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
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
It’s a story I hesitate to tell today, because 33 years after the fact, it almost seems surreal. But in 1990, I was doing my job as a crime reporter for the Dallas Times Herald. On a particular Thursday night, I was driving around South Dallas, looking for story material. That part of the city was hopping. Jamaican gangsters ran the crack cocaine trade, and awful stuff was happening all the time. On this night, I got totally lost. I hadn’t lived in Dallas very long, and for some bizarre reason I thought that a church whose name started with
You saw it. The defense attorney’s opening statement in the trial of Derek Chauvin, the Minneapolis police officer who planted his knee on George Floyd’s neck for 9 minutes and 29 seconds. Not once did the attorney acknowledge that a tragedy had taken place, that a man’s life had been snuffed out. You heard the excuses. That Chauvin was a little guy, and Floyd was very big. Illegal drugs were found in Floyd’s system. The onlookers made the officers feel stressed and anxious. Now it’s time for a heart check. Do you lean toward the excuses, or do you lean
Starting in December, the Lord repeatedly brought me to a passage in Ezekiel 9. The prophet was recounting a vision from God in which he was carried in the Spirit to Jerusalem. Here in the holy city, Ezekiel witnessed something that would have horrified any devout Jew of his time: The glory of God lifted from the Temple and paused at its threshold. Then poof—it was gone. Before the glory departed entirely, however, the prophet saw a “man clothed in linen” holding a writing kit. The Lord commanded this man to “Go throughout the city of Jerusalem and put a
The Black South African singer possessed a rich, nuanced voice. Mature in her faith and gracious in manner, she repeatedly yielded the mic to the white South African woman with a thin, average-quality voice who kept asserting a front-and-center role during worship. I watched this dynamic unfold at a small, interracial Christian healing service in Johannesburg, South Africa, several years ago, growing increasingly frustrated. The Black singer was a recording artist with a powerful presence, and she could have blown the white woman off the stage. Yet she honored the sacredness of the moment by refusing to engage in a
I long for racial unity in the Church because I once experienced a taste of it. There was such a sense of rightness—of beauty, joy, and well-being—that I will always search for it. It is the joy set before me. There is no question that this joy lines up with the Word of God. Jesus prays in John 17 that we would be one. He doesn’t pray that God would whisk us away to a bunker where we’re safe from BLM, Antifa, and the godless Democrats. No, he says, “I have given them the glory that you gave me, that
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