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I awoke Thursday morning to a news alert via email: Nine dead in Charleston, South Carolina. The shooter had not yet been apprehended, but unless you’ve been on a media sabbatical, I don’t need to elaborate any further as to who was murdered or who the murderer is.

I’ll be honest–I didn’t turn on the news. I avoided social media for much of the morning. Because I knew that this would become what it had become: a fight about what this was and what it was not. We can’t even mourn the loss of human life without it becoming a political debate. Instead I prayed for the families, the church and the city of Charleston. I just needed to wrap my head around such a senseless and despicable act.

When I did steel myself enough to venture onto Facebook, one of the first things I read was a post condemning those who had not posted anything about the events in Charleston, telling me that if I hadn’t made my opinion known via social media that clearly I “did not give a shit” about what happened to the members of Mother AME Emanuel Church. That’s just not true. Not everyone posts every thought and opinion on social media. I would argue that sometimes it’s best to think and pray (if you’re so inclined) before you share your thoughts with the rest of the world.

But then something amazing happened. Rather than granting the wishes of the evil, despicable person who perpetrated this act to “start a race war”, the people of South Carolina joined together in mourning and in prayer.

“Though they plot evil against you and devise wicked schemes, they cannot succeed.” Psalm 21:11

They acknowledged the scourge of racism while turning away those who would use this tragedy to advance their own political agendas. I have always been proud to be a Southerner, but today I’m just a little bit prouder.

Which is not to say racism isn’t still a problem in this country. It most certainly is. As a friend of mine pointed out last week, every time some racially motivated incident occurs, the first thing you hear is, “We need to have an open and honest conversation about race relations in this country”, and then we don’t. We just express our own opinions, or retweet and share those voices we agree with. That’s not a conversation. A conversation involves listening to each other.

So here I am attempting to begin an open and honest conversation about race. I read an excellent post by Deidra Riggs, who paraphrased Randy Alcorn’s book Deadline: “For black people, race is like a marinade. It is soaked into us, all of the time. We cannot escape it. It infuses everything we do. But, for white people, race is like a condiment, If you want to deal with, you can. But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

I do not know now or will I ever know what it means to be black. Although I do know what it’s like to feel less than. I was born in 1965 to a white father and a Japanese mother in Virginia. My early elementary school years were spent at a public school in Charlotte, North Carolina, and while there were probably close to an equal number of black and white children at that school, the only faces that looked like mine were my siblings. I had friends. I didn’t identify them by their race, but I’m guessing my friends’ parents identified me as “the Chinese looking girl”. (As I said before, I’m half Japanese. But in the early 70’s, it was my experience that whites assumed Asian countries of origin were interchangeable for the purposes of describing physical attributes.) We did not talk about Japanese culture in our home nor did we eat Japanese food. We all just did our best to fit in with everyone else, with varying degrees of success.

But I’m not white. Legally speaking, I can choose to identify as either white or Asian/Pacific Islander, but I am not white. As so succinctly described in the above description of what it’s like to be a person of color, my heritage is soaked into me.

Here’s how I know that to be true: I cannot watch any war movies about Vietnam or World War II that depict the deaths of Asians. The famous black and white photo of the naked girl running in terror as her village is being bombed by Napalm? It rips my heart out just thinking about it. I have a knot in my stomach as I type these words. Not because I think Asian lives are somehow more valuable or sacred than other races–ALL lives are sacred.

No, it hurts because it’s personal. It hurts because she looks like me.

Am I correct to assume that even though the deaths of Cynthia Hurd, Susie Jackson, Ethel Lance, Rev. DePayne Middleton-Doctor, Rev. Clementa Pinckney, Tywanza Sanders, Rev. Daniel Simmons Sr., Rev. Sharonda Singleton, and Myra Thompson are heartbreaking, that if your face looks like theirs, your heart breaks more?

I’m not saying any of this to be provocative. I’m trying to start an honest conversation. I need to acknowledge my own biases–not against anyone else, but for the people with whom I identify. I’ve shared this clip before, but I think it speaks to what we’re facing. I would like to face it together as a community acknowledging our differences while finding common ground.

I grew up going to church. Please understand me when I tell you that doesn’t mean I grew up a Christian, because that’s not what I mean to say. I grew up going to church on Sunday with my mother and on occasion with my father because that’s what “respectable” people did. I did not have a relationship with Jesus. Church was a place, not a body.

When I was in junior high school, my older sister started dating a guy whose family belonged to a church. My mom (who was now recently divorced from my dad) started taking all of us. I really loved that church. There were many Sundays when the pastor would invite people to come forward and be baptised that I felt compelled to do so. But since I grew up going to church, I was ashamed to admit that I hadn’t already done so. I began to feel more and more like an outsider; a phony Christian. I eventually quit going to church altogether. My teen years and twenties were spent very far away from God.

It was not until after the birth of my first child that I was baptised and began my life as a Christian. Before that, I owned a bible that did little more than gather dust on the bookshelf. The church where I was baptised was my church home until I left to help plant C3. I still love that body of believers. I learned so much about God, Jesus and His Word there. But at some point, I began to wonder if I would ever measure up to what it meant to be a good Christian. Soon after we joined a bible study group, we did a study of James. I was completely baffled by it. To me, so much of it contradicted what I had read in the gospel of John. (Which is what everyone told me to read first.) I just didn’t understand how both could be true. Then I borrowed a book called “The Ragamuffin Gospel” by Brennan Manning from our new worship pastor. I read that book cover to cover in 2 days. Until I read that book, as much as I tried to understand to concept of grace, I just couldn’t understand how God could love someone as broken as me — not someone who was once broken, but someone who was still broken; still woefully inadequate and unworthy. After reading it, I read the bible with a fresh perspective. It was one of those God’s perfect timing moments for me.

I recently found a blog called on coffee by clicking on a link on Koffijah’s blog. It is a delightfully random sort of blog — right up my alley! There are several Youtube videos on this blog, including the one below. Please understand, I am posting this because it really struck a cord with me personally. This is not an attempt to tear down anyone else’s relationship with God. I just wanted to share it with you:

Brennan Manning said:

The Lord Jesus is going to ask each of us one question and only one question: Do you believe that I loved you? That I desired you? That I waited for you day after day? That I longed to hear the sound of your voice?

The real believers there will answer, “Yes, Jesus. I believed in your love and I tried to shape my life as a response to it. But many of us who are so faithful in our ministry, in our practice, in our church going are going to have to reply, “Well frankly, no sir. I mean, I never really believed it. I mean, I heard alot of wonderful sermons and teachings about it. In fact I gave quite a few myself. But I always knew that that was just a way of speaking; a kindly lie, some Christian’s pious pat on the back to cheer me on. And there’s the difference between the real believers and the nominal Christians that are found in our churches across the land. No one can measure like a believer the depth and the intensity of God’s love. But at the same time, no one can measure like a believer the effectiveness of our gloom, pessimism, low self-esteem, self-hatred and despair that block God’s way to us. Do you see why it is so important to lay hold of this basic truth of our faith? Because you’re only going to be as big as your own concept of God.

Do you remember the famous line of the French philosopher, Blaise Pascal? “God made man in his own image, and man returned the compliment”? We often make God in our own image, and He winds up to be as fussy, rude, narrow minded, legalistic, judgemental, unforgiving, unloving as we are.

In the past couple of three years I have preached the gospel to the financial community in Wallstreet, New York City, the airmen and women of the air force academy in Colorado Springs, a thousand positions in Nairobi. I’ve been in churches in Bangor, Maine, Miami, Chicago, St. Louis, Seattle, San Diego. And honest, the god of so many Christians I meet is a god who is too small for me. Because he is not the God of the Word, he is not the God revealed by it in Jesus Christ who this moment comes right to your seat and says, “I have a word for you. I know your whole life story. I know every skeleton in your closet. I know every moment of sin, shame, dishonesty and degraded love that has darkened your past. Right now I know your shallow faith, your feeble prayer life, your inconsistent discipleship. And my word is this: I dare you to trust that I love you just as you are, and not as you should be. Because you’re never going to be as you should be.”

Do you believe that He loves you?

NOTE: You many have noticed that I when I post a song video here, I will also provide the lyrics to the video. The reason I do this is because not everyone who reads my blog is able to view videos on their computers. It’s ususally an easy matter of cutting and pasting the lyrics from another source – no big deal. As far as I could find, there is no transcript of this particular speech by Manning. I typed what he said as I heard it, so if I misheard anything, I apologize. I think I got it right, though, and I’m so glad I typed it out, because sometimes I’m a little thick, and the exercise helped me soak in every single word.

photo and text courtesy of Chris Ayers, Westwood Baptist Church

Matthew 44:44

“Go ye therefore and construct church buildings and fellowship halls and put nice organs in your sanctuaries, and then you listen to sermons and beautiful music and sit around in Sunday School classrooms and talk about the Bible. And don’t forget to buy a church van so you can take the elderly and youth on nice outings.”

The scheduled post for today was more random silliness, but I’m going to save that one for tomorrow or Friday. I need to do this post. Wednesday is one of my Internet fasting days, so if you have a comment, I’ll promise to get back to you on Thursday.

I also need to explain the picture. I do not think the Bible is “goofed-up” in any way. I chose this picture because I think we goof up the Word of God by sometimes taking things out of context. I believe that the Bible — from Genesis to Revelation — is the Story of Jesus. Yes, it is more than that, but unless we understand and believe His story, what’s the point? Unlike most books, it is suggested that you begin somewhat in the middle, with the first Chapter of John, which is interesting, because in many ways, that is the beginning. (Sorry – does that make sense?)

So here’s my challenge:

To the non believer: Read the first chapter of John. Does it make sense to you? I’m not asking whether or not you believe it, I’m only asking if it makes sense. Or does it seem confusing? Completely ridiculous? Unbelievable?

To the new believer: Read Luke, Chapter 15. Who, if anyone, do you identify with in this story? Who do you believe the main character(s) to be? Not who you THINK you should identify with, or who your pastor or mentor told you was the main character. What does your gut tell you?

To the mature believer: Read Luke, Chapter 15. Same question as above. But I’m asking you to put aside your Bible commentaries and attempt to read the introduction into the parables and the parables themselves as if you are reading them for the first time.

I will be working on a post that I will publish next Wednesday. Until then, would you please indulge me just a little? I’ve heard and read the above passages so many times that I fear I have often skimmed over some very valuable teachings contained within. Please feel free to share any preliminary thoughts with me. I only ask that they come from your heart as well as your head. I would also ask that no one get into a discussion about the merits of one particular denomination over another or disparage anyone for believing or not believing in a Divine Creator. For the purposes of this discussion, I would very much like to focus on what unites us, not what divides us.

Back to more of my distinctive ridiculousness tomorrow.

P. S. – I will also be posting something about my experiences in the weird and wonderful world of church planting on Saturday. Please tell all your church planter buddies to stop by for a visit. I think us geeky church planters need to support one another!