The World I'm Living In...

Yesterday my alarm went off and I did what I do most mornings.  I hit snooze, closed my eyes, only to open them 5 minutes later and begin to scroll through social media before I would actually get out of bed and spend time with Jesus.  I happened to pull up Facebook first and at the top of my feed was an "on this day" post, reminding me that today was the day we first met Biruk in Ethiopia, a day that literally changed the trajectory of our lives.  There was a sweet picture of Nate holding this precious 5 month old baby who would in the next two months officially become a part of our forever family.  I sat there reminded of God's faithfulness and then began to scroll through the feed searching to see what others were talking about on May 27, 2020.  That's when I saw the name "George Floyd" appear over and over again and as I began to read, discovered that once again, a black man's life had been taken in way that left you speechless, sick, and angry at all the hate that is still in this world.

Lately, I've found myself running a lot to clear my head.  For some reason this whole COVID19 life has me thinking way more than I care to think.  As I ran, I couldn't reconcile the two pictures in my head...one of us holding a 5 month old black baby who we would have the privilege of parenting for the rest of our lives and one of a man screaming for his own mom begging to breathe.

As I finished my run and stretched in front of my house these words came to mind, "I wonder if she would have fought harder for him.  Stood up.  Been a voice."  The "she" I was referring to was Biruk's birth mom, who we had the chance to spend a couple of hours with that day she handed us her little boy and entrusted us with his life.

I am a white mom of a black child.  I am a Pastor who has been called to preach the good news of Jesus to everyone I come in contact with.  I am a Jesus follower...the same Jesus who has clearly asked us to be a voice for the marginalized, to loose the chains of injustice, to set the captives free, and to not live in fear.

If I am totally honest...I am afraid.

I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing, not saying enough, making people mad, living too comfortable, not recognizing my privilege, and ignoring what is going on around me.  I'm afraid that people will think I care just because I have a black son.  I'm afraid I'll be the white girl who has no idea what she is talking about.  And so many times, I say nothing.

Because you know what?  Saying nothing feels like the safest choice.

Jesus was pretty clear he wasn't a big fan of "safe."

Dietrich Bonhoffer once said, "Silence in the face of evil is itself evil.  God will not hold us guiltless.  Not to speak is to speak.  Not to act is to act."

I not only carry privilege as a white person, but I carry privilege as a white mom of a black child.  I'm not even sure what that fully means or how to leverage that to make a difference yet...but I'm trying to figure it out.

Here's what I do know...I can't keep spending my days wondering if I  should speak out or not, if my words will be eloquent enough, or if what I will say will matters.   Truth is, most of us have way more to learn than we realize, but we have to start somewhere.  Because every single one of us that is still breathing...we have a voice and we've got to start using it.



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