Racism isn't Dead

I have been befuddled by the vehemence with which my White friends and family deny that racism had nothing to do with Eric Chandler's, Michael Brown's, or Trayvon Martin's deaths (among many others). It is unfathomable to me to disbelieve the hundreds of thousands of protestors who speak to experiences of prejudice and racism in America.

And then I figured it out...

At least some of it.

I don't claim to have The Answer, but I realized as I read the responses to the lack of charges in Eric Chandler's death, that many of my White friends and family think that racism goes like this:

1) George Zimmerman hates Blacks and went out "hunting" for a Black to kill... if this isn't the truth, then it isn't racism.

2) Officer Darren Wilson becomes a police officer because he thinks all Blacks deserve arrest and punishment... or even just all "those" Blacks... if this isn't how it happened, it's not racism.

3) Officer Daniel Pantaleo saw Eric Chandler's resisting of arrest as an opportunity to kill off one more Black man... and if this can't be proven, it's not racism.

But that's just wrong. Sure, there are those evil people out there who truly hate all Black people. And there's no doubt that those people are racists. And yes, there are racist Black people who hate all White people. And there are racists of every race and every culture.

But that's not the face of racism I have seen in these situations and in my life. The face of racism is couched in our expectations and the assumptions that follow.

For example, a Black man is viewed as "threatening" by our society. Therefore, a Black man resisting arrest (clearly a wrong thing to do) is perceived as a bigger danger than a White man resisting arrest (just as wrong). It's not that the arresting officer was out to "get" a Black man, it's that the officer's sense of fear is heightened by the assumption that a Black man is inherently more dangerous than a White man doing the same behaviors. This does not point a finger at that arresting officer, but at the society that has created the assumption that Black men are dangerous.

Black people are assumed to be "poor," so when my affluent Black twenty-something daughter drives her very nice car, she is stopped by police for DWB (Driving While Black). This has happened to her many times. If a young White man had been walking in Trayvon's neighborhood with a hoodie on, it's likely he would've been assumed to belong in the upper-middle-class neighborhood, not followed, not murdered. It's not that George Zimmerman was out to "get" a young Black man, it's that he was afraid and assumed a Black man didn't belong in his neighborhood.

A particularly hateful assumption that I have found in my years as an elementary teacher in two states and four districts is that Black boys need more discipline than White boys. And of course, the general assumption that boys need more discipline than girls is in effect, too. What that means is that Black boys get disciplined more strictly and harshly than Black girls, White boys, and White girls. In other words, a Black boy is taught that he is more "wrong" than everyone else. And even more importantly, the Black girls, White boys, and White girls are all taught that Black boys are naughtier (more threatening) than anyone else!

I've even seen and heard about charter schools that are based on the idea that "those kids" (typically kids of color and of poverty) need more discipline and a more rigid curriculum. Entire schools based on an erroneous image of Blackness and poverty as "more wrong."

Another opinion I hear that I disagree with vehemently is, "I'm color-blind" or "The world would be better off if it were color-blind." Perhaps the second one is true if indeed the world could be entirely color-blind, but that's not the truth now. The truth now is that the experiences of a White person from birth to death are quite different from the experiences of a Black person from birth to death. The above assumptions, coupled with overt racism (My daughter repeatedly being told to "get her N* a** off our sidewalk" of a neighbor is just one example.), provide a completely different world-experience for those kids of color who walk into our classrooms, stores, churches, etc. If you do not believe this, ask people of color what their experiences are!!! We cannot fail to know these different world-experiences and expect to treat children of color "the same as anyone." Instead, we must work to include these children, to engage these children, to teach these children from an understanding of their experiences.

Racism isn't only about being or not-being a racist (meaning a person who actively hates another group). It is about being aware of the disadvantages given by society, history, and life circumstances to a group of people and actively working against those disadvantages... if you want to be a non-racist.

In the Face of Tragedy

Tragedy has a very personal face. An impersonal tragedy doesn't exist. I know many of these faces, here in Dulce and elsewhere through my life. I have been the face of tragedy at certain points in my past.

FROG (Fully Rely On God) is 12x12 inches. $100.00

I know the faces of mothers and fathers who lost beloved children to cancer... to accidents... to drugs... to murder...

I know the faces of wives who have lost their husbands too soon... and of husbands lost without their wives...

I know the faces of grandparents who are struggling to raise grandchildren damaged by violence...

I know the faces of women who want to be called "mom" and of men who want to be called "dad" so badly that every breath hurts...

I know the faces of children who have lost parents to death or imprisonment or apathy...

I know the faces of husbands and wives who have been betrayed...

And I know that you know these faces, too. Some of you have been these faces at certain points in your life. Tragedy is personal.

So what do we do, as Christians, when we are present in the face of tragedy?? How do we respond when someone reveals their personal tragedy??

My first answer, on the morning of the latest tragedy in our congregation here, came in Austin Bridges' song, Hold On to Jesus. We hold on to Jesus, and that's true. We cling to the truths given to us by the Bible: "I can do all things through him who strengthens me." (Philippians 4:13); "All things are possible for one who believes." (Mark 9:23); and "...we know that for those who love God all things work together for good..." (Romans 8:28)

But what about those times when we don't have the energy to hold on to Jesus?? What about those tragedies that seem to have no possibility of good?? What about the times when our strength fails completely?

I've been there.

And I've been with some as they faced those kinds of tragedies.

What then??

I think the answer is much deeper than "hold on to Jesus," as good as that is. Because when we have no more to give, no prayers to say, no strength to share, no silver-lining to glimpse...

Jesus holds on to us.

We don't have to do anything. We are His, and He loves us. He holds us in our tragedies; he carries us through the dark valleys. Romans 8:26 says, "Likewise, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

We don't have to have words to soothe the face of tragedy. We don't have to have answers or platitudes... or even hope. We are His. 

Jesus holds on to us.

Amen. And amen.

Life and Death

I'm sure you've heard about Brittany Maynard, the young woman who was afflicted with a horrific brain cancer and chose to "die with dignity." It's been fairly public, and lots of opinions are flying around extolling or condemning her choice.

I've also read quite a bit lately of another young woman, Lauren Hill, also suffering from brain cancer, who achieved her goal of playing basketball at the college level. The NCAA actually moved a game up two weeks so Lauren would be more likely to be able to play. She made the first basket of this NCAA season. She is deteriorating quickly, but she is living her days.

And I'm mulling over these two situations as more than two hundred people gather at our church, just across the yard, for the funeral of a beloved sister in Christ who died unexpectedly on Friday last week. She  was praising God at a revival meeting just two days prior to her death. (It is not custom here to bring children to funerals, or I would be there, too.)

I'm sure I'll surprise some folks when they read that I am in support of Brittany Maynard's right to choose her death. I disagree with her that it is the best choice, but I am in support of her right to make that decision. I don't believe that my (or anyone else's!) religious beliefs should dictate public policy.

Because I am Christian, I believe that God has ordained my days, that I will have His work to do here on Earth until my death. I don't consider suicide or "death with dignity" a mortal sin that prohibits a person from entering heaven, but I don't consider that God would require me to stay alive by any means possible, either.

So, in this considering of life and death, I find myself hoping that I don't ever have to face a terminal brain cancer. I've seen what it can do, and I don't want to go there. But, if my God ordains that road for me, I will do as Lauren Hill has done and try to live every single day I am given. I will attempt to encourage my family and friends with my faith in God's plan. Who knows what blessing my life could provide in my last days? Only God. And I will trust Him.

I find myself hoping for a death like that of my Christian sister whose funeral was held today. Not that I seek a high number of mourners, but that my mourners will be celebrating my promised resurrection.We are still sad at our loss, but we know she is with her God.

I want to live for my Lord, Jesus Christ. And I want to die for Him, too. I pray that all people facing terminal illnesses can find their strength in Him.

Amen.

Sabbath Day

 It's been a busy month.

Seriously busy.

Crazy busy.

We've had the beginning of our new AWANA Ministry here in Dulce. We've had the Jicarilla Apache Reformed Church's centennial celebration, including house guests and dinner for more than 150. I designed and built a stained glass window for the sanctuary. The next week, I completed a glass piece that was ordered to commemorate a young person's death. Then my parents made their first visit to New Mexico. We had a wonderful week with them, sharing our life here in Dulce.

It was a busy month. And a good month. A delight.

My parents' last day here was a Sunday. A typical Sunday for us. With a church service. Sunday school. Awana. Bible study. At the end of such a busy month, it was an extremely busy day.

And at the end of it, someone said, "You've got to be exhausted!" I was definitely tired. Then they added, "You don't even get the Sabbath Day to rest."

Two "buts" ran through my head when I heard that:

1. But, God sustains us! It's His work, after all. And He provides all the energy and strength I need to lead and follow and participate and share.

2. But we do get a Sabbath! It's not on Sunday, but we are mindful of the need for family time and rest, and we do take a day and relax. I take delight in following God in rest; resting is a delightful way to spend some time.

This is the piece I created to commemorate a young person's death. It's called "Everlasting Life," and it has many characteristics that are personally important to those mourning this person's death. It's also a fitting piece for this past month: Even after such a busy time, we are reborn to God's work through Him. He provides for us, in the midst of such busy-ness, and in the rest we can take following.

God is good.

All the time.

In every time.

Amen.

Centennial Celebration

Happy Centennial, Jicarilla Apache Reformed Church! We held our Centennial Dinner tonight. Somewhere between 150 and 200 people attended. They came from as far away as New York and from as close as next door. We ate together and shared some stories.

I gave this glass piece to a representative of the church, commemorating 100 years of service in Dulce. The circle represents the Jicarilla Seal, which has both the red clan and white clan colors, a basket-woven circle with tipis, and the shape of the reservation. I incorporated the cross and the 100 for the centennial.

Two speakers tonight really spoke to my heart. The first was a representative of the Jicarilla Apache Nation. He is an elected official, and the Nation is a sovereign nation. He spoke about the role the church has had in the community's history, both good and bad. He himself is not a member of a Christian church, and he didn't shy away from that fact.

The second speaker was a white man representing the Reformed Church of America, our denomination. He also addressed the history of the church's relationship with the Jicarilla Apache people. He, too, talked about the good parts of that historical relationship and the bad parts. He specifically brought up a couple of incidents written about by a Jicarilla Christian man: Being punished for speaking Jicarilla and forcibly cutting off his braids, both happening during this man's childhood by the Reformed Church. In his book, this man asks, "Will anyone ever apologize?"

Tonight, the white man from our denomination apologized to the Jicarilla man from our community, who was present at the celebration. He apologized more generally to the Jicarilla Apache people, saying that Jesus would never have approved such actions by His church.

I pray that a healing began with that apology. I pray that the work of the Jicarilla Apache Reformed Church will move forward to the glory of Jesus Christ, our Lord, in ways that He would approve.

Amen. And amen.

The Heart of Marriage

This design is "Become One" and is frequently ordered as a wedding gift. I've made it in many color combinations, and I love the design. I completed this particular version yesterday and mailed it off today.

It is my practice to pray for the couple getting married as I build these panels. Even if I don't know them, I pray for them as I choose and cut glass, as I put the pieces together, and as I solder the lead together to make a whole. I pray for their marriages and their relationship with God.

I have built two "Become One" pieces in the past couple of weeks; it's a popular gift item. And in addition to praying for each of the couples, I have thought a lot about my own marriage as we near our anniversary. My husband and I met on August 5th, 2007, and got married on October 16, 2007.

Yep, really.

Yes... only ten weeks and two days.

I would do it again in a heartbeat! I have never regretted our somewhat unconventional courting-time; we are very happy together. But more than that, we are a good ministry team. And that was God's plan, not ours. I had no intention of becoming a missionary on a Native reservation; I was a teacher. I didn't feel so much that God had called me to be a teacher, but it was my life's work.


When Brad and I married, I knew he was in seminary to become a pastor. I was willing to go with him to wherever God called him. I figured I would teach in the school system. My trust was in God, that He had a plan.

And He did.
                    A good one.
                                         Just not the same one I had!

First, God placed our youngest daughter in our home unexpectedly. We didn't anticipate parenting together, but it has enriched our marriage and our lives. Second, God called me to teach, but not in the public school system. He called me to teach our daughter... at home. Homeschooling our youngest has been one of the most rewarding (and most challenging!) things I've ever done.

And third, God called us to an altogether different ministry than we expected. We are truly missionaries, even though we are in the United States. We love it here, but it truly takes both of us to minister here. And this morning I read something by Henri Nouwen (from In the Name of Jesus):

"Jesus did not send his disciples out alone to preach the word. He sent them two by two."

I've read that line multiple times today. It's so very true for us. Neither of us could do this work alone, either the parenting and homeschooling or the ministry here in the Jicarilla Apache Nation.

God provided for His ministry to our daughter and to this community when He made us husband and wife. He provides in rich fellowship, in gentle leadership, and in sweet relationship... every day, in every way.

Which brings me back to glass work...

The heart of a marriage is its anchor in Jesus Christ... in the cross... in the complete work of grace which gives us a perfect example of love. That's where marriage starts,

and that's where I start soldering when I build this piece... at the very center of the cross... it's the only way to make the piece whole and stable...

...just like a marriage.

I am so very glad that God took this twice-divorced, parenting-weary, only-slightly-committed Christian worker, and grew me into a happily-married, parenting-treasuring, and deeply committed Christian worker.

Amen. And amen.

People vs. Paint

I am painting the church. The mission group that came in June began the project and painted all the high places and the windows. That's awesome! I volunteered to finish the job by painting the stucco over the summer.

Well, summer is basically gone, and I'm still painting...

I'm making progress! I am about 2/3 done. This is a bigger project than I expected because it's pretty high... and it's stucco. I mentioned that already? Oh. Well, if you've ever painted stucco, you'll understand why I'm repeating myself.

A large part of why I'm still painting in mid-September is people. See, Jesus didn't say, "Take good care of my church buildings." He said, "Feed my sheep." and "Love one another." There have been a few times this summer that I've wished He cared about His church buildings because I'd like to finish this job before our Centennial Celebration on the weekend of October 3rd.

But instead, I've stopped painting to allow our seven-year--old and her friends to swim. Being home-schooled, she doesn't have as many chances to play with friends as most kids, so I try to facilitate having friends over when I can.

And instead, I've sat down with an intoxicated man, listened to him meander through conversation about God, and prayed with him.

I've allowed the paint to dry on the brush as I interacted with a suicidal young man. Tears flowed freely when I told him that God had plans for him; he said that no one had ever said that to him before. He wasn't sure he believed it, but he's visited again, saying he felt safe here.

And instead of finishing the paint job, I've helped coach more than 50 youngsters in soccer, a game I've never played. But two more hands on the field have lessened the load for the adults in charge.

When today, instead of painting, I was chatting with my mother (whose birthday it is!), she said, "You must be frustrated by all the interruptions," I said, "Yes, sometimes, but really, people are more important than paint. This is the work God wants from me now."

And I realized it's true. If the church building is two-toned on our Centennial Celebration weekend, some people might care, but God won't. He will be happy that His people have been tended and loved. After all, He didn't say, "Make sure the church buildings look good."