It’s a little late to post this, but I feel like I can’t move on with my blog until I address some thoughts that have been pinballing around in my brain. So, here it is: the blog I didn’t really feel like posting.
My Thanksgiving was lovely and quirky and very Angelo. While the rest of the country was on fire over Ferguson events and aftermath, I was preoccupied with making sure that my first holiday ham didn’t burn. We spent the break with my cousins, and had a riotous time which included Las Vegas, Full-Contact Monopoly, the assembly of and experimentation with a Back Inversion Table, and high school basketball games. There are many inside jokes and awkward quotes from the visit which I would love to share with you, but would be highly inappropriate for the internet. Angelo functions are definitely uncensored.
On the day of our departure, all the cousins made an appearance at Grandma’s church. As with most grandparents, she was thrilled to show off so much of her progeny. We played our role well: we smiled, shook hands, accepted loaves of bread, fake laughed when necessary, and sat in our pew. As I sat in the pew, transfixed by the piercing stare of the overly attractive image of Jesus on the projector screen (Isaiah 53:2, anyone?), my (half Jamaican) cousin leaned over and whispered, “My brother and I are the only black people in the room…and Grandma says this place is America.” “Hah…yeah…” I snickered in response, “the darkest thing in the building is the coffee.”
But as we sat, silently laughing together at the gross misrepresentation of the population, I wondered how I hadn’t noticed it before. I’d only noticed Jesus’ beautiful green eyes, not the paleness of the people around me. I notice when I’m the minority, but not when someone else is. I notice when I’m the only English speaker at the Spanish congregation. When I was one of few white kids in my high school. When my cousins took us to a soul food restaurant in Las Vegas and all eyes turned on me and my sister. But at grandma’s church? I was in my element. I didn’t notice.
What’s my point? Well, certainly not that my grandma’s church should be condemned for it’s caucasian constituency. No. I just think it’s worth reminding you that you have prejudices, no matter who you are. You have prejudices, and you probably also tend to view the world from your own perspective. So whether it’s someone with a different color of skin or a different shade of doctrine, next time you’re judging or ignoring or just plain writing them off, pause for a moment.
Over these past few months, I’ve seen a lot of posts by a lot of people with a lot of opinions about racial and political topics. So, my second point is that, for a Christian, your freedom of speech is freedom to speak for Christ. Your purpose on this earth is to live for Christ, and living for Christ also includes using your words to glorify Him, too. Freedom to speak for a Christ who chose to appear in a Middle Eastern body and who probably didn’t have piercing green eyes. A Christ who, when asked about his political views, chose to avoid giving any answer that would detract from His gospel. A Christ who united a zealot and a tax collector, who united Jews and Gentiles. Basically, if your politics are screaming louder than our Savior’s gospel, your priorities need their own inversion table. If your bad news is distracting people from the good news, there are bigger issues afoot. I’m not trying to minimize any realities or injustices, I just think it’s worth taking the time to reflect on how your personal agenda fits into His.
Oh, and happy Christmas, Harry. My gift to you is an assortment of awkward pictures form my Thanksgiving holiday: