Partiality and the Myth of the Perfect Victim

The list of unarmed black bodies left lifeless after an encounter with the police continues to grow. We say their names to keep their memory alive but doing so comes at an emotional cost; a cost we mournfully pay to continue to fight for justice in their honor. These victims share many things in common: They are dead. They are precious. And they are all considered too black to be the perfect victim.

The perfect victim is someone whose mere passing elicits sympathy and compassion from onlookers. Someone whose suffering rallies the masses together in a collective effort for justice. The perfect victim needs no help fighting for their dignity and worth in their plight for justice because society has willingly taken up their cause.

Although freely given to some, this elite status of victim-hood was not and has not been given to any such black victim of police brutality. Encounters with the police are immediately met with suspicion of the victim; even more so when the victim is black. Think about the many ways black victims have been described after their death: Michael Brown was no angel. Trayvon Martin shouldn’t have been in that neighborhood. Eric Garner should not have been selling loose cigarettes. Breonna Taylor’s boyfriend should not have shot back. Emmitt Till shouldn’t have allegedly whistled at that white woman.

Black victims are a part of a community of victims who are still put on trial even after their death. Their past is constantly brought up to justify their loss of life. Their mistakes, their issues, even the crimes they allegedly committed during their encounter with law enforcement are all used against them in an effort to show exactly why they got what they deserve. Black people, in the eyes of the world, are always deserving of the treatment they receive.

Whether looking at slave masters who used God’s Word demonically in an effort to subdue the very bearers of God’s image in slavery, or at scientists who ardently argued that the brains of black folks are smaller than those of white folk, or using the now beloved myth of black on black crime summoned mid-argument by white folks on the ropes in conversations of race, the truth is that there will never be a perfect black victim. There will always be a reason and a justification for their death.

Beyond the blatant racism, what we also miss here is that death is a not friend of any human. According to the Genesis, death was never in the original plan. We being sinful humans selfishly trying to be better than the God who created us rolled out the red carpet for death to enter this world. And Death was our inevitable foe until Jesus Christ landed on the very Earth created through Him. And with his death and resurrection, death was defeated and sin, the medium by which death entered, was conquered. The gates of Hell did not prevail.  Death no longer is a foe to fear for those who believe in the work of Jesus; it is instead an mournful entry way into the eternal inheritance waiting for us.

What does this have to do with the myth of the perfect victim? It means that it is indeed a myth because we are all victims where death is concerned. From the stillborn child to the murderer on death row, all are sufferers of the affliction of a fallen world where death is the end. For black people, that means we do not need to live perfect lives to deserve sympathy. We do not need to be considered good citizens at the time of our death to elicit compassion. We simply need to be human; to be image bearers of the God in Heaven, to be deserving of compassion, mercy, and grace.

Which we are.

It also means that believers of the myth of the perfect victim are believing a lie that is founded in the spirit of partiality, a spirit where you arrogantly decide who and what deserves compassion. James says it clearly in the 2nd chapter of his book, verses 8-9: “Yes indeed, it is good when you obey the royal law as found in the Scriptures: ‘Love you neighbor as yourself.’ But if you favor some people over others, you are committing a sin. You are guilty of breaking the law.” James is specifically talking about those who favor the rich over the poor but the heart of passage is that loving our neighbor means not showing favoritism to one or withholding good things from those we deem unworthy. And we know from Matthew that loving our neighbor rightly is only possible when we first love God.

So, to be partial with your compassion or stingy with your sympathy is to not of God. To withhold your mourning until you feel it is justified is not the way of Jesus. Black people are your neighbor. We are carriers of dignity, containers of the image of God. And we, like everyone else, deserve your mourning when we mourn. We deserve your compassion when we are killed.

There is no perfect victim; only victims you deem more worthy of your time and energy. But for those who care to have to heart of God, we will pray for hearts that break at what breaks His. We will beg for eyes to see what He sees. We will plead for tears at the things that we should cry over. And we will not withhold the very things God gives freely to all who trust Him: compassion, mercy, and grace.

Lessons I’ve Learned/Am Learning While Unemployed

I was going to wait to write this until a.) I found another job and/or b.) I felt like an expert on being unemployed. Well, at the time of this post I don’t have a job yet and I’m still not an expert; but I do think I have learned a few things to share with those who might unfortunately find themselves in this position at some point.

It Happens To Everyone (or at least more people than you think)

One the hardest things I had to overcome about losing my job was the shame that came with it. People without a job are looked at a certain way. They are often judged as lazy, unproductive, or overall worthless to society. I struggled immensely with fighting against those thoughts but was too ashamed to tell people for fear of them thinking that way about me. But once I started to share my experience, I realized that it actually happens more often than not. Chances are that you reading this have experienced it or know someone who has. Suddenly being unemployed is a common experience that many people live through and overcome, often times more than once in their life. In an economy with ups and downs and lack of accurate predictability, losing your job is not as rare as we would want it to be. And though not an experience I would wish on anyone, it was comforting to know I wasn’t alone.

You will learn the actual means you need to survive

I thank God for the common grace of unemployment benefits. I have been very fortunate to be helped by agencies that are willing to assist people like me who need to keep afloat financially while looking for employment. Right now I receive about a little less than half of what I made at my previous job. The initial math on that was scary. I questioned how I could continue to support myself when I now only get a portion of what I once made? And yet, every month — so far — my bills are paid, my lights are still on, my rent is turned in on time, and I haven’t missed a meal. Not disregarding the kindness of friends to pay for dinner or lunch or the fact that I do have some outstanding bills that I pay when I can, for the most part I am doing just fine with the “little less than half” that I now receive. This was probably the biggest tangible lesson I learned so far. I thought I was living within my means when I was working full-time but this experience has shown me that I actually can live on a lot less than I thought. Being forced to account for how you spend makes you really notice what is necessary and what isn’t. It has shown me that I can make drastically different choices once I start receiving “normal” paychecks again, and I’m very much looking forward to that.

Unemployment is not your identity

As I mentioned earlier, shame was the initial feeling I had once I lost my job. The terms by which it happened were extremely unfair, and I found myself reeling from the emotions of betrayal and confusion. Amid the whirlwind of trying to figure out what insurance, Christmas, and life in general looked life, I also had to battle with the negative thoughts about myself. Was I not good enough? Was I ever good enough? Being fired is a form of rejection and rejection, professional or otherwise, always feels personal. I had many nights of tears, sadness, long phone calls with friends, prayer sessions that felt more like yelling matches with God. And in the moments when I was too tired to cry or yell anymore, I heard the whisper of God say “You are not your unemployment. Being unemployed is circumstantial; it is not a definition of who you are, only where you happen to be at the moment.” Being let go can feel like personal commentary on who you are. Instead, see it as just the next leg of your journey in life. And like all journeys, you grow as you go. The last place you landed is not who you are; it just happens to be where you are at the moment.

Rest and work

Being unemployed means a lot more free time than you’re used to. When you’re not pounding the pavement for interviews (read: submitting online applications) you will find that you have a lot of gaps in your day to fill. When I first was let go, I thought I would be super productive and read all the books I swore I didn’t have time or was too tired to read. Or that I would  find volunteer work and get up everyday to do something impactful on the world. Or maybe I would start cooking for every meal since I would be at home anyway. The reality is that I did do most of those things — then I stopped. I got really tired of trying to find something to do all day that would replace the 8+ hour work days I was missing. It was mentally exhausting and sometimes expensive trying to fill up my days with something productive. The reality was that I didn’t have much to do, and I needed to learn to be ok with that. Being unemployed can be a reminder of your humanity: we are made for both work and rest. This is true of us even with a full time job. I was made to both create and to be still. In a society that blindly worships at the altar of busyness and movement, learning to be still is a hard lesson. And yet this is exactly what I had to and am still learning to do. Silence is ok. Having nothing to do is ok. Not having a packed schedule is actually healthy. For whatever reason, this part of my journey doesn’t have much planned. And if God is sovereign, then thats exactly what He wants for me. So instead of finding ways to fill up all my days with hurry and worry, I need to sit in the quiet sometimes. This doesn’t mean I don’t get out the house. I still need to be somewhat active and productive and in motion. But some days that looks like going to the gym and coming home. Other days it looks like an hour or two in a coffeeshop, or lunch with a friend, or a dance class later that evening. The point is that I do not cease to need both rest and work while unemployed. The way these two events manifest just look different in this current season; and that is ok.

These are just a few of the lessons I have learned and still continue to learn every day. I look forward to going back to work again and doing what I enjoy. But I also know not to rush the journey. This is where I am supposed to be. I do not know why, nor do I even like it or truly want it. There are days I am filled with hope at the possibilities before me and other days when the lack of opportunities weighs heavy on me. But the experience of highs and lows is not any different than what it means to live here on earth. Employed or not, there are good days and bad days. Hardships and victories. It is a circumstance, and circumstances change. And it is that reality that I fight to remember everyday.

Problematic Messengers and King Jesus

Jesus is King

That’s what I’m hoping all my friends and family leave this Earth believing. It’s also what Kanye West wants you to know as of October 25th, 2019 with the release of his album — you guessed it– “Jesus is King”

Yes, this is that Kanye West. The once highly-heralded conscious Chi-town rapper who saw much maintstream and sub-genre success who now is most associated with overpriced clothing and his vocal support of Donald J. Trump. Kanye went from accusing George Bush of not caring about black people during a telethon for Hurricane Katrina to now being cancelled by the same very same black people he wanted the world to recognize.

Much speculation has gone out as to why he is now who he is. His marriage to a Kardashian daughter, the death of his mother, his battle with mental illness; maybe all 3 or something else we can’t see yet. Whatever the catalyst for his behavior, Kanye West is problematic. The degree to which is debatable but the fact stands that Kanye West is more known for controversy than anything else is his decade-plus long music and celebrity career. So what happens when a problematic famous person turns around and thinks He has the right to open his cancelled mouth to talk about our Holy Lord and Savior?

When that happens, we should call it the gospel. No, not the nice cleaned up one that looks like suits and ties and Sunday dresses. No it’s not the one that we try to lock away in the depths of church basements, only allowing those we deem worthy to take hold of its contents. No, it’s not that gospel, if you can even call it that. But it is the gospel that has been preached throughout generations by only problematic messengers.

The Bible is made up of nothing but problematic messengers that should have been “cancelled” for their behavior. And I mean that sincerely: there’s no earthly reason why any author of any text or any leader of God’s people in the word should have been allowed to write such a holy book or lead the people of such a holy God. David was a murderer/adulterer, Solomon had over 600 wives and side-chicks, Paul was a terrorist, Samson couldn’t keep it in his pants, Peter denied knowing the very Son of God, and on and on. And although the Bible does not give us an exhaustive list of the sins of it authors, we know they were messed up because they were human. To be human is to be problematic and in need of a Savior. The message of the gospel can only be given by people who are not, in and of themselves, worthy to give it.

So, I understand why this message is hard to receive from Kanye. We cannot forget his problematic behavior, as if to think nothing ever happened. There is genuine hurt and actual reconciliation needed for his words and actions. And as a new believer he will need to be discipled and walked with as he stumbles and fails forward toward his Savior and attempts to navigate the space of his past actions.

So, yes I understand why you can’t listen to Kanye talk about God. My problem is that I think our reasoning for not listening to Kanye might expose that somehow we think we more worthy to talk about God than Kanye. Somehow we who say we love Jesus have forgotten that we should have been cancelled by way of eternal separation from the Father; yet instead of cancellation, we were offered salvation. And our salvation is a gift from God, not in anyway earned on our part. So the ability to talk about the gospel is also a gift. If you are not worthy on your own of being saved, then how do you think you are now worthy on your own of talking about salvation?

One of my favorite stories in the Gospels is in Luke 7. I’ve blogged about it before because I truly connect with one of the characters. A known prostitute walks in a Pharisee’s house where Jesus is eating and starts anointing Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume and wiping them her tears. The Pharisee rejected the idea that such a sinful woman would even think about coming near the presence of such a prophet. Jesus then gives the Pharisee a convicting story about how those who realize their extreme need for forgiveness show it in ways of extreme thankfulness. What Jesus knew that this brave women and this ignorant Pharisee did not know was that she was actually a messenger of the gospel at that moment. She came to the Lord Jesus with all she had, some perfume and a bad reputation, and hoped that Jesus would do something with it. And he did. She was acknowledged, she was forgiven, she was sent away with her existence validated by the Creator of the world, and she became a sign of Jesus’ forgiving power and compassionate mission.

It is easy to compare what we have done then compare it to Kanye and say “Well I least I havent done that“. But the reality is that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. And that all of us who call ourselves Christians were once spiritually dead in our sins and we were brought to spiritual life through the intervening work of God. And it is only because He commissioned us to His good works that we get the privilege to speak about Him to others. But make no mistake: we are all still very problematic. The difference between us and God is that only one of us thinks being problematic stops us from being used by God.

I pray Kanye is truly converted. I pray His soul is in the Father’s hands and that His conversion is true. I also know Kanye is still problematic because I know that after justification comes sanctification. And I know Kanye’s sanctification, like his salvation, will be public too. He will mess up. His album will be used against him the next time he does something crazy. I pray he is protected from the pressure to prove His salvation is real. I pray that “Jesus is King” is used to bring people back to Jesus, or to introduce them to Him for the first time.

I do not know how this saga ends for Kanye. But I do know this: Kanye West is no more problematic than me. But luckily for both of us, Jesus is King.

Running From and To the God Who Hurts and Heals

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God is love.

We love that saying. We love thinking about love and our idolatry of our own personal definition of love often bleeds onto our thoughts of God, often shaping Him into our image of what we think love is. We love the thought of a God who helps, who heals, who gives us what we want and always does what we think is best. We like that God. We think we love that God. And yes, God does heal and give and do all of the warm, fuzzy things we can think of. But this God is more complex than the genie in the sky we make Him out to be.

This God takes. He takes life, He takes away things we think to be good, He takes away things we want and swear we need. This God disciplines. He brings hurt, He allows chaos, He causes destruction if He sees fit. This God ends things we wish never ended. He hurts us, lowers us, presses us, squeezes us. His method of sanctification often comes in the form of suffering. He cares more about our holiness than our comfort.

The reality is that God is both/and. He brings suffering and healing. He gives and He takes. He raises up and lowers down. In His sovereignty, He is in complete control of all things and is working all things according to His plan. This is His world; and He will do with it what He wants.

I struggle with this reality. I struggle with this reality that the same God who allows hurt and suffering is the same God who I must run to for comfort and healing. A lot of us don’t like that idea, either. It is why we try to make sense of bad things in this world without God. We say “God is nowhere in this”; but in fact He is. He allowed it, caused it, and is using it for His plan. We try our best to separate God from anything that is hurtful because how can we trust a God who heals what He hurts? If this was any other person or being, we would call that person psychotic and stay as far away from them as possible.

But this isn’t any other person; this is the God of the universe. This God has ways that aren’t our ways and thoughts that aren’t our thoughts. He is eternal and outside of time, meaning He sees the beginning and the end as the present. He knows how it all ends because He is the one who wrote the ending.

Now, we might be able to accept this big God has big plans and does what He wants. But how do we struggle with this idea and not land on the side of thinking God this cosmic bully who does what He wants with disregard for our feelings? The Psalms speak in multiple places about God being the one who raised up the writer after bringing him down in the first place. Psalms 71: 19-21 is a great example:

Your righteousness, O God,
    reaches the high heavens.
You who have done great things,
    O God, who is like you?
20 You who have made me see many troubles and calamities
    will revive me again;
from the depths of the earth
    you will bring me up again.
21 You will increase my greatness
    and comfort me again.

The Psalmist here starts this section by recognizing God as righteous and being the only One like Him. He acknowledges that God has done great things in his life. Right after this acknowledgement, He boldly admits that God is also the one who has made him see “many troubles and calamities”, but ends the sentence knowing that God will see him through these. The writer describes being so low as being in the depths of the earth, but even here there is a sure hope that God will bring him out. And not only bring him out but comfort him also.

The Psalmist was able to acknowledge that God was both the one who caused him to be low and the one who would both bring him out of his lowliness and comfort him from his experience. It was because the Psalmist remembered the good deeds of God (vs. 17) that he was able to see through — not ignore — his hurt and see the God who was fully involved in His life, from the start of the trial to the end of it.

I run from God often. I find it hard to trust a God who seems to hurt with one hand and heal with the other. It is confusing sometimes to look at God and know not only could He have prevented my suffering but that He is the cause of it. And that He expects me to come to Him to be comforted and healed. How can I trust Him when I know He will allow me to be hurt? What good deeds can I look back to and see that He will bring me through the very trial He led me too?

The answer is the gospel. God sent His only and beloved Son, Jesus, to save us from the condition we put ourselves in. As humans made in the image of God, we were created with souls that are filled only by connection to God. When Adam and Eve sinned, our connection was severed. Our spiritual umbilical cord was cut and we died. And our death was an offense to God and we therefore became His enemies, lusting and longing for things that He did not create us for, attempting to replace Him every chance we got. We were destined for an eternity away from Him and from all the glory His presence brings and our souls crave. But God did not leave us this way. He knew that sin required death because sin causes death. A sacrifice was needed to repay the debt that sin collected. So instead of rightfully giving us to our death, He gave His Son. Jesus the Christ wrapped His God the Son glory in flesh and dwelt in our brokenness. He lived among the spiritually and physically diseased and had compassion on them. He was perfectly obedient to the Father and died in our place, taking the sins of those who believe in Him to the grave with Him. Our sin stayed there, but our Savior didn’t. By the power of God the Spirit He rose from the grave and ascended to Heaven to take His rightful place beside the Father. This God-man, Jesus, is now presently waiting to be sent back to us to reclaim what is and who are His.

That is the good deed I am called to look to.

I am not called to make excuses for God. I am not called to relieve the tension of Him being both the One who hurts and heals, who cuts and calms. I do not ignore the fact that He does indeed allow and cause suffering. But although He has not fully explained why He is both, He has given us plenty to reason to trust His plan. He has done the greatest thing that was ever needed to be done: He gave us access to the Father and joined us with Him so that we will inherit with Him. The greatest need of all humans is not a comfortable, suffering-free life in a temporary world that will one day not exist in the way we see it now. Our greatest need is the reconciliation of our severed relationship with the God who created us out of the overflow of love in Himself. It is for this reason that Paul can say the worst days we have here are “momentary and light afflictions” when we compare them to the glory to come for those who believe in Jesus for salvation.

Our God hurts. Our God heals. Our God causes it and comforts from it. And our God saves.

What’s Wrong With The Church? You and Me…


“There is no perfect church. If there is a perfect church, it stopped being perfect the moment you and I walked in”

– Idris Elba, “The Gospel”

The church gets a lot of flack; and rightfully so. A people – and not just a place – that Jesus gave His life for and sent His Holy Spirit to build up to glorify Him in the earth is often known for doing the exact opposite. Churches are run amuck with sin. From the pulpit all the the way down to the youngest congregant there isn’t a soul who darkens that doors of any place of worship that brings with them a sinless heart.

And that includes you and me.

So often when I see critiques in the church from other Christians, I don’t disagree with them but I do wonder where the person critiquing fits in the story. It’s not that their critiques aren’t correct; they are just incomplete. Admonishment and correction towards the church is always pointed outward instead of inwards. What’s wrong with the church is almost always them, and never us.

Now I’m not saying every single member is responsible for every single sin that happens in the church. If your pastor is caught in adultery, that’s not your fault. If the deacons are stealing from the collection plate, that’s also not your fault. If your church has decided to take a theological incorrect stand on a solid biblical issue, that, too, isn’t your fault.

So I’m not lumping every sin done in the sanctuary on us. But I’m asking if when we ask ourselves what’s wrong with the church, do we put ourselves into the selection of possible variables? I think a lot of us are looking for a perfect church and don’t realize that any church ceases to be perfect the minute you and me arrive. In fact, if you think you have found a perfect church you’re either in for a harsh awakening or you should leave before you mess everything up.

1 John 1:8 says that anyone who says they have no sin in them is liar. John here is writing to Christians who have professed Jesus as their Lord and Savior; those who have been justified in Christ are still in desperate need of sanctification, the process by which the Holy Spirit makes us more and more into the image of Christ. And where does this process of sanctification happen? In church pews. In staff meetings. In choir rehearsal. At the church picnic. During worship. At small group meetings. Before and after service.

Sanctification, the process where sin is dealt with in real time, happens in the church.

That is why the church is so messy. That’s why it is such a hotbed for scandal, drama, and trauma. Because church is nothing more than a bunch of sinful, stinky, messed up people coming together asking God to make them better, to restore them, to make them more like Jesus. Church is for the screwed up. Church is for the sinner. Church is for the one who will mess everything up, often .

Now, the fact that sinner darken church doors weekly doesn’t excuse the sin. We call sin out. We protect the flock from wolves. The Holy Spirit purifies the church of Jesus. The Savior protects His bride. We exercise discipline, we call our siblings to repentance, and we remove them from the body if need be. We do not allow sin to run unchecked;  but we are not shocked when it happens. We do not excuse church hurt, on any level from anyone; but we shouldn’t be caught off guard if it happens. We leave that body if we need to, but we do not leave the Body forever.

The thing about critiquing the church without including ourselves is that it shows we do not see ourselves rightly. No, we may not be directly affecting the current state of church affairs, but we all bring our own baggage that our brothers and sisters in the body will have to sort out with us. We bring our own set of problems that, although might not elevate to public acknowledgement, still require addressing and correcting. We must never forget that our sin put Christ on the cross. Your sin and my sin.

And our sin affects the church. But God, in His infinite grace, mercy, and wisdom, did not leave as sinful orphans left to fend for themselves. He has sent us His Holy Spirit, who is shaping, pruning, and purifying every faithful body around the world, even in ways we cannot see. God sees the corruption. He sees the scandals and the crimes. He sees, hears and knows the hurting and the pain. He is not blind to the tears we cry over church hurt. He is not deaf to our pleas for reconciliation. He is not oblivious to how far from the plan our church might be. And yet, even still, He commands us to be in His body; to bring our tired and poor selves every week to other tired and poor selves.

We are the problem with the church. And we always will be until Jesus comes back. No matter what church you attend, no matter what body you choose to fellowship with, you and everyone else around brings a plethora of issues that, if left unchecked by the power of the Spirit, will ruin the very building and body we call our home. The church is the place where Jesus has sent His Spirit to grow us as believers. And He did that knowing full well how messy, not they, but we are.

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I’m done

Done is an understatement, a word too typical and overly overused to apply

I’m underwater, beneath, low, abyss and chasms

I’m going fast with my head out the window, blown away and unable to breath

I can breath; yet and cannot catch my breath

And what I am forced, commanded, chastened to believe tastes horrible

I am healing; I am broken and unrepairable

I am capable of happiness and only capable of walking away from it

I am a fool. A fool who chooses trusts and chooses distrust.

I am trusting of the distrustful and believing in the beguiling

I’m no fool. I see behind the curtain and stare at its operator and ask

“Is there more?”

I walk beaten paths and mossy walkways

I climb forbidden trees and stare at their fruit

I bite into its produce and I never swallow

And nothing, nothing, ever taste as sweet after that

I can’t; I can’t, I won’t, I shall not

I am incapable of happiness. I am logic and emotion. I am wisdom and feelings

I am attracted to the tangible and attached to the intangible

I am not God. I am not god.

I give and I take away. Myself. By, myself. For someone else.

I shall not want. And I have not found. And I will not see.

I am rock and hard place. I am left and right. I am lost and found.

I am the fork in the road. I don’t choose. I just sit. Both paths are circles

I am circular. I am obtuse and acute. I’m a square. I’m out of shape.

What the hell am I…

I am depression and sadness, weariness and longing, tired and confused

I am life and light, I am truth and reality, I am existence and actuality

I am long and stretched, tense rope pulled with thread shown, loose and brittle

Easily broken yet not allowed to break. Porcelain by choice, iron by command

Forged against my wishes, forged for my good, forged as a gift, ready for good works

I make no choices, I make no decisions, I make nothing.

I am nothing. I am not. I am without. I am lacking.

I am made, I am created, I am supposed to and expected to

I am allowed to look. I shouldn’t look. I am not supposed to.

I and anger and hatred. Frustration and vengeance. Shaken and closed fist

I am holding on. I have to let go. I’m not supposed to let go. Letting go is selfish

Holding on is wrong. Holding on is sinful. Dont hold on. Hold on.

I am night and day, sun and moon, stars and planets

I am rambling. I am screaming. I am asking. I am yelling. I am listening.

Are you…

Predominately White Churches Should Start Talking About Race Too Much

Any black person who has had at least more than one conversation on race in a predominately white church space has heard this phrase before or a variety of the sort:

“Why do you make everything about race?”

Hearing this phrase is triggering for a host of reasons. One main reason is because it is used often as a conversation stopper. It is lobbed carelessly into dialogue to show the speaker that they have crossed some imaginary line into a territory that makes the “listener” uncomfortable. Whenever I personally hear that phrase I know that I have just encountered someone who is not ready to truly dive into the realities of race and addressing the complexities that come with it.

Sadly this phrase is used far too often, especially in predominately white church spaces. As a member of a predominately white church who has had the blessing of having many white brothers and sisters in Christ, I still have heard this phrase either directed at me or at someone else. The heart of the phrase stems from a frustration of having to do the hard work of addressing this “race thing” again. Then, without fail, the conversation shifts to the go-to deflection of the uncomfortable:

“Why can’t we just talk about the gospel?”

And although I love my white brothers and sisters dearly, it is saddening seeing the lack of tolerance some of them have with regards to talking through racial issues.

My church is not any more or less broken than any other church. Most black congregants and staff members who faithfully attend and work in predominately white worship spaces encounter these issues frequently. The interesting thing about these spaces is that sometimes these same churches and its members confusingly seem to be able to boast in being proponents of racial reconciliation while still finding a way to avoid having to actually do the work required to be justified in their boasting. Some write seemingly self-righteous Facebook statuses and blogs to showcase how “woke” they are for finally admitting that we might just have a race problem (although this revelation generally is mainly aimed at America as a whole and not generally the church, specifically). Sometimes these same churches might even send pastors and ministers to conferences surrounding racial reconciliation to further propagate the idea that they are indeed going to be found on the right side of history when it comes to race. They preach sermons and even invite guest speakers to prove how truly concerned they are with getting this “race thing” right.

And yes, some churches and their members truly are burdened and willing to dig and stay in the trenches as long as it takes to see reconciliation manifest. There are predominately white churches with pastors, laymen and women who are committed to walking along side the oppressed in regards to race, hoping to see the kingdom come in a small way even now. And yet, for some – dare I wonder most? – white church spaces, despite the conferences, blogs, podcasts, sermons, guest speakers, etc., when race is brought up in conversation, it automatically comes with a unspoken but frequently met quota. The topic of race seems to come with an inherent ceiling that caps just how often it can be discussed, how deep it can be addressed, and how uncomfortable it’s allowed to make us feel. Despite all the talk that some predominately church spaces do when it comes to racial reconciliation, there seems to always be a limit to their love.

Why does this limit exist? It is my belief that predominately white church spaces will do some work with regards to race while still avoiding the feeling of being as uncomfortable as they need to be when it comes to discussing all the complexities of race. Promoting reconciliation is an ok thing to do, as long is isn’t too promoted. Yes, we should fight to see racial oppression cease to exist, but it shouldn’t mean having to give up certain ways of life and the luxuries afforded, right? And of course, racism is a gospel issue, but because we are so afraid of accidentally making it more than the gospel (which is indeed an error to care about), let’s make sure we don’t talk about it so much that people think about it too much and possibly forget about Jesus. Predominately white spaces are sadly so blindly drenched in cultural privilege and comfort that they are unable to see that their capping of conversations on race is also their capping of the level of reconciliation possible. They are essentially, as they might be unconsciously used to, allowing their privilege and place of power to be used to only allow the level of reconciliation that they are personally comfortable with.

In her book “On Reading Well”, Karen Swallow Prior defines patience as the willingness to endure suffering. When this definition is applied to white church spaces and its dealings with race, it is evident that this church space often lacks patience when it comes to actualizing racial reconciliation. The reason we as an entire body of Christ might never fully reconcile between races is simply because there is a lack of desire to endure the suffering that comes with reconciliation. Although no Christian is a perfect sufferer, in my experience most of the black congregants that faithfully attend and labor in predominantly white church spaces seem to learn this specific lesson of patience daily. And it is high time that our white brothers and sisters join us.

The willingness to endure suffering is a foundational Christian trait. We as Christians are bought and purchased by our Suffering Servant, Jesus Christ, who endured our deserved punishment to bring forth our undeserved salvation. We are also called, by our Savior Jesus Christ, to pick up our cross daily and follow Him. I have never held a cross the size of one used in a crucifixion, but we know a little about them from history and reading the Bible. It’s safe to say that crosses are heavy. Being as they are made of wood, they probably have splinters. They probably stink from the sweat of those carrying them. And people seem to be not strong enough to carry them forever so instead they ask for help. But crosses are how we enter into the presence of the Father, for a cross is what was needed to save our lives. And a cross is what keeps our lives saved.

If predominately white churches and its members are not willing to endure the suffering that comes with pursuing true actualized racial reconciliation, to carry the cross of hard conversations, uncomfortable situations, and the relinquishing of privilege and power where applicable, we the global church as Jesus’ Bride will never see the joy that is set before us. If black members of predominantly white bodies and communities don’t feel the total freedom to be completely unburdened with their issues regarding race, the church will never see the dividing wall completely torn down. If we as the bride of Christ don’t see how capping this conversation brings division to a body that should be unified, we lack the ability to glorify Christ rightly.

Friends, there is no such thing as talking too much about race. As believers in the gospel and as fully formed human beings, we can both keep Christ at the center of everything while choosing to focus on how His centrality has, or hasn’t, affected cultural issues. We can both keep ourselves unstained from the world and care for widows and orphans. At least, God says we can.

I plead with my white brothers and sisters to make room for tough conversations on race. To not only make room, but to seek them out. To be uncomfortable, to be fragile, to misstep and misspeak. I beg predominately white church spaces to take an honest inventory on how they are pursuing racial reconciliation and how they can do better. As a church, the whole church, we are broken people. Churches will never be perfect, nor act perfectly, as long as they keep letting broken human beings – who the church was founded by and founded for – darken their doors. But I am not asking for perfection; I’m asking for actual concern. Racial issues will take slow, deliberate, intentional, persevering, and patient spirits to be addressed. But, we have to start talking about them. In fact, it is probably about time that we start talking about them too much.

Advent is for the Broken-hearted


The season is here. Sleigh bells are ringing for those who are listening. Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire (which doesn’t sound dangerous at all). And the anticipation of walking in a possible winter wonderland is pounding. The holiday season is upon us once again, and once again it came without warning or alert.

There is a lot of preparation that goes into the holiday season. We prepare for family members and loved ones to stay at our place, or we prepare to travel to see them. We begin to prepare our budgets for buying Christmas presents and ingredients for our favorite holiday dishes to cook. We prepare our houses, inside and out, to reflect the jovial brightness of the season. We prepare ourselves for church services and plays that our children are performing in. There is a lot of anticipation and preparation that goes into making the Christmas and holiday season exactly what we believe should be.

But there’s another group of people out there every year who are also preparing. Their preparation looks and feels a lot different than the one described above, though. They aren’t preparing to receive loved ones in, but rather they are preparing to spend their 1st, or their 20th, Christmas without them. Instead of buying presents for their children or spouses, they buy other things, like alcohol or drugs, to help get them through the day. Instead of looking forward to walking in a winter wonderland, they only have IV’s and hospital walls as their backdrop for the holidays. Their houses are not decorated with lights and reindeer, but with reminders of what they lost or are about to lose. They won’t be darkening the doors of a church this Christmas. No, they will attempt to spend their entire day indoors, hoping somehow to go sleep on the 24th and wake up on the 26th. These people are the broken-hearted. They are the ones for whom the holiday season is not a festive reason to be merry and bright, but instead just a season to power through. A time period to push past and somehow make it over.

Last year was a weird holiday season for me. I’m generally the guy who blasts Christmas music from October all the way to New Year’s Day – and sometimes a few days after. But last year, I wasn’t in the Christmas spirit or mood. In fact, it was quite the opposite. I was filled with sadness and darkness. I was depressed and down. I was heartbroken. Some of it was over the sin I had given over to; some of it was just dealing with the effects of a broken world. It all added up, though, to equal a holiday season that was anything but merry in the way that I was accustomed to.

But it was in this dark season where light seemed unable to penetrate that I found out that I was not alone. Slowly I became aware of the people around me who also had a rough time during the holidays. I was aware of friends who had no family to go home to. I knew of friends who mourned their losses. I became aware of friends who were going through a rough time in their marriages and families. The holiday season culturally promises us that everything should be filled with good feelings, good food and overall good goodness. But for most of my friends, it just became a time where they were forced to reflect on all the things they had lost, were losing, or never had. Their hearts were not ornamented with pretty light bulbs or shiny decorations. No, instead their hearts were filled with heaviness, sadness, and darkness. Their hearts were broken; and so was mine. And it was in this state, not in the previous joyful ones, that I found out what Advent was really about.

Advent comes from a Latin word meaning “coming”. Celebrating Advent is celebrating the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ. But Jesus did not come into a world filled with hope and joy. He stepped down into a world filled with chaos and confusion, wrapped in darkness and oppression with no way of escape or rescue. He was born into a world where the Israelites had been waiting 400 plus years for their Messiah. They had not heard a Word from God in centuries, and I can imagine some of them had probably began to give up hope. And it is this season of history that the Father decided to send His Son. Jesus, the Light of the World, was born into darkness; our darkness. He was born in a manger, next to earthly filth. And walked among our brokenness, touching it, hugging it, loving us and healing us. Jesus hung with sinners, not the self-proclaimed righteous. He called broken people out of darkness and gave them living water and the bread of Life. And most of all, He lived a life that resulted in Him dying, on our behalf. Our biggest source of oppression was our sin that kept us from the Father. The rituals for ridding of sin weren’t enough anymore, and they never truly were to being with. But Jesus was enough. And is still is enough. And He always will be.

This is why Advent is for the broken-hearted. This is why Advent is for the hurt, the lost, the confused, the angry, the broken and weak. Because that is who Jesus is for. Jesus didn’t come for the healthy or righteous. No, he came for the weak and the sinful. He came for the prodigal son, for the infertile couple, for the bickering parents, for the divorcee, for the widow and widower, for the estranged family member, for the sick and dying, for the addict and the loser. His Word tells us He is near to the broken-hearted. And Advent was the physical manifestation of that declaration. God showed us that He is near by physically being near, through Jesus Christ. And even now, for the believer, He is near by way of the indwelling of His Holy Spirit. And when it is all said and done, He will be forever near to us in the New Heaven and New Earth. The Bible is the story of God pursuing His people and creation. It is a long story of God’s love for us and His desire to rid anything that stops us from knowing Him. The Advent of Jesus Christ will forever be his soldier’s welcome home event, where the one we thought was far away from us comes to where we are to take us home and be with us.

I don’t know where you are this season. Maybe things are as they should be. Maybe you have the family and you have the joy and peace that so many lack. Do not feel bad about that. Instead, look for ways to be light to someone without any. Or maybe you are in need of that light. Maybe this is as dark, or darker, than I described. Know this, please: God is near to you. He is so much nearer to you now than He might have ever been. Look for Him. Search for Him. He does not hide. He is there. Advent is for you, oh lowly and broken-hearted. Jesus came for you. And He will never stop.

Stuck Between Multiple Sorrows and the Valley of the Shadow of Death

The title says it all. It’s a longer way to allude to the phrase “between a rock and a hard place”. But those a very vague places. Rocks come in all sizes and a hard place could be anything. I needed something more specific — and biblical — to help me define where I feel I’ve been the past few months.

Let me explain.

The phrase “multiple sorrows” comes from Psalm 16:4a,

The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply; (ESV)

Running after other gods is exactly where I’ve been lately. I’m Jonah right after God told him to go to Nineveh. I’m the people Jeremiah is preaching too who have forsaken their God and drawn cisterns that cannot hold water. I’m the Israelites who, as Moses is up on the mountain receiving the commandments of God, decide to make a golden calf that is here and now, instead of then and coming. None of those stories ended well. Big fishes, national captivity, corporate death. Multiple sorrows.

And yet, on the other side of conundrum is the very real Valley of the Shadow of Death, from Psalm 23:4,

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
    I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
    your rod and your staff,
    they comfort me. (ESV)

The rest of verse is beautiful. David, the psalmist, says that even though he is being led into this horrid and terrifying valley, that he doesn’t fear. Not because the Valley isn’t worthy of his or anyone’s fear, but because He knows His God is with Him. He is comforted by the very presence of His God with him.

So what’s my problem? Unlike David, I don’t look at how big my God is; instead I look at how scary this Valley is. I see its cobwebs, I see the scary eyes staring back at me, I see the creatures baring their razor-sharp teeth in my direction, waiting to chew me alive. I see these images, then I stare back up at God. Not to see His all-sufficiency, not to marvel at His ability to protect me regardless of the threat, not to lean heavily on all His numerous promises to never leave me nor forsake me. No, I look up at God to ask Him, “Why?” I look up at God to question Him, not trust Him; to argue with Him, not believe in Him and His Word. I know He told me His ways are not my ways, and that His thoughts aren’t my thoughts. I understand that His knowledge is not only higher but eternal. I (say I) believe that He truly loves me and only gives good gifts. And yet, here I stand at the entrance to this Valley, looking, searching, frantically trying to find how this could be a good gift.

But I don’t see it. And so, in my own knowledge, in my own way that seems right to me that ultimately leads to death, I run. I run hard. But where and what do I run to? Running towards multiple sorrows sounds really horrible. But running through a Valley known for being the shadow of Death doesn’t sound too appealing either. So here I am. Stuck.

Stuck between the promises of the Almighty and the promises of the world. Stuck between wondering which pain is really worth it. Stuck at wanting to not move at all, hoping I can stay this way till eternity. Stuck between crippling anxiety and oppressive depression. Stuck between grace and condemnation. Stuck between truth and lies.

Either way, I’m stuck. I would love to end this with some really good biblical truth. And I could do that. I could show you that Jesus promised we would have trouble in this world but that we should take heart because He overcame the world (John 16:33). I could show you that Paul told us that all things work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose (Rom. 8:28). I could point out that God was with David even in the Valley, as He was with the Israelites in the wilderness, as He would also be with Jonah on his way to Nineveh. I could point out that all of God’s promises are yes though Christ Jesus (2 Cor. 1:20). All of these points are true. All these points are valid. All these points are biblical and scriptural. And yet, I’m still stuck.

Voluntarily stuck, I’m sure. I know God’s grace reaches this deep. If it didn’t, His grace wouldn’t be that impressive. And that’s my one and only hope right now. Not a hope like a big, blinding light that overpowers everything dark. No, this hope is more like a little night-light in a big room. But even a small light is seen in the darkness. And even mustard seed faith can move mountains. So, maybe even the smallest of grace can help me become unstuck. And He’s known for giving greater grace. I could use some greater grace right now.

I wrote this for the stuck. I wrote this for those who try to run to the world and to God, sometimes in the same day. I wrote this for those who feel internally stretched beyond their max point. I wrote this for you. Because if we are stuck, at least we aren’t alone.



1 Kings 22, Amen Corners and Lying Spirits

We love signs. We love looking for answers in places that we think will not only tell us what we want to know, but what we want to hear. In our search for answers, we inevitably take along with us our desires. We know what we want to hear and we hope we hear it. God knows that about us. But so does the enemy.

In 1 Kings 22 we see the king of Israel, Ahab, and the King of Judah, Jehoshaphat, discussing the reclamation of land Ahab believes to be Israel’s. Ahab asks Jehoshaphat if he will help Israel reclaim this land from Syria. Jehoshaphat is on board, but only after asking the Lord if this is what He wants first.

“And he said to Jehoshaphat, “Will you go with me to battle at Ramoth-gilead?” And Jehoshaphat said to the king of Israel, “I am as you are, my people as your people, my horses as your horses.” And Jehoshaphat said to the king of Israel, “Inquire first for the word of the Lord.””

‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭22:4-5‬ ESV

So Ahab goes and calls some of his prophet friends and asks them. And they all say “The Lord says it’s cool” (urban paraphrase). But Jehoshaphat isn’t satisfied. He asks Ahab “Are sure there’s no other prophet we can ask?” Then Ahab says “So there is this one guy but I don’t like him because he never prophesies anything good for me!”

“But Jehoshaphat said, “Is there not here another prophet of the Lord of whom we may inquire?” And the king of Israel said to Jehoshaphat, “There is yet one man by whom we may inquire of the Lord, Micaiah the son of Imlah, but I hate him, for he never prophesies good concerning me, but evil.” And Jehoshaphat said, “Let not the king say so.””

‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭22:7-8‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Obviously Jehoshaphat didnt trust Ahab’s prophet friends. And to make the trust issues worsen, when asked if there is another prophet to inquire from, Ahab replies that he knows one but would rather not use him because the guy never prophesies in his favor.

A lot of us are like Ahab. We love truth as long as the truth benefits us. We sometimes purposefully surround ourselves with people who will only tell us what we want to hear and allow us to do whatever we have already decided to do. We don’t wish for wise counsel, we wish for blind consent.

So Ahab sent a messenger to his prophet frenemy Micaiah while his fake prophet friends repeated the same lie to him. When Micaiah arrives before the two kings he is urged to prophesy in line with what the other “prophets” have already said. Instead, Micaiah says that he will only say what the Lord tells him to.

“And the messenger who went to summon Micaiah said to him, “Behold, the words of the prophets with one accord are favorable to the king. Let your word be like the word of one of them, and speak favorably.” But Micaiah said, “As the Lord lives, what the Lord says to me, that I will speak.””

‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭22:13-14‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Micaiah’s prophesy, summarized is that Israel should attack but the king will die. And that’s exactly what happened. But I jump to the end of the story to spend more time highlighting the middle. Because the ending, though important, is only half the lesson. The rest is in how Ahab receives, and doesn’t receive, and obvious word from the Lord.

Micaiah says that victory is given to the king. Ahab, though he got what he wanted, is still unsure since this prophet never tells him what he wants to hear. So he inquired further. Micaiah then prophesies that the battle will leave the people king-less. This ominous word sounds more like the prophet that Ahab knows and dislikes. But Micaiah isn’t done.

“And Micaiah said, “Therefore hear the word of the Lord: I saw the Lord sitting on his throne, and all the host of heaven standing beside him on his right hand and on his left; and the Lord said, ‘Who will entice Ahab, that he may go up and fall at Ramoth-gilead?’ And one said one thing, and another said another. Then a spirit came forward and stood before the Lord, saying, ‘I will entice him.’ And the Lord said to him, ‘By what means?’ And he said, ‘I will go out, and will be a lying spirit in the mouth of all his prophets.’ And he said, ‘You are to entice him, and you shall succeed; go out and do so.’ Now therefore behold, the Lord has put a lying spirit in the mouth of all these your prophets; the Lord has declared disaster for you.””

‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭22:19-23‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Please don’t miss this what just happened here. There aren’t many times that we get glimpses into throne room activity and when we do, we should take great notice.

In this instance, God blatantly asks how can we get Ahab to die. Yes, that bluntly and that boldly. And though that sounds harsh, it really isn’t once we see the rest of the story. A spirit comes forward and says that it knows a way to make that happen. It says it will go and be a “lying spirit” in the mouth of Ahab’s fake prophet friends. The Lord then says not only is that a great plan, it’s a plan that will surely work. Micaiah, in plain language, tell Ahab that the Lord told your prophets to lie in order so that you would be killed in battle. And what does Ahab do with the information? Locks Micaiah up in prison. And we know the end of the story: Ahab dies. A random arrow, not even meant for him, pierces his body and kills him.

“But a certain man drew his bow at random and struck the king of Israel between the scale armor and the breastplate. Therefore he said to the driver of his chariot, “Turn around and carry me out of the battle, for I am wounded.” And the battle continued that day, and the king was propped up in his chariot facing the Syrians, until at evening he died. And the blood of the wound flowed into the bottom of the chariot.”

‭‭1 Kings‬ ‭22:34-35‬ ‭ESV‬‬

God used Ahab’s own disobedience to be the conduit for Ahab’s prophesied demise. The Lord did not have to tell Ahab his plans. And Ahab did not have to go into battle. The Lord never said don’t go; He just said Ahab would die. This was less a specific judgement over Israel and more of one over Ahab for all of his disobedience (See 1 Kings 18-22).

And here is where we should be vigilant to hear the word of the Lord. Our personal amen corners might just be being used as tools of Lord for our discipline or our judgement. The issue is that not Ahab had friends who didn’t speak truth; the issue that Ahab preferred lies over truth because lies taste better. Lies are easier to swallow and go down smoother. Artificial coloring and sugar always look pleasing and taste desirably. But, they are as beautiful to the eyes and ears as they are detrimental to the body and soul.

Truth comes from God. And us being made in His image means we want truth. We desire truth because we were made in truth, from Truth. But our sin has made us not want lies. Like Romans 1 says, we have traded the things of God for lies and false beliefs. We now no longer care what is truly true, as long as it fits what we already want. Ahab wanted the same thing, and we see where that got him.

Your amen corner might just be killing you. Listen to the word of the Lord before it is too late. God did not leave Ahab without a word from Him. And like Ahab, we also have the Word from God; this Word (the Bible) is finished as it contains all we need to know about God in order to find Him. But God also did not force Ahab to obey; and we won’t force us either. We must choose to trust the Word of God over our own word. Since we are finite, temporary, and created creatures, our word that comes from us can only be that. But God, our Creator, is never created and has always been, is eternal and is permanent. And so is His truth.

Your friends may be lying to you and you not even aware. Or they could mean well just be wrong. I’m not saying to start mistrusting our friends, our twitter followers or our little fanbase. I’m just reminding us all that truth doesn’t come from friendship; it comes from relationship with the God of truth.

Take that amen of your corner and give it to God. It might just save you life.

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