Red, Brown, Yellow, Black and White

(I wrote this several months ago. After the death of George Floyd, I feel compelled to say something.  I am grieved and ashamed.  There is no sane reasoning to justify such an end.  I am genuinely bewildered!  I want to tear this wicked weed out of this garden of humanity, at least our nation’s plot.  Of the twenty-plus people who might read this, I expect to have little influence.)

For those of you under sixty years of age, this will be an odd question. It’s a difficult question for me to put into words, given the racial climate in our nation.  Do you remember the first person of dark skin you ever saw?  The first black person you ever saw?  I do.  Back then, the word used was “Negro.”  I know there was another word, but Mom would not tolerate its use.

I must have been nine years old.  The memory is fuzzy, missing some details, but it is still firmly fixed in my recollection.  We were returning from church and had just passed under the only traffic light in Sellersburg, Indiana.  Dad was driving, Mom was riding shotgun, and I was sitting in the back seat behind Mom.  My nose pressed against the window beside me.  And there, walking in the opposite direction we were traveling was a black man.  I was in awe and must have said something out loud, for Mom immediately began to teach me.  These are not her actual words, but its close enough, “He is just a man, a person like us. He is just a different color.”  I was satisfied with her thoughtful response and never had to ask for more.

At some point, after that, I made a cognitive connection with one of the songs we sang nearly every Sunday in children’s class, “Jesus loves the children of the world.”  I don’t know if that is the formal title of the chorus, but it taught me the second half of my world view on what we call “people groups.” 

There is a line in the old Sunday School song which says, ‘Red, yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight.”  So I surmised that if God had no favorites and saw no difference between people, then neither should I.

Does that mean I have no prejudices?  No.  I am prejudiced against some things, but not skin color.  I am prejudice against people who are always angry, hateful, rebellious, stiff-necked, and self-absorbed.  I am suspicious of people who, by dress or demeanor, are not like me.  I identify with and prefer to be with people who have the same values I have.  I make choices to distance myself from people who seem to be opinionated.  I tend to move closer to people who are adventurous and passionate in self-development and growth, particularly in their life with God.

Admittedly, I make mistakes in my initial judgments about people.  That scares me about myself.  It is embarrassing to discover I have been wrong about a person.  But it is also glorious to find a new friend.

I have discovered that I do not know what I think I know until I do the work to write it.  I would like to hear from any reader who sees flaws in my view of my fellow human beings.  I need you.

(I wonder if this racial division if fixable?  How does real equality in a nation manifest itself, how would our lives be different?  What role will humility play in a solution?

My personal opinion is there will be no solving of the warring among humans until there is solving of human’s warring against their Creator.  We may be able to lower the level of violence for a while, but we are woefully ill-equipped to administer an eradication of what divides us.  We will never legislate or negotiate our way to harmony or unity.  Fallen people will act like fallen people until the “Fallen” is reversed.  Our nation needs a savior to morph us out of our destructive world views.  I believe that savior is the Savior, Jesus, who is The Christ!

Here is the benchmark I have set for myself, “Love God, Love God’s people, Love those whom God loves the way God loves them.”

Last words, please hear my heart; I am overwhelmed with shame for what we humans have become. There is a part of me that I fear and do not want to admit, you might be able to see it, but I cannot, or will not.  I feel a powerlessness boarding on hopelessness to make even the smallest of contributions in resolving this devilish attitude of racism.  Again, I need you.)

Photo – This photo has a story, but not for today.  It is of the village elders of a small village in West Africa.  The older man in the back right with his hand on his chin is the Chief, the soul, and law.  All but two of the men are Muslim; I think you can pick the two out.  We are in the Chief’s “throne” room.  I will always be indebted to this man for what his kindness and transparency taught me.