Racism Is Not the Heart of the Issue.

As a rule, I stay out of most political debates. It's not always because I have no opinion, though sometimes I don't know enough about various situations or the individuals involved to have an educated stance on the matter. More often, it's because I have completely given up hope that politics will ever be able to change what's wrong with this world. There was once a king in ancient history who made death the penalty for everything from murder on down to lying. Think it fully stopped people from lying? I doubt it. The existence of some form of rules or laws are necessary for groups of people to live and function; however, that doesn't mean any legal system in the history of humankind has been completely fully fair. Governments are made up of humans, and if humans are sinful and therefore not perfect, no government can ever be perfect, either. I'm not saying that means either that we should overthrow any or every government; and I'm also not saying that means we need to just let things go because nobody's perfect. I am here to say, however, that Jesus laid it out pretty clearly that we are to submit to the authorities over us, and to pray for them. He said that about the Roman government that was far more brutal than almost any I know of in our day and age. I think He meant it, and I don't think there are exceptions.

Now that that's been put out there, I'm about to step into some dangerous territory...

There is no governmental system, no protest, no speech, no kind of political movement or activism or whatever-you-want-to-call-it, that can fix the issue of racism in our country or elsewhere. Words won't do the trick, laws won't do the trick, and guns (or lack thereof) certainly won't do the trick. Reasoning only goes so far, especially when minds (on all sides of the equation) come with their own experiences and stigmas and upbringings on the matter. Some people will never listen. Laws and law enforcement and even the judicial system can only control so much; that's why there's still such a thing as crime. Violence won't do anything either, unless you're planning to just wipe out everyone, and then you'd be right: no people = no racism. But is that really a solution?

Racism has been around a lot longer than some people realize. Go all the way back to some of the first skirmishes and battles between people groups, and you'll find a "we" and "them" mentality. The root of the word racism actually dates back to Hitler's Nazi propaganda, where all kinds of atrocities were justified by the idea that this group or that group of people were less important or less perfect or less fit to live than the one in control. Racism does not and never will boil down to simply white and black. The British Empire was extremely racist towards basically every country they ever took over: from the Native Americans to Africans to Indians, and the list goes on. It wasn't just the British Empire, either. If you want to know about what happened with Belgium's relationship with the Congo, go find the book King Leopold's Ghost. But, people, it didn't start there.

Before Britain was an empire, the Romans (hey, look, same government Jesus said to submit to) were racist towards the peoples they took over as well: they made slaves of Brits and Germanians and basically everyone they conquered, and thought of anyone who wasn't raised like them as barbaric. Asia was in on it too: see China, Japan, and Mongolia, among others. India has for centuries been steeped in racism among its own people with the caste system. Look into European history and you'll see all kinds of racism among "whites"--Germans and Anglos and Saxons and Norsemen, Scots, Franks, Irishmen, vikings...everybody. Everybody thought they were better than everyone else, that their way of life was the only right one, and that others were a threat to it. Look into American history pre-Columbus, and you'll see the majority of the Native American tribes making war on one another and even enslaving each other as well.

It is absolutely ridiculous to me that anybody in the America that has been for centuries a "melting pot" of so many ethnicities and cultures and skin tones, can think that just because any one group of people look "alike" means the individuals with common external attributes are alike inwardly or think the same, or even talk the same. We are all collectively and individually this: human. NOBODY is better than anyone. None of us. So stop acting like it.

We are all depraved and self-seeking and capable of the very worst sins. All of us. You are not an exception, and neither am I. So if anyone is going to play the race card, I have one condition: play all of them.

Can I get really picky here for a sec? Saying that I'm white is really just as ignorant as calling someone else black in the sense of our skin color determining our culture and heritage. Firstly, my skin is not the same color as that sheet of paper, just as she's not the same color as the ink in a classic Sharpie. Secondly, I am a mixture of a lot of "races" (which I don't think even deserves to be a word, because it's completely and historically based in the myth that one group of people is somehow superior or inferior to another). Most of my ancestors as far back as I can trace were Germans on my dad's side, while on my mom's its a mixture of some German also, with Scottish, possibly some Irish, definite Osage (Native Americans--a very brutal tribe in particular, by the way), and probably some "English"--though that's a relative term as well, if you go back far enough. Guess what though? Most "blacks" in America aren't 100% descended from Africans (which is really a huge generalization as well, and don't get me started on the fact that African tribes fought and enslaved each other too, even long before Britian or anyone else ventured there.). There's been a lot of "mixture" with Native Americans, French-Canadians in some parts, "whites," Mexicans, Brazilians, etc.

Nobody's pure anything. So please stop trying to act like one group is so different from any other. I'm not saying different people don't grow up differently; I'm saying once you get beneath the skin, we are all the same, and not one of us (or our ancestors) are righteous. I'm also not saying this racism stuff is okay; it's not, and quite frankly I'm sick of it. But I'm sick of it on all sides. I'm sick of anyone--regardless of their skin tone--thinking they can make a judgment on anyone--regardless of that person's skin color--based upon skin color or any other form of outward appearance.

But as I said in the intro here, governments and talk are not going to fix this. So why am I writing, then? I guess I'm writing in hopes that this will pierce someone's heart. That the walls will drop, and you won't necessarily stop seeing things as black vs. white or white vs. black or white vs. Hispanic or Hispanic vs. black or what-have-you...but that you'll somehow see that racism is still not the heart of the issue. The heart of the issue is your heart; it's my heart; it's all our hearts. And our hearts are sinful. And this world is broken. Racism is just a symptom, and treating it with some kind of medicine will only temporarily block the pain; what we need is healing.

What we need is a new heart in place of this calloused, hateful, vengeful thing. I said we for a reason there. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to stand beside someone I love and care about and punch someone else in the face for treating my friend with less dignity than they would others. You have no idea how often I hear of situations and in my heart, my instinctive reaction is a vengeance that is not justice. I could go knock someone's teeth out, I really could. But would that change their mind, or their heart? It's easy to spew hatred at hatred, to return anger with fury, to let even a noble cause burn within us til it singes the divider between good and evil and justifies taking justice into my own hands when the Lord has said vengeance belongs to Him.

There will be justice. God is not blind to the hurts and happenings in this world, and He has sworn not to let the guilty go unpunished. But that includes you, and me, and even the people we'd like to call innocent. Not one of us is without sin, and sin is sin. It's damning. It holds the power of death, and having it fester in our hearts will only turn them stone cold.

Jesus came into a broken, unjust, tumultuous world and said to live differently. He said to respond to evil with love, to hatred with kindness, to anger with patience He told His disciples to pay taxes to--and thereby help support--a brutal government that would soon be killing His followers by the droves. The same government that had Jesus Himself unjustly tried. But you know what? God used it. Jesus hung on that cross and willingly, knowingly took a penalty He did not deserve, so that others could live. So that God's vow to punish evil could be fulfilled--on the head of the only One who could atone for all of our sins.

This is the power that overcomes the world, the light that drives out the darkness, that heals what sin has broken and torn down. It's found in forgiveness and love, in responding to all kinds of evil with grace. And it's not something we can do on our own. Believe me, I've tried. We cannot do this on our own, for our strength and determination will run out. We need His heart. We need Him to surgically remove our hearts of stone and replace them with one that pumps oxygen and life through us. One that reminds us it's not on our shoulders to change people. That's His job, and though He will undoubtedly use us, in practice that often looks a lot more like submitting to people we don't always agree with, loving people who spew hatred at us and at people we love, forgiving people that revile us, as well as those we can't understand.

Because as often as I want to get on my high horse and shout at people on all sides about racism, I am convicted at heart-level by the fact that apart from a few pivotal factors in my own story, I could easily have come to the same conclusions some of the people I want to shout at have. I am no better, and I have no right to elevate myself above anyone else. We are all in equal, desperate need of having our minds renewed by Jesus's, and having our hearts transformed by His.

I'm not here to say who's right and who's wrong and exactly what happened in Ferguson. I'm here to point the fingers back at every single one of us, and ask all of us (and by us, I mean us humans) where our hearts are at with all of this. Do we really think that sharing the right articles or quotes or making a public statement in one way or another is going to change the way our society functions? I'm not saying it won't have any impact, but I am questioning how deep that impact can go. Social reforms can only go so far to change people's minds and hearts. Outlawing moonshine back in the day didn't make people stop drinking (or brewing), anymore than gun restrictions erase crime. We went through the Civil Rights Movement not all too long ago, but there are still issues that have been festering in people's hearts for decades even since then.

The answer is not in protests and arguments, not even in eloquence. The answer is in the only thing that can break a prideful heart and shape it into something useful: bold, humble, loving forgiveness. This is the truth that turns the world upside down, tilts social norms on their heads, and transforms hearts and minds that could be reached no other way. This is the way of the Kingdom to which we belong if we are Christians. If Christ is our King, let us follow His commands:

"You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, Do not resist the one that is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also... You have heard that it is said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect."  -Matthew 5:38-39, 43-48

Singing Ugly

There I was in a roomful of mostly teenage boys, all of them belting out the words to "Blessed Be Your Name" as I strummed my guitar and sang it out with them. We'd sung it the past three or four weeks in a row, but they still weren't tired of it. Not in the way many people would be by that point. In fact, they were the ones who'd requested we sing it. Sometimes singing sounds a bit more like shouting, though. And although some music majors I know might have cringed had they heard it, I would never have traded those minutes of hearing our guys sing out passionately to Jesus, much less the privilege of singing to Him with them. 

To some, it may have sounded overly-boisterous. To others, perhaps a bit off-key. But for me and the other youth leaders present (if I am allowed to speak for them), it was beautiful. True, a few of the boys may have only been singing so loud simply because they knew the words to this one, and one or two might have been attempting to show off (or goof off). But many of them, you could tell, were truly worshiping. 

Very, very few things in my twenty-two years of living have ever impacted me quite the way those moments did. My heart wanted to burst inside me with joy and thankfulness and awe, just seeing glimpses of what God was doing in these kids I love (and now miss terribly. I still pray for you.), how He was drawing their hearts after Him. It felt like I got a sneak-peek in that moment of His Fatherly heart, for He delights to hear His children sing.

God doesn't demand a series of perfect notes; more often I think He wants to hear our broken dissonance. Anyone can practice and train until they can mechanically produce just the right sounds, but is it just me or does flawless performance sometimes seem to be lacking in feeling? Don't get me wrong; I'm not saying you shouldn't work at singing "better." But I can tell you that after hearing students of music hurl all their disgust at a Christmas concert because at one point the audience was invited to join in and they "weren't singing it right" or were way off key, my heart was not pressed much towards worship; it was broken, because all they could see were the notes and not the far more priceless souls of the people uttering them. 

There's this theory I've run into at times, that some people can't sing. I, personally, think it's hogwash. I invite and even plea with you to sing ugly. Please. Do it for me. Because on the days when I'm focusing more on hitting the appropriate notes than on the One I'm singing to, I need to hear you behind or beside me crying from an earnest heart like some of those youth-group boys in Jackson were that night. I need to be reminded it's less about my perfect performance (though I dare say I've never given one of those anyway), and more about the One we're singing to. 

I very much look forward to the day when all God's people are gathered together in one place to worship the one true King and desire of our hearts. I don't know whether we'll all be able to sing perfectly then or what, but I have a feeling we won't so much care what we might sound like individually at that point. Our eyes, our ears, our hearts--they will be focused elsewhere. They'll be focused where they should be in the here and now. 

So if singing beautifully comes more naturally to you, don't look down on someone else for singing off-key. Learn to find delight in their willingness to sing anyway, even if perhaps its a more humbling experience than it is for you; or maybe it's not because they can't hear themselves. Maybe none of us should care to hear ourselves. I for one sing best (I think) when I'm not focusing on the singing, but on Jesus. I can't say that for sure, because honestly when it happens I'm not really listening to myself. Because it's not about me. It's not about my voice, or yours for that matter. It's about the One who gave us a reason to sing--who is the reason why we sing. 

There's just something about hearing multiple voices raised in praise and surrender to Him. It's beautiful. It's encouraging. It's a teeny, tiny piece of heaven here on this earth. So don't sacrifice that by putting overmuch emphasis on how you or anyone around you is singing. Just worship; get lost in awe and joy and the sovereignty of the One who is our hope, our King, our Redeemer. He's worthy of all our praise, and then some. Let's put the emphasis where it's due. 

Kingdoms

Mind if I treat this one like a bit of a journal entry for a second and start out with some candid, honest dismissal? I should be wrapping up a homework assignment right now. That is, I "should" be according to the part of me that tends to pipe in with great insistence that I have to put a high priority on academics. That being said, here comes the dismissal bit: as you can see, I'm not doing my homework at the moment. Don't worry, I'll get to it. I'll just probably have a bit of a clearer head to do it well once I get some things transferred from mind and heart to words. I'm weird and function that way. Now, to get more to the point so I can get around to that homework and thus ease the pain for those of you who may or may not be lecturing to your screens right now as if I can hear you...

I am not my own.

I know a lot of us Christians tend to say that a lot, but lately it's been hitting me harder and harder. It's counter-cultural, in a world that tells me my life is mine, that I should do my thing and pursue my desires and do things that will better the kingdom of Me. Well, in my limited time on this planet I've come to the conclusion that the Kingdom of Me is pretty crummy and quite a bit boring and pointless. There's another kingdom, though, that I'd much rather throw my allegiance into--a kingdom that's all about a whole lot more than me.

At the heart of this other kingdom is a King who not only has all the authority there's ever been, but who deserves such authority far more than me or you or anyone else--so much so that it's a pretty pathetic comparison. There's no one to compare with this King, for not only does He have all this power, but in His sovereignty He chooses deliberately to rescue the broken and frail and helpless--basically, the people who could never have any hope of either doing or being anything close to what this holy King deserves. Not only does He rescue us, though, He turns around and chooses just as deliberately to use these broken containers to transport His message--His heart--to others who are just as broken and incapable (hint: that's all of us).

Now, I know you're not necessarily too familiar with the Kingdom of Me, but doesn't the Kingdom of Him sound a whole lot more glorious than a pitiful one-man show squeaking about its own importance amid a crowd of other solo-citizen kingdoms fighting their way through this life for their own fading glories? I think so.

I had a conversation with a friend a little while back in which we were discussing happiness, and I remarked to her that I've noticed in my own life I'm never happier than when my life is more about other people than it is about just me. There's really no quicker way to misery for me than for all my thoughts, prayers, and desired to be centered around the Kingdom of Me. Don't get me wrong; I still find myself wandering down that miserable trail sometimes--in fact, it's a lot more often than my prideful self would like me to admit. But it's still miserable. It feels empty and pointless and lonely. And it reeks of self-pity, judgmental harshness, and failure.

I don't like that path. But to get off it, I must allow Jesus to shift my thoughts, prayers, and desires toward what (who) He is thinking of and praying for and desiring. And to do that, I have to let go of the many and mini concerns of the Kingdom of Me. I have to hand it over to Him all over again and remind myself that He's a much more capable ruler than I am, and that His Kingdom will remain long after my fleeting time on this earth is ended.

But although His Kingdom is far better than mine, it still doesn't mean an easy road for its citizens. It means my life is not my own, that it's not about me, which means it's actually a whole lot about others. It's all about Jesus, but I find He very often has people on His heart, and has this tendency to put them on my heart as well. And so there are times when my own individual life may seem to be going pretty smoothly along with work and school and only the usual, rather insignificant issues or struggles of normal everyday life.

Perhaps it would be so simple and straightforward, if His Kingdom were somehow still all about the Kingdom of Me. But it's not. And because it's not, I carry around with me pieces of other people's lives. I get to rejoice in the triumphs of what God's doing in one friend's life, and meanwhile be absolutely aching for what another is going through. I get to stand hopeful and expectant, and I get to weep tears of anguish, pleading for redemption or victory or peace in the lives of people I love. It means sometimes I am compelled to say things that sheepish me would rather not bring up. Every once in a while, it even means giving a complete stranger a hug. But no matter how awkward or outright difficult the things He calls me to walk through are, I would never ever trade the beauty and glory and deep-seated joy to be found in living for His Kingdom, for the pitiful and temporary happiness of living for the Kingdom of Me.

But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For His sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I might gain Christ and be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes from faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith--that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and may share His sufferings, becoming like Him in His death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me His own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal of the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.  -Philippians 3:7-14

Press on.