Life as a Black Christian Right Now

My faith took a big hit the latter part of last year. The summer was full of protests, destruction, and pain. Black people were being killed for existing, and half the country couldn’t wrap their heads around why that would be something painful. Personally, I was coming to terms with a lot of the racism I had experienced growing up and grappling with the fear that anyone in my family could be hurt just for being black. I was particularly disappointed to see people who claimed to be Christian be loud and proud racists. I was disgusted by their behavior and by any religious institution that would promote hatred in the name of the Jesus I thought I knew. Unfortunately and probably to the joy of racist “Christians”, I felt ostracized to the point of ambivalence. I stopped praying and convinced myself that their definition of faith had to be the only definition. I felt like there was no longer a place for me in the faith. I carried on this way for months. While my life didn’t come crashing down, I did feel like a huge part of my identity was missing.

On Wednesday, I was watching the destruction of the U.S. Capitol with my mother on live television. As someone who grew up on the Hill, it was devastating to see the complete destruction of a place I love and a symbol of the country I have continued to love, although it hasn’t always loved me. Quiet tears streamed down my face as I watched hatred and destruction. Confederate flags, Nazi propaganda, and nooses were all erected to incite fear in the hearts of people like me. Something else struck me more than anything. During the coverage of the coup attempt, the camera panned and focused on a sign that said: “Jesus Saves”. The people brandishing the sign were screaming at the top of their lungs and rushing up the stairs of the U.S. Capitol, hoping to cause more damage. (There were many other signs citing Christianity as a reason for the horrific terrorism.)

I stared at the sign, and I have to tell you, deep down in my heart I heard God say, “That is not me.” And I know that to be true. My faith needs work, and I have a lot of reconciling to do, but one thing is for sure, my God is not racist, not just for white people, and he is the opposite of hateful. He is loving, for everyone, and loves recklessly. What I remembered at that moment is that He loves ME recklessly, even when I wrongly allow extremists to tell me who He is.

I don’t know your faith affiliation. Maybe you’re a Christian, another faith, or an atheist. Regardless, I want to make it clear that the Bible warns against people using God’s name and teachings to be hateful. Just like my country, I cannot surrender my faith to people who abuse it and desire to warp it to their own hateful views. The country I believe in is one where everyone can be respected and have a fair chance at life. The God I believe in loves all His creation and would never encourage destruction, violence, or murder in His name.

I don’t know where my country is headed. I don’t know if the violence marks the end or the beginning, but one thing I can say for sure is that Jesus is not what I saw on my tv screen Wednesday afternoon. He’s the complete opposite, and I pray there will be a reckoning for people using Him to spread hatred and violence.

Romans 16:17-18: I urge you, brothers and sisters, to watch out for those who cause divisions and put obstacles in your way that are contrary to the teaching you have learned. Keep away from them. For such people are not serving our Lord Christ, but their own appetites. By smooth talk and flattery they deceive the minds of naive people.