Already and Not Yet

I grew up in a Christian home, with parents who were deeply involved in our local church, and who encouraged my siblings and I to be active members from a young age. I cherish the lasting influence church involvement has had on my life, and view it as a direct result of the faithfulness of my parents. From Sunday church services to weekly family Bible studies, faith was woven into all our family traditions, and has remained a central anchor in all our experiences. Racial justice – or a lack thereof —has also been a central characteristic of my personal and family experience.

This is the second post in our Justice and the Reformed Confessions series. Subscribe here to make sure you don't miss a post. 

Pornography is a giant in our land. How do we bring it down?

The great letter writer Paul, writing to his friends in Philippi, said: “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (1:21 NIV)

That verse stumps me. Because sure, I believe in an afterlife with God, and I know it’s going to be good. I get that in my head, most days. But I don’t want to die. Dying doesn’t feel much like gain.

Not long ago, I spent an afternoon smoking a cigarette with a convicted drug dealer and thief. Well, I wasn’t smoking the cigarette, but I was there nonetheless, enjoying the second-hand smoke and conversation. Well, enjoying the conversation and avoiding the second-hand smoke.

Our choice of setting? The no-smoking area of a hospital courtyard, large ‘Fresh Air Area’ signs over our heads.

On January 1, 1863, the Emancipation Proclamation issued by President Abraham Lincoln during the civil war, took effect. The news eventually reached Galveston, Texas on June 19th, 1865. The proclamation opened up the way for the unraveling of the institution of slavery in the United States. For generations, African Americans have faithfully celebrated “Juneteenth” as the ultimate day that signifies freedom for them.

Three Februarys ago, the emotional, psychological, and spiritual fatigue I felt after completing a 2.5 day training on Understanding Racism hosted by CORR (Congregations Organizing for Racial Reconciliation) caught me off-guard. As a woman of color living in the United States, the daily grinds of life that seek to diminish or challenge my personhood are an ungodly but regular fact of life. If you disagree, you are probably not a woman or a person of color.

Most Thursdays, I spend my afternoons at a local halfway house and healing centre, created to prepare Indigenous men for the transition from federal prison to the street. I walk through two sets of glass doors, up a short flight of stairs, and into the sweet smell of sage grass and fried food. Indigenous parole officers, administrators, and parolees mill around a front desk, filling out paperwork and discussing their plans for the weekend. Of the dozen or so people around me, I am the only one with white skin. Brown skin is the norm here, and my whiteness makes me an outsider.

I always find it amusing when white Christians debate—exclusively among themselves—the fate of civilization. The rest of us can only be outside observers, passengers in sweeping historical narratives in which we are an afterthought. Not only does this erasure obscure what has actually occurred, it falsifies what these storytellers say about themselves, their traditions, and the wider world.

When you hear discussions about the decline of western civilization and the importance of cultural renewal, ask some of the following questions:

Often when we think about a Lenten spiritual discipline we think of giving up something for that season. But the purpose of a Lenten spiritual discipline—to grow closer to God—also allows us to take this time to intentionally and regularly practice an action that we want to become a discipline in our lives. This year we want to invite you to practice confession, lament, and doing justice during Lent.