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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

My Experience With Racism

My experience with racism is embarrassing, because I was the perpetrator. I was about eight years old. Just a kid growing up in the Midwest in the early 1970s. My dad had invited a Black man and his family to dinner at our home in Ann Arbor, Michigan. He served with this man in Vietnam, and that’s all I know. This gentleman came to our house with his wife and two girls. Today, I wonder what was going through his mind. That was a risky venture for sure. White people so often blow past all of the sensitivities, focused instead

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