Wait Expectantly

Happy New Year! Life has been exceptionally HARD over the past five months and in some ways over the past two years. I have faced things that have rocked me to the core of my being. I started going to a counselor for the first time in my life in October. It is hard to even write that sentence knowing someone may read this, but it has been a lifeline for me and I wish I had done it a long time ago. Pride and shame have been the obstacles that kept me from asking for help, but at the end of September I found myself asking for help and humbled at the reality that my life was being turned upside down. That is different for everyone, but I believe if we each embrace our own struggle, God will use each of us and our stories to impact someone else. I sure do hate waiting though.

All four of our children started school in August. Finally, everyone was in school, but I had forgotten how tough it is to start kindergarten. My sweet Chloe struggled being away from me full-time and she was tired from longer days. She has enjoyed every day of Kindergarten, but there was a lot of crying. She does enjoy her ballet and tap dance classes, and sometimes even picks up a ball.

Maiesha was dreading 6^th grade because 5^th grade ended with a lot of friend drama. Sixth grade started with all the same drama and it took about six weeks before she was comfortable in the new school year. She started her pointe classes for ballet and expanded her other classes. She is getting better at basketball every day and discovering she is good a lots of things.

Lydia hit the ground running in 2^nd grade, but always comments about how she misses me. She is a middle child and functions very independently, but also has a tender heart that needs quality time. She wrote a book in November and Maiesha’s friend created the illustrations. She too has been working on basketball and is enjoying a hip hop dance class.

Jeremiah fell off the deep end. (That was a little dramatic.) We could not have anticipated the amount of time and energy it would take to parent this strong-willed, passionate, and fearful teenager. Eighth grade presented more homework, harder classes, and more difficult relationships to navigate. Please don’t forget the hormones raging inside his “boy transitioning to a man” body. His talent and athleticism in basketball is really starting to shine and I love watching him play. It’s like riding the highest, fastest, twisty-est, roller coaster that never ends.

I started my second year of graduate school excited about starting a thesis and ready to finish my master’s degree. I scaled back my hours at work to leave more time for family and finishing school. We were committed to coaching Maiesha’s basketball team. I love coaching and being “2^nd mom” to all the girls we have the privilege to coach. We have also committed a lot of time and gas to help Jeremiah and a few friends keep training and building their basketball skills. I am in awe of all our children as I watch them develop their skills and talents. They are learning what they are passionate about and how to chase their dreams. They really are incredible people.  

Then at the end of September Tyrone dropped a bombshell that he was struggling with some things that amount to an identity crisis spurred by unresolved things from years ago and more recent circumstances. Increasingly isolated and distrusting of people, we spent a couple months within ourselves trying to peel back the layers to determine the root cause of his thoughts and feelings which has uncovered some of my own identity issues. There has been endless late night, long conversations, so many tears that I felt dehydrated, and miraculous answered prayers.

If my life were contained in a cup, I feel as though someone picked it up, dumped it all out, and threw the cup out of reach. Everything I have found security in and felt defined our family is lying in a pile and completely unrecognizable. I can’t describe the unrest and gut-wrenching grief. I read in a devotion this fall that something always has to die for something new to live. The old is dying so the new can live. There's a praise! 

We keep moving forward hoping no one notices that we are struggling, but it’s normal to struggle so why do we work so hard to hide it. As Brené Brown said in her TED talk about vulnerability “we are hard wired for struggle”. It is so worth 20 minutes so check it out on YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iCvmsMzlF7o I am thankful for the people in my life who bring encouragement, kind words, and friendship. I am thankful for the laughter of children. The struggle is worth it, and saying it loud is empowering. 

I am choosing to wait expectantly in 2019. I discovered this phrase in the Bible four years ago as we started raising support so I and my two oldest children (they were 9 and 8 years old) could travel to Ethiopia and Kenya on a mission trip. It was powerful to me then and gave me hope that God was going to show up as we stepped into something we had never done. He did show up in so many ways far beyond the financial support we needed. Here is my post https://washingtonfamily-lynette.blogspot.com/2015/04/our-african-adventure.html about the trip. Those three months encompass some of the most profound revelations of my life. It shaped and formed my views of the world and God and where I fit in His story for all of his creation.

Psalm 5:1-3 says,

Listen to my words, Lord,

Consider my lament.

Hear my cry for help,

My King and my God,

For to you I pray.

In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice;

In the morning I lay my requests before you

And wait expectantly. [emphasis added]

Wait, a verb, means to stay where one is or delay action until a particular time or until something else happens. I hate waiting. It makes me feel helpless and a little bit lazy. I realize there is also power in waiting. I demonstrate a great deal of self-control when I choose to wait. Expectantly, an adverb, means with an excited feeling that something is about to happen, especially something good. There is a giddy anticipation. This implies a choice to be positive about whatever is expected even if it is unclear.

So in light of unfinished stories and endings that are very much still in process, I leave you in the midst of my struggle. I choose hope. I choose joy. Some days I get sucked under by the hard stuff and want to give up. Everything is contagious. Despair breeds despair and it seems to overcome people quickly, but hope breeds hope no matter how long it takes. I choose to wait expectantly that God is going to show up in 2019. I believe he will. I know he is because he ALWAYS does. I choose to WAIT EXPECTANTLY that he is working all this out for my best self to be revealed and so our family can continue to be a blessing.

In Our Home

Dear Reader,

I have missed writing so much. It is truly how I express deep thoughts and emotions. I have been in graduate school for a year now. I am currently in summer school to stay on track to graduate next May. This class is an elective in the Sociology department - Social Inequality. It is incredible! I am developing a vocabulary and research foundation for the injustices and health disparities I hope to impact through my master's degree in Public Health. We have to write short papers that are meant to reflect on the writings we read and make connections with the material. This one is extra personal so I thought it could double as a blog post. I hope it will impact you deeply and move you recognize inequalities in the social structures around you.

Sincerely,

Lynette

As I continued to ponder your question of what is my family’s racial project tonight on my run, I came across the lyrics to one of my favorite songs – “In That Home” by the Newsboys. The opening stanza is “There was a home in town where broken kids, the lost and found, would come from miles around just to see what love was all about – cause momma had a way of making things ok.” I feel such a strong connection to this song since our home has been this “home in town” for the past six years to many children, particularly black and brown children.

In the “Racial Formation in the United States”, Omi and Winant (1986:226) state that we use race to give us clues about who a person is. People tend to get uncomfortable when they cannot easily categorize a person racially. “Someone who is, for example, racially “mixed” or of an ethnic/racial group we are not familiar with.” This describes our family. We can publicly migrate from a majority white context at a University function to a majority black context with our 5^th grade girls’ basketball team almost seamlessly. We know how to get comfortable in either location, but it rarely lacks for at least one awkward moment. I generally sense when we have "over stayed our welcome", and we need to return home. I have developed a hyper-awareness to how people perceive and watch our family. We cause uncomfortable “crisis of racial meaning” (1986:226) for people around us. I am white and Tyrone is black. He is a professor, which no one guesses when he says he works at a university. I am taller than he is. We got married before we had any children and I always feel to need to share that when I meet new white people. We are Christians, and we are not Republicans. He never played organized basketball shattering the “all black people are good at basketball” stereotype. I had a ball in my hands at 18 months, and beat him when we played one-on-one for the first time. (He still married me.)

Omi and Winant (1986: 227) also state “our ongoing interpretation of our experience in racial terms shapes our relations to the institutions and organizations through which we are embedded in social structure. Thus we expect differences in skin color, or other racially coded characteristics, to explain social differences.” Although the percentage of biracial marriages is rising in the U.S. as evidenced in the “Racial Identities in 2000” article (2002:229), we still represent a small group in the U.S. This has never been more apparent to us that in the last 3-5 years. When we first got married in 2001, it felt trendy and rebellious to be together. The reality of racism in the U.S. while raising our children as they seek to determine their own racial identity has amplified the challenges we encounter. It is both a struggle and a reward to walk this journey with our children and the rest of the children we mentor and welcome into our family. I remember when our son was born, 13 years ago, and we visited the pediatrician for the first time. We had to fill out all the new patient paper work and stared at the box for racial identification. There was no place to accurately identify our sweet baby boy. When I suggested that we check the “other” box, the pediatrician scolded me ever so gently. To check any other box would have meant leaving out half of who he was. I do not recall what we did do that day, but I do remember at some point I started circling both White/Caucasian and Black/African American on forms. Now I am thankful that we normally find an option that reflects the biracial ethnicity of our children on forms as discussed in “Racial Identities in 2000”.

The “Black Identities” article was so impactful to me. Waters (1999:252) writes the observation of the Black American male teacher. “I would rather for you to hate me than to disrespect me, is the attitude I think is coming out from our black youth today.” This is such a power dynamic to consider if we, as white people, would not resort to being offended and listen. A few weeks ago, I was with my son in Wichita, KS for a basketball tournament. He walked to a shopping mall near our hotel with two of his friends. This is one of the first times he has done that without his Dad or I with him. He shared with me an observation they made about a white woman they saw at the mall. They joked with each other about her perception of “three n-%#-rs” walking around together. Although the woman did not speak to them nor make any visible displeasing gestures toward them, they were all too aware of how their presence may be unwanted. We talked through his experience and thought process. This reminded me of the “holding the door” scenario in the Waters (1999:253) article. She states, “The cycle of attack and disrespect from whites, anger and withdrawal from blacks, and disengagement and blaming behaviors by whites must be broken by changing whites’ behavior”. I think about the power we have in our privilege and how we could use it to advance the cause of equality so that young black teenage boys could one day not have to wonder about how their presence was offending a white person.

I opened this paper with a quote from one of my favorite songs. It is my hope that our home will always be a place of refuge and love for our children and any child that finds his or her way to us. As the song goes on to say in the chorus “In that home we knew we were safe to be young enough to dream to find the faith to believe. And in that home love it had no end. That’s where we learned to forgive – in that home.” As we continue to figure out how to work toward racial equality, I pray our home will be a safe place where children of color encounter this white momma who will listen and work to make things ok.

Works Cited

Mary C. Waters, Black Identities: West Indian Immigrant Dreams and American Realities (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999)

Reynolds Farley, "Racial Identities in 2000: The Response to the Multiple-Race Response Option," in The New Race Question: How the Census Counts Multiracial Individuals, edited by Joel Perlmann and Mary C. Waters. Copyright 2002 by the Russell Sage Foundation

Michael Omi and Howard Winant, Racial Formations in the United States, Copyright 1986 by Routledge and copyright 1994 by Michael Omi and Howard Winant.

2017 - A Look Back and Ready to Move Forward

Happy 2018! I am sad to see 2017 go and thrilled to say good-bye. It was one of the most fruitful and most challenging years of my life. I guess that is why my phrase for 2017 was “live fearless.” It came on the heels of the year of thankfulness in 2016. Now that was a tough year, but I learned how to be thankful for the most difficult circumstances because they grew my faith and my heart for others.

To live fearless in 2017 looked like running through a war zone clinging to God’s hand as he leads. I continually referred to a scene in “War of the Worlds”. Little Rachel Ferrier (Dakota Fanning) watched her dad, Ray Ferrier (Tom Cruise), protect her and battle the aliens to save Earth. At other moments he held her tight and led her through the crossfire. Rachel knew to not make a move without her Dad because she knew he would take care of her. That lesson was paramount for me – don’t make a move without my Heavenly Father and trust Him when it's time to move even if it looks too scary to try.

In any case, the first act of courage to living fearlessly was to acknowledge my fear. That fear could have kept me from trusting God completely. That fear could have paralyzed me and kept me from navigating the war zone with Him. That fear could have kept from God’s blessings and being a blessing to others.

We said good-bye to our sweet dog Buford in January. He was 13-years-old and had been our first baby. His body was frail and riddled with arthritis and a possibly cancerous tumor. It was so hard to let him go, but there was relief as well. Maiesha (10-years-old at the time) insisted that she go with us that day when we had him put to sleep. We have his ashes in a special box and will take him back to South Carolina one day to sprinkle them in his first home.

I left my part-time job of 5 years in March. It was exactly what I needed to do but another “God I'm gonna have to trust you” experience. It meant letting go of something I had built from scratch. It was like turning my young child over to strangers entrusting them to raise her just the way I would. In jobs past, quitting has included a move to another state, but this time it was truly just praying, seeking wise counsel and listening for confirmation not know exactly where I was going next. God was faithful as I turned my fear over to him, grabbed his hand and held on tight.

I deemed my 4 month break between the end of my job and the start of Grad school the maternity leave I never took when Chloe was born. It was fun to have so much time to spend with my family. Tyrone and I took our annual no-kids get away to Denver, CO. We traveled to TX, OK, central AR and locally for basketball tournaments and a dance clinic. The kids gave up part of their Christmas savings to travel to South Carolina to visit Granny (Tyrone’s mom) and the beach in July. Tyrone and I took a spontaneous weekend flight to Orlando to visit friends. We had our first Universal Studios experience at Islands of Adventure theme park too. We were like two little kids!

With a big sigh of relief and a tired brain, I am excited to say I did not just survive, but thrived in my first semester of Graduate school. I made an A in both classes and learned a ton. I learned a lot outside the classroom too. Tyrone was my rock through this huge transition. He jumped in to cook meals, wash laundry, wash dishes, and drive the kids to their activities. He talked me through my tears, anxiety and fear of failing. Being a 39-year-old student with a big family and 2 jobs is no joke. He reminded me that I am fully capable of getting this Master’s degree and his actions backed up his words every day. The kids were patient and encouraging too. This process is helping me be more patient with them and hold on a little tighter with each hug.

The greatest thing about 2017 is that God brought me to a new job that may just be that BIG thing I have been chasing for the last 10 years. I can see all the seasons of my life coming together to form His masterpiece. I am standing at the intersection of my lifetime love of sports and my passion to reach children and families to help them find their place in God’s story. It is evidence that God uses what we love and what we are good at to accomplish his unique purpose for each of us.

Life is still HARD, and there are still things I wish were different. I understand that HARD is part of the process of becoming more like Jesus and trusting that God’s got this. Hard is what makes life interesting and challenging. In the middle of HARD, I find satisfaction in knowing I am becoming the me God designed me to be. Hard leads me to a place of complete dependence on Him and that enables me to LIVE FEARLESS for a lifetime.

May God bless you in 2018 so that you can be a blessing to someone else!

Give me your tired...

We took Jeremiah into the hospital for an outpatient surgery this week. We believed it to be routine, but as a parent you can’t help but feel a little anxiety as you entrust your child to the care of strangers. Everyone was super helpful and kind so we had a great experience and his surgery went well. We especially enjoyed Nurse Carrie. She was a wiz with the IV. Another nurse came into our room first and we assumed she would be the one the anesthesiologist spoke of who would put in Jeremiah’s IV. She quickly let us know that she had called in Nurse Carrie because she is the best with IVs. She used to work with infants so whenever a child needs an IV, she is the one you want. Nurse Carrie had a great bedside manner and was so sweet to him every step of the way. She had that IV in and secure in no time and worked to calm him through it all. After he returned to his room from surgery and recovery, Nurse Carrie came back to tend to him until he was discharged. She told him how handsome he was and how she can’t wait to hear about his budding basketball career as he gets older. She was such an encourager.

Once Nurse Carrie heard Tyrone talking about his work in science at the University, as he explained anesthetizing mice to Jeremiah, she started to tell us all about her son. She talked about immigrating to the US from the Philippines when he was a young boy. He began his American education in the 3^rd grade knowing very little English. She was worried about how he would do in school, but after the first month of sitting in his class as his translator, he took off and began to excel. He graduated 13^th in his high school class out of 250. He knew from the time he was young he wanted to pursue civil engineering. He attended the University of Arkansas and was offered a job with the department of transportation before he graduated. She worked an extra job to make sure he didn’t have to worry about working while he was in college.  She talked about his girlfriend and was hopeful of an engagement soon. She spoke so proudly of her son. She smiled as she described the closeness of their relationship and how he hugs and kisses her even as an adult. She was thankful to God for his blessing and provision. She giggled as she talked about how much her son loves her homemade lasagna and asked her to make some on her visit to his new house in Illinois where he recently moved. As she told her story, she continued to open packages of crackers for Jeremiah and refill his cup of ice with red Powerade. I can’t help but think that Jeremiah reminded of her of her son when he was young.

I have been learning to value people. I value people not for how hard they work or how smart they are although those are wonderful attributes. I value people because they bare the image of an Almighty Creator and they bring richness, understanding and blessing to our world. Sometimes valuing people means giving them space to live and learn at their own pace, encouraging them as opportunities arise. While other times valuing people means challenging them and letting them challenge you. Valuing people always includes being compassionate and kind, seeking first to understand rather than insisting your opinion be heard.

As a citizen of the United States of America, unless you are descended from American slavery or a Native American (stories for another post), you probably have a story similar to Nurse Carrie’s somewhere in your family’s history. A brave young man, woman or family made a decision to board a boat or a plane and come to this country for an opportunity to create something, to build a legacy for themselves and their children. One of the most beautiful things about our country is the depth and diversity of people’s stories. People have been coming here from all over the planet for centuries and have each contributed to making this place, albeit imperfect, special and unlike any other country in the world. It would be a sad day if ever a family like Nurse Carrie’s was barred from immigrating to the United States because they didn’t measure up to some list of prerequisites designed to filter who is “worthy” of being a part of this nation.

We have forgotten how to love

In April I made a decision to join the Impact Movement. The Impact Movement is a campus ministry that reaches out to black students to point them toward Jesus and disciple them. You may be curious about why I, a white woman, could be effective in a ministry that seeks to minister to and mobilize black people. It seems a very daunting task, I know! Apparently in Impact’s 25-year history, I am the first white person to join its staff.

I don’t know many of the Impact students yet, but we have a GroupMe going where I introduced myself with a picture of my family and a few details about us back in May. Some of them got to meet me in person at the end of the semester. My GroupMe introduction got a few likes and then time marched on, but last week one of the students asked, “Hey, are you still trying to get to know people?”

I replied, “Hello, @abraham I sure am! Do you have something in mind?”

He proceeded to ask me how much do I love black people. He saw that my husband is black, but he wanted to know if I was comfortable around black people and what kind of experience I had.

I was taken aback by his direct questions (and could have become offended and angry probably), but I was certain that he was not the only one with those questions. He was the one who decided to take the first bold step. I answered him honestly and directly with a very long, heartfelt response. I realize I have to build trust in these students like no other relationships in my life as I allow God to use me in cross cultural ministry.

Then he said, “That sounds good if this were an interview, but I want to know the real you.”

You see, I think what he really wanted to know was could he trust me. He wanted to know that I would be willing to empathize with his life. He wanted to know that I was willing to love him and his peers as they are. He was challenging me to be a leader who could actually lead in a culture that is not my own.

After an extensive and very honest conversation he said, “That’s what I like to hear MRS. @lynette Washington. We had finally broken through the surface and he was willing to take a step toward trusting me. From that moment forward, our conversation became more personal. We talked about our families, where we are from and who we want to be when we grow up. It was beautiful!

In 1 Corinthians 12 Paul uses the analogy of the human body to describe the Church – the people who have made a decision to receive Jesus as their Savior in order that they may be reconciled to God, not by their own imperfect attempts at being “good enough” but by the perfect sacrifice of Jesus Christ. Paul describes unity through diversity. He describes one body with many parts – each part just as valuable and critical as another to bring complete life to the body. We need not compare our role as “a toe” to another’s role as “an eye” wishing we could be another part or expecting the other parts to work like our own. If we were all the same the body would not be able to function. If we did not submit to the head of the body – Jesus Christ – we fail to be whole and capable of our intended purpose.

 Chapter 12 finishes with “And now I will show you the most excellent way.”

Chapter 13 opens with “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3 NIV

The next few verses are all too familiar to most of us who have been married in the Christian faith.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails…” 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 NIV

I believe we have sold these verses short. We have attempted to box them into a context where they do not fit. This vivid description of love does not only apply in marriage, it is about being the body, the Church, the bride of Christ. It is about showing love to each other AND to a world that desperately wants to be loved. A world of people who want to belong and be known. We have forgotten how to love!

 I was able to show love to Abraham. I was willing to put his need ahead of my own for the sake of something big than both of us. Allowing Abraham the opportunity to be totally honest was important to him. It built a bridge between us so we can start the journey of walking toward each other instead of building a wall that will divide us.

Paul wraps up chapter 13 with “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” (v.13) God is love. He defines it and he displays it perfectly. It is our job as believers to share him – his love – with everyone we meet. I am excited to be a part of the Impact Movement. It has meant so much to my personal faith journey since my first experience with it in Atlanta, GA nearly 20 years ago. It changed my life to be immersed in a culture not my own, and in it be able to see God’s love with fresh eyes . My understanding of Him grew as a white girl in a room full of 2,500 black people. I hope the same will be true of this new adventure as I lead with love.

Thoughts on Racial Color Blindness

I wrote the following in June 2017- 3 years ago. It seems important to share it now for my white friends and family who may have questions, fears, and concerns about the current status of racial injustice in the United States. This is so much more important to me now than when I wrote it. I spend 2 1/2 years in graduate school since writing this growing my knowledge and vocabulary to be able to teach my children and have good conversations with anyone. Now I have two teenagers and most days I hesitate to let them go out into the world on their own for fear of what they may face any given day. I invite your questions and comments as long as you lead with love and compassion.

Written June 20, 2017...

What is your favorite color? Mine is most any shade of teal. I love it with white in a chevron pattern. I love in in the ocean’s waves of the Caribbean next to the tan sand. I love it next to red in my daughter’s new outfit. I have a pair of teal high heels that I love to pair with navy blue or orange. I just can’t get enough of it. I didn’t really even notice this color until a few years ago, but now I can’t image my wardrobe or life without it. What if I were color blind and unable to distinguish the infinite array of colors God created for us to enjoy. His creativity is limitless and I am so thankful that I get to experience the richness of color every day.

So how did we ever become convinced that colorblindness related to race and ethnicity was a correct path to follow? I think some people had genuine, good intentions when they (whoever they are) thought colorblindness was a good approach to “fix” racism in the United States. To attempt to look at another person and convince yourself that you do not see the color of their skin is silly. What we most often intend by the noble statement, “I teach my kids to be color blind.” is we don’t judge people’s actions by the color of their skin. Unfortunately, in a country like ours where there has always existed a dominate Caucasian culture within the power structure as well as the history of African-American enslavement and oppression our statement of colorblindness leads us to devalue and dismiss the culture and influence of a beautifully diverse group of people who like ALL people was and is created in the image of God. Just like all the shades of teal that I love so much, God deliberately created every shade of skin to demonstrate who he is and bring glory to his name through the thousands of shades of people he placed on this earth.

You may argue that you are very careful to not judge people by the color of their skin. I think I am careful too, but honestly I do it too, and I am married to a black man. I look at him and see the beauty of his skin color. I see what a gorgeous shade of brown we created in our 4 kids. I am attracted to him, in part because of the color of his skin, but when he says or does something that I don’t like or don’t understand, there are ideas that pop into my head that say “that is how black people are” or “that’s what’s wrong with black people”. Oh my goodness…how is that possible? We have been married for nearly 16 years and known each other for 20 years. How is it possible that these kinds of thoughts run through my head about my partner in life?

Let’s me explain! I have begun to learn about the concept of implicit bias. It is something that exists in us all and it very obviously applies to our discussions about race relations. “Thoughts and feelings are “implicit” if we are unaware of them or mistaken about their nature. We have a bias when, rather than being neutral, we have a preference for (or aversion to) a person or group of people. Thus, we use the term “implicit bias” to describe when we have attitudes towards people or associate stereotypes with them without our conscious knowledge. A fairly commonplace example of this is seen in studies that show that white people will frequently associate criminality with black people without even realizing they’re doing it. (https://perception.org/research/implicit-bias/)

In the book “Good Faith” by David Kinnaman and Gabe Lions they give an example of implicit bias. “Gabe is over six feet tall and pretty broad across the shoulders, but he has probably never been referred to or even thought of as a big scary white dude. But ‘big scary black dude’ just sounds normal. That’s implicit bias.”

This was the description provided in some of the media coverage surrounding the shooting of Terence Crutcher in Tulsa, OK last year. Whatever you think about the topic of police brutality and the shooting of black people, think for a moment about how implicit bias would cause a person to respond differently based on the color of another’s skin.

The “Good Faith” authors go on to explain, “The only remedy for people of good faith is for us to intentionally become aware of our unconscious biases with help of a diverse Christian community.”

“The problem for the church is that many (if not most) Christian communities in the United States are homogenous – that is, not diverse at all. And layered atop the problem of most churches’ ethnic homogeneity is the popular idea that the “good Christian” thing to do is to practice colorblindness – where we ignore differences all together. Out of a sincerely good intention to judge others “not by the color of their skin but the content of their character,” as Martin Luther King Jr. challenged, white people often make an effort to see everyone the same – at least consciously. But colorblindness does not make space for people to appreciate different social narratives and cultural expressions.” (Good Faith, Ch 12)

Our elementary school has the distinction of being a “Leader in Me” school. The principles are adapted for kids from Steven Covey’s “7 Habits of Highly Effective People”. Habit 5 is “Seek first to understand and then to be understood.” This is similar to James 1:19-20 (NLT) where James says, “Understand this, my dear brothers and sisters: You must all be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry. Human anger does not produce the righteousness God desires.” Based on this habit and Biblical command, let’s approach everyone, especially those who are different from us, with a listening ear ready to understand their perspective first. I define listening for my children as a two-part process. You must first hear what the person said and then respond with as appropriate action. If I am attempting to be kind and compassionate, my appropriate action will at the very least be delivered in love. Then whether I agree or disagree I am treating he/she with respect because we are both human beings created in the image of God.

So let’s make a real effort to make margin in our lives and our schedules to welcome people in who look and live differently from ourselves. It may be a bit scary, but I promise it will only serve to enhance your life and grow your knowledge and understand of who God is. And as a follower of Jesus Christ, it is my responsibility to demonstrate God’s love to ALL tribes, nations, ethnicities and languages so his name will be made great and more people will know and worship him. And just like my new favorite color brings joy to my life, the addition of a variety of people will bring so much more.

That's so Stereotypical

On the eve of my 39^th birthday, I chose to reflect on where God has positioned me in the context of faith, race, and American culture. I am learning more and more about how God wants me to give my life away each day for the sake of something far greater than me. After a long chat with a friend on Sunday morning in the hallway at church, she texted me Monday morning to encourage me. She recognized that I am in a potentially lonely place as I stand between different groups of people and attempt to build bridges. Often times the bridges are going to span deep chasms where it has been too dangerous to ever attempt a bridge or ravines where a bridge once existed or was started but was burned by someone who didn’t want the two sides to unite. She was right…being a bridge builder is a lonely business to be in, but I believe that is exactly what God is calling me to be. So today I share some thoughts that were sparked by a brief digital exchange I had with an acquaintance recently that will serve as tools and supplies for one of the bridges I am supposed to build.

Let’s begin with a simple definition. A stereotype is a widely held but fixed and oversimplified image or idea of a particular type of person or thing (google search for stereotype definition). A stereotype is a preconceived notion, especially about a group of people. Many stereotypes are racist, sexist, or homophobic. (www.vocabulary.com)

A few weeks ago I shared a picture of my biracial (African-American and Caucasian) children on Facebook with a post that read,

“Racism exist in each of us…even in my house. So what do we do about it? Every time you say “white people are so ____” my children are hurt because you are talking about their mother and them. Every time you think “black people are so ____” my children are hurt because you are talking about their father and them. Every time you let hateful or ignorant ideas “be ok” you are saying racism is ok.  We are created differently to display the diversity of our Creator.”

I received lots of “likes” and “loves” and comments about the post. One person decided to send a private message to ask a very interesting question. It is for dialog like she and I had that I will continue to post thought provoking things in the hopes that we can start bridge-building conversations.

The inquiring person asked what I thought about stereotypes. She wanted to know if I thought “positive” stereotypes would be considered a form of racism acknowledging that even “positive” stereotypes are not always accurate.

So what are some “positive” stereotypes? Black people are good at basketball. All Asian people are geniuses. I can think of a few others that would be considered “harmless” or “just a joke.” White people don’t have any rhythm. Black people love fried chicken. Latinas are all great cooks.

For the record I think all stereotypes are rooted in negativity or indifference toward others. We find it easier to generalize. I think stereotypes are insensitive and can lead us down a path of thinking that's all a group of people is known for. This line of thought could totally apply outside of race, but it seems to be the most obvious there. Is there some truth to stereotypes? Of course, what’s the saying? Stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason. The problem is what we chose to do with stereotypes once we begin to spend time around different people. Do we hold on to our stereotypical expectation or invest time getting to know someone as the unique individual he or she is. As a parent with my own kids, I see them as very unique individuals even though they can from the same two parents. We work hard not to push them all into one category just because of their shared surname. We can apply the same logic when talking about race. A refusal to apply stereotypes allows us to see the beauty in how God has created people from all over the planet and the infinite creativity he possesses. I think it takes a little more effort to develop relationships with people who are different than us, but then it becomes easier to understand why no one wants to be known by a stereotype.

Allow me to share a story from my husband’s childhood to illustrate my point. Tyrone was a 3rd culture kid. He was born in the US and lived a large part of his childhood in Europe because his Dad was in the Army. They settled back in the US when he was in middle school. When he arrived on the playground at school in Mt. Pleasant, SC there was an expectation from the other kids, black and white, that he would be good at basketball because he was black. Growing up in Europe, basketball was not an option for him so he had never played. He felt embarrassed at the least that he could not do something that he was "supposed" to be able to do. He went on to be a pretty good football player in high school as well as track and wrestling. His greatest accomplishments, however, were being invited to the prestigious wind ensemble (he played trombone) as a freshman and being the first in his family to earn a Ph. D.

 If we let the stereotypes stand, where do all the people end up who are not good at the thing we think they are supposed to be good at? Or worse perhaps, we hold someone to a negative stereotype never allowing them to fulfill their full potential because it doesn’t fit the mold our stereotypes have formed for their group.

This begs the question do I refer to a person who uses stereotypes as racist?

In most cases, absolutely not! Recalling our definition, stereotypes often come from racist ideas, but to begin to label people as racist without careful evaluation will not build bridges but widen the gaps between us. It will also minimize the validity of systemic racism in our country and further distract us from the issues we need to address. I think it is important to identify ideas and processes of thought that come from false notions about race so we can become more empathetic and value one another's life experiences. Let’s fight against the intellectual laziness of stereotypes and give more effort toward loving our neighbor as ourselves. Only when we chose to value one another and our differences can we truly build bridges that will unite.