I am not black. I am not a white person who identifies as black (apparently you can do that these days). I AM a white woman married to a white man who has been the pastor of a black church for three years. We are also the white parents of a black child. We are also all Christians.
Last night, our church was hosting a summer reading program for community youth followed by our regular Wednesday night Bible study and service. We were gathered around God's Word just like any other Wednesday around here. Meanwhile, our brothers and sisters in Christ just south of us were gathered around that same Word. My church family thankfully went home refreshed and filled with the Gospel; while our extended church family was dealing with the aftermath of a horrible crime against them as people, as black people, and as Christians. I praise God from whom all blessings flow that those who were murdered in such a fashion are now with Christ, but I mourn for the rest of their earthly families and their extended church families across the country.
Given our unique situation in a southern black church, I just felt the need to talk to all of you for a few minutes - to open my heart and mind in an honest fashion. I can't say that what I am about to write will be beautiful, but I can say that it will be real. I pray that these words are accepted as they are meant to be - the mournful thoughts of a Christian woman who has learned so much in the past three years in this black church and community and the past five years with our black son.
For the past three years, I would venture to guess that not a single week has gone by that I didn't have a passing thought and fear about my husband being shot. Now, this may seem pretty common for a policemen's wife or a military spouse, but for a pastor's wife in the U.S.? How ridiculous are my emotions that stem from my lack of trust in God?
I fear a racist white person who can't believe the ignorance of that white man who hangs out with black people.
I fear a racist black person who can't believe the audacity of a white man to think he can lord it over black people like that.
I fear anyone who can't believe those idiots think they can raise a black child.
I fear.
I don't trust.
I look at the world around us, one so filled with hatred, and I collapse a little inside.
And you know what? I may not be black or even identify as black, but I can identify with a little of that life fear. I can't know what it is like to grow up black. I can't know what it is like to hear about yet another one of my race's members being shot - by someone of my race or another, with just causes or not.
I can't know.
After three years, I can tell you that I know it so much more than I ever did before; and yet the more that I know it, the more I understand I will never know it. In so many ways, the black community has many reasons to fear this world and be angry at the injustices.
So, where can black Christians turn for solace from such hate?
Where we all need to turn - Jesus Christ alone.
And that is what makes this current crime so unimaginable to my weak and beaten heart. For when a group of black Christians joined for the healing of God's Word, they were attacked. Their color was attacked and their Christianity was attacked. A doubly horrible hate crime.
Many have questioned why we need "black churches" in our country. Explaining the history of such a deep rooted issue is not the scope of my thoughts today, but I will say that black churches are not different from many other churches. We are a community of people who are related, live close, and invite those we have connections with in our lives. In general for our church members, that involves being part of the larger black community. So, members are black. And there is great comfort in knowing those around you can understand your life and fears in a deep way. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that unless it is an exclusive black-only or white-only or whatever-only group that wouldn't allow someone of a different race. Christianity is for all races and peoples, and our church welcomes all (by seen in the color of their pastor and family).
However, as a regular attender of a black church, I can tell you that the sight of white people is rare and noticeable. There is an unsaid (and sometimes said) feeling of, "White people don't come back." This usually holds true, and I don't mean to judge white people for this, either, because as I stated before, there is comfort in fitting in where you worship. And although I am not privy to any information in the murder of our fellow Christians in South Carolina, and I have no idea if the man who committed this crime had attended before or if he was a stranger, I can tell you that some black Christians throughout the country will be feeling the tinge of fear associated with white strangers for awhile. Church loses some of its comfort in fear.
But while we can't assure anyone of even a church without racist people, because racism exists in places where you find sinners (in church and not in church), it is the place we find Christ, the One who died for all races.
So, to you, frightened black Christian, know that I may not be the same color as you on the outside, but I do recognize and acknowledge your fears. They are real on this earth.
Amazingly, what is even more real is Christ's death and resurrection for all sinners, of which I am the chief.
The Church is where you find the forgiveness of sins, the Word, Baptism, the Lord's Supper, and the joy of fellowship of believers. The Church is where you find those who pray for their enemies - even those who murder us for our beliefs or our skin tone. The Church is where you find your brothers and sisters in Christ.
And only there, you can still find His solace - a peace which passes all understanding.
