Journey to Justice

 I used to say I’m colorblind. It seemed the right way to think. But my mindset has changed and I embrace differences in color and culture because it validates identity. I believe everyone has a spark of the divine image of God and dignity within them. That’s why the voices calling for racial justice and equality matter. That’s why my voice joins with them.

I grew up in a white suburb of Kansas City. Maybe that was intentional on the part of the developers. I don’t know. The only time I saw people who weren’t white was when we journeyed south of the river to shop downtown, go to the zoo, or to the Air Force base. I’m certain I stared. We always returned to the insulated neighborhood in which we lived.

I finally encountered people of color when I went to college, though not many attended the university. It was moving to cheaper housing that brought me into a predominately Black neighborhood. I was the only white person in my apartment building. There I saw financial insecurity, the result of redlined segregation. Though I made friends, I was called out for white privilege. It just wasn’t labeled by that name yet. I had everything I needed and much of what I wanted courtesy of just being white and having parents who could foot the bill. The cards were stacked in my favor.

I’m aware the doors of financial, educational, and employment opportunities have opened for me that are frequently denied people of color. Black, Latinx, Asian, and Indigenous peoples have been systematically denied equal power and wealth. Desegregation was supposed to erase the disparity between the urban core neighborhoods and schools and the white suburbs, but in reality hasn’t

I now live in a diverse urban neighborhood. My church is one of the only Presbyterian churches in the city that is racially mixed. It was there as I made friends that I learned what walking or driving while Black meant if stopped by the police. My fear mingled with that of a mother who told me how her teenaged son and daughter were loaded into a police car simply because they were walking down the sidewalk. They grilled them, then let them go. They were actually looking for an older Black man. So why stop them? It’s traumatizing for people when they are immediately suspect just for the color of their skin.

 Black lives matter. The lives of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor mattered. So, too, the many other lives lost to unjustifiable lethal action. I struggle with the injustice I have seen and heard about. Sometimes I cry. It’s grief mingled with anger. Anger that must be channeled into positive action to bring justice and peace. Jesus said we would always have the poor, but what we do about it will matter when we are judged.

God is not a Republican. God is not a Democrat, either. Jesus is his face to us and he was not about keeping the status quo.  He ushered in a new kingdom in which we are to love and help the poor and needy, the disenfranchised and downtrodden. It’s not enough to say racism is wrong. Anti-racism must be our goal: to root out racism in our institutions including the church. And I must also seek to uncover my own hidden biases. The time has come for racial reconciliation and restitution. The church must take the first step. Then those who finally know justice will also know peace.