Racial Justice and the Church: Responding to Resistance

In one sense I should be the last person offering my thoughts related to racial justice and the church. The world probably doesn't need another white male offering his two cents. In fact, I've been frustrated that so many white leaders feel the need to put out statements and project a vibe of expertise amidst a conversation they may have just entered. Many white Christians can be late, loud and wrong when entering a conversation like this one.

On the other hand, I think white Christian leaders have a unique responsibility to advocate for racial justice. It's not fair when white folks (and unfortunately many white Christians) have perpetuated or been complicit in racial inequity and then expect racial minorities to do all the work. I also have a set of recent experiences that provide a unique lens in regards to the conversation on race and the church. Here's the thirty second version:

I grew up in a conservative, white and wealthy context on the northern suburbs of Chicago. Conversations on race didn't happen at church. I'm grateful for the many experiences, books and people that entered my life in my 20s. I was formed into the kind of person who was sensitive to racial injustice and awakened to the importance of racial healing. I made a significant career shift in my early 30s leaving higher education and becoming a pastor at a medium-sized church in the twin cities. Because of the formation I experienced in my 20s, I entered the pastorate convinced that issues of justice and race were critical to the gospel and therefore the church must courageously disciple people to that reality. When George Floyd was murdered in our city I knew we had to go beyond a one-time statement denouncing racism. We had to dive deep. We had to roll up our sleeves and pursue a kind of discipleship in which justice becomes a way of life for the church. My convictions ultimately led to being let go by the church for theological and strategic concerns. In taking a stand for racial justice I encountered tremendous pushback. Not all of the resistance was loud and aggressive, but some was. The rest was a kind of "play-it-safe" moderate posture primarily invested in maintaining the status quo and avoiding anything that could be seen as liberal, divisive or political. The last three years at the church, and last several months in particular, have given me an insatiable apatite to learn more about the historical context, theological underpinnings and socio-cultural factors that relegate issues of race and justice to the category of optional in many white churches.

Howard Thurman, in his critical book Jesus and the Disinherited, poses a timely question for us today:

"Why is it that Christianity seems impotent to deal radically, and therefore effectively, with the issues of discrimination and injustice on the basis of race, religion and national origin? Is this impotency due to a betrayal of the genius of the religion, or is it due to a basic weakness in the religion itself?"

I'm convinced that a Jesus-centered worldview provides a robust and holistic way of bringing justice and healing to racial division. The Church's inability to see God clearly and move courageously is the tragedy.

In the next two blog posts I want to share what I've learned in regards to 1) common objections many white Christians offer to sidestep their engagement with racial justice and how we ought to respond and 2) constructing a positive vision for why engaging racial justice matters for white Christians. This post is more reactive, my next post is more proactive.

COMMON POINTS OF RESISTANCE

I've encountered tremendous resistance from white evangelical Christians related to the need for the church to pursue racial justice. Those who unapologetically advocate for racial justice within the church are quickly labeled as political, divisive, Marxist, critical race theorist, liberal etc, etc, etc. Not everyone reacts with name calling and a threat to leave. Much of the resistance is more subtle. The points of resistance I encountered are numerous. I will highlight a few that were the most pervasive and offer a brief push back:

1. "Talking about racial justice distracts from the ultimate mission of the church".

I'll spend the most time here because I think this sentiment is perhaps the most pervasive and foundational. From this argument flows many of the other objections. Underneath this assertion lies a very narrow gospel. The gospel, according to this paradigm, is almost exclusively interested in individual spiritual transformation. Many American Christians are discipled into an understanding of the gospel that either minimizes or completely leaves behind the centrality of justice. Jesus, in their minds, is exclusively in the saving of souls business. He is primarily interested in our personal conversion. Other endeavors can be valuable for certain Christians to engage but the church as a whole should invest it's bandwidth in what really matters.

But what is the gospel? I've been influenced by theologians like N.T. Wright, Skye Jethani, Jamar Tisby, James Cone, Scot McKnight, Tim Gombis and Mattew Bates (I really want to be shaped by more women theologians on this topic!) who rightly illustrate just how narrow the current evangelical gospel has become. For many Christians the gospel has collapsed into a particular atonement theory. Jesus died on the cross to forgive sins, offer salvation and provide the gift of eternal life. With a robust understanding of terms like salvation this concept contains critical truth regarding Jesus, the cross and the gospel. The gospel understanding many evangelicals hold is more incomplete than it is inaccurate. But becoming dogmatic on something incomplete is to miss the truth. I hate throwing around the word heresy, but many heresies emerge from taking a concept that is important, but incomplete, and making it everything. The gospel includes, yet transcends, personal salvation. At its core, the gospel is a declaration that Jesus Christ is Lord and He perfectly reveals God. Those who trust this good news begin the lifelong process of offering King Jesus their uncompartmentalized allegiance. This allegiance reorients our individual hearts towards God and dramatically realigns the way we engage our world. The two are inextricably linked.

From this gospel flows all kinds of gifts (like forgiveness of sins) and implications (doing justice and loving mercy). When the gospel is pulled up and out of a confining theological framework we begin to see the depth and breadth of it's implications. As we give our allegiance to Jesus as King we are called to radically reorient our personal AND social lives. We are called into personal AND social righteousness, evangelism AND justice, the forgiveness of sins and care for the marginalized. In my experience Christians who embrace a wider gospel with wider implications more quickly engage conversations on racial justice. There is a direct correlation.

It's my contention that discipling towards a wider and more holistic gospel is a pressing need within much of white Christianity. Until we do so I fear that conversations around race and justice will be relegated to the second tier. As Brenda Salter McNeil asserts, "It is also an indictment on the church that so many Christians don't know the gospel includes reconciliation across racial, gender, ethnic, social and cultural barriers. Discipleship is an invitation to follow Jesus into a new community".

2. Most race conversations end up shaming white people. This can't be right. Jesus died for our sins so we wouldn't experience shame.

There is no doubt that conversations about race in certain spaces lack grace and a safe place to make mistakes along the way. Everything you say and do must be perfectly aligned with the written and unwritten rules of "wokeism". Different theories and ideologies around race and power have been used in the hands of certain people to manipulate, shame and condemn with no real pathway offered for healing and restoration. Many white Christians have been turned off by such contexts. That said, the fragility and defensiveness displayed by many white privileged Christians is revealing and needs to be unpacked.

Most foundationally, We carry around a misunderstanding of the forgiveness that Jesus offers. Some believe that any feeling of guilt must arise from dark spiritual forces because Jesus has already died for our sins and we experience no more condemnation (Rom 8:1). If things feel too uncomfortable, or we feel too guilty, the problem must not be me but rather the medium or the message.

We must differentiate between two things: 1) a shame-based identity that does not come from Christ and 2) healthy conviction that comes from the spirit of God revealing ways we fall short of God's desire for our lives.

Unhealthy shame-based identity erases the opportunity for redemption and transformation. We go from "I did bad" to "I am bad". This mindset forgets a critical gift of the gospel: we are loved children of God.

Healthy guilt, on the other hand, causes us to recognize how we are living in a sub-optimal way. With this view God is more of a physician prescribing the best way for us to live rather than an angry God eager to punish. Conviction causes us to reckon honestly with our sin and shortcomings, accept God's grace and move towards a better way of being human.

Christians claim that Jesus on the cross is the clearest revelation of God. Shouldn't we then believe that the cross can handle our guilt and shame? We shouldn't avoid contexts and conversations that may illicit feelings of guilt but rather look to the cross amidst the discomfort. In doing so we remind ourselves that we are forgiven and can move into a better way of living. When we push aside discipleship conversations that generate discomfort we can diminish the breadth and depth of God's cross-shaped love.

Moving form the individual to the communal, many white Christians completely resist any idea of corporate responsibility when it comes to the sins of racism. Yet, when we look at scripture we see Daniel without a character blemish on his biblical report card clearly lamenting and confessing the sins of his people (Daniel 9). The very same dynamic occurs with Nehemiah (Nehemiah 1). He takes ownership and responsibility Israel's sin. After all, God has called a community, not just individuals, to a covenant relationship. This communal concept is utterly foreign to many white Christians who are discipled within a very individualistic framework.

Finally, I think we make a lot of assumptions about what motivates those who challenge white Christians. Let's not forget the countless examples of those who have offered a challenging critique to white Christians from a place of love. For example, Martin Luther King Jr. was constantly reiterating a message that fighting racism was for the flourishing of white people too. Racism held white American's in bondage. He desperately wanted to see white brothers and sisters freed from hateful ideology that harmed the oppressor and the victim. Howard Thurman, in his powerful book Jesus and the Disinherited, despite his scathing critiques of white Christianity in America was ultimately calling black folks toward forgiveness, not shaming their white neighbors: "It is clear that before love can operate, there is the necessity for forgiveness of injury perpetuated against a person by a group. This is the issue for the disinherited". Can you imagine having this ethic of love when your grandparents had been slaves and you grew up in the constant fear that the lynching era created? For Thurman, the healing presence of Jesus to transform hate into love was the only pathway for the oppressed if long term justice was to be achieved.

We should notice example after example of black brothers and sisters offering white people grace when every human impulse would be to sew hate.

3. But all lives matter...

As I read the biblical narrative through a Jesus- centered lens I discover a God who has a unique level of compassion towards marginalized, oppressed and vulnerable people. The level of defensiveness many white Christians display when encountering an idea that God is uniquely invested in the plight of the marginalized still surprises me.

Asserting that God's is especially present with the vulnerable does not mean that God loves white privileged people less. I have three kids. If one of my children is being consistently bullied at school my compassion and empathy is uniquely directed towards them. I'm especially present with that child in their pain. The affection I have for my other children has not reduced. Instead, my solidarity with the suffering child is intensified and unique. What's more, I will long for my other children to rally around their suffering sibling. This is what God is like.

What would happen if instead of hearing justice and thinking about the “progressive” who has lost their orthodox way we instead saw justice as relieving the suffering of God? After all, God suffers alongside the poor, oppressed and vulnerable. We can use phrases like "social reconciliation" or "comprehensively loving our neighbor" if it makes us feel more comfortable, but at the end of the day we are talking about justice. Biblical justice is about developing compassion for vulnerable people and sacrificially working (it costs time, money, reorientation of values) to care for their physical and spiritual needs.

Concepts of racial justice can make the privileged feel uncomfortable. Are you saying that God doesn’t care for white wealthy people? Why are we dismissing the real pain and suffering that all people navigate? For the privileged, a move towards equality can sometimes feel like oppression. These defensive reactions, although understandable impulses when we first encounter real issues of injustice, ultimately miss the point. This is the ninety-nine sheep being frustrated that the shepherd went after the one. This is the older son being resentful of the father’s unique compassion towards his lost son.

Perhaps the best analogy I’ve encountered related to justice comes from Adam Gustine’s book entitled Becoming a Just Church. Adam uses the analogy of “high ground” and “low ground” people. Those who have been born into social contexts of privilege live on the high ground. The disinherited, oppressed and marginalized operate within the low ground. When the waters of life ebb and flow those on the low ground are uniquely vulnerable. Life is precarious, fragile and hard on the low ground. Life is hard for everyone on planet earth, but for those on the high ground it’s easier. For them, life would even be harder on the low ground. When Jesus arrives on the scene he declares “the spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news (evangelion) to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor”. Jesus’s ministry had a unique focus on low ground individuals and communities. And He offers scathing critiques to those on the high ground who are more concerned about religious boundary lines than real justice (Luke 11: 37-54, Matt 23:13-39, Matt 12:1-14, Mark 12:38-44). White Christians who find themselves in conversations on racial justice must recognize they occupy the high ground and are called to stand with those on the low ground. Instead of feeling fearful and defensive white Christians can actually get excited about stewarding our lives to care for low ground communities.

Many white Christians feel overwhelmed and insecure when entering into the racial justice conversation. Insecurity leads to projecting into the conversation things that aren't actually being said. We are not saying God doesn't really love the rich and privileged. God loves deeply those who are situated atop the social hierarchy. He died for them too. Yet, he longs for them to leverage their status and privilege on behalf of the suffering, pain and vulnerability that exists in their sphere of influence.

Being black amidst a long history of racial hierarchy adds an additional barrier towards holistic flourishing. This is what the Black Lives Matter sentiment asserts. Circling back to the lost son parable, are we, like the elder son, standing with self-righteous arms crossed? Or are we the kind of children who celebrate a God of compassion even when we aren't the ones under the spotlight? It seems to me many white Christians feel resentful and defensive rather than celebratory about a God who is uniquely connected to the suffering black Americans have endured.

4. Strongly advocating for racial justice seems like we are supporting Black Lives Matter (the organization) and/or critical race theory. We don't stand for this.

I've encountered many white Christians who not only declare from mountaintops that they reject Black Lives Matter or critical race theory but also judge other Christians who seek to find common ground in these areas.

Let's tackle BLM first. To be sure, there are values that the organization Black Lives Matter espouses that don't align with orthodox Christianity. My goal is not to convince Christians to engage the organization Black Lives Matter but rather to challenge a posture that's more interested in making known what we stand against rather than what we courageously stand for.

White Christianity in America has lost it's opportunity to get picky about our collaborative partners in the work of justice. Of course there are significant acceptations, but white Christianity on the whole has not organized robustly, proactively and courageously around issues of racial justice. We need to take a hard look at our history. As Jamar Tisby asserts in his important historical analysis of racism in the American church in his book The Color of Compromise,

"The failure of many Christians in the South and across the nation to decisively oppose the racism in their families, communities, and even in their own churches provided fertile soil for the seeds of hatred to grow. The refusal to act in the midst of injustice is itself an act of injustice. Indifference to oppression perpetuates oppression."

Throughout our history white Christianity has led the charge at worst, or kept the race issues at arms length through moderate positions at best, when it comes to racism. Martin Luther King Jr. articulates the concern so well in his Letter From A Birmingham Jail:

"First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to 'order' than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says 'I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action;' who paternalistically feels he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the myth of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a 'more convenient season.'"

If we are more concerned with critiquing all we stand against within an organizational platform than we are with the pursuit of justice we add to a long historical narrative of white moderate complicity amidst racial injustice.

Now a word about critical race theory (CRT). It seems to me that many Christians react negatively because they think CRT is promoted as a comprehensive worldview with all that's needed for racial healing and justice. It's obviously not. Instead, Christians willing to engage CRT view the theory as a helpful tool or lens to reflect deeply on society. When a tool (CRT) is considered within a worldview that establishes human dignity, grounds morality and offers a pathway for redemption (Christianity), the tool can be appreciated for what it is. In other worlds, in the hands of a Christian with a robust Jesus-centered way of viewing the world, CRT can encourage meaningful reflection and awareness that encourages Christians to thoughtfully pursue justice. Not CRT's biggest fan? Fine. Do you have some critiques about how CRT can be used? Understandable. But does it need to be the next boogeyman reacted against with fear, judgement and condemnation? I think not. David Fitch says it well in a recent article:

"Instead I view post-structuralism, critical theory, and critical race theory as tools of diagnosis. They can be extremely helpful in clarifying the issues of power, antagonism, cultural frameworks and subjectivity at work in various issues in race, sexuality, gender, inequality, economics, politics. At their best, these cultural theorists teach us how to ask good questions, make astute observations, locate voices. It can open space for the work of God in Christ to reconcile, heal, make bodies whole"

My first encounter with CRT was a result of being labeled as someone promoting the theory. CRT kept surfacing in conversations as if I was CRTs biggest fan. I had to do my own research and reading to understand what it meant! Many other Christians (black and white) who stand for racial justice in white church spaces have the same experience. Oh the irony! It seems CRT has a hold on those who resist more than those who advocate. CRT is just another tactic to label people in an effort to dismiss their message.

We would do well to evaluate the goodness of any theory or ideology by considering the best examples of how it's utilized. Instead, many people look to the worst and most extreme cases as the primary criteria for evaluation. For example, "look at how that person is manipulating and shaming through CRT concepts...this whole thing is horrible". There are countless examples of thoughtful, loving and intelligent people who leverage CRT in productive and healthy ways. This isn't a perfect analogy but consider this...I would hope Christianity is not evaluated based on how the worst among us have used the faith to manipulate, shame, control and demonize. Instead, any person investigating the claims of Christianity ought to do so while also considering our most compelling and beautiful examples. We should have the same kind of discernment and charity as we engage the thoughts of others.

Let's transcend BLM and CRT for a moment because there is something even deeper and more concerning taking place. It seems to me we are more concerned about our own purity-image-management than doing justice. We must be very careful and reflective on this point. Elevating our own image of purity over caring for suffering is something God hates. In the Old Testament God's people were often more concerned with public religious activity than they were about caring for the widow, orphan, foreigner and the poor. Old Testament prophets clearly display God's anger against self-righteous boundary keeping. Interestingly, a lack of doing justice is often a byproduct of religious image management. Amos 5:21-24 illustrates God's reaction so powerfully and succinctly:

"I hate, I despise your religious festivals; your assemblies are a stench to me.

Even though you bring me burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them.

Though you bring choice fellowship offerings, I will have no regard for them.

Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps. But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!"

The prophet Micah, like many others, offers a similar sentiment:

"With what shall I come before the Lord and bow down before the exalted God?

Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?

Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousand rivers of olive oil?

Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?

He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly[a] with your God."

Then Jesus comes on the scene and passionately carries the message of the prophets forward. God puts skin on and reveals through his teachings and actions that the Kingdom of God is breaking forth in a different way. The people of God are to sacrificially pursue shalom in the world, a reality in which nothing is missing and nothing is broken. People are reconciled to God and to each other. The two cannot be separated. Jesus has some of his harshest words for the religious elite who neglect holistic care for the vulnerable in order to display an image of moral purity:

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness." - Matthew 23:23

"As he taught, Jesus said, 'Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. They devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. These men will be punished most severely.'" - Mark 12:38-40

Jesus' interactions with the Pharisees throughout the gospels are fascinating and instructive for us today. No doubt many of these religious leaders had good intentions. They wanted to be faithful to God. Some were likely corrupt and power hungry but others were most certainly following God the best they knew how given the context in which they were formed. Yet, they often missed the mark because they envisioned a God who was more interested in an uncorrupted group of "pure" people than a group who got their hands dirty partnering with God to bring about justice and shalom.

More pragmatically, let's consider that we live in an increasingly pluralistic society. If Christians only link arms with those who have same worldview and set of motivations then the work of justice is dramatically limited. In its most absurd form there are Christians who won't work for justice alongside other Christians who have different theology. I believe we limit the Kingdom of God in the world when we lack the ability to find common ground with those whom we also have disagreements. As we find common ground let's be unapologetic that our motivation, commitment and vision come for Jesus being our Lord. But we can collaborate with people of other faiths and of no faith at all who care about mending the cracks in society where people are falling through. We can recognize and celebrate the goodness of their desire to care for vulnerable people while lovingly bringing Jesus into the areas of difference.

If you find yourself so concerned about the organizational platform that of Black Lives Matter that you thoughtfully find alternative ways to courageously pursue the conviction that black lives really do matter then that's just fine. I respect that. In fact, this represents much of my own engagement. What I struggle to respect is an attitude of self-righteous defiance. Jesus was less concerned about image management than we are. Over the past few months I haven't been able to shake this thought that Jesus would more likely be at a protest with "sinners" in solidarity with the cries of injustice than in the clean and safe confines of a church.

5. Race relations have gotten so much better in America. We ought to celebrate the progress.

There is one question that God keeps bringing me back to: What posture is more likely to usher in the Kingdom of God in our time and our place...congratulating ourselves for how far we have come? Or recognizing how far we still have to go and stewarding our lives to further advance racial justice?

I'm convinced it's the latter, and this posture can still include a recognition and celebration of all the progress that has been made.

I've noticed a fundamental difference between the perspectives of those who believe strongly in systemic racial injustice and those who tend to downplay systemic concerns: How racist has our country been in the past? And how much does past history impact current reality? The way we answer these questions significantly impacts our positions.

Barna, a Christian research company, collected recent data that suggest that 48% of current white Christians still don't agree that "historically, the United States has been oppressive to minorities". How desperately we need a basic American history 101 course! I recently read James H Cone's powerful book The Cross and the Lynching Tree. Less than 100 years ago black Americans could be publicly tortured and execute on a lynching tree while the perpetrators faced no legal ramifications. This is unthinkable to me. The lynching tree became a gathering place of entertainment and celebration. In chilling detail Cone describes the reality of the lynching era between 1890 and 1940:

"By the 1890s, lynching fever gripped the south, spreading like cholera, as white communities made blacks their primary target, and torture their focus. Burning the black victim slowly for hours was the chief method of torture. Lynching became a white media spectacle, in which prominent newspapers, like the Atalanta Constitution, announced to the public the place, date and time of the expected hanging and burning of black victims. Often as many as ten to twenty thousand men, women, and children attended the event. It was a family affair, a ritual celebration of white supremacy, where women and children were often given the first opportunity to torture black victims - burning flesh and cutting off genitals, fingers, toes, and ears and souvenirs. Postcards were made from photographs taken of black victims with white lynchers and onlookers smiling as they struck a pose for the camera. They were sold for ten to twenty five cents to members of the crowd, who then mailed them to relatives and friends, often with a note saying something like this: 'This is the barbeque we had last night'"

When I enter history like this, which is fairly recent by historical standards, I realize that it's nothing short of a miracle that in 2020 we have so many thriving black individuals and families in our society.

I believe America has a brutal and grotesque history of racism. I'm not sure how anyone can dispute this assertation. Additionally I believe that our long history of racism, and the narrative that white bodies are better than black or brown ones, continues to have an impact on people of color today. How can the progress of the last few decades (and there have been steps backwards along the way) erase centuries of chilling racism?

6. There are other justice issues I'm much more passionate about. We can't do everything!

I sympathize with where this statement comes from. Many of us are exhausted from being bombarded by all of the atrocities and injustices of our world. When we feel like we are responsible to engage each justice issue we either 1) feel paralyzed and don't do anything or 2) over-exert ourselves and burn out. We must hold a proper theology of calling, one that recognizes that we aren't called to do everything but we are called to do something. We must give a purposeful yes to something when it comes to caring for the vulnerable.

I do think there is something uniquely important about white Christians engaging issues of racial justice. Why? Because we have entered a long narrative in which white people have oppressed black and brown bodies. A narrative of racial hierarchy has justified all sorts of oppression in our country. Racism is our nation's original sin...the embryotic fluid in which our nation was born. Racial injustice may not become our primary area of social justice engagement but that doesn't mean that we have permission to ignore it altogether. As a white Christians in America with our history of racism what does it look like to live out a gospel of reconciliation? Answering this question may not lead to racial injustice being our primary area of calling, but avoidance doesn't seem to be an option either. An American church, with a long history of justifying racism, if it is truly repentant, will work courageously to denounce racism in all of it's forms and diligently repair what's broken. This type of ongoing repentance can look a million ways and be shaped by our particular calling and context, but the white church must recognize how our social location impacts our responsibility in bringing a gospel of reconciliation.

7. Talking about race is too political. The church must be non-political

The church should never hitch their wagon to a political party and promote that platform as the only Christian choice. Partisan idolatry must be challenged. But some people deploy ideas of being "non-political" to run away from the hard conversations of our day that impact real lives. I think it is impossible for us to love our neighbor without being political (in the broad sense). Politics is about the ordering and structuring of society in order to promote the common good. And the politic of Jesus followers is beautifully distinctive because we are called to engage our community selflessly as we put the needs of our neighbor (in particular our suffering neighbor) above our own.

The irony of this call by some white American evangelicals to be non-political has not slipped my mind. More broadly, most people in our country today assume that white evangelical churches are synonymous with politics. And this assumption is not without merit. The research is everywhere and it’s been a key reason why younger generations have grown skeptical about church and faith. Don't believe me? Just follow Ryan Burge (professor of political science at Eastern Illinois University who specializes in the relationship between religion and political behavior) on twitter.

Many white churches are already political in many ways. Do the cries for being apolitical mean that anti-abortion efforts must cease? Since much of the political engagement seems to fit with conservative politics, which is the critical mass of white churches and the overwhelming historical reality of American evangelicalism, this kind of political engagement hasn't been a concern. Are we willing to reckon with the hypocricy?

The cries to resist politics at church don't bother me if we are talking about resisting partisan agendas.

Jesus followers must be on guard to never be seduced into faithfulness to a political platform over Jesus. Consequently, church leaders should sometimes sound left and sometimes right. As Tim Keller has pointed out, the early church was based on 5 principles: multi-ethnic (racial justice), oriented towards the poor (economic justice), conciliatory (if you hurt us we won’t hurt you), pro-life (against infanticide and throwing away babies) and a sexual counter-culture (recognizing God places boundaries on our sexual desire for our own good). The first two sound very Democratic. The latter two sound very Republican. The middle category seems to be rarely found on either side. But the early church was political and it was because of the courage to engage the real issues of the day that the church grew. The growth was primarily from converts from oppressed demographics precisely because of this counter-cultural kingdom ethic. Without a political (but non-partisan) voice I’m concerned we will lose our prophetic voice and have proactively determined that we will be moderate at best, or dismissive at worse, of the most pressing issues of our day.

There seems to be an idea within much of white American evangelicalism that Satan and the forces of evil only operate on the left. Do we not think that evil ideologies and idolatries are present within conservative frameworks as well? I’m convinced both are true. Are we willing to pay attention and courageously dismantle them both?

8. Issues of racial justice are too divisive. We must prioritize unity of the church.

Several months ago pastor Jon Onwucheckwa shared why he decided to leave the Southern Baptist Convention. In a nutshell, Jon was convinced that an implication of the gospel was a call to racial reconciliation but from his perspective the SBC was unwilling to courageously repent of its racist past, clearly denounce present racism and courageous pursue justice. He realized that he was on the wrong vehicle (the SBC) to get to his desired destination (a gospel that includes racial justice). He had to get off the bus.

I was especially struck by his comments related to unity:

"Understand, unity is a goal, but unity in and of itself is not a vice or a virtue. Unity is a vehicle. The most important thing about a vehicle is who or what’s driving. Bad guys are unified—but their unity doesn’t do much good! To solely emphasize unity without addressing the sources of disunity (i.e., racial injustice and inequality) is to confuse the goal with the pathway. If unity is the goal, then fighting for racial equality is a pathway to achieving it."

Like Jon Onwucheckwa, I'm convinced that calls that intend to silence difficult conversations on race will never actually lead to unity. Instead, artificial harmony, not true unity, will be the result. There is a big difference. Side-stepping messy conversations on race may keep the boat from rocking in the short term but there is a leak in the hull.

Avoidance for the sake of unity is an attractive short term option for church leaders who are judged on their ability grow the three B's: butts in seats, budgets and buildings. However, It's only when a community (whether 2 people or 200) courageously work through difficult stuff in love that real unity can be realized. James Baldwin once said "not every problem that is faced can be solved. But no problem can be solved that is not faced". Many white Christians are unwilling to courageously and honestly face the breadth and depth of racism in America's story and the white church's role in it.

I've been influenced heavily by Richard Rohr's reflections on unity. For Rohr unity is not about uniformity. In other words, it's a huge mistake to think the demographical or theological homogeneity will lead to a flourishing and God-honoring church. This approach may provide a more comfortable environment, larger attendance and a thicker church budget but it falls woefully short of a New Testament vision for church. Rohr offers a more compelling and biblical understanding of unity: "diversity protected by love".

We can confuse uniformity with unity and assume that all conflict threatens the health of the church. Like a bicep that never lifts weights, our avoidance of healthy resistance (conflict, difficult conversations, etc.) atrophies the health of our communities. Like Brenda Salter McNeil, David Swanson and Jemar Tisby all advocate for in their recent books, we ought to pursue racial justice rather than diversity. Diversity goals often collapse into cheap and superficial demographic data. You can't illustrate racial justice on a webpage picture or a graph on an end of year report. It's messier and more relational than that. When cheap diversity is the end goal we can get different looking people in the same room without wrestling with the ugliness of our history. This pursuit of truth will ruffle feather and is likely to come with tension but it's still necessary.

In a recent interview pastor Mike Erre, in reference to nationalism and partisanship within the white church, said, "I don't think we have permission any more to sit while massive idolatry has gripped the church and say: hey guys this is all cool...In the name of unity we are all cool. Contempt isn't going to get us there but neither is not telling the truth". I agree.

Unity is certainly an important value. Yet, when unity becomes our top value we avoid critical conversations and navigate life with a play-it-safe posture when it comes to issues of racial justice. Unity should be a value among other critical values like TRUTH. A pursuit of unity without a relentless commitment to truth just leads to artificial harmony anyway. It's like putting a band-aid on a deep wound.

In closing, we must respond courageously and competently to the resistance in the work of racial justice. We do so prayerfully, hoping the defensive walls can slowly topple down so that our brothers and sisters can begin taking steps towards Jesus. We also recognize that those resistant to racial justice in the church are also children of God with inexpressible worth. We, like so many before us, challenge the resistance because we love them.

In my next blog post I will continue reflecting on racial justice and the church. How do we, with positive energy, construct a vision for why meaningful engagement in racial justice matters for white Christians?