Wednesday, August 20, 2014


To be honest, I feel a bit like I've been hit by a truck this week.  The start of school is just exhausting for everyone involved, and last night I also hosted community group at our house.  So, today I want to lay on the couch while the babies sleep and Bella plays with Legos in her room.  Instead, I'm reading through various blog posts and news articles about all that has happened in Ferguson, MO in the past couple of weeks.

I don't feel qualified to write one single word about what is going on.  I dread inserting myself into something controversial and complex.  It would be easier to read in silence and only talk with John about the tragedy.  To be honest, I want to close my eyes and heart to it all, and I think that three years ago, I probably could have.

Now, I have a black son.  My precious boy who sometimes wears braces to help him stand correctly.


He's got the biggest smile, and he loves to play peek-a-boo by covering one eye and peering at you through the other to see if you've noticed.  And though he will grow up in a white family - he will not experience the white privilege that his father, mother and two older sisters almost unknowingly possess.  His skin is shades darker than ours, and it is amazing to me to realize how much this matters in our world.

When I look at our twins and see my son and daughter, I honestly don't often think about them being African-American.  I think of them as William and Violet - children I have loved since before they were born.  Children who I would do anything for.

It is heart-wrenching to know that the statistics are stacked against my son.  That because of the color of his skin, he is more likely to be stopped, more likely to be arrested, more likely to be convicted of a crime, than his lighter skinned counterparts.  John and I have already talked about some of the preparation that we will need to do with him, and we hope to lean on our African-American friends and family to help us to understand things we have never had to think about.

I know the situation in Ferguson is complex, and I certainly do not pretend to fully understand all that has happened there.  Nor do I feel able to pass judgement.  But, I can see a pattern of unarmed black men being shot just like anyone else can, and it points to problems that run deep and wide with no simple solutions.

Because of my son, I can no longer live in ignorance or easy dismissal of "their problems."  The problem is mine now, and because I can identify with both "sides" - I feel the problem pressing in, and I hate living in a fallen, sin-stained world.  My heart is broken, and I am looking for Jesus in it all.  And since he aligns with the sick who need a doctor - not the well, I know to look for him with the downtrodden and oppressed.  That's where I want to be, even if I don't know how to be there.

Here are a few blog posts that have really resonated with me in the last week:

Is It "Goodbye Evangelicalism" or "We Join You in Your Suffering"? by Thabiti Anyabwile
I Know a Boy by Shannon White
More on Ferguson and White Privilege by Matt Chandler
A White Cop, A Black Kid and a Crime by Jamie Wright
Color Blind is a Lie by Stacey Valley