On Tuesday night, President Bill Clinton took the stage at the Democratic National Convention to break new ground. He endorsed his wife to be President of the United States.
Before he spoke, people in the convention hall and around the globe expressed awe as they witnessed history in the making. Hillary Rodham Clinton is now the first woman to be nominated for President by any major political party in the United States. In November, she may indeed be elected to serve as the President and Commander in Chief. Hillary Clinton is trailblazing a new chapter in American history.
As the spouse of the nominee, Bill Clinton took the stage to humanize her as a candidate. He told moving stories about Hillary Clinton’s work of advocacy over the span of decades. He gave numerous examples of her passions, and he described her as a relentless “change-maker.”
These stories uplifted the themes of her work and the legacy it has created. But when it came to discussing the details of their courtship and marriage, Bill Clinton uplifted something else entirely: He prioritized the male gaze.
The ‘male gaze’ is a term which describes the lens through which women are frequently viewed in daily life and leadership. When the male gaze takes narrative form, it presents women as objects to be enjoyed for male pleasure.
Some journalists and political commentators found Bill Clinton’s opening story to be charming and endearing. Frankly, if I may be so bold, I found it to be creepy and disrespectful. He described his first meeting with Hillary Clinton in this way:
“The first time I saw her we were, appropriately enough, in a class on political and civil rights. She had thick blond hair, big glasses, wore no makeup, and she had a sense of strength and self- possession that I found magnetic. After the class, I followed her out, intending to introduce myself. I got close enough to touch her back, but I couldn’t do it. Somehow I knew this would not be just another tap on the shoulder, that I might be starting something I couldn’t stop.”
Within this story, one may hear Bill Clinton expressing recognition that a large, important life chapter was about to open. But his language — especially when viewed through the history of his personal discretions; that is not easily avoided — talks about her appearance and his motives to gain access to her. Later, he shared that she finally addressed him in their university library after he had been staring at her continually. He quoted her as saying, “Look, if you’re going to keep staring at me, and now I’m staring back, we at least ought to know each other’s name. I’m Hillary Rodham. Who are you?”
Along with narrating Hillary Clinton’s accomplishments, the male gaze wove its way throughout the speech. Many times, Bill Clinton praised Hillary Cllinton as a good mother and wife. I am grateful she has raised her daughter well, and I applaud the ways she has championed the needs of many children in our nation. I would not want the opposite to be true. But I long for a nation where women do not have to make the case for their leadership by first justifying their success as good wives and mothers.
I want a nation where women can use words like ‘wife,’ ‘mother,’ and ‘grandmother’ to describe themselves if they so choose. But I also want a nation where people do not require such words to justify the executive leadership of women.
So come on, Bill.
Enough of the male gaze already.
Perhaps,
you didn’t sleep well, or
you have a looming deadline, or
you’re juggling a heavy load of responsibilities, or
you’re troubled by the news,
you’re at wits end with your teenager, or
you’re in a conflict with someone you love.
Whatever it may be,
you are worth
wellness,
space,
grace,
peace,
insight, and
connection.
And a moment of play, something at once simple and profound, serves as a reminder. Play reorients and grounds us in what is most true: We are loved and living in a world with lovely gifts, even as it contains real challenges.
Play changes our brains. It calms us and helps us feel more connected. It also shifts us away from our anxious reactivity, allowing us to use the higher levels of our brain functioning to solve problems.
So find a way to play a bit today, even if it’s just for a moment.
Today, I take my cue from a hilarious, adorable toddler. She has a really hard time continuing to sulk in that tantrum once she starts to delight in squeaky, red shoes. Enjoy this video:
This sermon was preached at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Dearborn Heights, Michigan and was focused upon Luke 11:1-13. An audio recording is include above, and a manuscript is included below.
Do you remember who taught you how to pray? Do you have memories of specific people or communities that helped you memorize the Lord’s Prayer and say it aloud? Who comes to mind for you? Do you feel gratitude when you remember them?
Let’s take just a moment to think of those people. Let’s have a few seconds of silence to bring their memory to our recollection. . .
I know we’re going to say the Lord’s Prayer later in the service, but I thought we might say it together right now too, specifically remembering the people who taught us to pray. Let’s imagine them with us. Let’s imagine them saying these words alongside us as we pray together the prayer that Jesus taught us, saying,
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the Kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen.
If you think about it, this prayer has been transmitted and taught from one Christian to another Christian, not only across generations inside churches and households, but across millennia, reaching all the way back to Jesus himself. His disciples requested, “Lord, teach us to pray, as John taught his disciples.” In the story we heard today, Jesus teaches a version of this prayer. You’ll notice that this version is missing some clauses we typically say in worship. When we speak this prayer together, it mirrors the version from the Gospel of Matthe more closely.
Jesus cared for his disciples’ request and taught his disciples to pray. But he did more than share particular words and phrases. The words, phrases, and images of the Lord’s Prayer are beautiful and important. But more important, Jesus taught his disciples about the God to whom they pray. He taught them about a loving God who knows how to give good gifts to them, for they – and we – are children of this loving God.
Jesus shares an interesting parable. He says, “Suppose one of you has a friend, and you go to him at midnight and say to him, ‘Friend, lend me three loaves of bread; for a friend of mine has arrived, and I have nothing to set before him.’”
On the other side of the door, this friend gets pretty annoyed. It’s the middle of the night! If he gets up to find some bread, all the kids will wake up. They’ll be whiny. He might stumble over something. Later, he might lie in bed awake, struggling to fall asleep again.
But eventually, with enough perseverance and continued knocking, even an irritated friend will help. Jesus wants to convey this to his disciples: If a grumpy, crabby, annoyed friend will give this good gift, how much more will God hear our prayers and care for us? How much more will God do this – one who loves us unconditionally like a parent? How much more will God show tender care – one who looks upon us with delight?
Jesus invites us to be persistent in our prayers.
It’s not that God needs us to make a case or work really hard to be convincing. God isn’t far away, ignoring us until we’re sufficiently irritating. Instead, God is profoundly and tenderly near and with us in our everyday lives. This God looks upon us with love and delight. Though there are certainly times when we struggle or experience painful moments that make no sense, we remind one another that this God is accompanying us. And we speak the truth: God’s gifts will find us because God’s presence is always with us.
Jesus says, “Ask, seek, and knock. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.”
Ask, Seek, and Knock.
Perhaps within these words, there lies another word: Dream.
I spent some time in San Antonio last week. I traveled there to co-officiate a wedding along with another pastor that I’ve known for many years. His name is Ben Johnston-Krase. During the ceremony, he and I gave a wedding sermon together, and it started with a good question: “What is God’s fondest dream for your life?”
It’s a beautiful question.
Today, I’d like to ask it to you:
What is God’s fondest dream for your life?
I wonder what would happen if we all prayed to discover it.
When we let that question guide us, we open ourselves to new possibilities. Sometimes, they are the kinds of possibilities that we never anticipated. Sometimes, we are surprised if they come later in life, but often, they do. Sometimes, we are surprised if they invite us to chart a different course entirely.
What is God’s fondest dream for your life?
For our lives?
Ben Johnston-Krase, my mentor and co-officiant had that kind of experience.
In his case, it started with a literal dream. In the middle of the night two summers ago, Ben received one of the best ideas of his life. At the time, he was a pastor in Southeast Wisconsin, but while he slept, he dreamt he was traveling to a new church to become their pastor. Once he arrived, he was surprised to discover that the church was. . . a farm.
When he awoke, a good feeling lingered. He realized there might actually be something to this vision. At 3:17am, he was suddenly awake with a flurry of ideas: What would it be like to worship in a barn? What if Sunday School involved children caring for chickens? What if all resources on a farm could be leveraged to address hunger. . . in homes. . .in prisons. . . in nursing care facilities?
He wondered, Is anybody out there actually doing this? He started Googling, and he couldn’t find anything like this dream. So he went to GoDaddy.com to see if FarmChurch.org was available. It was, and after being awake for a mere twenty minutes, he bought it on the spot.
And that’s when the dream got bigger than Ben’s ideas alone.
The next day, he called Allen Brimer, a seminary classmate and close friend who had been a farmer before becoming pastor. After talking to his family, Allen responded right away, “I’m in.”
The flurry of conversations continued. A third family joined too, and soon the Johnston-Krases, Brimers, and Werts were all in agreement: They were actually going to dream, create, and launch Farm Church. They decided to take a great deal of personal risk. They quit their jobs to pursue this vision with their full attention and energy.
And that’s when the dream got bigger than their ideas alone.
The vision spread, and people around the nation began contacting them in the hopes that they might bring Farm Church to their town. The pastors, their partners, and their kids all entered a discernment process to figure out where they should move. After a lot of prayer and consideration, they decided upon Durham, North Carolina.
And that’s when the dream got bigger than their families alone.
These families made a commitment to follow every thread of conversation once they arrived in Durham. As a result, vital partnerships emerged. Within a year, they received land to farm right within the city, and SEEDS, a local non-profit, gave them space to hold worship services. Most importantly, people of all ages have caught the vision and made it theirs too. Together, they are embodying it. Together, they are embodying church.
And the dream will clearly get bigger.
I mention this story as inspiration for us today. I share it as a reminder us that God’s love and vision are calling us all the time. Will we open ourselves to recognizing it? Will we become fully alive as we follow it?
So I ask it again,
What is God’s fondest dream for your life?
What is God’s fondest dream for our lives?
Sometimes, we wonder if God has passed us by. We question if od really cares for us. We might even hold an unconscious belief that we have to pester God or build a masterful case to be heard. But God’s posture is one of love and abundant presence.
What would happen if we prayed often?
What would happen if we prayed abundantly?
Would we learn to see the gifts all around us?
Would new possibilities come into view?
Would our lives be marked for greater purpose and adventures in belonging?
Well, let’s try it.
Ask, Seek, Knock, Dream. We might just find answers in that process, but even richer, our lives themselves might be found as they are empowered with even greater meaning.
May God reveal the most beautiful, fondest dreams of all.
Amen.
Donald Trump, president and chief executive of Trump Organization Inc. and 2016 Republican presidential candidate, holds up a Bible while speaking at the Values Voter Summit in Washington, D.C., U.S., on Friday, Sept. 25, 2015. The annual event, organized by the Family Research Council, gives presidential contenders a chance to address a conservative Christian audience in the crowded Republican primary contest. Photographer: Drew Angerer/Bloomberg via Getty Images
During the culminating speech of the Republican National Convention, Donald J. Trump took the stage to accept the Republican nomination for the Presidency. As he addressed the nation, the bulk of Trump’s speech was anticipated; a draft had been leaked to the press. Before he took the stage, I read that draft and braced myself to hear many troubling, discriminatory statements. But one remark blindsided me completely.
Toward the close of his speech, Trump’s voice, which had been loud and pointed, slowed and became more quiet. With a serious tone, he personally thanked evangelical Christians for their role in gaining him the Republican nomination. That’s when he expressed a desire I did not anticipate. He said he would like to repeal particular laws which prohibit religious leaders from endorsing specific political candidates from their pulpits and houses of worship. He said,
“At this moment, I would like to thank the evangelical community because, I will tell you what, the support they have given me — and I’m not sure I totally deserve it — has been so amazing. And has been such a big reason I’m here tonight. They have much to contribute to our policies.
“Yet our laws prevent you from speaking your mind from your own pulpits. An amendment, pushed by Lyndon Johnson, many years ago, threatens religious institutions with a loss of their tax-exempt status if they openly advocate their political views. Their voice has been taken away. I will work hard to repeal that language and to protect free speech for all Americans.”
After a lengthy, incendiary speech, this statement at the close knocked the breath out of me. I’m not trying to be overdramatic, but when I heard his words and the tone that accompanied them, I gasped and had to hold on to something. I almost fainted.
Clearly, Donald Trump spoke these words and meant them sincerely. As a Christian minister, this troubles me deeply. The implications are dangerous.
In WWII era Germany, the German Christian movement of the Church became enmeshed with German nationalism. During that time, the largest part of the Church pledged allegiance to the authoritarian dictatorship of Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich. The German Church also supported the Holocaust and washed its hands of the death and destruction it unleashed.
It is important to consider this precedent.
During his incendiary speech at the Republican National Convention, Donald Trump spoke dangerous rhetoric about Latin American and Middle Eastern people. At one point he shouted, “We don’t want them in our country!”
He repeated a refrain concerning his commitment to “law and order,” but he said nothing about the violence Black Americans are facing in our nation. That was erased from his speech entirely.
The separation of Church and State is vital. Without it, religious communities can be manipulated or forced to cower to authoritarianism. This can lead to violence. For this reason, it is important to consider the precedent of the German Christian movement. Trump’s speech at the convention made many assertions of white supremacy. We must not repeat the past.
Yesterday, while trying to calm and protect a man with autism, Charles Kinsey laid on the ground with his hands held up high on video, and a police officer shot him. When asked why he fired his gun, the officer said, “I don’t know.”
Thankfully, Kinsey’s injuries are not life-threatening, but the trauma and violence is very threatening.
Last night at the Republican National Convention, Mike Pence said that Martin Luther King Jr. was one of the heroes of his youth. In the very same speech, he listed the challenges that police officers are facing as they have experienced recent violence. Without question, these officers and their families personally deserve empathy for the losses they’ve recently endured, and violence against them must be decried. But there were also obvious omissions in the list of names and incidents of violence that Mike Pence chose to spotlight last night.
Black lives matter.
This phrase seems to enrage some. But it must be said because in the face of police violence and brutality — in the midst of numerous cases of police officers going uncharged or un-convicted after shooting and killing black lives — it is clear that black lives don’t matter to some. At the very least, we and our institutional systems regularly indicate that black lives matter less.
Last night, in another RNC speech, Alton Sterling, a black man killed by police officers in Baton Rouge, was listed as heroic, and people in crowd the muted their cheering. Some even booed.
Yesterday’s shooting is another horrific instance of violence. It’s true that not every police officer is personally responsible for what happened to Charles Kinsey specifically yesterday. But every police officer must be responsive to what has emerged as a clear pattern of violence against black lives in the system of modern policing. Most importantly, we must be responsive. We have to push and protest toward that change. We have to put that pressure on.
These patterns aren’t new, and they didn’t just emerge. Remember Rodney King all the way back in 1991? These patterns been happening for a long time. 2015 and 2016 have just really made them obvious.
This summer, I’ve had the opportunity to do some cross-country traveling on airplanes. Each one propelled me high into the air and landed me safely on a runway in an entirely different location. I’m not an enormous fan of flying; I certainly despise turbulence when I have to endure it. But this process gets me where I need to go, and I have grown completely accustomed to it. And if you think about it, that is truly incredible.
First of all, flying is truly incredible.
A well-crafted machine with jet engines climbs into the air at enormous speeds without ever falling to the ground or blowing up from its own energy. It begins an ascent from a narrow strip of ground. Then, with the expertise of pilots and precise instruments, it lands accurately on a completely different, narrow strip of ground. This seems so improbable, yet it happens more than 100,000 times every single day.
Second of all, my lack of anxiety is truly incredible.
We know that plane crashes are extremely rare. This puts my mind at ease. Many times, I’ve allowed my imagination to answer, “What would it be like if this plane just began to plummet?” But I never expect that, nor do I think about it in detail. This lack of anxiety is especially surprising, as every single journey begins with an in-flight safety video to discuss the best survival attempts for the worst possible scenarios. The ritual viewing of the in-flight safety video invites us to ponder complete disasters, but it concerns us so little that we often give it our minimal attention. We conclude that these situations are extremely unlikely, so we don’t allow ourselves to worry.
This is what surprises me the most. During certain chapters of my life, I’ve been prone to anxiety, but I don’t feel it while flying. I am hurled into the stratosphere, and it does not faze me. A mere, glass window stands between me and unbreathable air, but I’m not concerned. I descend to the ground at speeds unique only to this experience, but I feel no fear.
Yes, the odds of disaster are rare, but beyond this awareness, I have simply come to expect the best. The in-flight safety video does not convince me otherwise, even though it addresses the worst case scenarios imaginable. I expect to arrive safely.
When a plane flung me across the U.S. last week, I found myself reflecting on all of this. If I’m not worried thousands of feet in the air, why on earth do I regularly project and fear the worst case scenarios I can possibly imagine in my everyday life? Why do I do this during challenges less death-defying?
When I have a dream. . .
When I want to take a risk. . .
When I hope for belonging. . .
I know I could win a creative award for the imaginative genius I unleash upon my fears.
As I thought about these questions, this time, my imagination stepped in to aid me. I had a thought which immediately made me laugh aloud: What if we could create the equivalent of in-flight safety videos for our everyday fears?
I immediately began creating dramatic productions for everyday kinds of anxieties. . .
– How to survive the performance review
– How to survive the helicopter parent
– How to survive the dentist appointment
– How to survive the public run-in with the ex
– How to survive the 2016 Presidential Election
The list could go on and on.
While flying, I smiled on the plane as I began to direct my in-flight safety videos toward my own personal fears. I amused myself, wondering,
– What is the equivalent of the ‘unlikely water landing’ in this scenario?
– What is the life vest for this situation, and where is it located?
– What or whom serves as the exit, keeping in mind that the exit may be behind me?
– Who would I cast in the role of the ‘Smoking is not allowed on any Delta flight’ lady?
I invite you to do the same. I wonder, what worst case scenarios are you currently casting into your life? Can you find a way to laugh at them? Can you direct a video?
Most of all, can you simply come to expect the best –
that in the end, you will indeed land safely?
[I took this photo of Jack and Sharon Rogers after he received an Excellence in Theological Education Award at the 221st General Assembly of the PC(USA) in Detroit.]
With vivid clarity, I remember the moment I first talked with Jack Rogers.
I had just moved to Pasadena, California. As a new resident in the neighborhood, I wandered over to Pasadena Presbyterian Church. Little did I know at the time. . . My wandering was the first moment of a deep and meaningful chapter. I simply arrived there for worship that first Sunday. I did not yet know that I would eventually become the Associate Pastor of the congregation.
But before any of that would unfold, I was a new guest on a particular Sunday. After worship was over, I joined others on the patio for coffee and conversation. That’s when I spotted Jack and Sharon Rogers. I recognized Jack right away because he had been a colloquium speaker at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary while I was a student.
“Wait, Jack Rogers attends this church?” I asked myself with excitement. I decided to walk over and introduce myself.
But as I approached them, I was immediately nervous. I had a lot of admiration for Jack Rogers. He was the Moderator of the 213th General Assembly of the PC(USA) and had written nearly 50 works. His book Jesus, the Bible, and Homosexuality: Explode the Myths, Heal the Church had been instrumental in framing sacred texts and ushering in greater empathy, acceptance, and inclusion of LGBTQ people in the life and leadership of the Church. For many people, this book was a spiritual game changer of minds, hearts, and relationships.
I walked closer to Jack and Sharon, and I wondered what I would say. My palms were a little bit sweaty. That’s when I tried to get his attention. I said, “Hello. Mr. Rogers?”
More accurately, I could have asked, “Dr. Rogers?” or “Reverend Rogers?” Now that I’ve known him, I’m sure that “Jack?” would have been completely acceptable also.
But no. Instead, I blurted out, “Hello. Mr. Rogers?” and immediately, I could only think of this guy. I stood there blushing.
To Jack, I’m sure it wasn’t so weird to hear his own last name in a question. But because I was suddenly thinking about Fred with puppets, my nervousness moved to embarrassment. Hopefully, I didn’t show that on my face.
I pushed through my awkward blushing and introduced myself to Jack. That’s when I had the chance to meet Sharon also, whose life and work I would come to admire greatly. For decades, Dr. Sharon Rogers has worked alongside people with disabilities and educated others to do the same. In particular, she has given confidence and empowerment to non-verbal children in public schools. This was a good, first conversation. I am grateful for our introduction on that summer day.
That simple, slightly embarrassing greeting after worship was just the beginning. Eventually with more time, I would become one of the pastors of Pasadena Presbyterian Church, and Jack and Sharon would become great mentors and friends.
Some people have particular gifts to minister to pastors, offering encouragement and friendship so easily. Jack and Sharon gave this gift to me in abundant ways. They regularly shared words of affirmation and kindness to me after I preached sermons. This always meant a lot to me. Frequently, they made connections between my words and ideas and I had yet to consider. Jack was such an astute theologian and thinker, and he expanded my mindset even as he encouraged me quite intentionally.
Jack Rogers died last week, and many grieve his loss. This Friday, people will gather for his funeral at Pasadena Presbyterian Church, and they will honor the great gift of his life. In this challenging time, we are prayerful for Sharon, their children and extended family, and the large, expansive church family that surrounds them.
After hearing the news of Jack’s death, I thought about that first conversation on the church patio. I had not thought of it in a long time, but it seemed so appropriate.
When Fred Rogers died, numerous people emerged publicly to share the ways he encouraged and mentored them over large spans of time. He kept in touch with children as they grew into adulthood. He also met adults and wrote letters back and forth with them for decades. He took care to let all of them know how special they were. People came to believe in their worth and value because of his loving posture toward them.
Now that Jack Rogers has died, numerous people will also emerge publicly to share the ways he encouraged and mentored them over large spans of time. In many cases, these will be people who have been marginalized by churches. Jack had a personal conversion experience in the 1990s which moved him toward greater acceptance of the LGBTQ community. That change in thinking became a personal calling and mission. He advocated for the ordination of LGBTQ people and same-gender marriage. He stood fiercely beside people with loyalty — in some cases, for decades — upholding and encouraging their calling when church institutions vehemently denied it. Jack Rogers took care to let these people know how special they were. People came to believe in their worth and value because of his loving posture toward them.
Fred Rogers and Jack Rogers,
Two Presbyterian ministers who loved expansively with advocacy and devotion.
May we follow their leading.
Blessings upon you, Jack.
May you always know your worth and value,
held forever in the presence of God’s great love.
After the painful events of last week, our nation is experiencing another traumatic wave of violence, grief, and protest. Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, two black men, were killed violently by police officers two days in a row. Their deaths were recorded on cell phone videos and then broadcast across social media sites.
Protestors then took to the streets. During a peaceful Black Lives Matter protest in Dallas, a sniper shot violently into the crowd, targeting police officers specifically. Five police officers were killed violently — Brent Thompson, Patrick Zamarripa, Michael Krol, Michael Smith, and Lorne Ahrens — and six more were wounded.
Conversations and debates have emerged on social media in response to these deaths. Last week, I was especially convicted and challenged by a post from the Rev. Denise Anderson. She is the newly elected Co-Moderator of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). I appreciate her leadership and am grateful for the ways she is shaping important conversations we need to have together. In her post, she challenged white people to confess their racism openly in conversation with others:
Her post was shared 809 times and has made an important impact. In response, several of my friends and colleagues have begun to write honestly, confessing their own racist thoughts, actions, and motives. We have all been socialized by racist beliefs and biases. It is important that we own these patterns and confess the ways we personally promulgate racism. If we cannot have these kinds of conversations, we cannot see racism for what it is. And if we continue to deny the existence of its effects, we will never make changes to the structures and systems that perpetuate it.
I’ve been reflecting on my own patterns. Today I want to confess a particular motive that shows up in my thinking and acting. I am not proud of this, and though I am not alone in behaving this way, I want to take personal responsibility for it. I also want to continue a broader conversation.
My racist confession is this:
I am nearly always trying to be a good white person.
Nearly.
Always.
[Photo Credit: Spike Lee]
I am not proud of this, but it creeps into my thinking. Let me explain what I mean.
When racism is discussed, I have a motive to appear like I get it and am doing a good job working against white supremacy. I know I haven’t arrived in some sort of enlightened or evolved sense, but this motive nearly always arrives on the scene. It coexists with my better motives. I have a desire to be and look like a good white person.
This is a racist motive:
It centers me inside myself for the sake of myself.
It also chases a myth:
Racism exists in structures of privilege. White folks can check our privilege; we can also use it purposefully for change. But we will never be untouched or unaffected by the privilege we carry. Racism is not about some good or bad identity I hold. Racism is a system of oppression structured to give privileges to light skinned people like me at the expense of people of color. It is insidious and wrong.
The desire to look like a good white person is not my only motivation in this anti-racism work (a ‘but’ is coming). When these outrageous, repeated injustices of racism happen in our nation, I join others in feeling rage, grief, and a sense of longing for active change. This is real and deep. BUT let me be clear: I am no saint, nor do I deserve a cookie for having the emotions and desires I should have. These are feelings, desires, and motives I should have authentically in relationship with others.
None of this makes me a good white person. None of this makes me above the fray.
None of this should leave me unquestioned.
But sometimes, I wish it would, and
I chase this as a terrible motive.
I want to see tangible changes in our racist structures, but in the midst of it all, I confess that there are moments when I also want to justify myself. I feel guilt and shame, and I want to rise above these feelings by looking better. This means I begin to center myself, my feelings, and my appearance in the work. This is racist.
Black and brown lives are at stake.
Black and brown lives matter more than white feelings.
These kinds of motives are especially tempting for white folks who are preachers, speakers, and community organizers. We know it is important to speak and act rather than remain silent. In the midst of that, we easily become obsessed with trying to get it right and say the right things. We are afraid of making mistakes, so we want to look enlightened and ‘woke.’
But we’re still in denial and afraid.
We stumble over ourselves to make sure people see our concerns in Facebook comments. A person of color expresses grief, and white folks line up in the comments to say things like,
“Me too. This is so hard, and I just feel awful.”
“I’ve lost so much sleep over this.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.”
We want to make sure people know we’re affected. Are we trying to prove something to others? To ourselves? Sometimes, I am.
I hope we do feel the grief.
I hope it does motivate us.
But it doesn’t make us above the fray.
I am not some good white person floatingabove it all.
My attempts to prove otherwise are racist.
This sermon was preached at St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Dearborn Heights, Michigan and was focused upon Isaiah 50:4-9 The audio recording is included above.
This has been a traumatic week of grief and violence.
Rest in peace and power. . .
Alton Sterling
Philando Castile
Brent Thompson
Patrick Zamarripa
Michael Krol
Michael Smith
Lorne Ahrens
Our nation is reeling with traumatic pain this week; Alton Sterling and Philando Castile have been killed by police officers two days in a row. Tonight, I want to link to some articles written by Black voices.
Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, may you rest in power.
People of this nation, no resting.
Let’s put justice into action.
Smuggling Grace 