We were all born to be better. We were made to receive the love of God and to be with other people. There is no limit to the goodness you and I are meant to behold and to reflect, no end to the joy and love we can spread.
I sat in my car outside the building I worked in, and cried, and prayed, and looked at my watch because I had to walk into that building in 45 minutes to preach a sermon to my broken hearted and oppressed and racist and lonely congregation.
We have a duty not to run away, bury our heads in the ground or shield ourselves from suffering just because we don’t like how it makes us feel.
Do we wear diversity as a badge, patting ourselves on the back for being racially diverse without actually entering into any relationships with people of other races and cultures?
Tears, rage and joy are part of humanity. We will see this as we enter life with someone who is different from us and perhaps begin to empathize. Sometimes we must open our eyes even when we may prefer blindness.
Jesus is not the God of those who close doors in the faces of people He made. He is the God of open doors, of broken-down ones.
After we left, the tension we had felt erupted, and the city burned. And from suburbia, we judged harshly. Confidently. Knowing that if only they had been like us, if only they too, had refused their free lunches, the people of our city could have been like us.
Every day I become more and more aware of the little ways that I excuse my own prejudicial thoughts and behaviors—while protecting my privilege. And I’m haunted by the times that I didn’t speak up.