The racial unity journey leads straight to one place: the cross. And it’s not a one-time thing. You will find yourself there again and again, as Christ bids you come and die to your opinions, your politics, your presumptions, your preferences, and your privileges.
No wonder it’s not such a popular journey. Who wants to die these days? In the American church, it seems, very few do.
If you put your personal comfort before racial unity, you will not get there.
If you place your political idols before racial unity, you will quickly get sidetracked.
If you place your desire to be liked and affirmed by your friends, family, and peers before racial unity, you will turn back when the first stiff wind blows.
If you place your theories about Black and brown cultures, money and merit, law and order before racial unity, you will fail to form the bonds of brotherly love that racial unity requires. Instead, you will become “judges with evil thoughts” (James 2:4).
If you were looking for five practical steps to achieve racial unity in the church, I am sorry. I sincerely wish I had that. All I can offer is the way of the cross. At the cross, folks die.
Now I’d be suspicious if someone said, “OK—I’m ready to die right now. Sign me up!” Somehow, it never works that way. People who are ready to die from the get-go, or folks with a white-savior mentality, just end up crashing and burning. They’re driven by emotion, and this journey isn’t fueled by heroics. It’s a long walk to this cross, and few if any will applaud you on the way.
While this journey to the cross does lead to death—death to self—on the other side is new life!
When you’re willing to lay down your life as you know it—your opinions, politics, prejudices, relationships—before Jesus, he graciously takes you in his hand and begins guiding you on a journey toward racial justice and unity. (They go together.) It is a long and arduous journey for most people, and notice that I said “toward.” Like the saints of old, the “cloud of witnesses” in Hebrews 11, you might not reach your promised land, wherever that might be. I have found that I must focus on pleasing God instead; I can’t count mile markers. I can’t grade myself on whether I attain racial unity nirvana. I’m a traveler, a servant, and obedience to God must be its own reward.
Along the way, God will require the “yes” of obedience at numerous junctures. Keep saying yes.
Looking back on my life at the ripe age of 60, I can say that I have seen innumerable good and gifted Christian folks stop saying “yes” somewhere along the way. It’s not like a giant foot in the sky immediately stomps on them, but our failures to say yes result in a slow but gradual hardening of the heart. Pretty soon you’re not perceiving the direction of the Holy Spirit clearly, so you manufacture it: You generate hype, or you make choices based on what brought success in the past, or what your peers tell you to do or not do. I personally believe that this is why many white Christian leaders started well on the racial unity journey but got off track. God called them to radical obedience, but somewhere along the way they said, “No—I’m not going that far. I’ve done enough.” And it probably seemed perfectly sensible to their peers.
Going to the cross always results in repentance. At the cross, we let go of any self-assertion of righteousness. The prodigal son offers an excellent model of repentance. He says to his earthly dad, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men” (Luke 15:18b-19).
The son’s repentance addresses two dimensions: sin against God, and sin against specific people or groups of people. There are no ifs, ands, or buts. Absolutely no qualifications, limitations, or explanations. The son didn’t attempt to reclaim his position as a son; instead, he confessed that he was unworthy of the title. He didn’t try to dictate the penalty, either—he accepted in advance whatever punishment God considered just, even if it meant taking the position of the lowest servant and forgoing all of the privileges he previously considered his right.
Do you get the picture?
Just curious: Have you seen this kind of repentance take place in your church concerning racism, or among the Christian leaders you look up to?
Some people have asked me, “What does repentance look like concerning racism?” My simple answer is that it looks like the response of the prodigal son. But I recognize that it can take time to get to this point of self-surrender. It took years for me to excavate the layers of racialized thinking embedded in my mind and heart. God would show me some sinful attitude or response, and he would wait for my “yes.” Would I press past hurt feelings, being called racist, not getting my way, and feeling misunderstood, knowing that God is going through the painstaking work of exposing my blind spots, or would I assert my “right” to be treated the way I think I should be treated, or to hang on to some scrap of privilege or pride?
Repentance relinquishes one’s rights. Repentance says, “Search my heart and mind, Lord, and show me anything that’s offensive. Show me where I’m in error—I’m willing to repent. Show me what to do. I just want to be right with you.”
God will certainly answer that request—concerning racism, or any sin, for that matter.
And when he hears your “yes,” he will show you the next step in the racial unity journey.
Maybe it’s “crossing to the other side” and devoting yourself wholeheartedly to a spiritual family that is entirely different in color, culture, or social class.
Maybe it’s shedding tears of repentance—in private before God, and in public, before the eyes of the people who esteem you.
Maybe it’s using your resources to give gifts or bestow honor, expecting nothing in return, to the parts of the body that have been despised, neglected, or overlooked. Not for pats on the back or social media likes, but because it’s the right thing to do.
Maybe it’s laying down your stinkin’ politics and putting your time and effort into loving your neighbor in ways they understand.
Maybe it’s educating yourself about our nation’s sordid history concerning indigenous peoples and those of African descent, and acknowledging that you’ve believed a good number of lies. And resolving to walk in the truth from now on, regardless of what your friends and family think.
Maybe it’s beginning the long, organic, and often painful process of forging trusting, reciprocal relationships with people in your own church, workplace, or neighborhood who are different from you, not so you can boast about your “Black friend” but so you can be formed in Christ.
In summary, I can’t say exactly what repentance will look like for you. I just know that when you take the first step, God will show you the next step. When he does, say “yes.”
I’m still not finished with my journey—God regularly points out areas of prejudice in me. The racial unity journey is a suffering way. We can’t undo the evils sown over 400 years in a single day or a night, or through hosting a Black preacher once a year. God requires a continual “yes,” and yes will cost you. At the beginning of my journey, God showed me that I would endure so many point-blank hits that all I’d be able to do was stagger forward at times. In addition to those hits, I made many mistakes of my own. And I have experienced terrible personal heartbreaks that still make me shudder.
Yes, yes, yes—it is totally worth it!
Let me explain using one of my favorite Scriptures: “But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his son, purifies us from all sin” (1 John 1:7).
Here’s how I understand it. When I am open about my sin and failings, stepping into the light both privately and before others, I experience deep fellowship. I’m telling you, it just happens! When we confess our faults among trusted believers, God knits us together as sisters or brothers. It’s a beautiful thing, and I have seen it happen many times—even across boundaries of color!
Then along the way, as God knits us together as he did Ruth and Naomi, so that your people become my people, and your God my God, we find that Jesus deals with the sin strongholds in our own lives. We’re purified as we walk together in honesty and brotherly love. It…just…happens.
I have seen God miraculously deliver me and others from demons, sickness, hardness of heart, generational sin, and just plain bad attitudes as we walk together in the light.
And those bonds of fellowship—my Lord. When they are formed by the Spirit, there is nothing like it. They bring joy and deep satisfaction—as you and your companions go on the suffering way.
All roads lead to the cross. The place of death, and the promise of new life.
