It's a word game we used to play. Say something. Something. I've been playing it with myself these past few days with a different ending. "Say something.... I don't want to say the wrong thing; I don't want to make things worse; I don't have the platform to say anything; I don't have the right to say anything; others are saying it better.... Endless excuses to remain silent. But I woke with these lyrics in my head just now... Say something, I'm giving up on you.. and I know I have to add my something to the narrative. For Aaron and Oscar and Paula and Michael and Debbie and Chaundra and Jonathan and Shari. And George and Ahmaud and David. And Emmalyn and Ella Bea and Madison and Coleman. And you. And me.
Racism is sin. If we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness. I confess. No excuses. No exceptions. Forgive me, I pray.
The world is so very broken. The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-hearted. Excerpt from Jesus' mission statement. Where there is broken-ness, there needs a binding up. Bandage us, O God, as we bandage one another.
The way forward? There are no easy answers. The best I can think of is to practice the discipline of regard. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. And regard begets love. Ah, there it is. Love. Now that is something. The best something. The only something.
Summary: Confess, Bandage, Regard, Love, Repeat. Selah.
I John 1:9 ; Isaiah 61:1; Philippians 2:3
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