Multi-ethnic Jesus

Can I talk a moment to be transparent? Thanks y’all.

I’m, frankly, tired. Due to where I live, my identity as a person of color must be muted, rather than exemplified, when it comes to practicing my faith. It frustrates and saddens me that to wear my “Black Lives Matter” shirt into my church would be “asking for trouble.”

Now we all know that there are times and places where we, regularly, have to mute certain things. For example: Bringing up politics at work isn’t typically recommended. And certain industries require a level of temperance from those who might be a bit more rambunctious by nature. So I’m not being naïve and saying that my “full self” should be on display everywhere I go. But what I am saying is that when I walk into my church, I put every part of me through a sifter—ensuring that none of the pieces that make me “different” are too large or loud. And I am exhausted.

The problem is: What’s the alternative?

You see, I live in northwestern Vermont. And while I live in the most diverse county in the state, the state-wide population is still at least 90% white. It always has been, but lately it’s looking more and more like it won’t always be, as each year the amount of diversity flooding one of the healthiest, whitest, and safest states in the Union is increasing exponentially. Known to many as “where Bernie Sanders is from,” there’s not really a lot going on here, besides, well, an influx of brown people. And on paper, that’s working out great! Vermont law-makers are known to be “progressive” and “inclusive.” I mean, the state that took on Monsanto must be forward-thinking, right? Of course. Vermont is, technically, forward thinking in a lot of ways. But unfortunately, our forward-“thoughts” are often more forward-“ideas” that aren’t rooted in experience or practice. They aren’t the result of community interaction, but rather external observations. So, while we say “all are welcome,” what is lived is “come and be like us.” And because it is assumed that this inclusive mentality is just as strong in reality as it is on paper, the idea of “training” on the topic is seen as an insult. It’s astonishing just how often I’ve heard that “Hate doesn’t grow in the rocky soil of Vermont.” That “racism doesn’t exist here.” Or, best of all, “All lives matter here.”

Now please don’t misunderstand me, if all of these things were actually true, I would be singing an entirely different tune. But the greatest danger here is that the words are out in full force, but the actions and reality don’t match. A part of the reason we’re in this predicament is because, from the perspective of thousands of well-meaning white people, the statements above are completely true based on their experiences. The issue, however, is that the experiences of every single person of color over the age of 10 stands in direct conflict with those perspectives.

Yes, I said the age of 10. That was not a typo. The struggle is real.

Church, for me, has always been something I’ve desired to be a safe space. In fact, over the course of history, places of worship have usually gone into the “safe space” territory. And growing up, my faith was always a central part of my culture. But, as a millennial woman of color, the contemporary, white church that I grew up loving (not the exact same church, but a similar one) has become more of a “space,” where I’m allowed and welcomed, but my “blackness” is tolerated, not embraced. Rather than being a place of refuge where I can find freedom, it is, most days, a place where I can worship as long as I crucify my “flesh.” Again, please don’t misunderstand—I have a deep appreciation for the call to holiness and sacrificing my desires for will of God. But at what point do we acknowledge that all things culture-based are not displeasing to God? At what point do we recognize that somewhere along the way we’ve lumped in ethnicity that is “different from our own” in with the poor & lowly? As something to be “improved upon?” As something that “we just don’t do here?” If the Spirit of God dwells here, then how can there be limits on what “we do?” Shouldn’t there only be the tearing down of boxes that we put His manifestation in, not reinforcement of their borders?

There is nothing more diverse and inclusive than the Holy-Spirit. He is all things to all people. And as you travel the world and begin to see His Presence through a wider lens, the manifestation of His Spirit is more of a technicolor dream coat than a robe of pure white. After all, isn’t the grafting in of other nations a big part of the reason Jesus (Yeshua) came? So that those who weren’t the biological descendants of Abram could become a part of the lineage of Abraham? And in what’s now know as the Great Commission, Jesus said to “make disciples of all nations,” which is to help the people learn of [him], believe in [Him], and obey [His] words. He didn’t say to help the people learn English, sing songs with these chord progressions, and only talk about these topics & rejoice in this way so that the people who have been here a long time can remain comfortable. When Jesus instructed the disciples to drop their nets and “Follow Me,” I don’t recall him asking them to also, “stop speaking your native tongue.” In fact, on the day of Pentecost, which is arguably one of the most glorious outpourings of Holy Spirit in the Anno Domini church, the members of the body all began to speak in other languages! I think here it’s important to note that what it didn’t do was allow all people to speak one language. What that tells me about the Holy Spirit is that it takes the path of flourishing diversity to achieve unity, not the path of assimilation.

So when I enter a church that I call my home, whose congregation is becoming increasingly sprinkled with people of color, and the inclusion of my (our) culture is an afterthought rather than a priority—an uphill battle rather than an exciting step of development, I am tired. When the leadership sees diversity training as optional or not a priority because “we’re all the same in Christ,” I am concerned because while Christ might make us pure in the eyes of God, He doesn’t make us all white. I am tired because church is all fine and well, as long as I come with my quiet, reserved, minimized face on so that no one is intimidated or uncomfortable or offended.

But sometimes, I just want to come as me--all of me.

Dear You..

Dear Lover of God & Adopted Sibling of Christ,

The heavens are waiting with anticipation for you to step into your position within the family & take back, with authority, everything that you have allowed the enemy to remove from your grasp. They are standing by at the ready, prepared to fight or celebrate on your behalf.

Dear Believer and Follower of the True & Living God,

Hell is watching to see whether you will employ angels, bind up demons, & tear down strong holds. They are hoping that you will remain dormant so that they can continue to run amuck in your cities, communities, and families.

Dear Child & Servant of the Great I AM,

Earth is spectating your life to see whether or not the gospel of God you proclaim is truly as powerful as you say. They are sitting forward in their chairs with interest as you demonstrate to them just what your “God” can and will do for, with, in, and through you.

Dear Disciple of Yeshua,

All of Creation is considering what you do. They yield, understanding that they can only respond to you–that their every move is determined and/or predicated by yours. They silently pause with baited breath, knowing there is nothing to discuss until after you act.

Dear Brothers and Sisters, Comrades and Co-laborers, Family and Friends, by all means, let’s give them something to talk about!

Journey to Love: Then & Now

Breathing quietly as I reminisce on what once was.

Nights spent laughing and playing, watching movies on couches & beds together.

I remember the time of being carefully wooed with caring gestures, words, lyrics, sentiments and public displays of affection.

I think on the days of late night phone calls just to hear the voice on the other end of the line before going to bed.

I recall the walks all over town just to have an excuse to be in each other’s presence.

But then my heart rate increases as I am hit with the reason it all ended.

Lies, manipulation, control, & hidden motives.

Never really knew who you were….though I thought I did.

Though the product matched the picture on the menu, the description was completely falsified.

Tricked, or should I say tripped, into falling in love.

Prayed for me & I even allowed you to lay what I thought were healing hands on me…all the while not understanding how I was getting sicker.

Actually believed that God was punishing me for hurting you in some way.

All I ever wanted was the good days back, never realizing that they were only a mirage—not knowing that the snake’s venom first entered my blood stream from the IV drip you put in my arm.

Thank God for someone finally checking the fluid tap. I’d surely be dead by now otherwise.

For every Elijah who spoke your death I thank God, because as long as you lived in my life—I was dying.

I begin to relax as I come to the realization that it’s over.

In the darkest of the night, my knight arrived..

Though I barely had a pulse left when He found me, I was still alive. Barely hangin on—-but still breathing.

He lifted me in His arms, my body frail & limp—and carried me into His home.

He laid me in His bed & did not try to take advantage of me in my weakened state, but instead nursed me back to health.

He sat at my bedside telling me jokes & stories—trying to keep my mind on that which is good.

He brought me food which He made with His own hands to be sure it was pure & not tampered with.

When I was strong enough, He went for walks with me to help me build my strength up…walking close so He would be able to catch me in case my legs gave out, but letting my own muscles do as much as they could handle.

As I got stronger I began to cook for myself, making a special plate for Him—not because He asked, but because I wanted to.

My walks became runs that I could go on alone, but I’d ask Him along just because I loved His company.

I had stories of my own to tell, but I always requested to hear His jokes because, well, truth be told, laughter is the one medication that you can’t overdose on.

Though He never asked me for it or tried to take it—He had my heart. And it wasn’t just because He helped me when I was down. During the time of my recuperation we were together so much that we gained an intimate knowledge of each other. I learned the little things…the things that didn’t make it into His widely-spread reputation.

And that’s when I fell in love.

Yeah, the good guy is great, and a cool person to be friends with. But it wasn’t until I got to know Him—the real Him….on an intimate level, that I fell in love. I could lie and say I fell for Him because He rescued me from you, but that’s not even true. He was being a good Samaritan and I’m grateful for that.

But I love Him because of the way He uses His hands to help explain things when someone says they don’t understand. I love Him because of the way He presents different views on things that I never would have thought of. I love Him because of the way He just turns His head & laughs when I’m flustered. I love Him because of the way He takes a deep breath when He’s about to say something important.

I don’t love Him for what He did for me—I love Him for who He is.

And that’s the difference between now & then.

See I loved you because you made me feel special—doing so much for me, or rather, for my affection. I fell for you because your words & actions pulled me. But not for Him….for Him I jumped. No one forced it to happen. I just woke up one morning & realized I made the choice in my sleep.

So now my heart, having gone on this roller coaster ride my head just brought it through in a matter of moments is beaming a light so bright that people are telling me I’m glowing—asking for my moisturizer & skin care secrets. So I laugh & simply tell them I’m in love.

Most times they understand…nodding knowingly as they continue on their way. But other times they raise an eyebrow and say, “Wow, I wish I had a love that made me look like that…but if I looked like that, I’d probably have one!”

That’s when I look at them, smile, and say…..but you can, why don’t you let me introduce you?