I’m at a loss. Why are so many of the white people in
my community silent?
I have no idea what to do, what to say, how to help. I want to believe that love is enough. I DO believe it. It’s the very essence of God. It’s what we are created from. Love. It is written that love covers a multitude of sins (wrongs, faults, hurts, evil). It’s written that perfect love drives out fear. It’s written that we are made in the image of God. Male. Female. Those are the only distinguishing characteristics listed. Male. Female. No other distinction. No color, size, age, title. Simply man and woman.
So why are those of us who believe all of these ‘it is writtens’ being silent?!
On one hand, I guess I get it.
When something, no matter how terrible, doesn’t directly affect you and your life circle, it is easy to look away and focus attention elsewhere. None of us enjoy pain and suffering, and we spend copious amounts of energy trying to avoid it. If you’ve never experienced poverty, it’s easy to continue living without thought to those who live in financial desperation. There may be moments that move you, moments you give to those who need help, or offer other assistance, but for most of us not living in poverty, they remain moments. If you’ve never loved someone with mental illness, it is easy to offer simple fixes. Dismiss the complexity of the struggle. Look away with callousness or disdain when forced to bump up next to someone whose behavior or processing seems abnormal. You may have moments where you offer compassion, encouragement, a listening ear. But ultimately they sit separated. A series of disconnected, often forced, moments.
Most of us work hard to push pain far from our cultivated comfort, our fortresses of protection designed to buffer us against the ugly, dirty reality that comes with earthly struggle. Each of us have our own ugly, dirty reality in some form, and we work to manage those places while adding pitch to the cracks in our walls to keep out the ugly and dirty of things we’d rather not have to deal with. The ugly and dirty that exists outside of Us. Our lives. Our tightened circle.
So, is that it? Is this why, as white people, we can shake our heads in sadness when another black man is killed because of suspicion we hold inside of our walls that won’t allow us to separate villain from ‘other’, yet not be moved enough to speak? Is this why we can turn off the news feeling troubled but still able to sleep well knowing the epidemic of murdered black men isn’t able to breach our walls? It is also written that we are to ‘bear one another’s burdens, which fulfills the law of Christ’. (The simple law that states- Love one another.) That means to shoulder the hurt and fear and anger of others. Others. Not meant to be a separating word as we have made it, but simply: those not in our own personal skin. Every person outside of ourselves. All others. All. Others.
I’m so disappointed by the lack of response I see by the white community. Many people I love live inside of bodies just like mine; bodies that create babies, work hard, love passionately, ache with pain and weariness, battle disease, wrestle with faith, celebrate loved ones. Bodies just like mine simply shaded more heavily with God’s incredibly creative paintbrush. Where is the outcry from the lighter shaded people? Why are we so quick to dismiss what they are saying and gloss over it each time with responses such as “well, we don’t know the whole story”, “Maybe he was reaching into his car for a gun”, “he had other charges, so I’m sure they were afraid of him”, “his music was too loud, his clothes too ‘gang-y’ “. If this was happening to our husbands, sons, brothers and fathers, we would fill the streets and demand justice. Yet. Silence. What are we afraid of? Rejection? Misunderstanding? Hurt? Getting too close to those who weep and wail and grieve and watch us through saddened eyes waiting for our support, understanding and help? Those who we have made ‘others’ instead of seeing the reality that all of us are ‘one anothers’? Those we place in a category we do not list ourselves in. Why is this even an issue? How can we bear the image of God in our very existence and yet not honor His image in those with shaded skin? I believe the act of acknowledgment by those of us living in lighter skin, the response of- ‘I see this. I see you. I’m not looking away. This is not ok. Where is justice?! We are one. We will work with you as one anothers to stop the suffocating blanket of fear and danger to you and your loved ones.’ There is no script here. There is no perfect word that will alleviate their hurt, sadness and fear.
But love.
Love says, I’ve never done this before. I have no explanation as to why I’ve never entered into your world as friend. Neighbor. Church family. Community member. I have no explanation to offer for why I’ve put walls up between us. But I’m here now. I see you. I see your pain. I don’t understand how it feels to worry your husband or son, brother or father may not come home tonight. But because I bear the image of God, and you bear the image of God, I am here with you to listen. I want to hear what you have to say. I want to hear all of it because we are all ‘one anothers’.
Then? We do just that. We listen. We hold their babies like our own. We sit together at tables and play games and break bread. We share stories of laughter and hurt. We invite them into our lives and ask to be allowed into theirs. We don’t look away from their pain filled eyes to avoid the ache it elicits in us. That pain? The ache we are trying to avoid? That is exactly where we are connected. When your heart jumps at their hurt and senses the weary agony of not being heard or seen… that jump is God saying YES! Right here. This is the bearing of one anothers burdens. Don’t look away. Honor this space. Let it move you. Let it affect you. Let it sear you. Don’t pass up the gift of bearing this burden. It sounds simple. And it is simple. But it isn’t easy. Loving and honoring and bearing and weeping and listening and sitting and being moved to action will never be easy. It will take God sized strength and ability. It will require us to hurt as our one anothers hurt. Yet the incredible thing is this; we bear the image of God, and He is more than capable of sustaining us as we bear our one anothers burdens. Lean into the reality of image bearer in you replicated exactly the same in every single one another.
I have no idea what to do, what to say, how to help. I want to believe that love is enough. I DO believe it. It’s the very essence of God. It’s what we are created from. Love. It is written that love covers a multitude of sins (wrongs, faults, hurts, evil). It’s written that perfect love drives out fear. It’s written that we are made in the image of God. Male. Female. Those are the only distinguishing characteristics listed. Male. Female. No other distinction. No color, size, age, title. Simply man and woman.
So why are those of us who believe all of these ‘it is writtens’ being silent?!
On one hand, I guess I get it.
When something, no matter how terrible, doesn’t directly affect you and your life circle, it is easy to look away and focus attention elsewhere. None of us enjoy pain and suffering, and we spend copious amounts of energy trying to avoid it. If you’ve never experienced poverty, it’s easy to continue living without thought to those who live in financial desperation. There may be moments that move you, moments you give to those who need help, or offer other assistance, but for most of us not living in poverty, they remain moments. If you’ve never loved someone with mental illness, it is easy to offer simple fixes. Dismiss the complexity of the struggle. Look away with callousness or disdain when forced to bump up next to someone whose behavior or processing seems abnormal. You may have moments where you offer compassion, encouragement, a listening ear. But ultimately they sit separated. A series of disconnected, often forced, moments.
Most of us work hard to push pain far from our cultivated comfort, our fortresses of protection designed to buffer us against the ugly, dirty reality that comes with earthly struggle. Each of us have our own ugly, dirty reality in some form, and we work to manage those places while adding pitch to the cracks in our walls to keep out the ugly and dirty of things we’d rather not have to deal with. The ugly and dirty that exists outside of Us. Our lives. Our tightened circle.
So, is that it? Is this why, as white people, we can shake our heads in sadness when another black man is killed because of suspicion we hold inside of our walls that won’t allow us to separate villain from ‘other’, yet not be moved enough to speak? Is this why we can turn off the news feeling troubled but still able to sleep well knowing the epidemic of murdered black men isn’t able to breach our walls? It is also written that we are to ‘bear one another’s burdens, which fulfills the law of Christ’. (The simple law that states- Love one another.) That means to shoulder the hurt and fear and anger of others. Others. Not meant to be a separating word as we have made it, but simply: those not in our own personal skin. Every person outside of ourselves. All others. All. Others.
I’m so disappointed by the lack of response I see by the white community. Many people I love live inside of bodies just like mine; bodies that create babies, work hard, love passionately, ache with pain and weariness, battle disease, wrestle with faith, celebrate loved ones. Bodies just like mine simply shaded more heavily with God’s incredibly creative paintbrush. Where is the outcry from the lighter shaded people? Why are we so quick to dismiss what they are saying and gloss over it each time with responses such as “well, we don’t know the whole story”, “Maybe he was reaching into his car for a gun”, “he had other charges, so I’m sure they were afraid of him”, “his music was too loud, his clothes too ‘gang-y’ “. If this was happening to our husbands, sons, brothers and fathers, we would fill the streets and demand justice. Yet. Silence. What are we afraid of? Rejection? Misunderstanding? Hurt? Getting too close to those who weep and wail and grieve and watch us through saddened eyes waiting for our support, understanding and help? Those who we have made ‘others’ instead of seeing the reality that all of us are ‘one anothers’? Those we place in a category we do not list ourselves in. Why is this even an issue? How can we bear the image of God in our very existence and yet not honor His image in those with shaded skin? I believe the act of acknowledgment by those of us living in lighter skin, the response of- ‘I see this. I see you. I’m not looking away. This is not ok. Where is justice?! We are one. We will work with you as one anothers to stop the suffocating blanket of fear and danger to you and your loved ones.’ There is no script here. There is no perfect word that will alleviate their hurt, sadness and fear.
But love.
Love says, I’ve never done this before. I have no explanation as to why I’ve never entered into your world as friend. Neighbor. Church family. Community member. I have no explanation to offer for why I’ve put walls up between us. But I’m here now. I see you. I see your pain. I don’t understand how it feels to worry your husband or son, brother or father may not come home tonight. But because I bear the image of God, and you bear the image of God, I am here with you to listen. I want to hear what you have to say. I want to hear all of it because we are all ‘one anothers’.
Then? We do just that. We listen. We hold their babies like our own. We sit together at tables and play games and break bread. We share stories of laughter and hurt. We invite them into our lives and ask to be allowed into theirs. We don’t look away from their pain filled eyes to avoid the ache it elicits in us. That pain? The ache we are trying to avoid? That is exactly where we are connected. When your heart jumps at their hurt and senses the weary agony of not being heard or seen… that jump is God saying YES! Right here. This is the bearing of one anothers burdens. Don’t look away. Honor this space. Let it move you. Let it affect you. Let it sear you. Don’t pass up the gift of bearing this burden. It sounds simple. And it is simple. But it isn’t easy. Loving and honoring and bearing and weeping and listening and sitting and being moved to action will never be easy. It will take God sized strength and ability. It will require us to hurt as our one anothers hurt. Yet the incredible thing is this; we bear the image of God, and He is more than capable of sustaining us as we bear our one anothers burdens. Lean into the reality of image bearer in you replicated exactly the same in every single one another.
