Many of us have shared and quoted the words “I can’t breathe” over and over the last week. They remind us of the atrocious injustice former officer Chauvin committed against George Floyd.
Unfortunately, it seems many of us are doing the same thing—we’re not hearing the one who is suffering.
If former officer Chauvin had taken seriously Floyd’s words, he would have gotten off of him and let him breath again. Instead, he took into his own hands what justice looked like from his perspective, and an image bearer of God got murdered as a result.
Some of us are sitting passively, not really paying attention to the news. We also might not know what to do—maybe our community isn’t very racially diverse and so the whole issue feels “out-there.”
Others of us have picked up the fight, gone to protests, and even participated in rioting. Well, as of the time of this writing, evidence is coming out that the violent riots are instigated primarily by white people. So, we haven’t just “participated in rioting.” We are the rioters.
Others, still, are focusing mostly on the wrongness of the rioting and calling out the evil and injustice of destroying businesses and city centers “all over one man’s death.”
But in each of these responses, the ones suffering are still going unheard.
We as white Christians need to be active in fighting against racial injustice. But we also need to be careful that we don’t act based on what we think the injustice is or based on what we think needs to be done. We trample over the ones actually experiencing the injustice in the process.
This is why I’ve started my series on racial issues by simply calling us to grieve. That is where we as white brothers and sisters need to be right now.
We have to be broken over this sin and this injustice.
We have to spend our time listening to the cries of those feeling oppressed.
We have to take their words seriously and acknowledge their pain instead of explaining it away.
We have to ask them what we can do to help, instead of casting our postulations, picking up spray cans, or ignoring it as a serious issue.
Ultimately, we have got to renounce the drive within ourselves to (1) be the hero, and (2) come out maintaining control.
Until we’re broken over racial injustice to the point where we spend time on our knees weeping over it, until we can sit and listen to and allow our worldview to be shaped by our brothers and sisters of color, and until we can acknowledge that those feeling oppressed play a key role in explaining what justice looks like we are still missing the point of “I can’t breathe.”[1]
Feel free to respond in the comments below.
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[1] If you have no friends of color to listen to, and no other resources to help get you started, here are a few great places to start listening (from the black and biracial communities, for now): Keeshon Marshall Washington on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/morethannothing, my cousin Aria Childers https://www.facebook.com/aria.schrader.9/posts/10158314365659941, Anthony O’Neil https://www.facebook.com/aoneal/videos/756208095187985/UzpfSTMwNTkyMTgwODg1OjEwMTU3MzkxMzU0NTA1ODg2/, Anthony Evans https://www.facebook.com/anthonyevansmusic/photos/pb.111368172238044.-2207520000../4006400076068148/?type=3&theater, Shola Richards https://www.facebook.com/shola.richards.7/posts/10163797079620220, Austin Channing on Twitter https://twitter.com/austinchanning, Steve Patton on Twitter https://twitter.com/StevenPatton, BJ Thompson on Twitter https://twitter.com/bj116, Kyle J. Howard on Twitter https://twitter.com/KyleJamesHoward, Jemar Tisby on Twitter https://twitter.com/JemarTisby, The Witness https://thewitnessbcc.com/.
