I tried to write about Ferguson.
I tried five times. I sat down at my computer, reading and writing, reading and writing. Thinking of conversations I’d had, of classes I’d taken, of what my friends had told me about their experiences, of my own experiences.
I tried five times, but it didn’t work.
I published one piece on this blog but took it down after an hour because I couldn’t escape the feeling that it wasn’t helpful — that I was writing just to write, rather than offering anything truly beneficial. Bloggers, I know, are not supposed to post pieces and then retract them, but I did. It is better that I did.
So why am I writing now?
Because how can anyone be silent about this. Silence about racism is one of the great sins of white culture. It isn’t swept away by being quiet; it doesn’t just dissolve.
I’m learning that. Learning again. Learning anew. Honestly, I’d rather not talk about it because it’s usually upsetting — or we’re upset that we’re not more upset — and because, in a situation like that of Michael Brown, Darren Wilson, and Ferguson, I don’t know what to say.
But too long a silence can easily become a sin of omission.
I’m also writing to note a few things that have risen to the top of my mind over the past few blurry and tumultuous weeks.
1. When you don’t know what to say, you can always listen. In fact, even when you think you do know what to say, still listen. In the wise words of Mark Labberton, “Resist defensiveness or denial, rescue, or tidying it all up. Keep listening — especially to stories of those whose race or ethnicity is not your own. Love starts here.”
Listening helps us not talk too much.
When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise.
And
My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.
And
Do not be quick with your mouth, do not be hasty in your heart to utter anything before God. God is in heaven and you are on earth, so let your words be few.
2. We shouldn’t forget this. We should grow from it.
Whether what happened was racial from the beginning or not, it’s absolutely largely about race now. The country — and by that I mean the people — can’t afford to let the momentum come to nothing.
Some have called this a new civil rights movement, but now in the third week out, most of the discussion, as far as I can see, is fading with waning media interest.
When we look back on this in 20 years, will we remember it as merely a dark moment, or as a national, cultural turning point?
3. We need to imitate Christ. Showing love, grace, mercy. Sharing both hope and the deep, deep pain. This is the most important thing; this is where we should rest before and after the mess of contradiction, confusion, and uncertainty.
Both Michael Brown and Darren Wilson are human beings, so they are our brothers. Red, yellow, black, and white, they are precious to God, and should be precious to us. Let’s show grace, understanding, love. Let’s be peacemakers. Let’s pray for everyone involved.
Pray for enemies. Pray for brothers. Pray for those who would be brothers.
Pray for comfort and healing — of people, families, communities, souls.
Pray that somehow this fire would refine and not destroy.
Pray for justice. Let it roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream.
Prayer brings clarity. It brings humility. It brings strength. It brings compassion. So pray.
I agree that prayer is the answer. Sometimes prayer sounds too simple, and not action-oriented enough, but it truly is the powerful secret weapon that God uses as the means to advance His kingdom. I challenge your readers to schedule a monthly/weekly time to get together with at least one other Christian to pray. The ladies at our church have a weekly Bible study/prayer time, and because of your article, I am going to make sure that Ferguson is on our prayer list. I grew up in Chicago, met my husband at Wheaton College, and then lived in St. Louis for the first 5 years of our marriage. Right from the start, I noticed a subtle racism, even among the Christians in St. Louis, that was very different from my own experiences in Chicago. I guess the way I would explain it is that even in the suburbs of Chicago, there is a more natural variety of different levels of income, education, etc., of all different races interspersed throughout the communities. Growing up, I had so many positive experiences with different races, that I was surprised at the inability of even my husband’s family to look past the fact that someone was a different race. Let’s pray for true repentance in the churches in the St. Louis area!
Prayer should be the first resort, as they say. And communal prayer is hugely helpful. Thanks for the good word, and for sharing some of your experience. I’m not sure how unique St. Louis is in terms of its struggles — probably not very — but churches everywhere should step up for peace in prayer.