, when you ask people not to “make something about race,” you invalidate their very real experiences and avoid engaging in the battle with them. this is not bearing each other’s burdens. it is not sharing in another’s weakness (1 corinthians 9:22). and yes, i said it, most black people are feeling weak right now. this does not nullify our resilience, but we are past the point of exhaustion. white supremacy is draining. to be black in america is to be the embodiment of resistance, and it’s tiring. pain met with silence, negation, or apathy is oppressive. we are human and tired of carrying the burden of “strength” and “patience.”
but let me be clear, when we find ourselves in this state, Jesus must be the first thing we turn to. he is our Jehovah Nissi and our Jehovah Rapha. he is the only one who can perfectly support and comfort us. however, God created the body to work together. that’s the beauty of its complexity. when one part needs healing, it sends off signals to the other parts, and those parts help to repair the worn out area—even if those parts did not cause the damage. the body is meant to heal. but we hinder that restorative process when we silence the signaling. right now, the body of Christ needs mending, and that requires every part. racism is a disease that leaves many of us feeling dis-ease. when people choose not to engage in the healing process, their comfortability becomes a handicap. their comfort is connected to our pain. the Bible makes it clear that when one part suffers, we all suffer. our pain is your pain. i find it interesting that this Scripture intentionally omitted modal verbs. there’s no possibility here. it does not say, “if one part suffers, every part might suffer with it.” it says, “every part suffers with it.” that’s present tense. the writer, paul, also includes the word should in the previous verse (1 corinthians 12:25). there should be equal concern. even though an obligation is stated, there is a level of possibility. we have a responsibility, that is seen as correctness, to have equal concern for each other. but we have the ability to choose. we can’t choose our suffering, but we can choose how we respond to it.
but this is where i have found myself stuck. i realized that all diseases (sin) do not have equal concern within the body of Christ. what i haven’t figured out is why we continue to allow this to happen. in moments like this, we have to shift our perspectives higher. we have to fix our eyes on Jesus, the author, and the perfector of all things. here’s what i’m learning. i am not exempt from any of this. please hold me accountable as well.
acknowledge God
the foundation of God’s character is righteousness and equity (psalm 89:14). he was, is, and will always be a crusader for restorative justice. racial justice is not a political issue. it is a spiritual issue. it is a Christ issue, and it stems from the heart of God. as a liberator, he has called each of us to an other-focused way of life where we make sure those around us find hope and resolution. but Christ warned us that this way of life would not be easy (john 16:33). he also prepared us for it. we have everything we need to fight these spiritual battles (ephesians 6:10-18).
there will be moments when you just don’t see it. ask God to reveal those blind spots. you can’t fight against something you don’t acknowledge or don’t understand. but please don’t question people’s experiences of racism, they are speaking from a place of vulnerability. there’s a lot of damage done when people spiritually gaslight. instead of doubting their experiences, question your own. do some self-examination. when you become irritated or uncomfortable, ask God to reveal the root of those feelings. maybe that dialogue activated an emotional trigger. do you spend as much time reflecting, talking about, and praying for racialized sin to be exposed in your heart as you do anger, selfishness, etc.? examine why you remained unaware or apathetic for so long. if you allow Spirit to guide you, this will lead to empathy—which should lead to action. it should not end in guilt and tears. if there’s no real sacrifice on your part, i urge you to ask yourself, “what have i actually done?”, “how have i imitated Jesus regarding this matter?” don’t compare your actions to extreme forms of racism. no one needs to hear you explain how you have committed no racialized sins because you don’t emulate extreme examples of anti-blackness. i know you’re not out in the streets, intentionally killing black people. i think we should all be concerned about comparing ourselves to Christ and how he engaged in righteousness issues.
create a safe space
if you’re still reading this, thank you. everything i say to you now, i’ve spoken to myself. i am finding areas in my life regarding these issues that i must explore and repent of. but we have to keep asking questions. we have to keep examining our environments. if you do, you’ll find that there is a lot of suffering. when this is exposed, create space where people can feel seen and heard without being umpired. don’t stifle or silence their pain. don’t judge or critique how they process their grief. allow them to express it. let them name it. they have been in a constant state of sackcloth and ashes. and if they have ever previously communicated their pain, chances are, they were labeled as too angry, too sensitive, or too critical; being urged to show more grace and be more understanding, they were forced to grieve alone and assimilate.
in the spirit of honesty, this makes me angry—furious. i struggle to exhibit grace in instances like this. we are constantly urged to humble ourselves and conform, while others are slow to acknowledge or even repent of their racialized sins. yes, we know we need to love. yes, we know we need to forgive. we’ve been doing it for 400 years. but that knee has been on our neck for too long. i am tired of waiting for non-black people to get it. there’s a refusal to admit or even examine the ways racism has plagued the church—whether explicit or subtle. but that does not give me an excuse to sin. that does not justify an ungodly response. i must die to that worldly nature because i am a disciple first, and black second.
however, when we allow ourselves to be disrupted or inconvenienced, we allow God to work. because of the blood of Christ, we have been made new. therefore, we have the ability to imitate Christ’s righteousness (ephesians 4:22-25). we’re a family, and healthy families engage in uncomfortable dialogue. when is the last time you asked your black brother or sister whether they felt heard, listened to, welcomed, represented, or celebrated? the body may be multiethnic, but it is not multicultural. there is a cultural norm, and it is one of whiteness. when the culture of the church values attributes that are the complete opposite of what another person embodies, they become devalued. you may not have constructed this space, but your silence has helped to sustain it. uniformity is easy, but true diversity is difficult. it takes intentionality. without it, the environment conforms to the dominant culture. our differences should not be a cause of division. they should be a cause of celebration, a space where Spirit moves in powerful ways. a space where everyone feels seen, heard, valued, and a part of.
cultivate love
i’m sure many of us can quote 1 corinthians 13:4-7 in our sleep. it’s so sweet. it’s so comforting. it’s so palatable. but as humans, our love can be ambiguous and, at times, arbitrary. but Jesus embodied the most perfect kind of love. it was intentional. it was deliberate. it was always objective. he loved through his words, and more than that, he loved through his actions.
but this is not always easy or convenient. that’s why paul reminds us to encourage one another (hebrews 10:24). he uses the word spur, which requires us to apply pressure (but never pain) as we encourage each other to act righteously. again, this involves becoming uncomfortable. love is more than a sentiment. Ii’s an action that can feel awkward and unpleasant. love is not deflective, and it is not dismissive.
if we claim to love our neighbors as ourselves, this concern should transform into action that leads to change. i question those that claim they would lay down their life for another, but won’t examine their privilege. they’ll “take up their cross daily,” but refuse to give up their comfortability. we all want a love that is life-giving and restorative. thank God that we can experience that through a relationship with Jesus. and because we get to experience such a gift, we are called to imitate it. we must listen with love, and with the kind of love that refuses to leave when it becomes uncomfortable or difficult. we must exhibit a love that has no interest in being right or politically correct. and you don’t have to relate to someone else’s experience to do this. you might be thinking, “i do this, i give to support social justice causes. i’m reading a few books about this topic.” great, thank you. we should all do that. while those sentiments are good, they are often distant. you still get to control how much your sacrifice will affect you. our love must be real and boundless (1 john 3:16-18).
i ask you to fight to silence that voice in your head that tells you you’re innocent, and that this has nothing to do with you. you are not innocent, and neither am i. but thank God Jesus bore our guilt and paid the price for each of us. sometimes we have to quiet our internal voice so we can hear the voice of another—a voice in pain. whether it’s a shaky voice or a voice that is bold, it’s a voice that has been pleading to be heard.
join the conversation
it is a privilege to join the conversation, no, really. for some of us, that was never an option, and we will never have the luxury of choosing to leave it. thank you for entering the conversation willing to listen, prepared to reflect instead of correct, willing to examine instead of point the finger. thank you for being ready to take up the burden of another instead of being quick to disengage. remember, many of your brothers and sisters in Christ do not have the privilege of leaving this spiritual battle. i need you. we need you. to my non-black brothers and sisters, you have the political and cultural capacity to create immense change. you’re able to say things that are difficult for black people to say without getting labeled and dismissed (galatians 2:11-14). engage with your non-nlack family, co-workers, and friends. help them to see their blind spots. sit with your black co-workers and friends in their pain, don’t ignore it. enter that uncomfortable space without questioning it, without justifying your perception of their lived experiences.
to those in positions of leadership, thank you for what you’ve done. thank you for the love that you’ve already shown. but if i may be so bold to say, that love has been murky. i question how much that love is willing to sacrifice for black people. your vague comments and safe racial discourse is not helpful. it’s hurtful, and it only perpetuates the pain we already feel. Jesus did not appease people based on their political affiliation. he did not use “patience” and “grace” to excuse people from comfortably remaining in ignorance or sin. yes, he met them where they were at, but he also drew a line and boldly stood on the side which was righteous—even if his devote followers questioned it or rebuked it. he always allowed others to see his righteous indignation when he witnessed injustice. he was not afraid to hurt feelings (mark 10:17-27). he made it clear what his beliefs were and what he would not stand for. he identified when people avoided samaria—some area of their lives that was perpetuating racist practices. he held himself and others accountable. it’s time to disrupt the false sense of peace. there is so much more work to be done. black people have had to bear most of the burden, but everyone is responsible for fighting for change—demanding it.
this is everyone’s problem, and we have a shared responsibility. no one is exempt from this. this should be personal. without confronting your own biases, you create and cultivate cultures of prejudice. you may have never used the n-word, and you may have never intentionally harmed a person of color, but that does not excuse you from this dialogue. that does not absolve you of your responsibility. staying engaged in this conversation will get uncomfortable. it will require sacrifice. it might even get worse before it gets better, because confrontation comes before reconciliation. but your choices matter. you’ll mess up, and you’ll say the wrong thing, but so will i. what matters is that we continue, that we don’t quit. keep showing up, please.
praise God
“cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” psalm 55:22
in those moments, when you feel weak, frustrated, and don’t know what to do, praise God. he can handle your confusion; you can trust him with everything you are feeling. in the moments when you feel overwhelmed by your generational and racial wounds, run to God. cling to him and don’t let go. he can handle your pain and your burden (matthew 11:28-30). you can trust him with your past, present, and future. and remember, he can relate. he’s experienced police brutality. they accused him of crimes he did not commit. they despised his community and ostracized his closest friends. he watched his people suffer, while religious people averted their eyes. he lived a life without privilege. he was lynched and hung on a tree. he knows all about your troubles.
but we don’t grieve like people who have no hope. this, i am learning and will continue to learn for the rest of my life. in our pain, God will surround us with love and grace. he is always close, and he sees us, even when we feel that no one else does. he will never leave us alone. remember his promise to you, “...surely i am with you always, to the very end of the age.” and when you feel tired, rest. be still (exodus 14:14). don’t take on his role. when we do this, we end up carrying a weight that God never intended us to bear. we have to let go of the illusion of control. we have a responsibility, but we do not have control. he is our judge and will bring justice to the earth. he is our peace-giver and will give us peace that the world cannot provide. we were never created to play god. we were created to praise him.
to my black sisters, i hear you. i feel you. to my black brothers, i see you. i am praying for you. to my non-black brothers and sisters who identify as poc, your pain matters too. there’s space for you here. and to my white brothers and sisters, i love you. i wouldn’t be imploring you if i didn’t think you mattered. we all are important, and we all matter. but right now, we must talk about how
black. lives. matter.
HELPFUL BOOKS
a heart on fire: 100 meditations on loving your neighbors by danielle coke balfour
i'm still here: black dignity in a world made for whiteness by austin channing brown
*this post is all about the gospel and racial reconciliation.
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