Racist--Who Me?

I have black friends!  I’ve hired black people!  I’ve never burned a cross!  To paraphrase an Atlanta native – “If you’ve said one of these things, you might be a racist.”  And truth be told I’m a racist and I’ve been on a journey to grow since I became a Christian.  In fact, my faith has been the main driver of my realization that my behaviors and thoughts have been racist. 

Let’s set some context so we’re all on the same page and use the definition of a racist as follows from the Cambridge Dictionary – “someone who believes that their race makes them better, more intelligent, more moral, etc. than people of other races and who does or says unfair or harmful things” – I’d like to emphasize the “says” portion of the definition and state that these are driven by our thoughts.

Now some background on my journey.  I've been a direct participant in racism through word and deed when younger, whether I was telling a joke, insulting someone on the court/field or when angry and filled with rage blaming someone for just being of a certain color skin.  In hindsight these actions were driven out of fear that somehow acknowledging “them” as equals or admit that “they” might actually be better than me.  After all, all I heard my whole like was how “they are” different and not as smart as “us” nor able to do what “we” can.  This wasn’t a direct education, but generally spoken of and implied by action and deed of my family and friends.

As I got older, took “real” jobs, and wanted to advance a career I changed my words and actions, but this was not out of a true change of heart, but rather out of “political correctness.”  I was a Christian at this time, but it was early in my sanctification process so didn’t truly understand what “love your neighbor as yourself” meant and how I was supposed to live out my faith.

Only as I made a conscious decision to study, learn, and grow in my faith did real change happen, and this wasn’t an easy or pleasant path.   The first step I had to realize in this journey is that as a child of God, I'm OK. Who I am, all that I have, and all that I will be is from God alone. Mentally recognizing this was relatively easy compared to the changes that still needed to happen in my heart.  Taking down the walls around my own heart, letting my ego go, recognizing that, and being free enough to rely on my faith alone, stepping up, speaking out and doing what God has defined as "right" is hard.

The change is hard because as you let go you can expect personal attacks from friends, coworkers, and even family. They don’t always call you out for not using slurs but say subtle things like “you’ve changed.”  You might not get invited out to a game, for a beer, or just to hang out anymore. It’s guaranteed your life will change.

When I look at what’s going on today (not just around the country but also with people I know), the denial of racial issues or statements such as “Racist – Who Me?” lead me to ask – “Really are you kidding me!”  Of course, there’s racism going on and I’m not going to specifically accuse anyone of being a racist, but please read the following topics and honestly think through the possibility that you’re racist.

Black Lives Matter

When you say or think things like “All Lives Matter” or “Blue Live Matter,” etc., I want to ask you – when was the last time you said “All Cancers Matter.” or in October during Breast Cancer Awareness Month say “Prostate Cancer Matters” you don’t.  So, you need to ask yourself “Why?”

Removal of Confederate Monuments

You say, “They’re just representing history, they don’t represent slavery or anything bad.”, really?  Haven’t you cheered when at the end of World War II, statues of Hitler and Nazi symbols were taken down? What about when the Berlin Wall fell, a sign of the end of Communism you cheered.  When you saw statues of Saddam Hussain being ripped down on TV you cheered.  All those statues and symbols represented history as well, why is it OK to take those down but leave Confederate statues up?  Why can’t these symbols of evil history be removed like the others?

White Supremacy

White Supremacy shows itself in many forms, not just the obvious white-hooded portrayals of the KKK we see in movies, TV shows, and history books. White Supremacy is not only historical. It is happening here and now.  The chart below can give you some context for what I’m trying to describe.

Reading the Covert portion will be painful and should cause self-reflection, but that’s a good thing. This is what we are charged to do as Christians.  Just read Acts 10:34-35 and John 13:34, where we’re told to “love one another: just as I have loved you.”

Even the image of Jesus we know has roots in racism. Yes, the tall, long-haired white Jesus is nothing like what Jesus looked like. This image was created in the 13th – 16th centuries by artists like Leonardo da Vinci (the famous “Last Supper”) and Michelangelo (the “Last Judgment” in the Sistine Chapel), then brought throughout the world as Europeans colonized the rest of the world.  Scripture tells us that Jesus “had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him” (Isaiah 53:2). Based on scripture telling us that Jesus was nothing special to look at, how odd do you think a tall, white, long straight-haired Jesus would have been in Israel during the time of Jesus?  Our Savior’s image has been changed to fit our white sensibilities so we would find him acceptable to us.

If you feel bad after a bit of self-reflection on these things, that’s OK because right now is the perfect time to begin your journey of change and understanding.  You’ve heard our church discuss these topics in sermons and offer classes to increase understanding. Now it’s time for you to take the next step in your journey. 

Even though it may seem hard, realize that racism/being a racist is a sin like any other sin and your faith provides forgiveness, the God-given, gospel-centered strength to move forward and change.  There is proof of this in the Bible, like 2 Corinthians 4:8-10 – “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.”

Thoughts on Minority Representation, Our Society, and the Church

I never really grasped the importance of minority representation until recently.

Let me explain.

For Christmas last year my kids, who are Black, received a children’s book about the Obamas. It’s a nice little book about how the Obamas have worked hard for equality, stewardship of the earth, and a healthier America. One day, my son, a curious boy, pulled the book off the shelf and started asking questions about it. “Who’s that on the cover? What did he do? What’s a ‘President’?” At first, I didn’t think much of these questions, but as I began talking about how Barack Obama was African American (“chocolate,” as our son says) and held one of, if not the most, powerful positions on the planet I saw my son’s eyes grow larger and larger. I came to realize just how energized he was by the fact that someone who looked like him was so important. He didn’t even know what “President” meant (he still doesn’t), but he knew it was something special, and what made it more special was that Obama has the same color skin as him.

The more I thought about it, the more I was also like, “Yeah, it is super cool that Obama, a Black man, became President!” I started probing deeper into President Obama’s life and legacy. Eventually, I stumbled on John McCain’s 2008 presidential election concession speech (and here). I’m not sure I had ever heard the speech before, but it was interesting in light of recent events. In case you need reminding, there was a time when certain conspiracists, Donald Trump foremost among them, spread the lie that Obama was not born in the US, and was not, therefore, eligible for the Office of the President. There were also people saying that Obama was a Muslim who wanted to destroy the US. Terrible, terrible racist things were said. Unlike some politicians these days, McCain stood up for Obama throughout his campaign, opposing some of his own supporters to their faces when they tried to spread false information about his opponent. McCain now looks like a man standing among playground children for having done so (also see this). In his concession speech, McCain—again, he had just lost—emphasized, “This is an historic election, and I recognize the special significance it has for African Americans and for the special pride that must be theirs tonight.” I don’t see McCain as a flawless man mind you (nor his concession speech), but to this day I’m struck by how he highlighted the significance of the 2008 election for millions of Black people across the US (even as his audience booed every time they heard the name “Obama”), all still feeling the sting of this country’s racist legacy. I’m struck by how McCain, a decade before my son was born, affirmed my son’s pride in the accomplishment of another Black man.

Whether its Barack Obama, Kamala Harris, Raphael Warnock, Cory Booker, or Tim Scott, you don’t have to agree with someone’s politics to celebrate what they might represent—in this country, a light flickering in the dark history of violence and discrimination. In no sense do I want to turn the figures I just mentioned into “tokens,” signs of “how far we have come” or something like that. We have work to do that feels insurmountable at times. The murder of Ahmaud Arbery (among many others), delight at the purposeful butchering of Kamala Harris’s name (also here), and the Capitol insurrection, even “Jewish Space Lasers” (look it up; also this) show us how hate rears its head from top to bottom in our society.

In America, there has been a trend among White people to paint over differences in color and gender, to pretend we don’t see them. We want to say, myself included, “it doesn’t matter what your skin color is or whether you’re a man or a woman; Americans judge fellow Americans on the basis of merit, not skin color, background, religion, sexual orientation, etc. The past is the past. We don’t deal with those issues anymore.” As the long, arduous year of 2020 has shown, that’s simply not true.

I fear we make a similar move in the church. Hear me out. In the church, we like to cite Galatians 3:28—“There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus”—as proof that since we are all united in Christ we shouldn’t care about “trivialities” like minority representation in the church. “That’s a fleshly concern,” I’ve basically heard people say. Or, we like to say, “Black or White, it doesn’t matter. As long as they love Jesus, it’s all good!” It’s a kind of “I don’t see color or other differences” Christianese response. We can then slide further into something entirely unbiblical—a reflexive opposition to difference, outright or subtle.

In Revelation 21, the Holy City, New Jerusalem, descends from the heavens prepared as a bride. There isn’t a temple in this Holy City and there isn’t a sun or moon. God’s glory provides the light. On whom does the light shine? Revelation says, “the nations.” In fact, Revelation 21:26 states, “The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into [the city].” In the Ancient Near East, “the nations” could denote all sorts of human “groupings”—ethnic, political, social, etc. Most importantly, what Revelation 21 shows us is not the total dissolution of differences, but God’s celebration of difference. As theologian William Storrar writes,

The one new humanity in Christ is a community of unity in diversity, a holy nation made up of people of all nations who, in embracing their new identity in Christ, retain their social and cultural identities as Gentiles and lose only the oppression and distorting effect of sin and their separation from God’s covenant people… The Bible affirms both equality and difference.

Honestly, I don’t know what that looks like most of the time. Sometimes I see glimpses. I live in a broken world that struggles to recognize difference in a way that isn’t pandering, self-satisfying, or goes beyond a meaningless gesture. The good news of Revelation 21 is that whatever this recognition of difference is supposed to be, it will be perfected and pleasing to God. How great is that! Think about it. There are right now brothers and sisters in Christ who were racists praising God in the heavens because they were set free from that racism, an ironic twist on their earthly lives.

We, still earth-bound beings, are all united by Christ, but, once again, we also live in a broken world where we have to fight hard against our biases and fight hard for racial and ethnic equality. Part of what it means to fight hard (biblically) for racial and ethnic equality in our present is to recognize and celebrate that unity in diversity.

Do we even try to live with the knowledge that God has set us free to embrace unity in diversity? I fear we, the church, as individuals or entire churches, often repackage unity in Christ into a type of Christian “tokenism.” That is, we can easily use unity, forgetting in diversity, as evidence of our “profound” spirituality, a sign of how “non-racial,” “post-racial,” or whatever you want to call it, we are. So, we use unity in Christ to push away wrestling with minority representation in the here and now because that wrestling makes us uncomfortable. Maybe, just maybe this happens in our own church.

Take heart! Christ will come again and set right all things! But we would be fools to forget how our future hope of perfected unity in diversity is impacted by our sinful minds, our family histories, and the way our society oppresses and demeans the marginal. More than fools, we may be in sin to deny sin’s presence. May we remember that unity in diversity matters: it matters to God.