By Jason Wredberg —
As believers in the Lord Jesus Christ, we hate evil of every kind, and we love everyone who bears His image.
At least we should.
Over time, as we all navigate life in a fallen world, it is easy for us to to become complacent and aloof. Each day brings a new story of injustice, suffering, and senseless violence. Of course, based on a thousand factors, we all react to these stories in very different ways. The ubiquity of social media demands that we respond immediately and far too often, simplistically. It is not a virtue to take time to consider what has happened before speaking.
While what I’ve just stated is undeniably true, I have realized an unhealthy pattern in my life. I’ve excused my complacency by calling it a desire to be careful. I do want to exercise wisdom in my responses, but I don’t want to overlook clear circumstances when speaking up immediately is both good and necessary. I want to have the boldness to say, “This is evil. Enough is enough.” In particular, I want my black brothers and sisters to hear me speak out as quickly and clearly about the continued injustice they experience as I do about the ongoing and wicked practice of abortion.
The horrific death of George Floyd, in the city just next-door to where I peacefully live and pastor, has jarred me from my slumber. And yet, I know that my black brothers and sisters feel something—something deeper and more profound than I have ever known. I have never known the fear they feel. I have never known the injustice they regularly experience. I have never battled the sense of hopelessness they must unrelentingly face.
I’ll admit that I don’t entirely know what to say. To use the terminology of Phillip Holmes, I am feeling more and more uncomfortable, by God’s grace. I’m realizing that my biggest problem has been my lack of love. I want to love like Jesus. And I simply haven’t. If my love ran deeper, I think my voice would grow louder.
And so, as I sort out what God is calling to me to do—as a believer, pastor, husband, father, neighbor, and Minnesotan—I encourage you to read Phillip’s article slowly, and prayerfully.
Here is his sobering and hopeful conclusion:
We all should be uncomfortable about the injustice in our country. For many Christians, facing the reality that America still has a race problem is uncomfortable. Until we’re able to listen to the cries of black advocates, sympathize with black mothers, and express righteous anger over dead black bodies, we might remain comfortable—but it’s a poor substitute for the love to which we’ve been called.