This morning I had a long conversation with a grieving black man. I’ve known him for several years. He is a member of my church – the Church of God. He has served as pastor of a local congregation. He spoke with passion, some would say anger. But I heard grief and lament. He called me, a white man, because we are friends and he trusts my counsel. The truth is that I struggled for answers.
My friend is angry and confused. But his pain is palpable. He said to me, “Our justice system isn’t broken, it’s fixed.” He means that American justice is fixed to deny justice to black people. He doesn’t understand why white churches are so quick to dismiss the pain of their black brothers and sisters. He said to me, “I called to talk to you because I know you will listen.” I resisted the temptation to deny his pain, or the truth of his words, because so much of what he said is indeed true.
My friend is impatient and suffers from chronic anxiety. He sees the world through anxious dysfunction – a dysfunction imposed on him by a society with callous hearts and deaf ears. He sees no way forward. Maybe his anxiety is a reflection of national dysfunction. His impatience reflects the cries of the oppressed in Scripture: “How long, O Lord, how long?” In truth, I share his despair. I’ve had too many conversations with white Christians who deny racial injustice. We tend to view these issues through the lens of partisan politics, rather than a theological issue. Social holiness and justice should transcend partisan politics. The Christian view of social holiness should inform all partisans.
I’ve often resisted postmodern social justice movements because they are inherently secular and anti-Christian. Also, I’m concerned that the call for justice (right laws) is given priority over the Gospel which insist that humans cannot be justified by law, but only by faith through grace. Even so, I’ve long insisted that the Christian message includes a call to justice.
My friend asked, “What can we do?” I advised him, “Speak out so that people can hear your pain.” Even as I spoke those words I knew that most white people would dismiss him as an angry black man. So, to my white brothers and sisters I suggest that we pray for the spiritual gift of listening. To him (or her) who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit is saying through the voices of grief and lament. To ignore the complaints of our brothers and sisters is to quench the Spirit.
*I have deleted the second paragraph of the original post.
