It was the summer of 1996. Culture shock sneaked up on this mountain-raised, Northern California girl. Inglewood, CA was a world away from Willits, CA. She looked over the rail at five lanes of traffic going north and five going south, each car basically parked, and she marveled that millions chose to travel this path every day. She noticed bars covering every window of every house and business, razor wire not only atop fences, but also edging the roof of the former furniture store turned church plant site. It was a world view shifting summer.
Yes, it was me. It wasn’t the bars or razor wire that changed me. It was encountering people of a different culture.
I interned with the church planting team for Inglewood Community Church. We met weekly with the Senior Pastor, remodeled the building, walked neighborhoods knocking on doors, chatting with residents and praying for them, spent mornings in prayer, prepared for and executed outreaches, planned the first missions convention with a Mission Impossible theme, sold fireworks, packed equipment and set up church at the YMCA each Sunday and tore it down afterward, visited Teen Challenge, camped with the leadership team in a rattlesnake infested area. My fellow intern and I joked that we experienced everything but a drive by shooting. He even had his car stolen!
What shifted my lenses was discussions held around Wednesday night Bible studies in one of the three Co-pastor’s homes. It wasn’t his great exposition of any particular scripture. It was the fact that nearly every week we talked about race. Inglewood was primarily black. It was eye-opening to listen to a black friend tell how he experienced police discrimination. He was not a criminal. He had a business installing carpet. While I no longer remember the details of his story, I clearly remember the bombshell effect it had on my view that racism was a thing of the past.
Growing up in a primarily white community with an ever growing latino population, I only knew one black family. I was warned that intermarriage could produce children with blotchy skin. I did hear complaints about illegal immigrants, and I was taught the perspective that the jobs they were supposedly “stealing” were jobs white people were too lazy to do anyway. Other than that, I was taught that all people are equal, and I believed it.
Only after encountering the reality of racism through other people’s stories did I learn that residents of my own home town and in my own lifetime had threatened to burn down the house of a black family if they didn’t leave immediately. Shock!
I had the privilege of visiting the Museum of Tolerance (http://www.museumoftolerance.com/) while on my internship. The holocaust experiential exhibit was impressive. Even so, I was most impacted by the entry way. There were two doors side by side. One was for prejudiced people and the other for people without prejudice. Only the prejudiced side was open, driving home the point that we all see the world through tinted glasses.
After my internship, when asked to choose the issue I felt least prepared to deal with in ministry, I named racism. Interviewing people for that class project, I was flabbergasted to learn that we had a member of the KKK on campus. What!?!?!?! This was Bible college. There is just no place in the life of a believer for looking down on persons because of their color. To this day I still cannot believe it.
This morning while I was on FaceBook, an 18 minute YouTube video by Candace Owens caught my attention with its picture of a young black woman next to the words “George Floyd is Not a Martyr.” After finishing that one I watched a TEDx video by a black man called “What I am Learning from my White Grandchildren – Truths About Race.” He said, “We tell children that race is real, but that race doesn’t matter. And the opposite is actually true: race is not real, but race does matter.”
I am concerned about what is going on in the country. I am not watching the news. I have no interest in a constant stream of bad news about things over which I have no control. What I do control is myself.
I feel bad that there are millions of people, dark skinned or otherwise, whose entire lives they have been treated less than, just because of their color. I feel badly, because I know there is truth in the stories I’ve heard. Despite my conviction that we all have choices that determine our fates, I believe things are often more of an uphill battle for some than they are for others.
I feel bad for police officers right now. How would I feel if I were a police officer? Suppose I could live up to my ideal and treat everyone equally and always do the right thing. Still, I could only control myself. I could speak to a fellow officer who stepped over the line. I could report him/her if warranted, but I could never make their choices for them.
I feel badly because of my own powerlessness. How can I be the change? I try to treat all people respectfully, but I am only one person. Also, my circle is very limited.
This is my choice. I will love the one in front of me. I will pray for our leaders, not with a critical bent but a sincere request for wisdom. I may be only one, but I am one. I know that I am not alone.
To the Ends of the Earth 