It's Complicated

Now before I lose you let me explain why. Let me first say without a single doubt, hesitation, or addendum: Black lives matter. They do, they really, really, really do. Until we can make that statement with out following it up with a "but.." or "all lives..." or some other diminishing formulation, black lives will not truly matter as much as mine at a systemic level. We have to be able to claim emphatically that black lives matter.

Here's what I know to be true:

I have never, as a driver, been pulled over by the police. I have never been stopped by the police for any reason, I have never been questioned by the police about another suspect, nor have I been given any more direction from an officer of the law than when they are directing traffic. The last time, and really only time where I was old enough to be aware of anything while I was in a vehicle that was being pulled over was in 2008. I was a Sophomore in college and my friend and I had driven out to his home town, about an hour and a half away from our college to pick up the latest Halo game that he had reserved. It was after midnight when we were driving back to school and we were so excited to play this game, we had planned to stay up all night to beat it, that my friend was driving about 20 miles over the speed limit on the freeway.
We were pulled over.
The officer asked for my friend's license and registration, and then asked why we were going so fast. Rather than simply tell him, I pulled out the Halo game and energy drinks from the bag down by my feet.
I didn't think about it.
I didn't think at all about the fact that the officer could not see what was in the bag, did not know who we were, or would think anything of it. When I reached down into that bag, that officer did not tense up, he didn't move his hand to his gun, his hand wasn't already on his gun when he approached the vehicle. He let me pull out the game and drinks without giving me any orders, he was relaxed, he was calm, he thought it was funny. He then let my friend and I go with a warning, "just drive safer."
At that time I did not think anything of that incident. I did not analyze it. I did not question it. I did not think about how that encounter would have played out differently if we had not been college students or if we had not been white.
I know that that encounter would not have been the same, even though I know that thousands of young black men encounter the police in a way that does not threaten their lives, I know that over 400 have lost theirs so far this year. I know that Philando Castile was shot and killed during a routine traffic stop while he was still buckled into his seat, with his girlfriend and child in the car, just after he was asked for his license and registration. I know Philando was somebody's child, parent, friend, parishioner, boyfriend, role model, reason for breathing.

I know that our perspective can get distorted by the stories we tell. I remember hearing the way the media and police officials described 12 year old Tamir Rice. 5' 7" 195 lbs. He was big, almost like a man. He was too big, too scary, too threatening. Tamir's size justified in some way the actions of two officers who rolled up and shot him in under 3 seconds. That one hit me differently. I remembered that when I was a kid, my friends and I liked to play with airsoft guns around our neighborhoods and parks. We dressed up in "tactical" gear and played soldiers. We had organized formations, strategies, we played war together. Then I remembered those numbers. 5' 7" 195 lbs. Tamir was about my size when I was 12. And never before in my life had I ever thought to consider the consequences of my actions. Would someone have thought that 12 year old 5' 7" 185 lbs Ben was wielding a real gun? Would someone have thought that my friends and I were real soldiers, man sized soldiers, coming to take over their neighborhood?
I don't think 12 year old me could have been a threat to any adult. I don't think I ever really was. No one would have killed me and used my size as justification, nor would my size have been repeated in the news, or be immediately pulled up in some vague google search.



I know that Tamir was somebody's child, friend, parishioner, reason for breathing.

I know that just last night, at a peaceful protest to the violence and fear that many in the black community feel when encountering the police, several people planned, organized and carried out an attack that seems to have targeted the police.
I know that today, tomorrow and years from now this shooting will not bring healing, it will only bring more pain, more fear, more death. I know that some people will use this as an excuse for fear.
I know that five police officers have lost their lives. I know that they too were somebody's children, parents, friends, parishioners, spouses, role models, reason for breathing.

It's not complicated because there is moral ambiguity. It's not complicated because some people aren't perfect victims. It's not complicated because the law is unclear.

It's complicated because the sin of racism, of hatred, of fear makes us believe it is so. Every life that is taken is felt in ways that extend far beyond an individual. Every life that is taken has the potential to drive us farther apart, into deeper divide, into more alienation, more rhetoric, and more pain. My soul aches for those officers killed while trying to protect citizen's rights to peacefully protest police actions.
My soul aches for every young person who is killed, especially those who are black and killed by those sanctioned to protect and serve their communities. My soul aches for those who are killed and whose families will find no trial for their killers.

We do not survive a sinking ship by making more holes, or by ignoring the ones we have. We have to brave the deluge, work together to mend, to repair, and to heal. We have to be willing to face scrutiny, criticism, and questioning. We have to be willing to abandon our desire to be right so that our sisters and brothers can simply breathe, and we all can live. We have to be willing to deal with this complication, this racism, this hatred, and our perception of it.

Remember, it is not distance, or fear, or violence, or distrust, or suspicion that will save us. It isn't body armor or a weapon. It isn't increased security, it isn't more boots on the ground.
It is love.
It is love.
It is love.
It is love.
It is love.
We were made in love, by love, to love. It is only by surrendering to love that we will dismantle this racism, this fear, this hatred and this violence.

God give us your love, that we would take your grace and never look at one another the same.

φόβος οὐκ ἔστιν ἐν τῇ ἀγάπῃ ἀλλ’ ἡ τελεία ἀγάπη ἔξω βάλλει τὸν φόβον 
(There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. - 1 John 4:18a)

War on Christmas

While they were there, the time came for Mary to have her baby. She gave birth to her firstborn child, a son, wrapped him snugly, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the guestroom. - Luke 2:6-7

I don't know if y'all feel it, but this year is just hitting hard.

What I'm really feeling right now the constant, unending, and brutal justification of violence in our country, and I have never felt further away from the Christmas story.

And then there was this:



If you didn't watch the video here's the pertinent quote:

"I just want to point out that there had been these protests in Times Square, right outside of our building here for the last week or so, since the non-indictment came down in the Ferguson situation. So, I mean, I certainly hope nothing is going to happen here in New York City today, and we've got the tree lighting ceremony."

 I hope nothing is going to happen... We've got the tree lighting ceremony

If there has ever been a war on Christmas, it has been the slow, purposeful stripping away of other's humanity.
The very reason we celebrate Christmas is because of the glory of the God-with-Us.
Emmanuel.
God made flesh.
We celebrate because in the midst of all of the chaos of the world, in the midst of our pain and suffering, God came bursting into life, crying, irritated, and in need of mother's milk.
Jesus being born into the world is about more than a birthday. It is the surest message from God that our lives matter. Our pain matters. Our flesh matters.
The central message of the Christmas story is that our humanity matters to God.

And yet, with another non-indictment in the killing of yet another black American, the response from major news sources, white Christians, and others has been the callous disregard for human life.

Remember an indictment just means that something will go to trial. So to not indict means that there is NO evidence to suggest any wrong doing whatsoever. Not even a question.

In the case of rioting, with shops being burnt, there were calls for the heads of those doing the rioting. There was condemnation of those practicing peaceful protests, but rarely was there anyone white or in the media looking to understand why. Why it is that people protest, why it is that some people riot. Because the conclusion that most white people and most people in the media came to was that

property ranks higher than black lives.

Gosh, I just hope black people don't protest the non-inictment of Eric Garner's killer in NYC. It would really be just terrible to ruin Christmas.

That mentality, the one that places things above people; the one that justifies the killing of one person because they supposedly sold individual cigarettes instead of being licensed to sell the whole pack; the one that says your pain is not worth my time. The one that says every time some one who looks like you dies, no matter if they weren't armed, no matter if they weren't actually a threat, no matter if they were in an accident and looking for help, no matter if they are an adult or a child, they deserved to die.

That is the war on Christmas.

Because it is antithetical to everything God set out to do.
And when I sit down with my family this year to celebrate the birth of Christ, I know this to be true more than ever: We need God. We need Christmas. We need a win.

Black lives matter to God. Eric Garner mattered to God. When people are upset by the lack of justice, or the lack of an admittance of wrong-doing in cases like Eric Garner, and our first response is to focus on how their pain inconveniences us. We walk away from Christ. We walk away from God. And I guarantee you, we do not get an invitation to the manger.

I am tired of the phony, pathetic excuses we make. I am tired of the mantra of the war on Christmas because I know 9 times out of 10 that war is a weak excuse to distract us from the real threats to Christmas.
I am tired of this sinfulness, and I know there are many people who have felt this for far longer than I have, who've lived it more deeply and experienced it more intimately.

This year I'm doing something about it and I hope you'll join me. I'll start with a prayer:

O Lord, anytime we make an excuse for the death of another human being, or anytime we place a pretty tree above someone else's pain, God, remind us that people like Eric Garner matter to you. Remind us that Jesus was born into this world for Eric's pain. Remind us that Jesus shares in his suffering. Remind us of what Jesus was born for, that on Christmas morning, Jesus was brought into this world to know what it is like to die Eric's death. Forgive us for our sin of hatred, apathy, and racism. And if we cannot meet you there God, remind us of how far away from that manger scene we really are. Amen.

How Long O Lord?

"Lord, how long will I call for help and you not listen? I cry out to you, 'Violence!' but you don't deliver us. Why do you show me injustice and look at anguish so that devastation and violence are before me? There is strife, and conflict abounds. The Instruction is ineffective. Justice does not endure because the wicked surround the righteous. Justice becomes warped." - Habakkuk 1:2-4

Last night the verdict was read in the case against Darren Wilson, the white Ferguson police officer who shot and killed an unarmed 18 year old black youth named Michael Brown.
That verdict was the product and the result of hundreds of years of racial oppression, subjugation and segregation that underlines, scores and marks the fabric our nation, our communities and our relationships to this day.

This day, Today.
Today is a painful reminder of just how long the moral arc of the universe really is.
Today many brothers and sisters of color have woken up from the hope of justice and returned to the bleak reality of systemic racism that puts a price on their life and a millstone around their neck.

Today many continue to remark that #blacklivesmatter. However, making the proclamation more often than not feels like shouting into the void.
Yes, #blacklivesmatter.

Yes, #blacklivesmatter. They matter to black people, they matter to me, they even matter to other white people even in the face of the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

This is perhaps the most difficult aspect of that proclamation. That even while I proclaim #blacklivesmatter I know that the devaluation of those lives is a very real, persistent, and present threat.

As a nation we need our "come to Jesus" moment. We idle in the sin of racial injustice, too many made comfortable by its false promises. For most white folks, today we wake up and it is business as usual. No assumptions have been challenged, no hearts convicted. We continue to idle in sin while our brothers and sisters cry out, and many of us have the audacity to discount their cries, as if their pain is the true violence which shakes us.

So warped has sin made us that the reality of trials such as this one is that it is in fact the dead who are put on trial. Those who cannot respond for themselves are assessed of their innocence or guilt. Those who cannot give testimony to their version of events are expected to have their full perspective represented by the one who killed them. The result, more often than not, is that the dead are found guilty. The dead deserved to die. Michael Brown needed to die. He was dangerous, though he was unarmed, he was a threat to white lives, and he had to die. What other conclusion can be drawn from a refusal to indict?

By affirming Darren Wilson's decision to kill Michael Brown, the Grand Jury asserted two very powerful messages: Michael's death was justified; #blacklivesdon'tmatter

What other lesson is there for young people, white and black alike, looking in to discern how they should best relate to one another?

That's what hurts the most. Black lives are devalued every time this happens. Black lives are proven to be less valuable than those of their white neighbors, and thus the cycle of violence, systemic violence, marches on.

Indeed, Justice does not endure because the wicked surround the righteous. Justice becomes warped.

Today justice has been warped, delayed, subverted, denied.

Today we again wait for the moral arc of the universe to bend toward justice.

But now it's not for Michael Brown, not for Eric Garner, or Trayvon Martin, Ezell Ford, Orlando Barlow, Oscar Grant, Renisha McBride, Dante Parker, Jordan Davis, John Crawford, Alonzo Ashley, Kimani Gray, Danta Price, Steven Eugene Washington, Victor Steen, Sean Bell, Aiyana Stanley-Jones, Wendell Allen, Aaron Campbell, Kendrec McDade, Bo Morrison, Timothy Stansbury Jr., Timothy Russell, Jerean Blake, Jonathan Ferrell, Amandou Diallo, Ervin Jefferson, Angelo Clark, Steven Rodriguez, Johnnie Kamahi Warren, Nehemiah Dillard, Stephen Watts, Michael Lembhard, Tendai Nhekairo, Manuel Loggins Jr., Rekia Boyd, Melvin Lawhorn, Marquez Smart, Patrick Dorismond, James Brissette, Jersey Green, Ousmane Zongo, Duane Brown, Justin Sipp, Christopher Kissane, Raymond Allen, Travares McGill, or Sheron Jackson,

Now we wait for Tamir Rice, a twelve year old black child killed by police.

How long O Lord?