Broken vessels

This morning, I lay in bed pondering last night’s discussion about racism with a group of people from my work.  We are starting a book club, to learn.  There were 5 white people present, 4 women and 1 man- trying to understand, to be better, to do better.   It sure would have been great to have a person of color in the room to talk with us- but our organization isn’t there, not yet- but we are imperfectly open.  It’s awkward at best. We see how deep the disease of racism runs, in ourselves, in our institutions, in our societal structure.
The whole thing makes me ill.  Sick to my stomach.
Sometimes I really get overwhelmed with grief at the horror of it all.   At the horror of what we are capable of- the horror of treating other people, who to my view are created in God’s image, as less than.  The horror of seeing a society that celebrates treating many people as less than.  The horror of THE CHURCH treating people as less than.  The horror of ME treating people as less than, because I didn’t, don’t, can’t see. Won’t see?
Not anymore. I am determined to see.
Even as I write this, I feel...inadequate, humble...humiliated?  Frustrated, angry and sad beyond words. I want to shout from the rooftops- I SEE IT!!  I SEE THE HORROR!!!  I SEE THE WRONG!!! I SEE THE SIN!!! WHAT DO YOU NEED ME TO DO????
I know some things to do.
Listen.
Interrupt injustice.
Love.
Learn.
Stay humble.
Let other voices be heard.
Point people in the direction of those voices.
Seek those voices out.

Part of me wants to run and hide.  It’s too hard.
Part of me roars in rage because it’s all so wrong- and I want to be a big Godzilla monster smashing down institutions and structures and the hate, fear, pride and selfishness that created them.
And smash down the complacency and comfort that has allowed this sort of thing to flourish for millennia.
Racism.  Sexism.  Those are the big “isms” in the news- but there are many isms out there.
I know...this is not fluffy bunny stuff.

Sin.
I know it’s a word we like to shy away from, to gloss over.  Forgive us our “sins” Lord- we don’t really want to name them or examine them or call them out or really deal with them.  We just want the forgiveness.

Racism is SIN.  Misogyny is SIN.
Yet, we see so-called “Christians” in the world, the media, everywhere behaving like it’s their God-given right to be racist misogynists.  Like God approves of the hate that shuts out immigrants, shuts up women and shuts down anyone who isn’t white.

It brings out my inner Godzilla.
I want to punch them in the nose, and then some.
And I have to repent, because that is unlove, and is also sin.
But I am so unbelievably frustrated at many of my brothers and sisters in Christ.
At their blindness.
At their loyalty to a political party over their loyalty to CHRIST.
FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, HAVE YOU ACTUALLY READ THE BOOK???????
FREAKING PHARISEES.

For reals.  The grief, the anger, it’s real.
And I am white.
Born into white privilege and all that comes with it.

I can’t even imagine, what my brothers and sisters of color face on a daily basis.
There are people of color in my own family, and I can’t even imagine it.
All my anger and pain is but a drop in the bucket....not bucket....OCEANS of pain.

I am so sorry.
I just want y’all to know, that I am not pretending to know anything other than the world is beyond broken.

And I think of that white man in our book club.
I don’t know him very well, we don’t cross paths much.
He is struggling.
He was vulnerable and transparent and humble.   He recognizes his part in all of this.  He confesses his part in the story.  He is getting it.

I know it’s easy to be angry with white men in general- I get it.
But last night, I saw a man who was truly wrestling with all of this.  He sees, he recognizes....and I pray that he doesn’t get overwhelmed and paralyzed by the guilt and shame that seem to be consuming him.

And this morning, as I lay in bed. I also pondered a discussion I had this week with a very dear friend of mine.
How can we change all this without God?

People are doing it.  I know that. I see it.  They are trying. They are open, and learning and marching and all the things.
In fact, sadly, I see more people outside of the church working on this than on the inside of the church.

But can it be sustainable?  If the grief, guilt and shame are so overwhelming for a long and sustained period of time, how can one survive?
If it seems...not hopeless, but things are so slow moving, that it seems like nothing is changing,
can one live in that indefinitely?

We had a big discussion about that particular topic.
About the intentionality and act of will it takes to choose a life of being uncomfortable and unsafe to bring about change.

It all seems so insurmountable.  This kind of racism and sexism is all so hard wired into us, most of the time we don’t recognize it for what it is.
How can we move forward?

How does one do that without forgiveness and grace?
How does one do that without the freedom that comes from repentance?

Conviction comes.
I have done something wrong. I have said something hurtful or hateful. I have thought something that is wrong.
Conviction comes from God, I recognize my wrongness, my sin.
I say I am sorry. I change my mind.  I invite God to bring in light and truth and love into that action, thought, word that was wrong.
Sometimes, the heart and mind change is instantaneous.
Sometimes, it takes a few times.
Sometimes, it takes a lifetime.
But with repentance- I can give the burden of that sin to Jesus (because He is the only one big enough to take it) and when I give that burden to him, and admit when I am wrong- I can create space in my soul to receive the truth, light and love that is needed in that situation.

I am not big enough, smart enough, or strong enough to do this on my own.
I can have all the good intentions in the world, but frankly, I am too fearful, selfish and comfortable to tackle even my wee part in this colossal story on my own.

Sigh.

As I was journaling about these issues this morning. I saw a picture in my mind of a clay jar with a big crack in it and water was flowing into the jar and out of the crack.

Often in church, I have heard we need to be “full to overflowing”- that we need to “operate out of the overflow.”
Frankly, there are times in my life that I am just trying to survive, there ain’t no overflow.
It doesn’t mean God isn’t with me or not moving.
But what the “picture” showed me is that God pours His living water through our broken vessels and it can flow through us and out of our brokenness.  It flows while we are in process.
What a relief.
I don’t know that the tide of racism and sexism and all the other isms that break God’s heart can be turned in my lifetime.  We can’t undo millennia of sin and brokenness immediately.  We are in this for the long haul.  Born for such a time as this.  I have to trust Him to work through me. I can only work in my small sphere of influence, and only work in my current state of brokenness.
Thankfully, I have hope that we can bring change.

I am thankful for the freedom in repentance and change, otherwise the depravity of the world and my own soul would cause me to despair and shatter into pieces- I would be less than a broken vessel.  I would be annihilated.

I hope in Him.
I trust Him to work through my brokenness and the brokenness of those around me.
I trust in His grace and love.
I keep showing up.
I surrender and stay open and hopefully humble.
And I pray.
And I love.
And I screw it all up.
And I repeat it all over again.

What else can we do?