Fair Warning: I’m Mad!

By

By Kat Cannon

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Maybe this isn’t the time write a blog post.  But maybe it is, because I’m in no mood to mince words.

I’m mad. Not just mad. Furious.

Today, news broke in my city that someone put very well-designed, professionally printed “White Only” stickers on several business on the east side of town.  Think about it. Some individual(s) sat down with intention, put time and thought and effort into the aesthetics, spent money to be offensive.  If it was intended as a joke, no one seems to appreciate the humor. Probably some sort of ham-handed attempt at protesting gentrification in East Austin.  The outrage on Facebook is palpable.

This comes just a matter of days after a developer bulldozed a pinata shop in the area, all the inventory still on the shelves, an act that Hispanics in the community took quite personally.

I also just saw news of a black college student in Virginia needing 10 stitches in his head – his HEAD – after police arrested him for having a fake ID and trying to get into a bar.  Witnesses say the student wasn’t resisting arrest, but the investigation is, of course, underway.

And another report of a mentally ill black man with a screwdriver being shot five times by police officers in Dallas.

I know the political environment is emotionally charged right now.  I know there’s more to these stories and all the facts aren’t being reported in the same place in the same way or in any unbiased manner by anyone.  I’m not so naive as to think these initial reports are completely accurate or even complete.

But I’m still mad.

I’m heartbroken that these incidents are so racially charged, that we live in a culture still so divided and us-versus-them. That it’s not only possible but plausible that inherent distrust of people of color created all these tragedies. That those in authority and with privilege are capable of such blatant disregard for human lives.

I’m out-of-my-mind frustrated that there’s no way I can heal the wounds in my friends and colleagues who’s skin is darker than mine, can’t make anything better, can’t do anything but rage at the sky and let them cry on my shoulder.

I’m livid that I have to explain to my children – both of whom have close friends of color – why these things are happening.We are all made in His image.  All of

Mostly, I’m mad that this whole thing even exists. The idea that the amount of pigment in someone’s skin makes them inherently less-than anyone else is about as opposed to all I know and believe my God as anything I can think of.

We are all made in His image.  All of us.  And His image is so big and glorious that it takes every single person who’s ever lived or ever will in all of our diversity all over the planet to even reflect a fraction of Him.  Every nuance, culture, talent, physique, personality bent, even as twisted and marred by sin as we humans can be. Every. Single. One.

Redeemed. Loved. His.

To put this in purely selfish terms, then, if I want to know my God, I had better get to know as many of His image-bearers as possible and find out what of Him they can reflect into my life. How does He move in and through them?  What does redemption and restoration look like from their perspective? The more different they are from me, the bigger my view of Him becomes.  From a different race?  Great.  From a different generation?  Awesome.  From a radically different culture and worldview. Bring it.

To diminish any one of these simply on the basis of skin color?  Absurd and insulting to my God. And that’s before we even talk about simply caring about others because they’re human beings, too.

So yeah, I’m mad.

What do I do with this anger?

Pray. Vent to my God.  Expose my indignation to the One who knows me better than I do and let Him sift me through for what is righteous and what is not.

Listen.  Hear the words of those around me who are hurting and angry, too.  Pay attention not just to their words but the sounds of their breaking hearts.

Talk. Share the truths that I know with my children, the communities I serve.  God is still good. We still need a Savior.  All of us.

Care.  Take the risk of loving as God loves me, always thinking of the other person and not whether I’m right or privileged or falsely accused.