From the website http://www.juneteenth.com/history.htm
Juneteenth is the oldest nationally celebrated commemoration of the ending of slavery in the United States. Dating back to 1865, it was on June 19th that the Union soldiers, led by Major General Gordon Granger, landed at Galveston, Texas with news that the war had ended and that the enslaved were now free. Note that this was two and a half years after President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation – which had become official January 1, 1863. The Emancipation Proclamation had little impact on the Texans due to the minimal number of Union troops to enforce the new Executive Order. However, with the surrender of General Lee in April of 1865, and the arrival of General Granger’s regiment, the forces were finally strong enough to influence and overcome the resistance.
We are reminded this day of the long and painful road of reconciliation. It would be two and a half years from the time of Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation until the slaves of Texas would actually be free. But even then, we know that reconciliation was and is still a long way off. Even now we long for it to come. A Psalm for this day:
Psalm 28
To you, Lord, I call; you are my Rock, do not turn a deaf ear to me. For if you remain silent, I will be like those who go down to the pit. Hear my cry for mercy as I call to you for help, as I lift up my hands toward your Most Holy Place.
Do not drag me away with the wicked, with those who do evil, who speak cordially with their neighbors but harbor malice in their hearts. Repay them for their deeds and for their evil work; repay them for what their hands have done and bring back on them what they deserve.
Because they have no regard for the deeds of the Lord and what his hands have done, he will tear them down and never build them up again.
Praise be to the Lord, for he has heard my cry for mercy. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I praise him.
The Lord is the strength of his people, a fortress of salvation for his anointed one. Save your people and bless your inheritance; be their shepherd and carry them forever.
Blessings, Stephen
Credit: Top image taken from a public post on Asbury Theological Seminary's Facebook page.
In March, our church Hope Wesleyan made the decision to suspend its in-person worship services. The primary foundation for this decision was a commitment as a church to love and serve our neighbors. In Ephesians 5, Paul’s charge is to “Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us . . . .” Jesus loved us by laying down his life for us while we were still his enemy. When we were asked not to meet in-person but to find other creative ways to meet, we gladly accepted this inconvenience as an expression of our love for our neighbors. This commitment forms the foundation of our organizing for the return to in-person worship. Our first priority is the safety and well-being of our church family and the wider community. Our second priority is the public reputation of Hope in our community and the wider Christian church. In 1 Corinthians 11, Paul is addressing problems within the church at Corinth. He says this to them, “In the following directives I have no praise for you, for your meetings do more harm than good” (vs. 17). He then describes destructive divisions and favoritism within the community. For the sake of the church community and its witness in the city, it would have been better if they had not met. It is possible for our meeting together, even if we have the right to, to be more destructive than not meeting at all. We can unnecessarily put at risk the physical health of our church family and community as well as cause irreparable harm to our church’s reputation in our city. Therefore, these two priorities form the basis of our decision making.
Our commitment as leaders is to seek to provide for the spiritual growth and needs of all of our church family.
In the book, Canoeing the Mountains¸ Bolsinger describes the moment when the Lewis and Clark expedition reaches the peak of the Continental Divide as a “deep disorientation.” Their expectation was to see an open prairie leading to the Columbia River Basin and out to the Pacific Ocean. What they instead saw was mountain range after mountain range of the rugged snow-capped mountains like they had never seen before. It is hard to picture how disheartening and discouraging that moment must have been. Their expectations and plans were confronted by the reality of the Rocky Mountains. They were profoundly disorientated. Bolsinger warns that:
when we get to moments of deep disorientation, we often try to reorient around old ways of doing things. We go back to what we know how to do. We keep canoeing even though there is no river. At least part of the reason we do this is because we resolutely hope that the future will be like the past and that we already have the expertise needed for what is in front of us. (92, emphasis original).
In this moment, what was necessary for the Corps of Discovery was an adaptive shift. “This is the moment when they had to leave their boats, find horses and make the giant adaptive shift that comes from realizing their mental models for the terrain in front of them were wrong” (93).
As a church community, we have been confronted by an adaptive shift. We have climbed to the top of our Continental Divide. We expected to look onto the other side and see a return to worship and community as we were used to doing things. We planned for a celebration. Instead, we are faced with are the Rocky Mountains of uncertainty, snow-capped by state and federal regulations.
In the face of an adaptive challenge, Bolsinger says the first thing we do is recommit to our core ideology. We start with why we exist. He gives the following questions for organizations to answer when “facing-the-unknown moment:”
Why do we exist as a congregation, institution or organization?
What would be lost in our community, in our field or in our world if we ceased to be?
What purposes and principles must we protect as central to our identity?
What are we willing to let go of so the mission will continue? (94-95)
After recommitting to our core ideology, the next step is to reframe our strategy in light of our core ideology. “In adaptive leadership, reframing is another way of talking about the shift in values, expectations, attitudes or habits of behavior necessary to face our most difficult challenges” (95).
Third, in the face of an adaptive shift, we rely on learning. We always default to the level of our learning. Unless we commit to learning to do things differently, we will revert to what we have done before. We will canoe the mountains.
These moments of deep disorientation requiring adaptive shifts. Standing at the peak, we can choose to turn around and go back, or we can recommit to our core ideology, the mission of God. We can reframe our strategy and dedicate ourselves to learning how to navigate in this unknown world.
When does a person become a Supreme Court Justice?
Is it when they are nominated to the position by the President and confirmed by the Senate? Is it when they were appointed to a lifetime appointment on the Federal Bench? Is it when they went to work for a prestigious law firm? Is it when they served as a clerk for a Supreme Court justice? Is it when they were admitted to a top law school? Is it when they were admitted to their undergraduate institution? Is it when they graduated from high school? Is it when they attended a well funded and supplied elementary school? Is it when they had access to health care and food on the table as a child? Is it when their parent was paid a livable wage? Is it when their mother had access to prenatal care?
The answer is, YES, to all of these. And the break in any one link the chain can close the door for a person sitting on the bench. When we speak of systemic racism, it is a recognition all of life is a connected system, and injustice in one link can have dramatic implications on another.
I am not a fan of affirmative action. I think that a person should be selected based solely on their skills and ability to perform the job. I think that colleges should not be required to admit certain students but should be allowed to choose the best and brightest regardless of skin color or gender. I think that employers should be allowed to have workforces that are made up of the best for the job and not be required to consider race or gender in their hiring practices. I think that the color of a person’s skin or whether they are male or female should not matter. We should base these opinions solely on who is the best for the job.
So what do we do when we see a lack of diversity in the workforce, on our college campuses, in government jobs, in the pulpits of our churches? We say the reason a woman, a Hispanic or an African American, was not hired for the job is that none applied, or there were none qualified who applied. And it is true. But it also hides another truth. The reason none were qualified is that none were given a chance to be qualified.
I wish I could say that left to themselves, employers, healthcare, church, and education systems will choose to do what is right. But we know better. Left to ourselves, we will all choose the path of greatest comfort and familiarity. A way that will not open the door. A path that will draw red lines around who is in and who is outside of our community. It is for these reasons these programs are put into place. On our own, we will remain blind to what we must do and have been doing.
When does a person become a Supreme Court Justice . . . today.
Blessings, Stephen
Today’s resource is the video Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man shared with me by a friend. The video is produced by Emmanuel Acho who is a former NFL Player and current ESPN analyst. Acho answers many of the questions we have. Watch it HERE.
Dear white people, For days you’ve asked me what you can do to help. I’ve finally found an answer.
The old dictionary Merriam-Webster defines racism as “a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race.” If you are like me, no matter how many times I read that definition, I still don’t understand what it is. And it certainly does not help me to see it in the community around me. As hard as it is to define with words, I have learned this about racism: Racism always has a better explanation.
This is what I mean, sometimes I have listened to the news and said these things myself:
It was not police brutality; he was resisting arrest. He should have done what the officer told him to do.
He may have been jogging, but he was also trespassing on a construction site.
When a police officer pulls a young black man over, and the first question he asks is, “what are you doing on this side of town?” It’s not racism, its just an officer wanting to ask something other than “Where are you headed to in such a hurry tonight?”
When a cashier accuses a man she just rang up of not paying for items as he walks out of the store, it is only a simple mistake.
She didn’t call the police because he was black, he made threatening motions.
It looked like a gun.
He was running away.
When a young dies in the back of a police van because he was not strapped in correctly, it is only a tragic accident.
She made a threatening motion.
When I feel the urge to cross to the other side of the street because a black man is coming toward me, I say I am just being careful.
This is of the muddy mess of racism that we must wade into. Sometimes the explanation is the explanation; often it is not. How do we know? I have learned that I can’t know. I have also learned that African Americans have lived under the weight of racism for so long they often intuitively know the difference. What this means for me is that I must put aside what I think I know and my explanations and be willing to listen. I must trust that my African American (or Hispanic, or Native American) friend sees, hears, and knows better than I. I am not the expert in the room.
Blessings, Stephen
Today’s resource I want to share is the book The Color of Compromise: The Truth about the American Church’s Complicity in Racism by Jemar Tisby. Tisby challenges the church to see how we have often participated in and supported the systems to maintain racist ideas and practices. Tisby does more than shine light into darkness, he also helps us plot a path forward. In addition to the book, there is also a podcast episode on Fuller Theological Seminary’s Conversing with Mark Labberton, Episode 51 – Jemar Tisby on Race and the American ChurchI would also highly recommend.
I like to keep the peace. Really I do. Conflict is painful and hard for me. I try to see the other side of things. I do not like to disturb the status quo. I do not merely dislike conflict; I feel conflict. It weighs like a million pounds upon my body. The single act of speaking up may last only a moment, but I will mull it over for days, months, even years. I have always been this way (and some of you already know my Enneagram number). What I am writing is not easy.
As a pastor, I have prided myself on having relationships and friendships with people across a diversity of spectrum from the very liberal to the very conservative. I firmly commit that all are welcome in the doors of the church. As we worship together, every one of us lays our experiences, ideologies, and commitments at the feet of Jesus to be examined and confronted by the Holy Spirit. Every one of us has sin within our hearts. Everyone one of us is in need of confession. Every one of us needs transformation of our whole being. Transformation by the Spirit of God happens within the practices and community of the church. If we cannot welcome all, then we cannot all be changed. Those of us who call ourselves followers of Jesus love our neighbor because God first loved us. We forgive because we were forgiven. We show grace because we were first shown grace. My commitment and welcome to all remains unchanged.
But because of my commitments, I also resist speaking up. Particularly in the forums of social media and blog posts when understanding is so hard to be had. I also resist speaking because I know I can never fully get away from my role as a pastor. I tell myself that I do not want to engage my church in complicated, painful discussions. I do not want to alienate. I do not like people angry with me or our church. I do not like it when people leave the church because we do not agree and feel like we cannot speak to one another.
A few years ago I had the opportunity to be in Berlin, Germany. In front of some of the homes are small square brass markers. They mark the home of a Jew who as taken away by the Nazis.
Many of us want to say, that if we had lived in those times, in Germany, Poland, and the Netherlands, we would have spoken up to stop the rise of the Nazis. We want to believe we would have hidden Jews within the walls of our homes. I want to say I would have been that person, I think I would have been the one who kept silent. Fear would have ruled the day.
All around us our black and brown brothers and sisters are crying out for us to speak up. To no longer be silent. To no longer dismiss their pain. They are dying around us. Recently, I participated in a conversation hosted by the leadership of my denomination. I offer here some of the bullet points from this conversation to help us begin to think more deeply and have the courage to speak up:
We cannot change our history but we can change our future.
For over four hundred years the evil virus of racism has permeated our American culture. We can learn about our history and lament and grieve. We show the pictures of King marching arm and arm with white people in peaceful protest. We do not show the next picture of police dogs, beatings with batons, and water cannons turned on them. This is part of the story too.
Stop taking it personal.
As a white person, I swim the sea of my privilege. Like a fish may be unaware of the water around them I often do not feel or think of its existence. To be told that I am in the water is not a personal attack on me. It is just a statement of reality.
Stop minimizing another’s pain.
I do not have to understand another’s pain to be able to sit with them and mourn and grieve. Just because I don’t see it or feel it does not make it unreal.
Sin is the problem.
Favoritism is the problem.
You are not the problem, you are part of the solution. The Bible has a lot to say about sin and favoritism. Staying silent. Failing to learn. Failing to listen. Failing to seek to understand. These are not options. We can be part of the solution.
Let me say that again: You are part of the solution.
As I said in my note yesterday, each day I will offer you resources. Below are two videos (they may not be visible in the e-mail, just click the link to go to the message online and you will see them).
The first is an interview with Carl Lentz and Biship T.D. Jakes, the second is one with Charlie Dates and Beth Moore.
Today’s Milkcan comes as a video post. In this message, I share an illustration I use to describe some of our current realities in our community. The challenge for each of us, as the people of God, is to look for ways to understand and turn down the heat.
Each day I will also be sharing resources that I highly recommend to aid our understanding. The first resource is the book Let Justice Roll Downby John Perkins. His book helped me to see the systems of injustice in our society. What has dramatically changed in the past few years is not the instances of injustice, but the presence of cameras to record them. I cannot recommend this book enough to you to read.
