Dismantling Whiteness: “Some things I like since becoming anti-racist”

20180731_170521My now deceased grandpa Walsh gave me this little AA book back in January of 1998. Nowadays it’s held together by some duct tape and love; I treasure it and, in fact, read it daily. But that wasn’t always the case. Back in the day I was rapidly heading off the rails: substance abuse, petty crimes, as well as many other self-destructive things. I’ve been on a whole different trajectory for the last 20+ years. In fact, it was in April of 1998 that I eventually came to my senses, only a few months after my grandpa handed me this book and told me to call him anytime I wanted help. Although I don’t currently drink or use drugs and I never really considered myself an alcoholic or even an addict, I have found it fairly straight forward to apply the wisdom of the 12 steps to my own need for recovery from any number of things. If you just read between the lines (a little), the message is pretty darn clear no matter what idea of recovery might be appropriate. For example, take this passage here:

June 4–A.A. Thought for the Day

Some things I like since becoming dry: feeling good in the morning; full use of my intelligence; joy in my work; the love and trust of my children; lack of remorse; the confidence of my friends; the prospect of a happy future; the appreciation of the beauties of nature; knowing what it is all about. I’m sure that I like these things, am I not?

I realized that the things a recovering alcoholic likes about becoming dry can also apply to the new freedom I’ve experienced as a witness for racial justice. So, here’s my own list of things I like since becoming anti-racist:

  • I have a purpose every morning.
  • I feel enlarged by my vision of solidarity with others.
  • I have real friendships from across racial lines.
  • I relate better (and more authentically) with others.
  • I have more emotional range and bandwidth.
  • I’m now part of a solution to the problem.
  • My ability to tolerate conflict and tension has grown.
  • My possessions and money are given new meaning in reparations to people of color.
  • My children see themselves in Black and Brown leaders who model self-love, wholeness, and truth-telling.
  • I’m passing on to my children the beautiful way of racial integration.
  • I have learned to pray, read the sacred text, and imagine God from Black and Brown experiences.
  • I feel a sense of joy and peace in my work to dismantle whiteness.
  • My white family members respect me more when I tell them the truth.

I’m sure that I like these things, am I not?

Adiós, amigo. Te vamos a extrañar.

This video from 2015 begins with an interview with Gustavo and a picture of his family.

My friend Gustavo Delgadillo recently contracted COVID-19. He and his wife both got sick actually. They have been leading a community of seminarians and social advocates from their home in Huancayo, Peru. Their recent relief efforts led them to bring food and other support to Venezuelan refugees as well as to the Ashaninkas, an indigenous tribe who have been hard hit by this pandemic. This afternoon I just learned that Gustavo passed away. I’m so sad to hear he’s gone and that their family must now deal with this huge loss. I’m still trying to process it all myself.

Gustavo was a humble and courageous person. He was an intellectual in the best sense, sharp and inspired. He led a life of service and repentance in the midst of some really challenging personal and community-wide circumstances. I will always remember him as a fellow brother, hero, and friend. He is survived by his wife and two adolescent children.

I am going to put together a collection to send their family for funeral costs and other needs they may have. I’m not sure how else I can help from here, but if anyone feels moved to contribute, please contact me.

What does God’s power look like? (Part Four)

A friend and I have been discussing the promise of God’s power in the midst of threats to human flourishing and the struggle for justice. The discussion started right before COVID-19 hit California and a few weeks before the murder of George Floyd. As we continued talking and more events unfolded, our emails came into sharper focus. My plan is to post a series of our exchanges here. Part Four is another reply and reflection on God’s help in a time of pandemic.

April 19th, 2020

Jason,

I think I’d like to reply to this interesting passage:

I remember you saying at some point that Jesus never taught us to divide the kingdom of God into “the already” and “not yet,” but to instead focus on, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand.” Is that more or less accurate? I ask because we all see a pretty dramatic difference between our present world and what God will bring about when He makes all things new. So when it comes to the kingdom of God now, what can we expect?

I guess I think Jesus, by his life, showed us what to expect. And it seems his first followers experienced the kingdom of God in much the same way. There was a dramatic difference between their lives before Jesus and after, and there was also a dramatic difference between their lives and the lives of most other people. Wasn’t there? Like in Jesus’ life, sometimes this meant things changed around them, miraculous deliverances, their ability to do the seemingly impossible. And sometimes it meant that they experienced the sufferings and loss that others also experience (or even more so) but they were able to respond in an amazingly different way. We see this also in the lives of many more of Jesus’ followers throughout history. These real and dramatic differences make apparent the actual presence of God’s kingdom that Jesus said was “in your midst,” here and now.

But this does exist “in the midst” of so much that is not the kingdom of God. We look at all that and wonder why God doesn’t fix it, if he’s so loving and powerful. If it was up to us, we’d fix it, wouldn’t we?

We keep trying to fix it. We’ve found that we can do so much to change things around us, by working together and through technological advancements. We’ve solved so many problems, cured diseases, reduced pain, organized society, made human life longer, more comfortable, more well-ordered. We’ve been so successful that it seems we think that’s the whole point of life. (Or we hope that’s the point?) Then we wonder, indignantly, why God doesn’t seem to be dedicating himself to this project as eagerly as we are.

But even with all our medical, societal, and technological advances we are still so isolated, lonely, confused, enslaved by our fears and lusts–lost. We are not so capable at fixing this problem, though it is more fundamental. So we throw ourselves into fixing everything else around us and try not to think about our inner isolation and bondage.

Jesus made it clear that he was interested in addressing this more fundamental problem. This deeper, more important problem. He came preaching the freedom and deep connectedness that God’s love offers us. That comes through abandoning our own fears and desires and will, and depending on God to provide and protect and guide us. It’s not a problem we can fix. Only God can.

And through our life experiences, God is working to bring each of us to himself, to bring us to the point where we abandon our own strength and reach out our hand to God. What is needed to bring us there is somewhat different for each person, I think. So none of our lives are exactly the same. At some moments we need deliverance, and other times we need to go through the shadow of death. Sometimes we need the pain to be taken away, and sometimes we need the pain. Maybe to help us see more clearly, or help us let go. That has been my experience. I wouldn’t presume, though, to know what someone else needs at any moment. But I believe God can know and can provide the escape, or the hardship, that will help us most in the place we are in our journey to God. God offers this in love, with mercy, so that we will not be broken but be made free.

That does seem relevant to the current upheaval in our world. But everyone’s experience is different and it’s impossible to say what exactly God is doing with all these experiences in so many different lives. Except that he’s trying to draw each of us to himself. This is the goal, not perfecting our society or the environment in which we live. The kingdom of God is found in following Jesus, no matter what’s happening around us. It’s real. And it’s now.

peace,
Paul

What does God’s power look like? (Part Three)

A friend and I have been discussing the promise of God’s power alongside threats to human flourishing and the struggle for justice. The discussion started right before COVID-19 hit California and a few weeks before the murder of George Floyd. As we continued talking and more events unfolded, our emails came into sharper focus. My plan is to post a series of our exchanges here. Part Three is another reflection and some questions I sent about God’s help in a time of pandemic.

April 4th, 2020

Paul,

Dallas Willard has been famous for saying, “We have no reason ever to be anxious” and “This present world is a perfectly safe place for us to be.” You wrote something similar: “I believe our world is the right environment for what God is doing, the right environment for personal repentance and abandoning ourselves to God’s grace.” I really resonate with that and yet those statements seem so radical right now in the face of a global outbreak and other more difficult losses around the world. Like you, I don’t see a “slow transfiguration of our violent world” in the Bible or Jesus’ teachings. I do, however, see lots of patient waiting and anticipation–perhaps a very long wait–for the big changes we need in our society. 

At the same time, I don’t want to forget the biblical witness and my own experiences of God’s power, hope, and change (like Jesus’ resurrection, my own freedom from addictions, or the Israelite’s liberation from Pharaoh’s hands). God has faithfully ordered things in such a way that we can pray for help and receive “far more abundantly than all we ask or think” (Eph. 3:20). These graces do not always happen with such dramatic intensity as the day I gave up drugs or when Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene in the garden, yet I still pray as Jesus taught: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Could our experiences of grace be a foretaste of the New Jerusalem that will come? 

In reality, it’s probably easier to look back on God’s power than to claim it is happening right now. You wrote, “In the end, God will give us the perfect environment, the perfect society. But I don’t think that’s what God is doing here and now.” So the question I keep asking myself is what does it mean to receive the power of God today? Can we expect our environments to change at all? Individual repentance and grace are definitely what we need, but I also think about the justice we long for and need. During the late 1950s, for example, many young black students in Little Rock prayed for an end to Jim Crow and the terror they experienced from lynching and white violence. Some took steps to integrate the schools in spite of the danger. They refused to comply with “White only” laws. They believed God gave them dignity and strength and that He heard their prayers.   

I remember you saying at some point that Jesus never taught us to divide the kingdom of God into “the already” and “not yet,” but to instead focus on, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand.” Is that more or less accurate? I ask because we all see a pretty dramatic difference between our present world and what God will bring about when He makes all things new. So when it comes to the kingdom of God now, what can we expect? This may be asking too much of our conversation, but I’m also trying to understand how it relates to our current situation: Is this pandemic a mercy? A form of judgement? Is it somehow God’s will? Or even from God’s hand? 

What does God’s power look like? (Part Two)

A friend and I have been discussing the promise of God’s power alongside threats to human flourishing and the struggle for justice. The discussion started right before COVID-19 hit California and a few weeks before the murder of George Floyd. As we continued talking and more events unfolded, our emails came into sharper focus. My plan is to post a series of our exchanges here. Part Two is a reply to one of my first emails.

March 15th, 2020

Jason,

My thoughts on your comments have hovered around this line from the book: “God consents to our reluctant consent, resulting in this painfully slow but inexorable transfiguration of our violent world.” I guess I don’t believe in “this painfully slow but inexorable transfiguration of our violent world.” I mean I don’t believe that is what God is doing. So this could be at the heart of much of the misunderstanding.

Do you see this “slow transfiguration of our violent world” message in Jesus’ teaching (or the rest of the bible)? There’s prophecies of a new world, but the biblical description I see is something sudden and complete, clearly a gift of God. The new Jerusalem coming down from heaven. But I don’t see Jesus teaching that the world is going to become nonviolent (or godly in other ways either). He says the world will persecute his followers, and the more so the more closely we follow. There’s no suggestion that I see that this will only be for a while, that eventually everyone will all become followers of Jesus and persecution will end. And I don’t see that occurring yet, over two thousand years later.

What I hear from Jesus is that God wants us to change (repent) and follow him by accepting his power, because it’s impossible to do it by our own power. (This reminds me of your AA comments.) This is what God is trying to do. And this doesn’t require a nonviolent environment, a garden of Eden. I believe our world is the right environment for what God is doing, the right environment for personal repentance and abandoning ourselves to God’s grace. After Adam and Eve sinned, God changed their environment. What they needed then was struggle and suffering and challenges much bigger than them.

People keep trying to create a more perfect government or more advanced society. Individuals are sacrificed for the advancement of human society. I think maybe we think God has the same goals. But God cares about each individual infinitely. God is trying to save the individual, you and me. In the end, God will give us the perfect environment, the perfect society. But I don’t think that’s what God is doing here and now.

And I don’t think the point of nonviolent, Christlike actions is to transform society (like some activist technique). These actions are meant as witness. They are meant to reach out to the souls of others and appeal to them to change, to hope, to love. They are meant to do exactly what God is doing.

What does God’s power look like? (Part One)

A friend and I have been discussing the promise of God’s power alongside threats to human flourishing and the struggle for justice. The discussion started right before COVID-19 hit California and a few weeks before the murder of George Floyd. As we continued talking and more events unfolded, our emails came into sharper focus. My plan is to post a series of our exchanges here. I’ll start Part One with one of my first emails.

March 9th, 2020

Paul,

Like you wrote in your old discussion, I can also see how God is ordering all things “for the working out of his own good purposes,” especially when we see oppressors. God does some sort of jujitsu move with their intentions, taking the side of the weak and vulnerable person, bringing judgement and mercy into the situation. He upholds the lowly in their faith. Yet He leaves the strong to their own devices (and painful consequences), for perhaps they too can change their life. The biblical witness seems to confirm all that and it’s been my personal experience as well.

All this is encouraging to remember. I feel most empowered to depend on God in these ways when I recall how He has protected me, rescued me, healed me, and transformed my many addictions into new life and freedom. Of course, in the context of the whole world, I’ve had a relatively easy life. Many other people and situations come to mind. The hardest ones might be, for example, natural disasters (like the Tornado in Nashville), child suffering (like kids fleeing war in Syria), and more or less preventable situations (like extreme poverty, hunger or starvation). In these situations, many different people are responsible and it even seems creation itself has become complicit.

In our current book, A More Christlike God, it says that “those who love as Christ did” are filled with supernatural love and will bring light to the world. The author writes:

God consents to our reluctant consent, resulting in this painfully slow but inexorable transfiguration of our violent world.

Love will have its way, because while it may look like passive consent to extreme violence, it is nevertheless “stronger than death, more jealous than the grave, more vehement than a flame. Many waters cannot quench love, nor floods drown it” (Song of Sol. 8:6-7). The death and resurrection of Christ are the firstfruits of the destiny God’s love has arranged for the whole universe.”

Those lines sound pretty good to me, even poetic and beautiful. But how does this happen? Can God ultimately save us if He has limited himself to what the author calls “nonviolent consent”? What does God’s power look like in the face of really terrible things that we see happen?

In Memory of George Floyd

To arrive like this every day for it to be like this to have so
many memories and no other memory than these for as
long as they can be remembered to remember this.

Though a share of all remembering, a measure of all
memory, is breath and to breathe you have to create a
truce–

a truce with the patience of a stethoscope.

I can hear the even breathing that creates passages to
dreams. And yes, I want to interrupt to tell him her us you
me I don’t know how to end what doesn’t have an ending.

from Citizen: An American Lyric
By Claudia Rankine

Choosing not to vote (part 3)

gr-not-votingChoosing not to vote connects me to the incorruptible power of God versus social movements and politicians who use the “power of the people” as a weapon to overcome their enemies. Voting takes my mind off God and puts it on human influence. Human decisions matter a great deal to God, but she isn’t caught off guard by them and can easily make a way–even if it seems hopeless–maybe especially at our weakest moments.

In complete freedom, God defends the weak and afflicted in our world; no political compromises or voting is necessary for her power to move forward. Truth and trust are the key components for us in humanity. Without these gifts of the Spirit, no one remains faithful to one another when it really matters. It’s so easy to scapegoat the vulnerable and anyone, in society’s view, deemed expendable. So I stand with Jesus who cried out as he was executed by the state, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” I open myself to the consequences of telling the awful truth and putting my life into God’s hands.

Choosing not to vote (part 2)

gr-not-votingChoosing not to vote places me outside of the influence-making realm, which is good, if simply because I’ll be standing with the ones who are most vulnerable to the consequences of democracy’s terrible choices. I may not presently share in all the consequences *yet*, but that can’t be my excuse to seek out more powerful tools to get the job done. Just like I don’t want to gain monetary wealth in order to achieve a greater community good, I wouldn’t want political power to achieve the goals of human flourishing. Instead, I’m willing to remain politically poor in order to challenge artificial boundaries and witness to power from the margins. Obviously, no one does this perfectly but it still seems like a beautiful way to challenge the present status quo.