A Non-Heated Discussion about Race and Violence

There we were, an interracial, intergenerational group of
about twenty something people represented by Caucasian, Asian, African
Americans and Hispanics, huddled in a large circle in the basement of a pub, having
a rational discussion about the hot button topic of race and violence in
America from a perspective of faith. We were attending part two of a discussion
on this highly emotional topic, and likely there will be a part three, based on
the way the conversation grew in vibrancy and ended too soon. 

We managed to keep emotions in check, but we also had to
admit to the presence of an elephant in the middle of the room, with its large
trunk and body nearly tipping over food plates and drinks, evidenced by the way
the conversation began awkwardly, tentatively, with a palpable fear of
offending someone else in the meeting.  
We touched on Affirmative Action, Christians appearing
condescending when we want to help, the need for whites to give up their power,
show mercy and build relationships rather than appear as the “white saviors.”
I left the talk with more questions than I arrived with, and
I don’t consider myself someone unengaged from this issue. I searched for any
hidden motives on my part for why I give, why I care, why I try and build
bridges to be part of the solution rather than the problem. But this
conversation turned in directions I didn’t anticipate.
Many years ago I read an article in ByFaith Magazine by a
former New Orlean’s pastor, Mo
Leverett
, who spent decades in the poorest housing project in that city,
investing in the lives of its residents. In the article, he challenged the
church to “get their uniforms dirty” by serving the poor and under resourced.
The analogy is based on his love of baseball as a child and how the greatest
shame for him would be to walk off the field at the end of the day with a clean
uniform. He wanted to slide into home plate, covering himself in dirt and feel
proud that he had behaved like a warrior.
For years, I’ve held onto Mo’s article and returned to it
again and again, feeling his words to be a call to the church.
At Pub Talk, we touched on the church coming into the city
bearing gifts as opposed to just giving a check. Personally, I struggled with
the idea of giving checks only and forgoing the relational aspect of ministry.
But to quote Mo, “I’ve heard people say, ‘I don’t want to just write a check, I
want to get my hands dirty.’ But it’s a good idea to start by writing checks.”
In the book, When
Helping Hurts
by Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert, the authors address the
issue of the church (and the government) hurting the very people they are
trying to help. We may have good intentions, but we bring naiveté to ministry and
service which inflicts harm sometimes. Pub Talk was a brief forum for educating
both sides and creating a dialogue among people committed to helping rather than
hurting.
The Caucasians in the group were challenged to consider why
we want diverse churches, why we want to go into the inner city and partner
with minority churches. We were told Black and Hispanic churches don’t look
around on Sunday mornings, wringing their hands, wondering why more white folks
aren’t joining them.  This perspective
felt unsettling to me, and I woke the next morning wondering why I felt so
troubled. I had to do some soul searching, and came to the conclusion
interracial services feel so powerful because they are the very representation
of reconciliation, and not an example of lording power over someone else. They
represent the whole Kingdom of God,
which is not exclusively white.  
We need these discussions because minorities need to know
many people care and want to live intentionally in their communities as friends
and neighbors. Folks want to share in their experiences, seek justice, and show
mercy in any way possible. And Caucasians need to know our help can be
perceived as condescending. Despite the misunderstandings, we need more
awkward, elephant-in-the-room conversations until we uncover the misconceptions
and wounds.
Despite being an amicable group of people who came together over
a common passion, some misunderstandings arose. And if a group of folks
intentionally seeking racial reconciliation could feel a bit out of sorts, then
how much more difficult would it be for people outside our circle to engage in
productive conversation?
Talks are hard work. Listening is hard work. But both are oh
so necessary. 

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