Yesterday was a hard day.
I watched as news and arguments filled my social media feeds. I reached out to members of the black community who have impacted me to thank them and mourn with them. I started my frustrated rambling. I cried as I said to my husband “I just don’t understand why being upset that white people who lie and blame black people for their own crimes, or thinking someone shouldn’t die on the ground from being choked, or even just thinking that these lives deserve justice is seen as wrong?”
He stopped, and said calmly, “it isn’t, Esther.” Being told my frustration was valid did calm me some, but still didn’t feel like enough. It still didn’t make the images I’d seen go away.
Today was a hard day, too.
While scrolling through social media, I saw person after person share posts in mourning. I saw a page share yet another in memory post for another person of color lost at the hands of ignorance and racism. But this one...this one was different.
In this post, the author included these verses.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recover sight to the blind, to liberate those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.”
Luke 4:18-19
I later went and read this chapter for myself, as it has been beaten into my head to learn the context of verses. I, also, thought maybe it would bring me peace. Which it did, but with more motivation for justice.
Right before this passage is the story of Jesus being tempted by the Devil. I have been taught the story of Jesus being tempted over and over, but somehow, the next passage was skipped. Which I find funny, since it’s His first sermon documented in Luke.
That’s it. That’s the context.
Jesus walked up, opened a scroll written by Isaiah that prophecized this moment, and told them “I’m here. You’re now watching history before your eyes.”
Now, knowing how he was perceived, I knew this kind of confidence was not going to go over well. And it didn’t. But Jesus never backed down.
In fact, I laughed at his blunt responses. The congregations said “aren’t you Joseph’s son? We’ve known you since you were a kid!”
Growing up in a small town, this hits home. Do you know how many times I or my friends have been out, and someone says “aren’t you so and so’s kid? You’re suppose to be a baby”! It’s sweet and kind. But, I understand what they’re saying. From that point on, I know they’re only going to see me as a child. I don’t know this for certain, I’m no Bible scholar, but I believe that’s exactly what they were trying to tell Jesus.
“You CAN’T be that powerful or successful! We know your daddy and saw your grow up! You can’t POSSIBLY have more power and knowledge than us.” *insert eye roll here*
I was waiting for Jesus to say “uhm yeah.. but I’ve actually been an adult for about twelve plus years now and literally have the knowledge of GOD HIMSELF, but whatever”. But he didn’t. That’s not his style.
Instead, Jesus looks them dead in the eyes and says “I suppose you’re going to quote the proverb, ‘Doctor, go heal yourself. Do here in your hometown what we heard you did in Capernaum.’ Well, let me tell you something: No prophet is ever welcomed in his hometown”.
My jaw hit the floor. A lightbulb went off in my head. I read that verse over and over again.
“No prophet is ever welcomed in his hometown.” Not even Jesus.
Six verses later, they tried to throw him off a cliff. In his hometown. By his own childhood village. For telling the truth, when they weren’t ready to hear it.
I sat in awe. I think I may have even clapped, with my jaw still on the floor. My favorite stories are Jesus moments like this. Where he is kind of sassy, forthright, and honest. When he threw tables in the synogouge, or told a man to gouge his eyes out for lusting, or preached when he knew people were going to be mad. He did not care what the consequences for his words were, because they were true. When God told him to say it, he said it. And y’all, Jesus almost ALWAYS preached against social norms.
Jesus was the first social justice warrior. He told us from the first line of his first documented sermon (in Luke) that’s what he came here to do. He spoke out for the oppressed. He taught love above law. He chose to listen to, share with, and welcome those in pain, whether they were like him or not. Jesus was a rebel. He was not this clean cut, angelic version we idolize now. Not to really bust your bubble, but he wasn’t white or American either. He spoke the truth, down to the minute it killed him.
This convicted me further in my thoughts over the last few weeks: I have to speak out public against racism and hatred when it’s put in front of me. I must seek justice. I can no longer worry about how people will see me. I can no longer stay silent to avoid conflict. I can no longer be afraid to say Black Lives Matter for fear that I will be oustrosized. Because Jesus, the one who I claim to try to be most like, was oustrosized for it too. Even if I’m not welcome in groups of friends, family, or my hometown, I must tell the truth.
I’m white. I’m surrounded by white people everyday. I have no political or monetary gain for standing up for people of color. In fact, it may actually cause my personal relationships more harm than good. I‘m doing it because it’s what is right. I’m just so tired of trying to hold my tongue out of fear of the uncomfortable, and I’m so tired of crying about these injustices.
Beth Moore tweeted it best last night:
‘Fellow whites who want Black Americans & PoC to receive equal justice & for egregious white supremacy to be dismantled, speak up. Don’t be fragile. You know what’s right. Expect: “You’re causing division!” Eye roll. “What about abortion??” I’m pro-ALL-life, conception to coffin. “You’re a liberal!” (Lib’s even better) Actually I’m a Jesus follower called to a gospel way too generous, glorious, graceful & everlasting to fit in the self serving confines of 2 parties. “You’ve been brainwashed.” My brain needed washing of anyway unlike the way of Christ.’
What I’m trying to say to you is this: be brave. This is about human decency. Dignity. Fairness. Rightness. JUSTICE. Toughen up and accept you’re going to be disliked for something. Make it something that counts. Let’s be the generation the intimidators can’t silence or tire out.
Guys, at some point we have to recognize that expecting people of color to be treated fairly, safely, and without fear of dying because of their skin color is not synonymous with radical ideals, politics, or divisiveness. It’s just the right thing to do. And if you’re a believer, you’re called to do it.
We are called to love.
We are called to tell the truth.
We are called to seek justice.
It’s that simple.
So, I’m calling out everyone who looks like me and claims the same God I do. If you are as upset as I hope you are about these situations, please join me in listening, learning, and pointing out what is wrong. Ask questions. Do your research. Listen to those who are mourning. Because while racism affects minorities, it’s was created and controlled by people who look like us. More importantly, it typically was and is by people who claim the same God as us. Probably by our ancestors and/or friend’s ancestors. I am not proud of that part of history. Many of us have ancestors we are not proud of. But guys, we have the power to try to stop some of our ancestor’s mistakes from continuing.
We have the power to uplift voices that need to be heard, but are drowned out by the sounds of blatant racism and radio silence. We have the power to call out those around us in a way that may not be safe for people of color. We have the privilege of getting up from our seat at the table, allowing our brother and sisters of color to take our spots, and standing behind them while they tell their story. However we do it, we must be an example, for humanity and Christianity alike. Because those racists? They’re more likely to listen to us. We can’t let people of color fight alone anymore. And we CANNOT let death be the trigger for change anymore.
I don’t say this lightly. Openly saying black lives matter sometimes, if not most times in my neck of the woods, sets you up for some harsh backlash. I have made the choice to accept that for myself. This is not going to be easy. This means pissing off some of our closest loved ones sometimes. It doesn’t need to be out of anger. The best education is done is love.
We also have to respect those that choose to stay silent when it’s not safe for them to speak up. Because here’s the kicker, even white people are scared of racist white people. Blantant racists tend to have unresolved anger issues, and can become violent with those who disagree. So, do not misunderstand me. I do not recommend hastily or aggressively calling out strangers or unsafe people. Please, recognize if you are in a safe position or place to do so.
You will be told you’re prepetuating the divide. You will be told you believe things that you don’t. You will be given every excuse of why you’re wrong, even the distorted, twisted, “Biblical” ones. But you have to. We have to do this. Because it’s the right thing to do.
For years, I was scared to post anything black lives matter related because I KNEW I’d have to argue with people I love about if I did. I knew how some friends and family would see me. But I don’t care anymore.
I want to be on the right side of history.
If you hate me for defending people God created beautifully in his image, so be it. But ask yourself why it makes you so angry for me to defend those who don’t look like you?
We have to do what’s right. We have to do what we’re called to do. We have to hold each other accountable. We have to be brave. We have to seek justice. Or we are going to keep seeing horrific tragedies happen.
And to my brothers and sisters of color,
I hear you.
I see you.
I mourn with you.
I value you.
I stand with you.
Keep telling your truths.
I love you guys. Be safe, and love each other.