No Longer Silent

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

—Martin Luther King, Jr.

Ever since Ferguson, I’ve felt awakened. There is no question that Ferguson awoke something new in this country. Within myself, I sensed a whole new awareness of race relations in America.

Learning about the injustices visited upon minorities from the earliest days of our country to the present day has stirred up righteous anger within me like nothing else ever has.

I credit much of my early awakening on this front to an article on white privilege by a Texas pastor. I could hardly contain my grief and my overwhelming sadness as I read this passage:

I don’t have to warn my son in the same ways that a black dad has to warn his son. I have never had to coach my son on how to keep his hands out of his pockets when going through a convenience store. Many of my black brothers are having these conversations with their boys now.

My eyes were finally opened to the fact that my experience of America differs drastically from the way others experience America. The country I thought I knew turned out to be entirely different to others. I’m sorry that, in part, it took an article written by a white man to wake me up to this reality. I realize now that this is an all-too-common occurrence. We often don’t hear a point of view until it comes from someone who looks like us.

As an American, you are free to form your own opinions on America’s racial divide. You are free to debate the specific facts of the Sandra Bland case, or the Eric Garner case, or the Tamir Rice case, or the Trayvon Martin case.

But in doing so, please don’t make the mistake of saying that race would be a closed issue in this country if only the “race baiters” would stop opening up old wounds. The wounds are fresher than we know. New wounds are inflicted daily.

I used to think that being “color-blind” was enough. I was raised not to see color. I went to fairly diverse public schools. My spiritual upbringing taught me that all life is a gift from God. As my pastor often says, “all men bleed red.”

Yet it never occurred to me that I am the recipient of a great deal of privilege afforded to me by a system that for over 200 years has not been color-blind. If a large number of my fellow Americans are telling me that race isn’t a solved issue, perhaps it isn’t and perhaps I should listen. And perhaps I should speak up.

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

Part of my hesitancy to speak has been my fear that in aligning with Black Lives Matter I would be written off as a far-left liberal or a cop hater or an America basher. If it’s liberal to acknowledge America’s continuing issue with race, then it is a label I gladly accept. But recognizing that America’s justice system and our nation at large have a systemic bias against people of color does not mean that I hate law enforcement or the country they serve.

On the contrary, I love my country so much that I acknowledge it has yet to come to terms with its original sin. And I have great respect for law enforcement. I once worked closely with our local police department to help honor the life of an officer who died in the line of duty. The officers I worked with were some of the most loyal and dedicated individuals I’ve met. Yet they work and we all live within a system where the cards are disproportionately stacked against people of color.

Many people will read “Black Lives Matter” and have a viscerally negative reaction. Didn’t I just acknowledge that all life is a gift from God? Yes. And in this there is no contradiction. Proclaiming loudly that black lives matter is not a negation of all the other lives that also matter. It is a recognition of a struggle for equality that started centuries ago and continues to this day.

This is a struggle that people of color must contend with every day of their lives. It’s a struggle white people can choose to ignore. I will admit that as a white man it is uncomfortable to come to terms with this and to have discussions about this issue. But if my discomfort plays a very small part in making America what it can and should be, it is a very small price to pay.

America faces a formidable challenge. It will be uncomfortable. It will be inconvenient. It will be complicated. It will at times be ugly. Yet I believe that if we choose to love one another and listen in humility it will ultimately be a refining turning point which will strengthen the United States.

We all have a role to play. As a Christian, I believe the modern Church has an obligation to stand with those who are oppressed, one which we’ve largely abdicated in the face of this systemic injustice. The Church must be a vessel for reconciliation and we must be willing to be a forum for difficult conversations.

“Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love…”