This Article Was Originally Published On Jan 18, 2021

The year was 1989, and I was a freshman in high school. I was sitting at a lone desk in an empty hallway because, once again, my behavior had gotten me kicked out of class—but on purpose, actually. Because though I was attending one of the best prep schools in New Jersey and in all honors classes, occasionally, when the learning material couldn’t quite hold my attention, I’d goof around until I was asked to take my desk into the hallway. And what would I do once in the hallway? I’d eagerly pull out Strength To Love, by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Since middle school, Dr. King was always my favorite, reading away and even re-reading the heavier content until I got it. Dr. King was a pure scholar.

“My friends, we cannot win the respect of the White people of the South or elsewhere if we are willing to trade the future of our children for our personal safety or comfort. Moreover, we must learn that passively to accept an unjust system is to cooperate with that system, and thereby become a participant in its evil… Put up thy sword.” — Strength To Love, 1963

This book I always carried with me was actually an original paperback that had belonged to my father during his executive administrative position at Seton Hall University. He had emulated the steps of Dr. King and became a leader in the civil rights struggle in New Jersey, implementing scholarship programs and graduate programs for people of color, which are still active until this very day. But not before he first endured growing up in poverty in the Deep South of the 1950s. He attended segregated schooling throughout high school, where his hungry mind always had to wait until the white schools finished sucking the abridged life out of every textbook before his school could finally get them. Even after earning valedictorian at his school, his physics teacher gave him a failing grade on a perfect paper. When my dad asked why, the teacher told him, “I didn’t give you an ‘A’ on that paper because you said you wanted to be a nuclear physicist, and a colored person has no business being a nuclear physicist.”

On this day when Dr. King’s birthday is nationally honored (his actual birthday being January 15), what does he mean to me?

As far back as I can remember, and even before his birthday became a national holiday in 1986, an integral part of our northern urban culture was to ecstatically celebrate Dr. King’s birthday—even if it just meant turning up Stevie Wonder’s “Happy Birthday to Ya,” extra loud on Mom’s clock radio as we’d get ready for school that morning.

Also, as far back as I can remember, whenever Dr. King’s name was mentioned, the emphasis on the title “doctor” was always sacred, as to just say his name would seemingly usher in a hush of honor and dignity as everyone would seem to hold their heads a bit higher for a second. While others called him by his full name without the title, we remembered him as a man who overcame all obstacles to earn his Ph.D., a rarity for countless black folks in those times. He was beloved in our community: He was like everyone’s unofficial favorite grandfather, father, godfather, uncle or son. A man, who for the sake of fighting for the freedoms of the oppressed, didn’t fear violent fists, fire hoses, bone-bruising batons, handcuffs, prison cells, police dogs trained to go berserk whenever they saw brown skin, or even death itself.

I grew up in a home with a humanistic worldview, attending Catholic church only on the important holidays, so I had a vague familiarity with Jesus. But I remember reading Dr. King’s references to Jesus Christ, Christ’s Sermon on the Mount and Christ’s commandment to forgive and turn the other cheek, and then getting to observe how Dr. King actually lived it out. He was the first person to make Jesus’ life and teachings relevant and powerful to me. Long before I was anywhere close to believing the Gospel and giving my heart to Christ, Dr. King showed this once-young, curious “searching” teenager—growing up on the drug-dealing streets of inner-city New Jersey, while at the same time, going to a wealthy prep school where I had my own countless bouts with both blatant and covert forms of racism—that Jesus was real and that Jesus’ teachings were still relevant in modern times and for modern issues.

Fast forward now: I matriculated at the “Ivy League” halls of the University of Pennsylvania, and though I was a pre-med student, I began learning much more about the world around me.

As an African-American Studies minor, I studied other prominent black leaders who had ideologies quite different from those of Dr. King’s.

I attended various lectures and even sat at the feet of people like Bobby Seale, co-founder of the Black Panther Movement (along with Huey P. Newton). I read Malcolm X and others who critiqued Dr. King’s methods. But to me, Dr. King remained bulletproof from the blaze of any critic; his message of reconciliation was simple and powerful and grounded in the love taught by Christ.

Fast forward, yet again, to when I hadn’t read Dr. King in years, by this point, when I was my senior year at Penn and busy navigating and (seemingly barely) surviving my own personal Ecclesiastes, like the spiritually-wearied King Solomon—suddenly finding everything around me to feel like “vanity” and “chasing wind” when it came to finding “true fulfillment”—and thereby, leading me to discover the regenerating Gospel of Jesus Christ as the true summum bonum (i.e., “greatest good”) for all of mankind. Oh, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, t’was blind but now, I see.”

As I graduated from Penn and began devouring the Word of God and growing in a (heavy) Bible-teaching church community, I was learning to “rightly divide the word of God” and even hold up the teachings of others against the Word of God—just as Jesus instructs His followers to do (I Thessalonians 5:21; Psalm 138:2). And it was at this point that I learned the difference between good or “sound” theology, bad theology and even “slightly off” theology.

I began learning more about Gospel-centered ministry, and how when Jesus spoke of giving a (refreshing) cup of water to even a child in His name, that even that wouldn’t go unrewarded by Him—and how some are indeed giving the (refreshing) cup of cold water “in His name” (i.e., while sharing the soul-saving “Good News” message of Jesus Christ, while countless others—all in the name of “Christian ministry”—all too often end up compromising with a “Social Gospel,” which still gives the (refreshing) cup of cold water and meets the pressing need(s) at hand, only they neglect doing it “in His name,” as the final element of Jesus’ command.

Thus, as a Bible-lensed believer, I had to now look at Dr. King, my first “superhero,” my first scholar whom I read in empty “naughty” hallways, after getting kicked out of class, the man who greatly inspired my own (hero) father, the man who still made my mom get teary-eyed when she found a rare book by him to gift to me, the man who first made Jesus real to me… I had to look at him through the lenses of “rightly divided” Scripture. And having a close friend who worked directly with Dr. King’s children at the King Foundation in Atlanta, Georgia, I even got access to hundreds of pages of King’s never-released essays, including essays from his younger days attending a liberal seminary, where he even questioned the Word of God’s supreme, inerrant theology, while trying to amalgamate the biblical worldview with ancient Egyptian belief systems. Add to that the pressing questions you hear voiced here and there:

Was Dr. King a socialist or communist? Was he an adulterer? Did he fall victim to Jesus’ warnings concerning “the leaven of Herod,” falling into the trap of mingling humanistic political might with unadulterated Gospel hope? There was so much to think about, but I had to be reminded of one thing: Whenever we are confronted with uncertainties or unanswered questions surrounding a person, we tend to “throw the baby out with the bathwater.” At the heart of observing others, will always remain the ongoing struggle of reconciling the imperfections of the person, with the redeemable parts and lessons of the message and the overall work.

So what do we do with all of this, and as (rhetorically) stated in the title of Dr. King’s last book he wrote, Where Do We Go From Here? I have come to the conclusion that we owe Dr. King the same grace we’ve extended to King David, King Uzziah, Peter & the other disciples, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his reported involvement in two assassination attempts on Hitler, C.S. Lewis and his non-biblical belief in Purgatory, and countless others. In fact, it is the very same grace we pray to God for concerning our own personal lives every day. The Bible clearly instructs us to “mark the steps of a righteous man (Psalm 37:37),” to call sin for what it is, and to learn from those around us (and those in history), which also included learning from their mistakes, lest we easily slip and fall in (any and all similar) places ourselves (I Corinthians 10:12). Yes, the Word of God is supreme and is to be our guide in all things, but in doing so, love will always remain the “most excellent way” in doing so.

Most of all, here is my biggest question concerning Dr. King: Will I see my hero in heaven?

You know, I’ve read so much written by Dr. King and about Dr. King, that it gets confusing as to where I have read what at times. However, what stands out the most of all that I’ve ever read was an obscure essay he once wrote about the night back when he was leading his first bus boycott for the desegregation of buses in Montgomery, Alabama, and in retaliation, someone shot up his house, leaving bullet holes in the very sanctuary where his wife and kids found refuge.

He proceeded to write of how he sat alone that night in his kitchen—already a husband, father, up-and-coming national civil rights leader, and even a Baptist minister—and shaken to his core by what had happened to his home, he asked himself if he had truly experienced a (spiritually) born again experience in making Jesus Christ his personal Lord and Savior. And not sure of his own answer to that question, but wanting to make sure he was truly “in Christ” and not just deceivingly a mere part of “Churchianity” and “religious culture,” this pioneering visionary, scholar, courageous commander and religious man who emulated Jesus Christ, actually lowered his head and invited the risen Christ into His heart as his personal Lord and Savior for the remission of sins.

I’ve heard many wonder if King Solomon will be in heaven simply because of his severe backsliding (which led him to worship in very demonic ways). But based on his conclusion in Ecclesiastes, I believe King Solomon is in glory.

And I cannot prove it (for who knows the heart but God (I Corinthians 4:5), I believe my hero Dr. King is in glory as well.

In closing, what should be our practical take away and application concerning the legacy of Dr. King?

In this racially-polarized day, when so many (even in the Church) refuse to have the necessary, ongoing, tough conversations concerning race, and when we must be ready to (lovingly) challenge others (and even challenge ourselves at times), let us remember how Dr. King seemed to never grow weary in “leaning into discomfort” for the love of others. In a day when the Church has grossly confused merely knowing with actually doing something with what you know, let us remember how Dr. King’s entire life was a living sermon on how talk is cheap. More so, in a day, when Christians sometimes can’t even garner enough Christian humility to apologize to their next-door neighbors for the slightest offenses, Dr. King made Jesus’ teachings on forgiveness and “turning the other cheek” look supernatural, to say the least.

In a day when Christians can’t even embrace a brother or sister who adheres to a different style of worship or denominational viewpoint, let us remember how Dr. King was able to embrace Malcolm X with love and honor—even after Malcolm X publicly criticized Dr. King and regularly alluded to Dr. King not being “strong enough.” Most of all, in a day when we struggle with sacrificing for anything we deem “too costly,” in Dr. King we see a man who sacrificed even unto death—even (seemingly) prophesying about his imminent death in a message delivered some 24 hours before he was assassinated. In it, he declared that he still wasn’t going to stop and wasn’t concerned with such because he had received a fresh vision of His Lord Jesus Christ, and that He would one day be returning to Earth to reign as King of kings and Lord of lords.

You know, for so many reasons, I still can’t watch this video clip without tears running down my face. And when I grow up, I still want to be so much like Dr. King, just like I desire to be so much like King David, Abraham, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and so many others who have deeply impacted me for Jesus, in one way or another, even as they all prove that even “the best of men, are but men at best” (A.W. Pink).

So dear reader, let’s keep thinking; let’s keep the necessary conversations going while being more eager to listen than to speak; let’s love one another sacrificially; let’s love our enemies as Jesus commanded us; let’s continue facing this current evil day with relevant Gospel outreaches and spontaneous acts of love, all in our deepest desire to showcase Jesus Christ as man’s only solution for every dilemma—and especially the dilemma of race and America’s ongoing reaping from the ongoing sowing of things that clearly contradict the heart and mind of God concerning how people treat and value one another. Happy Birthday, Dr. King! Salute!

“Rarely do we find men who willingly engage in hard, solid thinking. There is an almost universal quest for easy answers and half-baked solutions. Nothing pains some people more than having to think.” — Strength To Love, 1963

Aaron Campbell and Brian Brodersen discuss race, class, culture, the gospel message, and Aaron’s new book, Eyes That Seen Plenty, available now on:

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“We repeat the mistake continuously in this country of trying to address our racial animus and the violence it fosters as though it were a virus that occasionally attacks our social body, rather than seeing the truth: that racial animus is a constituting reality of our social body.”

—Willie James Jennings, Theologian “Overcoming Racial Faith.”

Did Jesus really rebuke James and John, two of his disciples, for their blatant bigoted behavior (Luke 9:52-56)? Did the Apostle Paul rebuke Peter, the very disciple whom Jesus gave the “keys of the church,” for hindering Gospel change to the ethnic status quo (Galatians 2:11-14)? So we see that even Peter, James, and John—the pillars of the early Church, and among the most “anointed” men in church history—needed correction to address their blind spots.

I write this article as one blowing a trumpet, but not to make music or even a call to arms. I write as one sounding the shofar. I write as the blast of the ram’s horns of old that brought down the mighty walls of Jericho. Indeed, in today’s racially-turbulent climate, our society has some age-old walls that need toppling. The “American Church” (meaning the Church as it originated with the European colonizers and extending to this present day) has some of these same old walls. To fully understand the implications of Ahmaud Arbery’s cold-blooded murder by two white men in Georgia, we as the Church must first reconcile with the Church’s seeming indifference to racial inequalities.

A Modern Parable

If a picture is worth a thousand words and a story is worth a thousand images, perhaps a modern-day parable will be helpful (but as a spoiler-alert, you will need to see Christ and the Bible in every word and action of this parable). Let us begin with a sweet, sage elderly white brother in the faith, and he’s sharing with a bright and eager, young black brother. He’s expositing the Scriptures—but wait!—upon closer examination, he’s actually expositing the Scriptures on the real Old-Testament economy of indentured servitude, which condemns (not justifies) American slavery and its blasphemous atrocities. He explains how the Bible declared such horrors to be a capital offense, from “men-stealing”—kidnapping, buying and selling human life (Exodus 21:16)—to the torture and murder of blacks and natives. He explains how God forbade the Israelites from entering into the capture and sale of human life, contrasting the Philistines and Phoenicians of their day.

The elder tells the younger that, for love’s sake, he’d rather him hear such a correct exegesis from him as a white man. Because by doing so, he is redeeming truth from century-old lies. Further, he is demonstrating (faith without works being dead) how as Christians, God commands us to put ourselves in others’ shoes (Leviticus 19:34)— experientially, culturally, and even racially—to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15) while always going the “extra mile.” (Matthew 5:41) He tells him that biblical Christianity is hardly for the lazy in heart, but that when it comes to this day’s race issues and evils of the past, the Church has been more than just lazy. He tells him, “Failure to acknowledge and learn from the past creates blind spots in the present—and the thing about a blind spot is that you don’t even realize you have one.”

Perverting the Gospel

But wait—this elderly brother is hardly finished. Because not only does he want the young man to interpret Scripture adeptly, but he also wants him to adeptly apply Scripture to all of American Church history. “Let God be true and every man a liar,” he reverently quotes from the book of Romans. So he moves on to share another grave error of the American Church in regards to race: When sharing Christ with the Native-Americans (or, First Nation’s people), the Church gave natives an “accursed and perverted” Galatians-based Gospel (Galatians 1:6-7). The only difference was that instead of teaching the heresy of “Christ and circumcision,” they taught natives the heresy of “Christ and whiteness.” I.e., that true Christian sanctification and spiritual growth looked like becoming a white person in worldview, customs, and culture. Thus, long hair, drums, regalia, and native languages—ironically, even the very Navajo language that was later used by our government to “save the day” against Japan during World War II—was automatically considered pagan.

The elderly brother impresses upon the young brother the importance of sharing these truths. Because despite the assertions of some that “the past is the past” or “that was then, this is now,” the fact remains that countless blacks and natives (and even some whites) still reject the Church because of these major misrepresentations of Christ and His kingdom. He says that “if the Church doesn’t try to reconcile and repair these gross failings from the past, and doesn’t take the time to listen and learn moving forward, we will always continue operating from a position of blind ‘whiteness.’”

Concluding their fellowship, the two brothers hug and pray together. The young brother thanks the elderly brother for his love, time, and especially his humility, promising that he’ll never forget how much he saw the face of Jesus in his heart and example. The elderly brother gives all the credit to the Scriptures, knowing that sharing such things is necessary. He also recognizes that he is still very much a student himself when it comes to navigating race issues (even though he’s been on many missions trips to Africa and has multiracial grandkids). That being said, before they part, the elder asks the young brother how he can do better when it comes to dealing with race in America—both for his own personal growth as well as the growth of the local Church where he serves on leadership.

Agents of Change

“Well, since you asked…,” the young brother smiles and begins. “I would say that if the mainstream Church, and especially its church leadership, truly want to progress in racial awareness, it must make engaged-listening a lifestyle, not just something you occasionally do. Simply having that one deep race conversation you had last year, or reading that one good book, or watching that one piercing documentary about race isn’t enough. It requires being taught on an ongoing basis because most people would be embarrassed to realize how little they know about real American history. It also requires asking lots of hard questions—and even asking oneself lots of hard questions.”

With that, the elder brother nods in grateful agreement. Finally, both men walk away, more equipped than ever to be “salty” agents of change in today’s volatile, racial climate. Soli Deo Gloria, as this type of honest, humble, and loving interaction fulfills one of the last requests of a sweat-and-blood-soaked Savior in a garden as He prayed for the “oneness” of His beloved Church (John 17:20-22).

A Major Disparity

Now, at this point, if I were to ask the readers—by a showing of hands—how many feel that the interaction in this parable must become a vital reality across the American Church, there would no doubt be myriads of raised hands. Conversely, if I were to ask if any felt that, while the parable might be touching, its subject isn’t an urgent action item (of comparable priority to preaching the Gospel, theological accuracy, or teaching the full counsel of God), the raised hands would be innumerous. But alas, therein lies the heart of the problem! While there would be countless hands raised for both questions, sadly, the overwhelming majority of “vital reality” hands would be from the minority folks, and the vast majority of “not an urgent action item” hands would be from the white folks.

This disparity explains why much of the mainstream Church is silent from its pulpits (and innumerable published books) when it comes to race and modern-day injustices. Whether this silence is the result of passivity, procrastination, indifference, or neglect, the silence of the Church perpetuates the age-old status quo—and its age-old walls. It leads to the continued bolstering of the “racial architecture” of the American Church, as described by theologian Willie James Jennings, in his article, “Overcoming Racial Faith.” In the article, Jennings discusses what he refers to as a “Principality of Whiteness” in the Church, and defines it as, “Whiteness [that] instigates patterns of thinking and ways of being that invite multiple people(s) to imagine their worlds through white bodies.” He shares how this “principality” is the subconscious ideal in the American Church, going all the way back to its Renaissance-inspired inception. And to this day, it is this idea that makes the final decision on what it means to be ethnically diverse, what it means to be racially sensitive, and even what it means to have multiracial-expression at a church conference. As a result, this “Principality of Whiteness” continues to leave scores of voiceless, heavy-hearted Christian minorities feeling neglected by the mainstream Christian status quo. Is it any wonder that The New York Times recently wrote a story on the growing number of disgruntled African-Americans joining the “exodus” from the mainstream American Church? This is also hardly a “good witness” to the onlooking world.

A Racial Architecture

When we say the American Church has inherited a racial architecture, this is precisely the way “leaven” (or yeast) works—quietly working beneath the surface and ever “rising” as if without permission. From slaves being required to pledge that they would never seek their personal freedom as a condition to being water baptized, to one of America’s greatest evangelists, George Whitefield, personally owning slaves, to Billy Graham preaching to segregated audiences without a word about it from the pulpit. Most Christians don’t know the atrocious witness of these facts because they’re never mentioned or researched, and they’re never redressed with the healing “balm of Gilead.” The Church continues to act as if it’s just another “normal day” in the American saga.

Saying that the American Church has a racial architecture is not an insult. Rather, it’s an observation based on an objective view of the past to furnish an informed, unbiased view of the present. For in the words of sociologist Dr. Robin DiAngelo in her book White Fragility, “White people in North America live in a society that is deeply separate and unequal by race, and white people are the beneficiaries of that separation and inequality. As a result, we are insulated from racial stress.”

Historic Leadership

The Church was pivotal in the creation of many systems that form the backbone of our American culture: from educational, health care, and social services; the Church has led the way for centuries. At present, however, on matters of racial inequities, the Church has not been leading. In fact, rather than dissecting and confronting America’s race issues and its accompanying present-day systemic ills and injustices (i.e., institutional racism), the Church seems to run from them. Issues such as employment discrimination and wage inequalities, educational discrimination, biased laws and policing practices, mass incarceration, the “school to prison pipeline,” historical omissions, media bias, and more, continue to exist.

Today’s American Church needs a real “Reformation” of its Gospel position and practice on race and inequality. And I’m not talking about a “social Gospel.” Instead, I am talking about the “Jude 3,” old-school faith that was once delivered to the saints. I am talking about the very marrow of Ephesians 2. Most of all, the same beauty and brawn which Jesus proclaimed from scrolls of Isaiah in that Capernaum synagogue at the beginning of His public ministry. More so, along with this needed reformation, we also need white brothers and sisters to start emerging with prophetic voices on this topic—one that’s been ignored long enough (to our own hurt).

Finding A Prophetic Voice

Imagine if the Church’s minority brothers and sisters didn’t even need to publish articles on the next unjust killing of a minority person, because a white brother or sister already responded. And not just a response from a place of sincere empathy, but one that prophetically challenged and enjoined the Body of Christ—and the onlooking world—so powerfully, that a minority brother or sister could rejoice and exclaim, “Wow, it’s like the words were taken right from my mouth!” You see, I believe that type of blessed scenario would encapsulate the very kind of love Jesus was referring to when He shared how the world would know that we are His true followers (John 13:35).

• • •

Loaded Phrases

In 21st century America, we have acquired a new batch of “loaded phrases.” While it may come as a surprise to some, many are the names of deceased, unarmed black people: Staten Island’s “Eric Garner” (e.g., “I can’t breathe”); Cleveland’s twelve-year-old “Tamir Rice” (e.g., toy gun in the park); Miami Gardens’ “Trayvon Martin”; Dallas’ “Botham Jean” (e.g., the “mistaken apartment”); Baltimore’s “Freddie Gray”; Texas’ “Sandra Bland”, and others. Then, of course, there is “Ahmaud Arbery.”

You see, “Ahmaud Arbery,” being a loaded phrase explains why two people can be talking about his murder, but have two totally different ideas of what constitutes a “fruitful discussion” about it. It explains why his murder can make someone so unspeakably irate about why people need to know what Arbery was doing in that new construction home before he was killed: as if there is any justification for two armed civilians stalking an unarmed man for four minutes before shooting him dead! The reality is, it doesn’t matter what he was doing— nothing granted those men the right to be judge, jury, and executioner. “Ahmaud Arbery,” being a loaded phrase is why it grieves minority Christians when they have to explain to other Christians that there is a real, biblical place for righteous, un-sinful anger (Ephesian 4:26)—the very anger Jesus exemplified when necessary (Mark 3:5).

Revisiting the Past

“Arbery,” being a loaded phrase, is why I suddenly find myself forced to reflect on the times when my own hands have been placed on the hood of a police car, strictly due to racial profiling. This is why I am forced to reflect on the racism I have faced throughout my life. It causes me to revisit the racist backlash I once received from both classmates and the administration at my predominantly-white prep school when I was one of the first people of color (if not the first) in the school’s long and cherished history to be admitted into an Ivy-League university.

Picturing those white men plotting against Arbery even makes me reflect on “Old Man Chauncey,” the white slave master who raped and impregnated one of my native great-grandmothers who was his indentured servant—only for his own son to later on rape the offspring from that first rape (yes, his very own “half-sister.”) To this day, the main road that cuts through my family’s North Carolina community is called “Chauncey Town Road.”

Arbery makes me revisit my own father’s life growing up as a poor farm boy in the South, attending substandard, “separate but equal” Jim Crow schools until he moved North for college. As the valedictorian of his class, my Dad’s dream was to be a nuclear physicist; that is, until he wrote his “A+” paper on the subject in high school. His efforts resulted in an “F”. When he asked his white science teacher why, the teacher told him, “I gave you an ‘F’ because a person of color has no business wanting to be a nuclear physicist.”

“Arbery,” being a loaded phrase, is why minorities begin “unloading” (seemingly all over again) their own racist experiences; countless day-to-day stories like mine, and countless generational histories like mine that society continues to turn a blind eye toward. All of this combined is why Christian minorities are growing more frustrated with the mainstream Church’s deafening silence (e.g., the aforementioned New York Times article).

Against the Grain

Personally, I believe that I am called to the “mainstream” Church because, despite these issues, we are still one in Christ. And we have been called to “endeavor” for true unity at all costs (Ephesians 4:2; Psalm 133). However, I remain keenly aware that when I wear my native regalia to other churches or conferences, or when I wear my most comfortable “urban” clothing (Timberland boots, a hoodie, and a black skully hat) I am “going against the grain.” But the questions that we should ask are, “What is the grain?” And “Who made the grain?” And “Why is everything still seemingly subjected to the grain?”

I even recall a time when I observed a white teacher at a Christian school use a horrendously racist statement toward a minority student. When I gently urged the man who ran the school, a fellow (albeit white) pastor, to challenge her about her remark, he responded that I was “out of place.” But what about the student? What did Jesus say about causing any of his children to stumble in the faith? Again, why is everything still seemingly subjected to “the grain?”

Seeking Racial Understanding

Here is something to consider: If the mainstream Protestant Church took all the effort it puts into studying leadership skills and growth models, Sunday school curriculums, and eschatology, and put 50% of said effort into researching Gospel love, repentance, and redemption with regard to race—we might actually begin to look like the Church in the book of Acts. Or what if the Church started taking even 50% of the budget that it puts into its Resurrection Sunday services and men’s and women’s conferences and putting it into “Gospel and Race” symposiums and workshops? Or if the Church began including America’s neglected minority-based, low-income neighborhoods and native reservations among their church mission trips—with mandatory cultural workshops beforehand (instead of always traveling to every other corner of the planet)? Who knows? Our blood-soiled land might see the type of revival everyone has been praying for.

However, addressing these things will come with a price. You may do so at the risk of losing your popularity, or not being invited to speak at certain churches or conferences. Are we willing to make that sacrifice? It’s time we start asking ourselves what it looks like to be a true disciple of Jesus when it comes to the Gospel and race matters. Isn’t thinking and acting more like Jesus what this is all about? Ultimately, there really is only one voice from God on this matter, as the Holy Spirit never contradicts Himself.

Conclusion

Ahmaud Arbery’s tragic death should not be glossed over by the Church. We must remember that we have been given “the two greatest commandments” by our Lord: to love the Lord our God and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. Based on Christ’s further teaching, Ahmaud Arbery’s mother is our “neighbor.” His father is our “neighbor.” His close friends and family and community are our “neighbors.” When these tragedies happen, we need to care about people—not just doctrinal positions, as that is the very Pharisee-ism that Jesus found repugnant. We need to ask God to give us tears. We need to weep alongside a sonless mother, weep alongside a bereaved family. We need to weep for a calloused nation that not only permits institutional racism but also profits from it in many sectors. Let us care enough to speak out against injustice and begin educating those who look to us, the Church, for answers. It’s what God has called us to do. It’s what the Bible spells out clearly.

Honestly, this would be the same type of biblical relevance that made this once anti-Christian, militant-minded, hyper-racially-charged agnostic finally bow my heart to the wisdom of Scripture and the soul-saving Gospel of Christ. Let’s not waste this chance to be used by God for change.

• • •

Afterword

As I write this article, I am surrounded by a pile of books on my desk that I have either read, critiqued, reread, or am working through reading: “White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo (lecture by author on YouTube); “Lies My Teacher Told Me,” by James Loewen; “The New Jim Crow”, by Michelle Alexander; “The Color of Law,” by Richard Rothstein (lecture by author on YouTube); “The Christian Imagination: Theology And Origins of Race,” by Willie James Jennings; “Let Justice Roll Down,” by John Perkins; “Mañana: Christian Theology From A Hispanic Perspective,” by Justo Gonzalez; “Bloodlines: Race, Cross, and the Christian,” by John Piper.

As I write this article, I am also surrounded by many close brothers and sisters—white, black, Hispanic, and native—who have listened to my heart, added to this article their insightful feedback, and prayed for me along the way. They have also prayed for those who would read this piece. So let us begin the conversation. I make myself available for discussion, along with the leadership of Calvary Global Network—a multiracial band of men who have started discussing such topics. A group who listens to one another, who sighs together, and who prays together into the midnight hours.

For this month’s article for CalvaryChapel.com, I felt pressed to share my space with an amazing young gal named Skylar who I have the privilege of teaching and discipling at the new Calvary Chapel Bible College in New York City—led by visionary Jimmy Schauerte. I have kept edits at a minimum so the reader can truly get Skylar’s voice, her pathos and her refreshing transparency. I believe that after you read this, you will join me in rejoicing over the new generation of young soldiers Christ is raising up for such trying times as these. Shalom.

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On February 14 at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, 17 young lives were taken by the cruel act of Nicholas Cruz. This is my city, and some of those murdered teens were my friends. If God hadn’t called me to graduate high school early and attend Calvary Chapel Bible College in New York City:

I actually could’ve been in that very classroom of seniors where much of the shooting took place.

When the breaking news began on that Wednesday afternoon about an active shooter at Douglas High, I watched from my New York City dorm room. Over the long few hours as they continued the manhunt for the shooter, the casualty list kept growing, and my heart was breaking more and more. My mind raced as I couldn’t stop crying out to God saying, “That should have been me!” I was angry. I was confused. And I found myself wishing I was in the place of the slain students.

The pain I was feeling was so overwhelming. Honestly, there were moments when I started to doubt and question the Lord. But I had to keep reminding myself that God does not delight in the wicked and hates violence, as Psalm 11:5 makes clear.

In the midst of my devastation and brokenness, later that evening, I sensed the Lord telling me, “Skylar, it was not you for a reason, but be ready.” As God kept putting those words on my heart, I was reminded of the story of Esther, and how the Lord had prepared her throughout her life for that moment when she finally went and stood before the King to stand up for her people. The Lord had strategically put Esther in a place where she would have a voice in the most difficult hour. She was born “for such a time as that.” So on that Wednesday night, I read over the Esther story, and it confirmed so much for me. I realized that I was also born for such a time as this. And while I could have very well been at that school during the shooting, the Lord had been preparing me and had now put me in a place where I could comfort my community and exalt His name high through this storm.

Even though the Lord had confirmed a lot in my mind, I was still heartbroken and confused.

Before that day, I had become a little numb to hearing about school shootings and horrific events, because of how often they’ve been occurring. But I never imagined it would be my hometown high school. I never imagined the deaths would consist of people I knew. I never imagined this would be happening in a community I love so dearly.

Sometimes I have this mindset that I must always be nothing but strong through trials, so that I can be a symbol of God’s strength for the world. However, the truth is that faith doesn’t exceed pain. Yes, we have the living Christ’s matchless comfort and His peace which surpasses all understanding, but that doesn’t mean we don’t experience profound hurt and sadness in this life. As an example, I look at Jesus after the death of Lazarus. In John 11:35, the shortest verse in the Bible, we read that “Jesus wept.” Our God sent His own Son to experience all the same deep emotions we experience. Through my deep mourning that night, I slowly began feeling God’s heart in a way that I’ve never experienced before. I felt God’s heart breaking. I felt His heart breaking not only for the victims of Stoneman Douglas, but I felt God’s heart breaking for the world. I even felt His compassion for His own people.

“In all their distress he too was distressed, and the angel of his presence saved them. In his love and mercy, he redeemed them; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old” (Isaiah 63:9).

So as the stories continued unfolding from South Florida and the names of the deceased were released, my heart was still aching. But I held tight to the fact that Lord was going to somehow use this horrible tragedy. So I spent most of that Wednesday praying for God’s Spirit to fill me afresh, because I knew that students from Stoneman Douglas and people from back home were going to be texting me with all types of questions—many of them knowing about my faith in God. I knew I wouldn’t have all the answers, and I knew there was no way I’d have the strength to comfort so many on my own.

I just had to let my brokenness be a vessel for God’s strength.

And sure enough, over the next couple of days, I started receiving lots of texts, phone calls and social media messages from friends and from students who witnessed their classmates being murdered.

“If you say God loves everyone the same, how does He love Nicholas Cruz?”

“If God is greater than Satan, why does it seem like Satan is winning at everything?”

“Why did God save me, but kill my friend?”

The messages I received were absolutely heartbreaking and overwhelming, especially the ones where people seemed to somehow think that God was actually the One doing the killing. But I experienced the Lord using me to speak life and comfort into the broken hearts who were reaching out. I had multiple opportunities to share the Gospel with people in my life who had been so opposed to hearing it before. I got to pray with people over the phone who I have never even had a full conversation with in person. Through this devastating, horrific event, I got to show my community in South Florida the love of Jesus Christ, even while being 1,262 miles away.

Broward County still has a long road to recovery. Honestly, there are parts of our hearts that will forever be changed because of this. We will always remember the 17 beautiful lives that were lost that day. There might not ever be a full recovery in our city, but thankfully, I have found rest in knowing that the Lord has already won the battle. I can continue to be heartbroken, and I can even be broken and defeated at times; but I can still rejoice because Jesus has already won the battle between good and evil. And Jesus has already overcome the grave. I do not have to fight FOR victory in this world; rather, I am fighting FROM a place of victory and peace through Christ. And my job is to show others this same freedom and comfort, and to let everything in my life, and every season of my life, point back to the wonderful cross.

I was born for such a time as this.

Skylar Schott is from Coral Springs, Florida. She is super passionate about people and reaching the lost. She is currently a student at Calvary Chapel Bible College New York City and is excited to fulfill her calling from the Lord to run Christian conferences as she is gifted and learning many roles including event planning, marketing, design, public speaking etc. She also is involved with a new ministry called UNFLTERED TRUTH in which a group will go out to the city, hold up a sign that says, “Tell me your story, and I’ll tell you mine,” as a platform to hear people’s stories, and in return, share their own testimonies and the love of Christ.

“Forgive me for being so ordinary while claiming to know so extraordinary a God.”
—Jim Elliot (1927-1956), martyred for sharing the love of Christ.

In the next article, I will tell you about when a heavy jug of aged, North Philly [homeless-and-possibly-heroin-addicted] urine splashed onto my bare feet and flip flops, how fast I dashed to the nearest North Philly bathtub to douse my legs in straight bleach, and how fast it subtly made my heart “wax cold” that day.

The risky side of ministry. The limitations of our own hearts. The necessity of God’s Spirit.

But first and most importantly, let’s go back 2,000 years to the most amazing night in human history, and its timeless anecdote for every emotion, moment and situation.

Surveying the Holy Land on the eve of the Crucifixion, you saw dichotomies in every direction. You saw crowds of worshipers wearing their very best, and you saw beggars showcasing how much they had nothing. You saw those on the edge of their seats with reverent anticipation, and you saw Roman soldiers sharing strong drink like it was just another day. You saw golden vessels in the temple, and you saw dingy Roman instruments of torture in the Antonia Fortress right next to the temple. Yes, dichotomies were everywhere.

But then there was the ultimate dichotomy. In the Upper Room, as our Lord sat with the disciples [and Judas] at the Passover meal, Jesus the Christ—King of kings and Lord of lords, the great I AM, the Creator who became clay (1 Timothy 3:16), the Infinite who became an infant (Isaiah 7:14), the true “Governor of the feast” (John 2:7-10)—exhibited the ultimate dichotomy: The holy Messiah—of such eternal purity that made even the priceless spikenard seem like sewage by comparison—rose from the dinner table, wrapped a towel around His waist like a house slave and began washing the disciples’ [and Judas’] feet—taking all their dirt and foul odors upon Himself with joyful ownership (Zephaniah 3:17).

Alas, the One who should’ve been served and washed by every person in that room, by every person gathered in Jerusalem and by every human and angel in existence! It is He who actually performs the most abject form of servitude, Himself. Why did He do this? Well, He gave the answer when He finished the foot washing: “I am giving you a new commandment, that you love (agápē) one another. Just as I have loved you, so you too are to love one another” (John 13:34, AMP). And there you have it. In that Upper Room with 12 of the planet’s most blessed theologians—who shamefully enough, had just finished envying each other and arguing over who was the greatest (Luke 22:24).

Jesus gave a loving yet shocking rebuke and reminder of what this thing called Christianity is all about: LOVE.

But not a mere phileō love, where you simply love those whom you feel some type of connection with (as Jesus taught that even the grimiest of sinners are capable of that (Matthew 5:46). But rather, agápē love—a love not motivated by feelings, but motivated by esteeming others better than yourself (Philippians 2:4); a love unlike anything this world can produce or fathom; a love where you actively seek to treat every human being the way you yourself would [ideally] wish to be treated (Matthew 7:12); a love that is divine in origin. It is that “Good Samaritan” love that will cross any social, cultural, socioeconomic or racial barriers to fully give one’s compassion, time and resources to literally anyone and in any place (Luke 10:29-37). It is a love that will even do this for our enemies. It is a love that is not spelled L-O-V-E but rather S-A-C-R-I-F-I-C-E. Why it is the very love that moved the Father to give His only begotten Son for treacherous humankind.

I try to imagine the conviction that fell upon those in that Upper Room. At that moment, the most blessed theologians on the planet realized just how theologically “off” they had been. For as Paul said by the same Spirit through which Jesus washed their foul feet, “If I have all knowledge, enough faith to move all mountains, give away all my possessions, and even embrace martyrdom itself, if I don’t have [agápē] love, I AM NOTHING (1 Corinthians 13:1-3).

No doubt, the disciples couldn’t help but stare anew into Jesus’ eyes—the gateway to His blessed heart—as they watched their King so lost in joyful, other-centered agápē (even washing the feet of His own betrayer after announcing that there was a snake at the dinner table). And to this very day, as the Word makes clear, it is not just a mere look at theology itself that realigns our hearts with the very “eyes” and heart of Jesus, but rather, a fresh entering into His presence through His living Word (2 Corinthians 3:18), prayer (Jude 20) and His Spirit (1 Corinthians 2:10). And how we need to be ever mindful of the vast difference between doing our daily devotional studies as mere “theological calisthenics,” and actually seeking and experiencing the very presence of Jesus, Himself.

Fast forward now to our present day, where this “Information Age” keeps us all tossed to and fro, from place to place and thought to thought, overstimulated and bombarded until we are benumbed by bedtime. Self-promotion and self-care are being propagated everywhere (2 Timothy 3:4)—the very opposite of [other-centered] agápē—as it even seeps into the church like invisible gases in a coal mine. Only, just as the at-risk coal miners would never dare take their eyes off the gas-detecting “canary bird” (the first sign that something is dangerously wrong in the coal mine), we as the church are all too often taking our eyes off the [gas-detecting] dove —the “grieved” Holy Spirit of God (Ephesians 4:30).

We are no different than the disciples as they ignored Jesus sitting right next to them while arguing over who was the greatest.

In the Olivet Discourse, Jesus said that our very day—these “last days” precipitating His return —would be a day where believers’ hearts would “wax cold” (Matthew 24:12). And this sobering warning is definitely talking about believers (and not unbelievers, as I once thought), because He uses the word “agápē,” which only born again believers can possess (Romans 5:5; Colossians 1:27). Jesus says that this “waxing cold” would be due to such “abounding iniquity” (e.g. such uncanny levels of lawlessness and drama, such overwhelming amounts of grieving information and grieving statistics, such callousing news reports from calloused news reporters, and no doubt, even calloused sermons from calloused pastors, along with calloused church members with no desire to give their pastors basic honor—let alone the “double honor” that the Bible commands (1 Timothy 5:17)—which alone can even make the loneliest, battle-wearied pastor suddenly feel loved and alive again.

In our professing Christian culture that is increasingly leaving its “first love” in exchange for a self-satisfied, impotent “lukewarmness” (Revelation 3:15-17), we are cooling off in our love for God, and inadvertently, cooling off in our love for everyone else. The deceitfulness and wickedness of the human heart cannot afford this (Jeremiah 17:9). Just as in the fashion world, where gurus have coined the peculiar phrase, “brown is the new black,” there are even arising some peculiar “switcheroos” in today’s love-waxing-cold church:

Subdued bitterness is becoming the new forgiveness. Slander and gossip is becoming the new spiritual discernment. Competition and envy is becoming the new spiritual zeal. “Church hopping” is becoming the new “freedom in the Spirit.” Martha is becoming the new Mary. Sharing stories on social media is becoming the new way of getting involved. Phone texting heart emojis is becoming the new intimacy. And exchanges with “friends” on Facebook is replacing the once priceless commitment to cultivating friendships—even through adversity (Proverbs 17:17)—where what David and Jonathan had, and what Naomi and Ruth had, was once the prized goal with every person we called “brother” or “sister.” Again, adding up all the aforementioned Scriptures and more (Matthew 24:12; Luke 18:8; Revelation 3:14-21; Jude 2-4; Matthew 25:5; 2 Timothy 3:1-7), God says so much about this day we are in. But sadly, we’re often lukewarm even in how we get convicted about it.

Well, being the beautiful, merciful and faithful Great Physician that He is, Jesus gives us the guaranteed remedy.

He commands us to be honest about the lukewarm and cold places of our hearts and be “zealous” (i.e.[Greek] “be on fire”) in repenting about it (Revelation 3:19). Then, may we come back to remembering and celebrating our Lord’s eternal love for us—“the first works” (Revelation 2:5)—just as He called wayward Israel to remember just where His saving (and sanctifying) love had brought them from (Ezekiel 16:1-14).

So let’s seek to love each other and “wash each other’s feet” like never before. Let’s be like Paul, who “exercised himself” to always have a conscience void of offense toward God and toward men (Acts 24:16). Let’s exhort one another anew about the easy trap of becoming “busy and religious.” Because while this confused world is drowning in false wisdom (worldviews), false senses of security and falsities at every turn, and while we are indeed called to “give an answer to every man” (1 Peter 3:15), Jesus made abundantly clear that one of our greatest apologetics to this world would be the way we agápē one another in the church (John 13:35; Galatians 6:10). Let’s be still and let Jesus wash our feet once again (and again, and again, and again), until our hearts melt anew from His unfailing love, and may all those around us receive the evidence and fruit like never before.

“It is not great talents God blesses so much as likeness to Jesus.” —Charles Spurgeon.

“The antidote to feel-good history is not feel-bad history, but honest and inclusive history.”
– James Loewen, University of Vermont professor, bestselling author.

Salt or pepper? Onion or garlic? On your Thanksgiving turkey, which one from each of these savory combos would you give up? Rather tough choice for the “true foodie.” In fact, if enough “true foodies” were polled on this question, I’m quite sure more than one would cut around the whole “either/or” paradigm and simply ask, “Why do we have to choose one or the other to begin with?”

Now, is there a point to this food lover’s intro, or is my excitement over claiming the “drum and thigh” from this week’s holiday bird simply betraying me? But there is a point—a very big one, in fact.

You see, when one starts talking about the beloved traditions of America’s present-day Thanksgiving culture alongside the horrific accounts of America’s bloody past with American natives and one of the earliest Thanksgiving feasts, many will feel that they suddenly have to choose one or the other—“either/or:” Do I retain my ignorance so I can continue enjoying the regularly scheduled program of big menus and big family gatherings—chanting “Happy Thanksgiving” guilt-free? Or by acknowledging the horrors upon which this holiday was built, do I have to surrender the entire tradition I hold so dearly?

The good news is that we don’t have to choose either/or. With the Bible as one’s authority and guide, we can acknowledge the ugliness, injustice and pain of the past—including present-day implications for countless natives—and yet, still redeem present-day Thanksgiving in the context of the Gospel.

Thus, the Christian is free to enjoy Thanksgiving as a day to “count our blessings” (Psalm 103:2), to reflect on challenges that have strengthened our faith (James 1:2-4), to provide for our own (1 Timothy 5:8), and to become all things to all men (1 Corinthians 9:19-23), redeeming opportunities to share Christ’s love (Ephesians 5:16). Just as we seize Christmas Day as an opportunity to celebrate and share the story of Christ’s blessed incarnation—knowing that December 25 is not the real birthday of Jesus, but rather some fixed date decreed by Pope Julius I (340 A.D.)—in the same way, Christians can use Thanksgiving to give thanks for the Gospel and the wonderful cross—knowing the earliest Thanksgiving revolved around much of what God hates. Also, we can seize Thanksgiving as a time to “get understanding with all our might” (Proverbs 4:7) and also to weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15).

Much of what we have learned in school about events revolving around the Thanksgiving holiday has been watered down or simply false.

As the late historian William F. Buckley once stated, “History is the polemics of the victor;” meaning whoever wins the battle gets to tell the story of how it happened—be it fact, or mere fiction pushed as fact. For example, in school you probably learned about the Pequot War, the battle between early colonists and the Pequot tribe. Our textbook more than likely told us that this was an “armed conflict” over trade; but in reality, it was a massacre committed by the colonists against unarmed Pequot natives. 700 Pequot natives (all that remained of the original 8,000 after years of dying from diseases brought from Europe) were ambushed and slaughtered—men, women and children—as they slept. The Pequot Massacre sealed the fate of the Pequot tribe, bringing them to extinction. It was after this gruesome massacre that the governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony called for a Day of Thanksgiving to celebrate the victory in 1637. Some stories say that this celebration was even marked by colonists kicking the decapitated heads of natives up and down the streets like balls.

Here is a description of the Pequot Massacre according to the late William Bradford (1590-1657), governor of Plymouth Colony and signatory to The Mayflower Compact, in his journal, Of Plymouth Plantation:

“Those that [escaped] the fire were slain with the sword; some hewed to pieces, others run through with swords, so as they quickly dispatched, and very few escaped. It was conceived they thus destroyed about 400 at this time. It was a fearful sight to see them frying in the fire, and the streams of blood quenching the same, and horrible was the stench and the scent thereof, but the victory seemed a sweet sacrifice, and they gave the prayers thereof to God, who had wrought so wonderfully for them, thus to inclose their enemies in their hands, and gave them so speedy a victory over so proud and insulting an enemy.”

To cover up these blatant war crimes, and so many others, the colonists “[prepared]…quantities of propaganda to overpower their own countrymen’s scruples. The propaganda gradually took standard form as an ideology with conventional assumptions and semantics. We live with it still.”¹

“We live with it still…”

Strong words to digest, yet we do live with the impact of these and other acts committed against the indigenous people of North America. On the Pine Ridge Reservation and other reservations where natives were forced to relocate, men now experience a life expectancy that is close to 60% of the life expectancy of the rest of America. Forced to move to these arid, undesirable lands, the natives on these reservations were forced to rely on government aid (welfare) for survival. No longer could they harvest familiar crops or hunt buffalo herds, because they could not leave the reservation to hunt. (Not to mention how the colonists killed millions of buffalo for their hides, leaving their meat to rot in the sun and almost rendered the animal extinct). So all this being said, is it any wonder the rate of diabetes on Pine Ridge is 800% higher than the U.S. average? Not to mention that the infant mortality rate is 300% higher than the national average and the highest in the country. The teenage suicide rate is 150% higher than the national average. We should all weep when we read about these lasting effects.

Here is an interview from when ABC News journalist, Diane Sawyer, journeyed into the Pine Ridge Reservation (available through this link). It’s obvious that Sawyer was deeply moved. And as a proud native myself, who spends considerable time in native villages and reservations across America, sharing Christ’s agape love and experiencing all of this same footage firsthand, I still weep whenever I see this video. I believe Jesus still weeps as well (Isaiah 63:9).

But why is none of this ever taught?

Why are there no major campaigns to raise money for this, while we will be quick to throw a concert for any other charity? As historian Francis Jennings said, “We live with it still.” Jesus weeps over this (Isaiah 63:9); Jesus despises oppression, whether it is the recent usage of attack dogs, concussion grenades, rubber bullets and more, as the government hired private security companies to drive away peaceful protestors at the Dakota Oil Pipeline, or whether it’s covert institutionalized marginalization…Jesus despises oppression. As Christians, we should too.

“We live with it still.”

In schools, we were taught the untruth of how pilgrims and colonists came to the New World and found elusive, half-naked natives dipping behind rocks and trees in mysterious forests, rather than the truth that when the colonists arrived they found intricate native civilizations with governments, technology, irrigation and trade routes stretching to the horizon. There were even recreational parks created by natives who had mastered clearing forests with controlled fires, enabling them to create athletic fields where they played their popular sport, lacrosse. But again, we have never been taught any of this. Could this dehumanization of the native be the reason we’ve been made to view all that took place as anything except massive theft on the grandest scale? Similar to how we don’t consider the fictional Goldilocks as being a serial “breaking-and-entering” burglar simply because the owners—the bears—have been dehumanized.

As the Pequot Massacre (the context for the second Thanksgiving feast), would’ve been declared a U.N. war crime by today’s standards, if anyone takes the time to go to the United Nations website and find the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous People, adopted by the U.N. General Assembly on September 13, 2007, one will see that while some 144 nations voted in favor of it, only four nations voted against it—Australia, Canada, New Zealand and the United States. So it begs the question, if the U.S. prides itself as the most progressive superpower in the world—as our very Constitution promises “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” to all—then why would they vote against something like that? Interestingly, President Obama finally overturned the negative vote in 2010. But natives in American have long since grown weary of treaties and declarations anyway.

“We live with it still.”

Now, at this point, it is timely to interject a sage quote from University of Vermont professor and bestselling author of Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong: “The antidote to feel-good history is not feel-bad history, but honest and inclusive history.”

At this point, it is also only fair and prudent for me to humbly share that I am not a historian. I am a pastor and one who has answered the call to serve among my native people in remote regions, including Alaska. I tend to shy away from the word “missionary” in this context, because the word has earned a bad title in too many native communities, as up until the last century, “missionaries,” who were wolves in sheep’s clothing, forcefully took many native children from their parents to mandatory government boarding schools far away from home, where they were subjected to all forms of abuse (even sexual), beaten for speaking in their native languages and not English, and were forced to dress like English children. So again, I am not a historian, but my hope in writing this article is to lead us all to the Scriptures, to the heart of Jesus, and as curious citizens of this Information Age, to ultimately do our own research. But most of all, to ask God to aline our hearts with his toward America’s indigenous. Maybe native missions will one day become a regular discussion at the annual missions conferences of many denominations—because the harvest is truly plentiful, but the laborers are few.

In closing, I’d like to share about one of my most profound fellowship experiences in my 20+ years of being a Christian.

Two weeks ago, Brian Brodersen invited some 35 Calvary Chapel pastors from all across the country, Canada and Europe, to meet at the Calvary Chapel Bible College in Murrieta, California, where for three days, we prayed, shared our hearts and burdens, and discussed kingdom vision and Gospel outreach. On the second day, after God had so magnanimously visited us with His Spirit during a long session of corporate prayer, we had the most amazing discussion on racial and societal tensions, cultures and subcultures, and America’s checkered past. Again, it was one of the most amazing corporate discussions I’ve been a part of.

Here was this diverse bunch of pastors: some who had megachurches, and some who had smaller churches; some who had been pastoring for 40 years, and some who had been pastoring for only two. Every age group was represented, several races, and seemingly every demographic. And as the “Spirit of liberty” was there (2 Corinthians 3:17), men felt totally free to throw out questions they always had about different races and cultures. People felt free to share hurts and pains. And praise God, people even felt free to confess being fed up with being ignorant on too many race-centered issues for too long. This was clearly a move of God. The hours raced away, and everyone remained on the edge of their seats.

Toward the end of this amazing time, someone asked, “So how do I respond in the pulpit to these racial issues that arise when I don’t know the facts, don’t know much history at all, but yet I want to learn?” Someone else then gently responded and with such joy, “That’s it! I don’t think people across all these different racial lines are expecting others to have all the answers. I think people just want us to show that we care deeply, that we’re broken about all that’s happening, and that we’re not afraid to talk about it and want to learn, and most of all, to see God work in every unfortunate situation.” It was like the Spirit of God fell upon the room all over again—also underscoring the point that all our country needs right now is something that only God can give.

We spent the rest of the night talking about poverty in all parts of the country affecting all races, even whites. We talked about Kaepernick and the NFL, the Hispanic communities and ICE, and we even talked about music artist Lecrae and his recent announcement of “divorcing” himself from “White Evangelicalism.” The Bible was our guide, and no topic was too tough to tackle and find a biblical remedy. And as we closed in prayer one last time before parting, thanking God for moving so sweetly among us, those days of us sitting in that large room was the heart and soul of what Thanksgiving is all about: love, listening, understanding and giving thanks to the Sovereign King, who reigns over every moment of history and beyond, and whose return we eagerly wait for—as only then will there be perfect peace, righteousness, equity and war no more. Happy Thanksgiving to all!!

Next Article: “Beautiful Native America: Answering the Call To Serve”

¹ The Invasion of America: Indians, Colonialism, and the Cant of Conquest. University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill Press.

“With all thy getting, get understanding” (Proverbs 4:7).

Last Saturday, smartphones around the world buzzed and brimmed with newsflashes surrounding all that unfolded at a white nationalist rally in Charlottesville, Virginia. Leading this rally were those under the banner, “Unite the Right”—a movement seeking to unite all white supremacists from different groups, including the Alt Right, Vanguard America, Identity Europa and the KKK. They were gathering in Charlottesville to protest the city’s decision to remove the historical monument of Confederate Civil War General, Robert E. Lee. This was one of the largest white supremacist gatherings in recent U.S. history, as a small army chanted “Blood and Soil”—Hitler’s famed Nazi slogan—and some even carried submachine guns, shields and other military gear.

As counterprotestors—composed of different races—arrived in large numbers, violent clashes ensued between the opposing groups, leaving many bloody, others incensed with even more anger, and many simply crying out of despondency. And if that’s not enough, what nearly sucked the oxygen from the clash was when a white supremacist raced his sports car into a crowd of counterprotesters, sending human bodies flying like rag dolls, and leaving 19 people hospitalized and 32-year-old Heather Heyer—a young, white woman, known for weeping over racial inequality and the disenfranchised—killed in cold blood

Yes, all of this actually took place in what’s supposed to be a post-Black-POTUS, post-racial society, in the year 2017.

Yet, why do these times suddenly feel so reminiscent of the 1960s, back when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote, Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos Or Community? What I believe scares people the most right now is the big question: Are we devolving as a society? Are we literally going backwards; and if so, how far will we go and when will it stop?

As people scramble for answers, people are also scrambling to locate the roots of our problems. Some say, it’s all President Trump’s fault, for adding lumber to the fires of racism during his campaign with emboldening language that would secure votes for the big win. Others say social media is largely to blame, with this “information age” injecting ideologies into people’s minds and creating “copycats” where there otherwise might be none. Still others blame the epidemic of overlooked injustices and the killings of unarmed black men by the police, resulting in The Washington Post and [London-based] The Guardian conducting independent studies that concluded that a black man was 2.5 times more likely to be killed by a police officer than a white man.

Lastly, many will say that it’s all of the above and so much more, as captured in the spellbinding article published in the May 5, 2015, issue of U.S. News & World Report, “Institutional Racism Is Our Way Of Life”—an issue highlighted by many musicians over several decades: from Bob Marley and Buju Banton, to Public Enemy and The Fugees, even to Jay Z’s latest video [covered by The New York Times], “The War On Drugs Is An Epic Fail.”

So then, who is the enemy? And back to the original question: Are we devolving as a people and a society?

Well, the Bible makes it clear that the true ROOT cause of all that is diabolical in this world is EVIL—first hatched in the heart of a malevolent fallen angel named Satan—and SIN, hatched in the heart of Adam and Eve when they abused their gift of free moral agency in rebelling against their Creator and Friend, and following the same “self” path of Satan, whereby the human race became the “fallen” human race. And to this day, wherever there is SIN, there will always be SELF; wherever there is SELF, there will be SELF-CENTEREDNESS; wherever there is SELF-CENTEREDNESS, there will be SELF-EXALTATION; and wherever there is SELF-EXALTATION, there will be the exalting of oneself (e.g., one’s ideology, people-group, race/ethnicity, etc.), at the expense of putting down (including subjugating/oppressing) someone else or some other group. Not to mention the devil’s ability to fill men’s hearts (Acts 5:3) and use them for his evil purposes—to “steal, kill and destroy” (John 10:10). This why the Bible declares that we don’t war against flesh and blood, but against spiritual wickedness in high places (Ephesians 6:12).

This is what the late, great Ethiopian king, Haile Selassie—a follower of Christ and the biblical worldview—shared at the United Nations back in 1963 (the speech Bob Marley would later sing, word-for-word, in his song, “War”):

“Until the philosophy which holds one race superior and another inferior is finally and permanently discredited and abandoned;…until the color of a man’s skin is of no more significance than the color of his eyes;…until bigotry and prejudice and malice and inhuman self-interest have been replaced by understanding and good-will; until all [people] stand and speak as free beings, equal in the eyes of all men, as they are in the eyes of Heaven; until that day, [we] will not know peace.”

I am biracial, Native American and African American, the proud son of a “successful” father who was raised in the South as a poor farm boy, wearing potato sacks for diapers, only to attend dilapidated, “separate but equal” Jim Crow schooling. The first time my father sat in an integrated classroom was when he came up North, at 18 years old, to matriculate at Seton Hall University. Years later, my father would pay for me and my brothers to attend one of New Jersey’s most expensive prep schools, where I also had to contend with both overt and covert forms of racism. During college, my knowledge and awareness of systematic and institutionalized racism greatly expanded—creating in me an anger and rage at this unrelenting “Babylon system” of racism. Before I came to Christ, I met racial hatred with hatred of my own, in retaliation and self-defense; and in all honesty, I would most likely have attended a racial counterprotest, like we just witnessed in Charlottesville, ready for whatever.

However, after receiving an Ivy League education but still finding that I lacked so much, including answers to life’s most pressing dilemmas and questions, I finally learned the true meaning of the cross of Christ:

How God so loved a [divided] world of self-exaltation and diabolical oppression (while so hating oppression in all forms), that He sent His only begotten Son to die for all (John 3:16), including those who hated Him without a reason (Psalm 69:4)—even those who hated Him strictly because of His Israelite blood and Middle Eastern skin tone—as he cried from the cross, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

At that point, my own need for God’s forgiveness became my most pressing concern—my own hatred and lack of love, my own subtle traces of racism, my own rejection of Christ and God. Christ [supernaturally] made me a “new man” (2 Corinthians 5:17), and with that package came a “new mind” and a “new heart,” fashioned after the mind and heart of Christ.

Jesus Christ gave countless sermons before His crucifixion, drawing all hearers to our common link to Adam and Eve, and how we have all been created of one blood. Jesus also stressed that we ALL have the same sinful nature, and ALL need to seek the same forgiveness through His atoning blood, thereby receiving a spiritual regeneration that also mystically unites believers as “one body” of brothers and sisters—from all nations, kindreds, people and tongues (Revelation 7:9). More so, the Bible gives the followers of Christ a charge to be “salt and light” in a broken and divided world, having given us the “ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5:18), whereby we are to be ready to give an answer to every man (1 Peter 3:15), of how Christ’s death abolishes the enmity or “middle wall of separation” between us all (Ephesians 2:14).

So then, do “White Lives Matter?” Christ declares that they do. That’s why I can’t get 32-year-old Heather Heyer off my mind, and my prayers continue to go out to her family. Do “Black Lives Matter?” Christ declares that they do, and there are multitudes who still desire to support and advocate an oppressive system—built on the backs of slave labor and the crippling effects of Reconstruction, as well as today’s “New Jim Crow” (mass incarceration)—and that needs to be acknowledged. Do “Blue Lives Matter?” Christ declares that they do, and there are spouses and kids who worry for the safety of their loved ones “in blue” every single day. Not to mention how many survived the “9-11” terrorist attack only because “Blue Lives” ran into those collapsing towers—laying down their own lives, so that others could live, regardless of whether they were black, white or other.

However, all this being said, we must also remember that “Context Matters” and “Timing Matters,” as well. Therefore, a vigil for another black person unjustly killed by a police officer is not the context or the time to proclaim “White Lives Matter” or “Blue Lives Matter.” Similarly, the upcoming memorial service for precious 32-year-old Heather Heyes will not be the context or time to proclaim “Black Lives Matter.”

So in closing, I will now seek to address that gnawing question, once and for all: Are we devolving as a society? Are we literally going backwards; and if so, how far will we go, and when will it stop? The Bible declares that in “the days” preceding Christ’s eminent return to earth, that the times would be “perilous” (i.e., “hard to deal with”), because men would be “lovers of themselves … more than lovers of God” (2 Timothy 3:2,4). The idea is that this would continue at increasingly high levels.

So, following this Bible proclamation—and the inseparable nature of sin, self and self-exaltation—is it any wonder we are now seeing more overt levels of racism?

So then, are we “devolving?” Well, as a God-rejecting human race, I believe we have never “evolved” to begin with, but have only been recipients of the grace (i.e., unmerited favor) of a benevolent God, who gives sunshine and beautiful rain—and even things like peace of mind and blessings of racial healing—both “on the just and on the unjust” (Matthew 5:45), in the hope that people might “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8). All that being said, what if God, in His infinite wisdom, is now simply permitting us to see more of what sinful mankind quickly becomes without that [abused] daily grace, in an “unthankful” society where it is increasingly popular to demand God’s blessings, yet reject God from our daily lives?

So, as Christian philosopher, Francis Schaeffer, posed the question, “How shall we then live?” Well, here is what the Bible declares: we should be deeply angered at injustice and oppression in all forms, yet at the same time not allow ourselves to become hateful, vengeful, or embittered (Ephesians. 4:26). God says vengeance belongs to Him and He will repay (Romans 12:19). We should not to be overcome with evil, but rather overcome evil with good (Romans 12:21). We must truly take the time to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15), just as Christ did, and even place ourselves in other people’s shoes by “sitting where they sit” (Ezekiel 3:15). We must finally begin having real discussions about things that have been suppressed, ignored or simply made light of, for far too long. We need to “examine ourselves” (Psalm 139:23-24) and see where we have somehow become arrogant and unteachable when it comes to learning about the burdens and struggles of those of another race, ethnicity or creed. Once and for all, we need to drop ignorant statements, like, “but that’s old history now,” and “that happened so long ago,” when retracing and even relearning the horrific blights in our nation’s tattered history.

We need to build and intentionally invest in honest friendships with those of other races, ethnicities and creeds, seeking to get as much understanding as we possibly can (Proverbs 4:7).

That means, someone may find themselves asking the Native American why the issue of “big oil” at Standing Rock Reservation is such a big deal, and so painful and potentially dangerous. That means, we should all be appalled at the racial and cultural ignorance shown by environmentalist Paul Watson, member of Greenpeace and key figure in TV’s “Whale Wars,” with his recent cyber-bullying of 16-year-old, Alaskan native, Chris Appassingok, who heroically killed a bowhead whale—a diet Alaskan natives have been living on for thousands of years—in order to provide food for his poor village. This heroic 16-year-old has been psychologically affected by this bullying and public shaming from the culturally-ignorant rantings of a man in Washington D.C., who has refused to apologize.

Last but not least, to my “minority” brothers and sisters: We need to reject any thinking that racism towards whites isn’t just as real, and that we somehow have “the trademark,” if you will, on being the recipients of racial hatred. I once counseled the sweetest, petite white woman, who was still deeply scarred as an adult from being constantly rejected and bullied as a child—strictly because of the color of her skin—as she was the only white kid in her all-black school, somewhere in the Deep South.

Does acknowledging her pain, giving value to her experience, and condemning it as “racism,” somehow take away from other pressing issues and systemic societal ills? Christ would say, of course not.

Saints of God, the world needs the wisdom, peace, power and grace of Christ like never before. The world, and our nation, needs the Gospel like never before. The harvest truly is plentiful, and Christ commands us to pray—first and foremost. So let us pray like never before, both for our nation’s leaders and decision makers, and for all people (1 Timothy 2:1-3). It is time to check our hearts, let God break our hearts, and be ready. Grace and Peace.