I do not know this Jesus who only died for my white brothers and sisters, but whose arms could not stretch wide enough for black bodies, and therefore Mike Brown had to die because his sin was just too much for Christ to bear. No. I don't know who this is. I don't know this God of a two tiered gospel.
"The Pain of the Watermelon Joke" by Jacqueline Woodson.
To know that we African-Americans came here enslaved to work until we died but didn't die, and instead grew up to become doctors and teachers, architects and presidents - how can these children not carry this history with them for those many moments when someone will attempt to make light of it, or want them to forget the depth and amazingness of their journey?
"Listening Well as a Person of Privilege: Solidarity First, Collaborative Problem-Solving Later" by Christena Cleveland.
If Christian privileged people aren't careful, their problem-solving heroics can easily dishonor the image of God in oppressed people. Most obviously, this occurs when privileged people bypass the crucial stage of "weep with those who weep" listening.
"Advent/Darkness" by Christena Cleveland.
Advent isn't a holiday party. It doesn't pressure us to conjure up a hopeful face, ring bells, and dismiss the foulest realities we face. Advent isn't about our best world, it's about our worst world. I think we eat the chocolate and put on the pageants because we don't want to face the worst.
"Advent: For the Ones Who Know Longing" by Sarah Bessey.
I'm learning to be okay with the sadness that rises, with the frustration of a broken world, with longings still unfulfilled, with the profound ache in my human heart for all things to be restored, to be redeemed, to be whole. I'm learning to turn towards a third way: the one that holds both the joy and the sorrow, the one that picks up a small stone to move the mountain in small acts of faithfulness. Advent is one small stone.
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