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The Ginormous Blind Spot

A pastor friend of mine in Africa sent me yet another Trump prophecy video and asked what I thought. These videos really get around! This particular prophet promised a flood, fire, and lots of other bad stuff if we don’t re-elect Donald Trump as president today. Add this to the asteroid Pat Robertson prophesied even if we do re-elect Trump. Hey, why not just give up now? Surveying all of the Trump prophecy videos and articles I’ve read in the past four years, I ended up with one burning question: Where are the Black prophets? How come they’re not getting

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Why Black Christians Aren’t Voting for Trump

A couple godly friends repeated to me President Donald Trump’s assertion that he has done more for the Black community than any president since Abraham Lincoln. These friends are white, and I know they sincerely believe this statement, which Trump made again in last week’s debate. So how does one reconcile this with the fact that Black people are streaming to the polls in record numbers to vote overwhelmingly against Trump? Why are they lining up for as long as eight hours in a pandemic that disproportionately affects them to cast votes all over the country? Are they ungrateful? Are

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Just Give Me Jesus…I Mean Right-Wing Politics

A couple friends sent me a link to The Return prayer gathering in Washington a week and a half ago. I tuned in on September 26, attracted by the event’s billing as a national call to repentance. Repentance is always good, right? Same with prayer. How can you go wrong with prayer? Rabbi Jonathan Cahn, a Messianic Jew, was already on the stage at the National Mall when I got online. I respect Cahn, author of The Harbinger and The Paradigm, two bestselling books that have circulated widely in Pentecostal-charismatic circles. I listened to his ardent prayer for this nation,

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The Fly in the Ointment Is Race

As I listened to the Mike Pence-Kamala Harris debate, I found myself agreeing with Pence on policy far more than Harris. That’s because I’ve become more conservative in middle age, as many people do after raising kids, working hard, and realizing time is no longer on your side. Parts of the Joe Biden platform seem crazy to me. Legalizing marijuana is a terrible idea. I drew that conclusion years ago when I rode a motorcycle up into the hills of Jamaica and encountered real Rastafarians, who smoked weed, like, 24-7, and seemed to be living and cogitating in slow motion.

The Riddle of Empathy

It happened in those convulsive days after the killing of George Floyd, when every major city erupted in demonstrations. Things were moving so fast you couldn’t keep up. One day I glanced at the news and saw a photo of a skinny white guy, whose grotesquely contorted body lay face-down in the street. Black blood was pooled beside his head. Then I saw that this happened right here in Dallas—in Deep Ellum, the nightclub district. I was shaken for the rest of the day. The news was sketchy at first, but it appeared that a bunch of guys kicked, stoned,

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Get Off the Fence

I was in the beautiful Northwoods of Wisconsin in July 2019, spending time with my family. I could tell you all about the crystal-clear lake, the dozens of whitetail deer, and the bald eagle perched in the tallest tree—oh, and the German food. But that isn’t my point. Before I drove to Wisconsin, I turned in a cover story to the Dallas Observer about a Christian racial reconciliation conference that had crashed and burned. The two white leaders of Sparrow Women had a mess on their hands, but they refused to discuss it publicly. Now a good journalist tries to

Jesus Wept

As I write these words, the latest video has emerged of police putting a white hood on an obviously mentally ill, handcuffed, naked, and unarmed black man, then shoving his face into the asphalt as he suffocates to the point of unconsciousness. I apologize if these words provoke additional trauma. Those who have seen the video will recognize that mine is an abbreviated account; I left out several ugly details. These events happened on March 23 in Rochester, New York. Daniel Prude, a human being, died seven days later. Let me stop for a moment and identify myself. I am

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