People From Every Tribe and Nation: One White Pastor’s Journey Toward Racial Justice

I am white. My great-grand parents immigrated to America from Norway and Scotland. I was born in northwest Montana and grew up mostly in northwest Washington, neither of which is known for its racial diversity. There was one black kid in my high school of 1200 students, and he was the only person of African descent I knew. He was valedictorian, captain of the football team, and ending up going to Harvard. That was the racial stereotype of black men I knew. I can never remember hearing my parents or any adult I knew as a kid utter a racial slur.

But I was no stranger to ethnic diversity. My dad was an airline pilot, so we lived in Hong Kong and West Berlin when I was young. From my earliest memories I have known what it is like to be ethnically and culturally different than the majority culture. Perhaps that is why throughout my life I have consistently sought out opportunities to immerse myself in cultures different than my own and connect with people who look and sound different than me. I was blessed to experience so many diverse people and places in the first three decades of my life.

But I look back now and realize how naïve I was about racial issues as a young, white pastor in the 90’s. I assumed those problems were dealt with in the 60’s and 70’s and now that everyone had equal rights we could all just get along. Of course, I assumed that because everywhere I went, everyone I met treated me with respect and dignity. I had a myriad of opportunities laid at my feet. I had no idea what people of color deal with on a daily basis in most parts of America. I should have sensed that not all was right with the world when the black husband of a white member of my church was killed while in police custody. I was horrified, but I convinced myself Jamal’s fate was the exception to the rule. I was wrong. Mine was a classic case of unconscious white privilege.

That started to change in the late 90’s when I moved to Los Angeles to serve a suburban congregation. Although my church was set in a more diverse community, it wasn’t until I formed a pastor’s discipleship group that my eyes were opened to a very different kind of American experience. The group was made up of pastors from my denomination who shared similar vision and values and it just happened to be comprised of three men of African descent, one of Chinese descent, one of Mexican descent, and two of Norwegian descent. After about a year of meeting regularly for prayer and encouragement the trust level reached a place of greater openness and honesty.  It was only then that my black brothers started to share their stories of pain, both personal and corporate.

I heard about the random traffic stops by white police officers when they drove into my neighborhood. I heard about mothers grabbing their children and recoiling in fear when they approached. I heard about the hazing their kids endured on playgrounds and in parks. I heard about the mysterious difficulties they had renting or buying a home in a “nice” neighborhood. And these stories were from men who held advanced degrees, were respected leaders in their communities, and had devoted their lives to serving God and others. But the stories were not only personal, they were also corporate.

I heard about the oppressive social conditions in which their parishioners grew up. I heard about the vastly substandard school systems that left their members ill-equipped to compete in the wider world. I heard about the cycle of kids growing up without fathers who in turned fathered children without fathers. I heard about the scourge of drugs that decimated each successive generation. I heard about the crime and violence that robbed their neighborhoods of humanity by imposing a culture of fear. This oppressive environment was worlds apart from the community where my church was located, even though we lived in neighboring cities.

Gradually my worldview started to shift. Little by little I started to understand how different my black brother’s experience of life in America was from mine, simply because of the color of their skin. I have come to understand that racism is both an individual and corporate issue. Children learn racism from the words and examples of those who are responsible for them. We also learn it from the way we are treated by those who are different from us. Above all racism can take root and grow when there is a separation between the races that keeps us from hearing and knowing each other. The more we get to know those who are different from us, the more we are able to understand each other and the more we recognize the common humanity that we share.

But racism is also a corporate issue. The great wealth of America was built in part on the backs of enslaved Africans who were brought to our shores to enrich the coffers of the rice and cotton plantation owners. These profits helped to fuel the industrialization of American business which in turn offered low-paying jobs to recently emancipated slaves. Most were unable to gain the education and opportunities needed to generate more than a subsistence level of income. Generation after generation of the African American community has worked and struggled to break free from this systemic cycle of economic oppression, but most have been left trapped in a place of social and economic disadvantage.

With the passage of the 14th Amendment and the subsequent century of work for civil rights that culminated in the 60’s and 70’s, we have made great strides in establishing legal equality for all races in America. However, equal legal status does not necessarily provide equal opportunity. A black friend of mine recently explained to me that it is not about legal equality of the races, it is about gaining equal access to the tools that are needed to thrive and prosper in our society. He said it is like standing at the bottom of a sheer rock face with a staircase that starts ¾ of the way up. Most white people are starting at the stairs, but most black people have to figure out how to get up to where the stairs start. Though a few outliers can free climb to the stairs, most will need climbing equipment that is not available to them. So they remain stuck.

What can be done about this? How can we change? That is a question which far exceeds the scope of this simple blog, but here are a few preliminary thoughts which I commend to your reflection and discussion. We must begin with the personal journey which produces a change of heart and mind. Are we listening to the testimony of our sisters and brothers of color? Are we educating ourselves on the tragic history that has created a system of inequities? We all operate with varying degrees of unconscious bias and prejudice regardless of our race and circumstance and we need to change. Jesus is the one who came to show us the truth that every person on this planet is created in the image of God and is equally valuable and loved. As we put to death our old self of sin and brokenness and allow the Spirit of Jesus to fill us and change us, we will begin to see all people as our brothers and sisters, value them as Jesus did, and treat them with the dignity they deserve.

But there is also a corporate journey that we are called to take. In a racially divided society, Jesus showed us how to break through the dividing walls of hostility with love, truth, and grace, by the way he treated the outcast and the ostracized. He radically challenged the entrenched powers that kept people trapped under oppression by establishing an alternate reality he called “the Kingdom of God.” Those who claim to follow Jesus are called to walk the same path by advocating for real systemic and cultural change. Lecrae recently summarized that advocacy as “prayer, policy and programs.” As we pray for the Kingdom of God to shape the kingdoms of this world more fully, we can also let these values guide the way we vote and motivate us to get involved in local organizations that are actively working toward equal access and opportunity for all people. Perhaps the most important step any of us can take is to invite someone of a different race into our home and into our life.

In recent days we have seen video recordings of Ahmad Aubery being gunned down by vigilantes and George Floyd being choked to death by a police officer. These are outrageous incidents, but they are not the exception. It is time to change the rule. It is not enough to be outraged. It is not enough to speak out. If we are followers of Jesus, or just seeking to be decent human beings, we have no option except to act on behalf of our black brothers and sisters and all those who still live under oppression and injustice. The Bible tells us that Jesus came to establish a new Kingdom made up of “every tribe and language and people and nation” (Revelation 5:9-10). Yes, it is complicated. Yes, it is risky. Yes, it will be messy. But the Kingdom of God comes through ordinary people who are willing to follow Jesus by the power of the Spirit one step of faith at a time. I believe God is doing something new. I pray 2020 will be the year we finally see real change because everyday men and women refuse to say and do nothing any longer.