Raising Red Letter Kids

The small, Christian university that my son attends is in the midst of  a race related scandal.  The issue unveiled itself during spring break, while my son was home, giving him time to process what happened with us.  We were able to have some very challenging but important conversations as a family. Since he went back and classes have resumed, we have all been listening with heavy hearts to online sermons, student testimonies and speeches from the president to see how this is playing out on our son’s campus. 

 

Because of social media, the controversial incident has attracted plenty of unsolicited opinions from those both within and outside of the university, church, community and beyond.  As with any “controversial” issue requiring an opinion (read Facebook post), human nature tends to value speed not precision. Communication emphasizes volume not veracity. And analysis consists of  affirmations not curiosity. Emotions are running high, and as often happens, people have gathered themselves roughly into one of two groups.   One group is adamantly condemning the offenders and calling for justice and disciplinary action. The other group is just as passionately defending the offenders, calling for grace, and in some cases condemning the offended for being too sensitive.  Meanwhile, the university administration is carefully navigating the minefield of public relations and private discussions; Facebook and FERPA; angry black students and angry white donors. It’s like walking on a bed of nails, trying to step lightly and not cause further offense to members of either group. 

The problem with automatically aligning one’s position with one of “two sides of the issue” is that very complex and nuanced issues get oversimplified and trivialized.  Perspective, history, and context are all very important factors in looking at any complex issue. What at first glance may seem like a simple coin with two sides to choose from, may actually turn out to be the toenail of an elephant, when studied from different distances, in different lighting and from different angles.  And so yet again, the elephant of racism in this country has been reduced to a foolish and hurtful snapchat post to be argued about on Facebook for awhile, and then thrown into the heap of aggressions and micro-aggressions hidden from everyone’s view and memory; everyone, that is, except for those it hurt.  They are left holding the elephant and it’s a very heavy burden. 

Now I am not going to try to dissect that elephant of racism in this particular post. Nor am I going to discuss why good Christian kids at a good Christian school felt comfortable in 2018 participating in such a racially charged post. I will leave those topics for future posts. But I will share some of the things that we as a family have been wrestling  with  surrounding the recent events on our son’s campus.

My own first reaction to the event was to be horrified at the outright racist “humor” that was used, whether or not it was intentional or out of ignorance.  My empathetic heart immediately broke for my black friends and their kids who attend the school.  Why should they have to deal with these kind of hurtful issues which feel like they are attacking their dignity as human beings, the very core of who they are as children of God?  I see the pain of  black students who feel devalued when these racially charged issues periodically occur and nothing seems to happen or change as a consequence.  Even worse than the initial offense sometimes is the reaction from much of the white community which not only denies the pain they feel, but criticizes and attacks them for feeling it and for expressing it. 

Yet, as a mother, I also feel for the students that did the hurting, intentionally or not.  I know how it feels to be young and insecure, to want more than anything to be liked, to be funny, to be accepted.  Even as an adult, I have done things that hurt others unknowingly and unwisely. And my own son, a good kid, with a kind heart, has made foolish and immature mistakes that hurt others and that he regrets.  I do not condone these mistakes in any way.  But I am thankful for the grace that has been shown to both of us by those involved and by our Heavenly Father.  And as one who has received much grace, I must also pray that grace is extended to these young people as well. 

And yet, in all the rush to find the right answer so we can “take care of the issue and move on”, it seems to me that most people are asking the wrong questions in the first place.  One of my favorite Christian authors, Shane Claiborne, states in his life changing book, Irresistible Revolution Living as an Ordinary Radical, that when someone does something to hurt another, the human response is to ask two questions:  What did they do wrong? And what is the punishment they deserve? If you grew up in the church, those questions should be creeping out of your subconscious like old familiar friends about now.  But ironically, God’s response is very different. He is not human. He is not even “Christian”.  He is Christ.  He is God.  And He is more concerned with asking two completely different questions: What was the harm that was done? And what can be done to heal the wounds of both the oppressed and the oppressors. And if we claim to be followers of Christ and bother to send our children to Christian school, shouldn’t  we  be asking those same questions? 

Lets take a closer look at the first question Jesus asks, “what was the harm that was done?” To understand any harm that was done, we must, at the very least, ask those who were allegedly harmed.  We cannot decide for someone else whether or not they were  hurt or offended. To really understand the  impact that these “jokes”  take on people of color, we must actually know, love and care about a person or two of color.  Only then can the “teller” of the joke start to understand and care about the “object” of the joke as a sibling in Christ.  When one takes the time to listen to students of color on campus it becomes clear that the extent of the harm is not only a result of the insensitive post, but it is even more a result of the reaction to the post.  Apathy, trivializing, denial, and even angry criticism of their feelings are just a few of the reactions that black students have had to deal with on top of the initial pain of the original incident. 

The second question Jesus asks is more complicated and requires more than a politically correct statement and apology.  Jesus asks, “what can be done to heal the wounds of both the oppressed and the oppressors? Jesus is asking us first to acknowledge that there are wounds to be healed, and secondly to explore what can be done to heal them.  Again, taking the time to ask, listen to and empathize with the wounded can go a long way in coming up with strategies to help heal those wounds. But Jesus takes it even further. He wants us to acknowledge and heal not only the wounds of the oppressed, but also the wounds of the oppressor.  Wait, so we are called not only to heal the wounded, but also the one who is wounding? This is so… not instinctive, not American, not…of this world.  But it is so Jesus. You see Jesus sees both the wounded and the one wounding as His children.  He loves them both equally and unconditionally. His love for them is not based on their performance or mistakes they have made.

 That’s the deity of Jesus, and what makes Him different from us as humans.  Sometimes

we forget we are made in God’s image, and instead try to make God into our own image. Jesus  is concerned with understanding the hurting; we are concerned with punishment or blame.  Jesus’ heart is breaking for the brokenhearted, ours is busy defending our own point of view.  He is concerned about wounds and healing for all those involved. We are concerned with choosing justice or mercy. Swift  and just punishment for the young people who made the foolish and hurtful post is like putting a band-aid on a third degree burn. It will not truly heal the wounds of the offended and it may deepen the wounds of the offenders, making them bitter not only toward their school and their church, but also toward people of color in general. But showing mercy by not punishing them, and then failing to acknowledge and address the elephant of racism on campus will surely deepen the wounds that have been festering for long before this latest event.   

So which one is it, Jesus?  Justice or mercy?  I think Jesus would answer, “yes, but for whom?”  Both deserve justice and neither deserves mercy. Jesus liked to answer questions with a question, and in this case I think He would ask, “how far and for whom are you willing to extend mercy or fight for justice in order that the wounds of all sides may be healed?” 

Are those calling for mercy and forgiveness for the offending students just as eager to show mercy to the 16 year old, hoody-wearing black kid in trouble at school from the other side of the tracks? The automatic and unequivocal defense of non-black students making a racist and offensive post might not be quite so hurtful if those doing the defending had a consistent track record of extending grace outside their own circles  of comfort and demonstrating that black lives really do matter to them and those around them. 

On the other hand, are those calling for immediate justice and the expulsion of the university students involved in the racist post ready to allow that same swift condemnation and life changing punishment for the 16 year old, hoody-wearing black kid without first considering context and motive? If not, then shouldn’t that same rationale of mercy and fairness be shown, not only to the victim of potential racism, but also to the perpetrator?

Yes, justice.  Yes, mercy.  But for whom?  Jesus keeps talking about true healing for all. What Jesus wants is not punishment  for some or a free pass for others, but restoration for all. He wants true healing for everyone, because He loves everyone. He wants us to heal those wounds and restore relationships in such a way that once healed, the wounded will offer grace and mercy to their oppressors, and the oppressors will advocate justice for their victims.  That is the upside down logic of the Kingdom of God, rooted in love.  And it isn’t going to happen magically once we all get our crowns fitted up in heaven.  It has to start here and now by bringing the Kingdom of God here to this earth, to our campuses, to our homes.  It has to start by calling for mercy and forgiveness, not only when we can relate to the offender, but even more when we cannot.  We need to advocate for justice not only for people who look like us, but also for those who don’t.  We need to love.

Jesus did not call us to “Love God, and avoid telling racists jokes in public.”  He also did not call us to “love God and love our besties”.  He called us to, “love God and love others.”   Love means showing mercy even when they deserve punishment.  Love means advocating justice even when it doesn’t directly affect our own life.  And others does not mean our close circle of friends or those who look, act and vote like we do.  Others means everyone. To borrow the title from Bob Goff’s latest book, we need to love everybody, always. 

What would happen if the black students on my son’s campus found themselves surrounded by letters from their non-black classmates sharing their heartfelt apologies for what they have had to endure; invitations to dinner and to share what is on their heart; requests for their presence, perspective and input in small groups and bible studies? What if prayer groups, friendship groups, and action groups were formed? Not mandatory groups, formed by the school administration, but voluntary, from the heart groups, formed by non-black students truly seeking to find ways to make the campus a safer, more loving, and Christ-like place for everyone. What if the students who were involved in this incident acknowledged the pain that their actions caused and expressed their sincere sorrow and repentance to their fellow students of color? What if they became leaders on campus for issues of racial justice and equity?

And what if those same students, whether or not they decide to apologize or advocate justice, found themselves surrounded by their fellow black students who wanted to unconditionally love on them, support them and value their presence at the school, despite the pain that they may have caused them? What would that do to heal wounds restore relationships?

 That is the upside down Kingdom of God logic that can only happen when we put aside our human nature and depend on Christ’s power to transform us and give us His grace to extend mercy to those who don’t deserve it and advocate justice for those outside our circles of experience and understanding.  With our new Kingdom of God eyes we see the image of God in everyone we encounter, therefore no one is beyond redemption.  With our new Kingdom of God hearts we work for restoration of both the oppressed and the oppressor. That is the picture of a Kingdom of God school that truly follows Christ. So yes to mercy; yes to justice; but yes to love. And lets make sure we are willing to open up our circles of love to all of God’s children and answer Jesus’ more telling question of  “for whom?” by responding with our lives “everybody, always”.