“So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic scene on Calvary's hill three men were crucified. We must never forget that all three were crucified for the same crime--the crime of extremism. Two were extremists for immorality, and thus fell below their environment. The other, Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth and goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. Perhaps the South, the nation and the world are in dire need of creative extremists.” -Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Letters From Birmingham Jail After suffering through a lengthy winter, I soak in the backyard sun, cleaning out my perennial flower beds. I enjoy the process of pulling out dead leaves and stems to give new plants room to breathe. One week I look at a pile of dry, brown debris, and the next week I witness the glorious debut of a colorful symphony of tulips. The fresh beauty we uncover when we get rid of decay is a miracle to behold. This is the work Christians need to be willing to do -- to pull our own weeds, to get rid of the parts that have stopped growing, to create room for fresh growth. That pertains to the Church’s relationships with race as well. After years of living in predominantly white areas in Iowa and Missouri, my journey brought me to a more diverse world in St. Paul, Minnesota. My children, teen boys adopted almost seven years ago and born in Ethiopia, deserve a world of richness in color and culture. Through my experience as the mom of kids of color and our transition to an urban area, I listen as I work on uprooting previously held beliefs and prejudices. I listen to the voices of my Christian brothers and sisters of color who have been othered by those in the Church, who have suffered in the prison of a church culture that never felt like home to them. As a professor I’ve listened to the voices of my college students who write heartbreaking essays about their own loneliness as minority students on a predominantly white Christian campus. I’ve engaged with them in conversation about their experiences in their dorms and their classes where they sometimes suffer from exclusion. In the news and through social media, I listen to the experiences of people of color as they recount their stories of being profiled when shopping, when waiting for a friend, when taking a nap on campus, when checking out of a vacation rental, when taking a college tour. This process of listening has pushed me to pull out the decay from my own heart. I’ve examined my previously held beliefs. I’ve thought about the times from my past when I’ve othered someone who doesn’t share my cultural experience and the times when I’ve applied a stereotype. In painful ways I’ve questioned my own unconscious biases and thought deeply about my own privilege. And when I discover things that make me uncomfortable, even in my own heart, I am pulling out the dead to make room for new growth. Yes, this can be painful. I have not yet perfected this process, but I continue to try. The beauty in new relationships and worldviews is certainly worth it. Our rebirth in Christ promises newness (2 Corinthians 5:17), but that only comes after death. In other words, in order to be resurrected, we must first die (Romans 6:4). Jesus himself explained in John 12:24 that a seed can only produce fruit after it has fallen to the ground and died. The work of racial reconciliation in the Church will require the same. Ingrained culture and preconceived notions need to be uprooted and discarded in a holy fire if we want healing and bridge-building to take place. This takes time and effort and a continual focus on the ultimate knowledge that we all bear the image of the Father. Of course this work doesn’t happen in isolation; I rely on the Holy Spirit as my instigator. This requires cooperation and a willingness to respond to conviction. My voice is one among many, and my words are not new. There are other voices with more experience and knowledge than mine. That is why I listen and then dig in to do the work in this continual process of removing the deadness to make room for fresh new life. It is my prayer that more in the Church will do the same. The miraculous beauty of reconciliation and redemption is worth it. Lord Jesus, giver of all good gifts, give us today the gift of listening. Give us ears attuned to stories of injustice, and like You, give us the courage to speak boldly for love and truth. Amen.
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September 2020
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