Brother. Sister. Black and white. Made in His image.
Made for connection. Made for unification.
I can never begin to understand how it feels. And never begin to understand how it could be this way. How could it actually be this way?
As a child I was never taught to see colour. People were people. Kids were kids. My skin was pink and yours was brown, my eyes were were green and yours were gold – we knew nothing of black and white.
The discovery that others did was a shock.
Shock quickly turned to disgust and absolute horror – they showed me that not only was colour seen but colour was judged. But only yours…
I remember the exact time and place when it was first revealed to me that my best friend with chocolate skin would never be accepted in the world that I had been born in, despised even. To that world it made no difference that neither he nor I had chosen the skin we were in and that neither he or no I were any different to each other. As a child I did not understand. As an adult I understand it less.
He mattered to me. He was my best.
And as I grew there was more… The day I discovered that it was my own kind who had fashioned and perpetuated the disgusting lie; my own kind who had betrayed me and made me ashamed to be white. How could they? How could I?!
I remember crying for three days at least – the pain I felt could not be put into words. My heart was ripped to shreds at the depravity of humanity and my beautiful world was shattered by the introduction of hate – yet still nothing close to the category and brutality of experience of my brother, my sister of colour.
Now I am grown, I have children of my own. Being colour blind is no longer enough, it’s the thing of children. A childish thing. Seeing no colour means seeing no diversity. Seeing no beauty in the diversity of creation. Seeing no beauty in the diversity of the Creator. We owe our children more than that…
But seeing you through the eyes of our Father means seeing all of you. All of you is also all of the life you live. It is not like mine. And mine is not like yours. Yet the freedom I live in will never be true until you live free too. Yes all lives matter, it’s true. But what is more true is that my life can never really matter until yours does too. And it’s not enough to say in just words, or even heartfelt sentiment (no matter how sincere or true), not until I stand with my white arm linked with yours and our collective broken hearts pour in tears down our cheeks as we shout together, “Black Lives Matter.”
What you and I choose to do today and how we choose to engage with this, will shape the future for our children. So far we have failed – we have all failed. There has to be a better way. A better choice. He says I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. Choose Truth, choose Life, choose Me. He remains my Author and yours, the Potter of our clay. My words and questions and declarations are flawed, they always miss the mark. But He does not. And He sees you in perfect Love. And He sees me the same.
We need to do better. We need redemption. We need repentance. We need grace. We need You Holy Spirit. Come Holy Spirit and set us free.