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Jen Hale Christy

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How Did I Keep My Faith?

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In response to last week’s post, a friend posed this question: “My biggest question is how did you keep your faith when answered the way you were. Our daughter was given a similar response when she asked how was there light before the sun was created. But she lost her faith.”

First, I want to acknowledge the harm that was done to your daughter. Regardless of intention, rejecting someone’s doubts, curiosities, and questions can have a super negative impact on them. I’m sorry that your daughter’s questions were not met with the kindness, openness, and humility they deserved.

To answer your question, the truth is I distanced myself from church after the early college experience and because of other things happening in my family. I still had a vision of my future self that included faith in God, but I tried to put that in a box to keep it safe while I looked elsewhere for answers.

I actually listened to a lot of nonsense from a boy I met (yes, many of my formative stories feature some guy or another). He explained things using science, and convinced me that many of the “rules” in the Bible didn’t apply anymore because of modern advancements. With that floodgate opened, I indulged other curiosities (mainly, the things that “church” said to stay away from—alcohol, drugs, sex outside marriage, etc.).

I can point to a few things that nudged me back towards church and faith.

I had a few mentors from my home church who suspected I was engaging in risky behavior but who loved and accepted me unconditionally—and regularly told me so. In a way, they carried my faith for me while I was out wandering. They became the embodiment of God’s love for me even when I felt I couldn’t bring my whole self to church.

When I transferred to Pepperdine as a junior, I took two required religion courses and was amazed at the questions that were allowed, explored, and even raised by my professors. It affirmed for me that Christianity did allow for doubts, and taught me the value of questions for exploring and strengthening my faith.

A few years later when I found myself at ACU’s Graduate School of Theology, there were no questions too big or scary or threatening or off-limits. It was incredibly supportive and freeing.

I also experienced intense, confusing, and painful deconstruction of so many things I had been taught or believed. In the midst of that, I took comfort in looking to my professors who were wrestling with the same questions, who still searched for answers, but who nevertheless remained faithful. If they could hold all these doubts and faith together, then so could I.

These and many more fragments like them have kept me tethered to the faith that raised me – even as I continue to explore my doubts and let go of beliefs I no longer hold.

Got Questions?

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What questions do you have about the Bible, God, or faith?

I grew up with lots of questions about what I was taught at church.

No one could explain why the moon was called a “light” in the Bible, when we know that it merely reflects light.

In youth group, I argued with the teacher saying I didn’t agree that discipline and punishment were the same thing. He got so angry, he threw down his Bible and stormed out of the room.

In college, while our Bible class was working through the story of the ancient Israelites, I questioned why God seemed to condone and even command genocide. Flustered by his inability to produce a satisfactory answer, the elder teaching our class pounded his fist on the table and shouted “you don’t question the Bible!”

I was seeking understanding, but my questioning was clearly felt as a challenge.

As I grew and matured, I could no longer subscribe to the bumper sticker adage “The Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it.” As much as I loved the church – it wasn’t a safe place for my questions.

When I made my way to seminary, I had no specific career ambitions but I was desperate to better understand the Bible. At the top of my list was what God thought about me as a woman. Did God indeed create me as a lesser being than my male counterparts? Were there ways in which the Bible prohibited me from serving in the church? Were gifts distributed according to gender?

Having buried and denied and not fully acknowledged the whispers of calling I had as a young child, I had zero plans to pursue ministry. I just wanted to learn the ancient languages so I could get as close to the “original message” as possible and see for myself what God said about women (among other things).

What I discovered is that while the history, transmission, and interpretation of the Bible is far more complicated (and endlessly fascinating!) than I imagined, I had been fed a big ole pile of lies about women. I could go on and on about this (I focused my doctoral work on the full inclusion of women in the life and leadership of the church. But I want to know—what questions do YOU have?

6+1=6

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Hi friends. It’s been too long.

The pandemic brought some things to a screeching halt. Other things took a slow-burn approach.

My cozy WFH lifestyle of writing and teaching online came to a screeching halt when the kids were suddenly all home from school last March on the spring break that wouldn’t end.

As the weeks stretched on, here’s what life looked like: four kids at home distance-learning and summer breaking, Dave working full-time mostly from home (in my home office for months), me teaching the equivalent of a full professor load between two universities, trying to keep new podcast episodes coming, monthly letters and videos going – it was just too much. Something had to give, and it wasn’t going to be my mental health or family.

I took a much-needed break from the podcast, and it turned out I needed a break from talking and writing in that way. I needed to tend to what was happening in my heart and mind. I needed to give my soul some rest. That was the end of summer/fall 2020.

**

I journaled and read. This was a season for listening and learning, giving myself the freedom to write for no one but me. I leaned more fully into parenting and cooking and baking. And to be honest, I struggled a lot with self-doubt. Who was I to think I had words to share that anyone else would want to hear?

And in the middle of that season of stepping back, resting, and wrestling, I got a pretty big surprise. My sense of smell was heightened. I was fatigued. I started having food and drink aversions. I couldn’t believe it was happening, but the symptoms were so clear: I was pregnant.

Forty-one years old, with four children in first through eighth grade.

We stressed over the unknowns and anticipated impacts. I had some pretty epic anxiety spirals. We lamented over what we were losing. Resetting the parenting clock by seven years… I had just been offered a full-time job but did I want to do that with another baby? I had serious doubts about this whole thing.

At the same time, we wondered and treasured this secret in our hearts, starting to let ourselves get excited for a new child in our family. I revisited memories of having a newborn, a toddler, a preschooler. We started making plans for how we would fit this new child into our home and family.

Once again, my heart expanded to accommodate the space required to love this new member of our family.

Eventually, we told the kids and then the grandparents. Everyone was surprised but excited. The kids couldn’t stop making lists of baby names and talking about all the things they were going to do with their new sibling.

**

We went to the 11-week ultrasound appointment, eager to hear the sweet fluttering of a little heartbeat, excited to see the shape of the new life we had created.

The shape was unmistakably human, but the image was still. I thought the baby was sleeping.

I was waiting for the doctor to confirm there was only one in there. The doctor was quiet, just kept moving the device around. The room was quiet and everything was still. On the screen, there was no pulsing movement in the chest, and deafening silence.

“There’s… no… heartbeat…” she slowly and quietly said.

Life was exchanged for death.

Our worries, laments, and excitement were exchanged for profound grief.

I tried to hold still so the doctor could finish her exam but the sobbing was uncontrollable. This is a club I never wanted to join.

**

I wrote a lot in those first few weeks. The grief and loss were all I could write about. My fear told me not to share publicly about this–it’s too personal. But my heart says this story and these words might not be only for me.

Apparently, miscarriages are fairly common, but those stories are shared only sparingly, in whispers, and when triggered by someone else experiencing it.
Why don’t more people talk about this? Perhaps because it’s horrifying and devastating. Perhaps because the grief feels unbearable. Perhaps because we can’t talk about it without sobbing.

I was three weeks along when I discovered the pregnancy. I spent eight weeks actively nurturing this new life growing inside of me. I changed the way I ate and drank. I changed the supplements I took. Eventually, I had to change the clothes I wore, the way I slept, the way I exercised. It felt like I changed nearly everything about my daily life to accommodate my new guest.

And yes I was stressed and worried. But I did everything I was supposed to do to support and grow a tiny human. And then the heart just stops beating? Without apparent reason, and without notifying me – the host, thank you very much – the heart just stops? For nearly a week, I went about my days and nights, trying to nurture a fetus that had already died in my womb. And I had no idea.

**

Fetal Parts Present
A positive test, a rush of joy and surprise,
A rising tide of worry.
A life on the verge of turning upside down,
Secrets shared and hope ignited.
The tide comes in and goes out and comes in,
The wait is over.
First glimpse of new life
Becomes first glimpse of recent death.
No heartbeat.
Arrive by seven. Sign here.
Ten hours and the death is gone.
Three incisions and the possibility is removed.
Status report: two tubes and fetal parts present.
A new death emerges,
This one cannot be undone.

**

In the doctor’s office that day, full of shock and broken by grief, I agreed to a D&C to remove the pregnancy, which was already now labeled a miscarriage. Within hours I decided I should also have my tubes “tied” (I thought that’s what they still did, but apparently now they remove them instead). It seemed like the right thing to do, since we had initially felt so unsure about the prospect of having another baby. I was already going to be sedated, so why not get it all done at once?

I was miles away from being in a proper mental and emotional state to make such a decision. And yet. No one questioned it or stopped me. I forced Dave to stay up super late with me that night, binge-watching Netflix because I couldn’t let my mind think about what had already happened inside my body and what would take place tomorrow.

I went in for both procedures the next day and my life was forever changed.
I never wanted to be medically sterilized. I always thought if it needed to be done, Dave should be the one to do it–after all, I *had* already carried and delivered four children. He could take this one for the team, right?

For years we questioned when the time would be right to make that call. But neither of us wanted to take such a permanent step. We couldn’t quite close that door.

On that day, though, all I could think was that I never, ever wanted to go through this again. I couldn’t risk another experience like that day in the OB’s office. The pain was so searing, and unlike most situations in life, here was a lever I could pull that would prevent me from ever experiencing that pain again. I could take away that possibility.

And I did.

And I have regretted it every day since.

**

Yesterday was my due date. Two days after my birthday. I often struggle with mixed emotions on my birthday. This was maybe the hardest one yet.

Over the last few months, there have been so many reminders of what could have been. Seeing a woman with her newborn at the zoo. Photos of my own children as infants. Pregnant women everywhere I look. And as the due date approached, the grief kept pushing me down deeper.

**

I wrote almost all of this back in February, two weeks after it happened. But I couldn’t share it. It felt way too personal, and also – who was I to complain about this? I already had four healthy kids! But the longer I stay quiet, the more it eats away at me. This is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever gone through. And the fact that most of my friends and colleagues didn’t know made the feeling of isolation worse.

I know I’m not the only woman who has done this – stayed silent in her grief because this is a thing we just don’t really talk about. A few days ago Sarah Bessey wrote about the traumatic story of her third child’s birth and the significant impact of keeping that story secret for so long. And just like that, I knew I had to share my story too.

Because maybe you, too, have lost a child. And you don’t ever talk about it. And you look around at people who’ve suffered “bigger” losses and you think your loss isn’t as big and you stuff your feelings down. And you say to yourself all those terrible things that people say to those who are grieving – “hey, at least…” “it could have been worse…” “just be grateful that…” And you think you’re mostly okay but you still sob uncontrollably once or twice a month.

It’s okay. At the risk of sounding like a hashtag, it’s okay to not be okay. To acknowledge your grief and how heavy it still is, regardless of how much time has passed.

Also, I think we as women should start talking about this. Because you are not alone, and neither am I.

The death began on January 27, but my heart pronounced it final yesterday when the due date came and went without the baby I thought I would be holding. It is finished.

I have four children. I lost a child. I did not know if I wanted more. I cannot have more. All of these things are true at the same time. The grief still brings forth big heaving sobs.

Share your truth. Share your grief. Maybe we can all hold it for each other when it feels too heavy to hold it alone.

Lay It Down

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How do we fix the massive problems in our world? Spoiler alert: wars, wealth, and power are not the solution. But there is hope, and it’s simpler than we might think. Today we’re focusing on the second half of Psalm 46, with the war-God who destroys weapons and ends all wars. Following is a transcript of S5E3: “Lay It Down” with yours truly.

Welcome to Season 5, Episode 3. Today we are picking up where we left off last week. We’ve been dwelling in the Psalm that’s numbered 46. We’ve been wrestling with what faith looks like in the midst of chaos and loss. And last week we considered what it might look like to be still and know that God is God, and we are not.

Here’s that Psalm again:

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in our distresses.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change and the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, and the mountains tremble with its tumult.

There is a river whose streams make joyful the city of God—the holy tabernacle of the Most High. God is in her midst, she will not be shaken. God will help her before morning breaks.

Nations rage, kingdoms shake; He utters his voice, the earth melts.

YHWH of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.

Come, behold the works of YHWH, what horrors he has set on the earth.

He causes wars to cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and cuts off the spear. He burns the chariots with fire.

Be still and know that I am God. I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted among the earth. YHWH of hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge.

The word of the Lord.

**

There’s this weird part where the Psalmist urges us to “Come! Behold the works of the Lord—see what horrors or devastations or desolations God has brought on the earth.” Kinda weird, right? Maybe shocking and confusing? For those of us who don’t believe that God causes bad things to happen, we have to dig a little deeper and trust God’s Spirit to reveal what this is about. In what ways is God bringing horrors on the earth?

The psalmist depicts YHWH as the ultimate ‘war-God.’ You might know this, but for those that don’t, the word ‘hosts’ means ‘armies.’ I think in American culture, when we hear the word “host,” we picture someone ‘hosting’ a dinner party or a ‘host’ at a restaurant (back when we used to go to those)—so the term ‘Lord of Hosts’ doesn’t make much sense. But if we use the word ‘armies’ instead, we get a clearer picture of what image this name for God is trying to convey. 

When Israel called on God as ‘Lord of Hosts’ or ‘YHWH of hosts,’ it was using battle language—Israel was calling upon their ‘war-God.’ It’s sort of like calling God the divine general. And when you call on YHWH of Hosts, the Lord of Armies, you can expect for the ground to be shaking and seas to be raging. What you might not expect is that it will be the very ground beneath your feet that shakes, or the waters under your boat that rage and threaten to consume. Because YHWH of Hosts destroys the weapons – and that can be horrifying.

We give lip service to the Lord of Hosts being with us and being our refuge, but we’re taking up arms and fighting for power. We’re not all in the military, and we don’t all own guns. Most of us don’t have the bows and spears mentioned in this Psalm. But we’ve geared up with some unique weapons to secure the safety and comfort of life as we know it, and to wield power over others.

We’ve learned that to navigate this world there are two things that we must have, and they are intimately connected: money and power. Neither money nor power is inherently bad or evil, but they have certainly been used in destructive ways. And we have weaponized money and power against others. We keep a white-knuckled grip on them to survive in this world. We pursue them, at times ruthlessly and by stepping on others.

For hundreds of years in America, our leaders have devised and refined and perfected an intricate web of systems to ensure that the vast majority of money and power remain in the hands of white people. From voter registration rules to redlining, to separate-but-equal to inadequate access to services and education, to denial of loans and housing, to lynching and bombing and violently responding to nonviolent demonstrations. 

The whole thing is rigged in favor of the white. And I have benefited from it my entire life. And I have believed that I got to where I am today through hard work and divine guidance and maybe a little luck. But the truth is, I’ve had disproportionate access to money and power. I’ve had access to money and power that not everyone in this country has. And sometimes, it still doesn’t feel like enough.

**

YHWH of Hosts destroys the weapons of power and domination. God is not coming in to wipe out all of our enemies. The psalmist says God is coming in to destroy weapons. God destroys those things that we all use to wield power over others.

Could it be, I mean, just imagine with me for a moment… Could it be that YHWH of Hosts has shown up to destroy the weapons of white supremacy? Could it be that God has heard the cries of the oppressed and helped to elevate their voices that they might usher in the dismantling of these evil, oppressive systems? Could it be that God has seen enough, heard enough, and is now moving? Is now moving in quite mysterious, but quite direct and observable ways to release those in our country who have been suffering under the burden of white supremacy for more than 400 years? Could that be possible? We have a pile of weapons of mass destruction built right into every corner of our economy that target nonwhite people. Could it be that God is breaking our bows and shattering our spears?

**

The great war-God ends all wars, but it’s not pretty. It’s not quite what we expected. When we think about God destroying weapons and ending wars, our imaginations might conjure images from Isaiah 11, where the lion lies down with the lamb, and the carnivores stop devouring each other. We might envision peaceful coexistence, the kind of true shalom that only God provides…We might imagine a world where nations do not rise up against nations, and where one person does not seek to dominate another. We might envision a world in which the striving for power has ceased. 

And here’s how we get to participate in this. When we deny ourselves and give up privilege for the sake of others, we’re partnering with God to end wars and destroy weapons. And there are a lot of privileges we could talk about, but the one that’s front and center on a lot of our minds is white privilege. For those of us who are white, we need to recognize the ways in which our whiteness has privileged us, the ways in which we’ve benefited from white supremacy. And then we need to figure out how and when and where we might start to give up that privilege. Because that’s such a Gospel call, isn’t it? 

In the Christ Hymn recorded in Philippians chapter 2, verses 6 through 11 we hear about Jesus denying himself and giving up his privilege. As a Jewish male, Jesus could have had a comfy life of privilege. He was the very embodiment of God on Earth, and in a sense he had more inborn “privilege” than anyone ever has. But he didn’t use it selfishly or exploit it. He gave it away and gave it up. He used his male privilege to elevate women and children. He used his religious privilege to challenge unjust systems. 

For those of us who are white, as we think about the ways in which our whiteness privileges us, how might we give it away in service of others like Jesus did? Are there others who need to be elevated? Are there unjust systems that we are uniquely positioned to challenge?

**

How might the world around us look different if we really try to see our fellow humans through the eyes of Jesus? Through eyes that do not see the myth of “race.” Eyes that celebrate the purposeful diversity of humanity. Eyes that delight in the beautiful spectrum of gender and skin color and sexuality and body shape and size. The eyes of Christ see us ALL as beloved children of God who are valuable and gifted and created on purpose. 

It’s pretty clear from the stories in the Gospels that Jesus wasn’t a big fan of the rich, the powerful, or the prominent. Although he was actually the physical manifestation of God on earth, and therefore a pretty important guy, he didn’t just hang out with the beautiful, smart people. He actually preferred to spend his time with the ones society had already dismissed. The ones who weren’t “worthy” or “pure” or “good enough” in the eyes of the religious elite. Jesus spent time with people in all of those different circles, and he preached a consistent message about God’s love and the abundant life that’s available to us in the here and now. He didn’t even talk that much about a future post-death heaven. He talked more about what life could look like in the here and now, and how we could partner with him to usher in the New Jerusalem. He came to give us hope for what our world *could* be.

Jesus was offered numerous opportunities to seize power, but he turned them all down. Because life in the New Jerusalem, life in God’s community is about giving up power, control, and privilege. If there’s anyone who ever walked the earth who ‘deserves’ power, it’s Jesus…But he showed us by his example that we should not concern ourselves with trying to get power. In fact, whatever power we have should be used for good or given to others. And the message Jesus had for the rich was essentially the same – use your wealth for good, or give it away.

So, money, power, privilege – all things we should use for good or give away. Because these things have become weapons for us. And we get to participate in the coming of the New Jerusalem, God’s beautiful community, by laying down our weapons. By saying yes, God, we want you to put an end to our wars and destroy our weapons. We don’t need them anymore because we have you. 

And this is especially hard when the earth is trembling. When everything feels so uncertain, or we’re not sure how the bills are going to get paid. When our country is polarized and we need to deal with the root of the problem but God help us we are just exhausted and don’t even know where to start. When the diagnosis is bleak and we don’t know when, or if we’ll get to hug our friends and loved ones again.

But this is exactly the moment when we need to lay it all down. When we need to recognize that we can’t fix the problems of the world through weapons and wars, or even by having enough privilege, money, or power. Only the God of peace can bring true peace.

**

If we are going to live lives that proclaim that God is God and is the only one who is exalted, we’re going to have to put down our weapons – the ways in which we are abusing our power and oppressing God’s creation. The ways in which our privilege benefits us and harms others. The ways in which we fight for what we want instead of having faith in God. Not faith that God will grant our every wish. But faith that God is love. Faith that God created us and loves us and promises to always be with us. Faith that God sees what we cannot. Faith that God is working to restore all of creation, and that we too can be part of that. 

Be still and know that God is God. And may we actively seek ways to give up our power, wealth, and privilege for the sake of others. May it be so.

Show Notes

S5E3: “Lay It Down” with Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Wednesday, July 15, 2020
PreacHer Podcast
PreacHer: Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Summary: How do we fix the massive problems in our world? Spoiler alert: wars, wealth, and power are not the solution. But there is hope, and it’s simpler than we might think. Today we’re focusing on the second half of Psalm 46, with the war-God who destroys weapons and ends all wars.

Resources + Social Media Handles:

  • All of Jen Hale Christy’s Links

What to do next:

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We’re NOT Making America Great Again

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The prophecy of Isaiah 61 is being fulfilled right now. We are in the midst of an apocalypse – a great unveiling of the way things really are. And we who once were blind can no longer live as if we do not see. Prophets are crying out in our streets daily, #letmelive #Icantbreathe #BlackLivesMatter and freedom is on the horizon. Will the church partner with God to usher in release for the captives? Will the church embody Good News for the oppressed? How will the history books tell the story of the church in this era? The following is the transcript of S5E1, “We’re NOT Making America Great Again.”

Isaiah 61

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a garland instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.
They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations.

Strangers shall stand and feed your flocks,
foreigners shall till your land and dress your vines;
but you shall be called priests of the Lord,
you shall be named ministers of our God;
you shall enjoy the wealth of the nations,
and in their riches you shall glory.
Because their shame was double,
and dishonor was proclaimed as their lot,
therefore they shall possess a double portion;
everlasting joy shall be theirs.

For I the Lord love justice,
I hate robbery and wrongdoing;
I will faithfully give them their recompense,
and I will make an everlasting covenant with them.
Their descendants shall be known among the nations,
and their offspring among the peoples;
all who see them shall acknowledge
that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed.
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord,
my whole being shall exult in my God;
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation,
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
For as the earth brings forth its shoots,
and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up,
so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
to spring up before all the nations.

Do you remember in the story of Jesus according to Luke, when Jesus goes to his hometown and goes where all the religious people are gathered and he preaches from this text? He stood in front of a crowd of people he grew up with, and he took a scroll of scripture and started preaching. He recited the first couple of verses of this section of Isaiah, the part about good news for the oppressed, and binding up the brokenhearted. The part about liberty for the captives, release for the prisoners, and proclaiming the year of the Lord’s favor. 

Do you remember how the people responded? At first they were like – wait. We know this guy, don’t we? I think he grew up around the corner from me. Wow he’s really come a long way. Look at how educated he is. What a great speaker he is. This guy can preach! 

They’re impressed because they think he’s affirming them. They think he’s saying what they want to hear. They *think* he’s reciting a prophecy about *their* liberation. YES! We are sick of being under Roman rule. We love being reminded of God’s promise to liberate us from foreign rule. Amen, and how long, o Lord?

And Jesus senses that they’re misunderstanding and he has to say more. He has to keep going because the fulfillment of this prophecy is not about their liberation. This good news about release from captivity and freedom from oppression – it isn’t for them. It’s about them, but they have it backwards. *They* are the oppressors.

He’s reinterpreting these words from the prophet Isaiah, and now this is a prophecy against them. Jesus says – I came to free these people you’ve been oppressing. I came to liberate people you’ve been holding captive. You, with your rules and regulations, imposing an unbearable burden on people. You, with your purity code and setting yourselves apart – your segregation. Your division. Your misguided belief that you’re better than everyone else. Your faulty belief that your ethnicity has set you apart as special and chosen and holier and better. 

No. You are the oppressors. And I have come to call this out. To liberate those you have been oppressing. To proclaim good news, and to take action to bring about their freedom.

**

What do we do with Isaiah 61? What do we do with Jesus’ repetition of this prophecy? How might we hear these words today?

How do YOU hear these words today? 

The cries of the oppressed are deafening. The brokenhearted are wailing in the streets. Sometimes we preach in metaphors and figures of speech but this is literal. The wails and cries resound throughout our cities and our nation. 

“I can’t breathe.” “Let me live.” “Say their names.” “Black lives matter.”

Do you hear the cries? 

This isn’t the first time these cries have gone out, but many of us have ignored them for far too long. The wails and cries have reached a decibel level that can no longer be ignored. 

And yet, there is denial. 

I am deeply troubled by the deaf ears and the blind eyes. By the tendency of some to say: “No. This isn’t a problem. This is made up. Fake news. Systemic racism isn’t real.”

I am equally troubled by the vitriol coming from both sides–people saying “I’m unfriending you. I’m unfollowing you. I disagree so sharply with an article or comment you shared on social media, that I’ve decided to publicly shame you by announcing my removal of you from my community.” I’ve seen this more than once in the last week and it’s gnawing at me. It’s grating like nails on a chalkboard. How did we get ourselves into this hateful mess? 

We are more polarized now as a country than I’ve seen yet in my 40 years.

We are polarized and charged and fragile.

Tensions are skyrocketing. We’re shouting our opinions and beliefs through social media microphones. The powers and principalities that have always been at work in the background are now being openly observed, critiqued, and argued about. Injustices are being called out. Systemic evils are being revealed. Defenses are being raised. Individual and institutional power is being challenged and feels threatened. This is quite an apocalypse.

**

And in some ways, as horrifying and painful as it is, we need this apocalypse. We need the curtain to be pulled back. We need the veil to be lifted so we can see what is really real. To see the Matrix that’s always been at work behind the facade. Because racial bias and systemic racism didn’t just happen. Black people did not only *recently* begin to suffer violence at the hands of law enforcement or the criminal justice system. The seeds of racism were sown hundreds of years ago, and the weeds have been growing wild and tall ever since. The seeds have been scattered far and wide, so that none of our country appears to be untouched. And at various times when black and brown voices have spoken against this evil, the weeds have been cut back. But the roots grow ever deeper underground. The visible manifestations of racism have morphed and may appear to have improved–we don’t see so many weeds–but the root systems remain vibrant, active, and very much affecting our society. 

As a student of the American public education system, I learned about the American history of slavery, emancipation, segregation, and the Civil Rights Movement. I learned about all of this in broad strokes, and told from the perspective of white people. I think that the history books led me, and perhaps you, to believe that all of this was in the past. That the racial struggle in America was long over. And in particular, in November 2008 I remember crying with relief and happiness that Barack Obama was elected our first Black President. I foolishly believed that our struggle to eradicate racism was nearly over. Not only did I fail to realize that it had largely just shifted underground. I also was unaware of the sheer size of the population who did not *want* to eradicate racism. 

Moreover, I did not realize racism wasn’t the only problem. It was not enough to simply consider oneself “not racist,” because you don’t engage in any overtly racist practices or speech. trying to deny the racial biases that exist in all of us. I have to actively work to become anti-racist. It requires some painful confessions. How much have the media’s portrayals of Black and brown criminals being pursued by white heroes infiltrated my subconscious? Is it easier for my sympathy to be stirred over violence against a white body than a Black body? Is my instinct to be surprised–even if pleasantly–when Black and brown people advance to the highest levels of education or authority? I have to interrogate these biases, and root out the evil that lives within me.

I’m of course indebted to the good work of Ibram X. Kendi for introducing me to the idea of anti-racism, and the reality that racism is an evil that must be actively and continuously resisted, pushed against, working to dig out those biases and beliefs that have long and deeply been internalized over a lifetime. I’m also indebted to the work of Austin Channing Brown in “I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness.” She is not the first to alert me to some of the experiences of Black people – ranging from mildly irritating to outright horrifying. But she is the most recent. 

And I confess that although I first heard the term “white privilege” as a freshman in college, I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. I had a professor who talked about how band-aids were made to match the skin tones of white people, and how you could buy a crayon or nylons in the shade of “nude” or “flesh” and that was by default, the color of a white person’s body. It was then that I was introduced to the idea that I inhabited a world made for whiteness. But I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I let it fade into the recesses of my mind.

As a white American woman, I live most of my days blind to my privilege. 

I have been blind to how the color of my skin gives rise to the trust and kindness of strangers, rather than suspicion. 

How the color of my skin affords me the freedom to walk, run, drive, or shop without fear of being watched, suspected, or arrested. 

How I’ve never once thought about talking to my kids about the color of their skin. About how people will treat them because of the color of their skin, or how to avoid trouble with the police. 

How I’ve never wondered if I might not get the job because of my skin.

How I’ve never worried I might not be able to rent an apartment because of the color of my skin.

Blindness. 

How many years have I spent privileging and prioritizing white voices as authorities? 

How much of my knowledge of America’s history has only come from listening to the white-male-colonial-manifest-destiny-bootstrap-theory narrative?

How many years have I spent imagining light skin and blue eyes when I hear the name Jesus?

How many years have I existed, never consciously considering that I inhabit a world made for whiteness, and how this world might be experienced so differently by people with different colors of skin?

It’s not intentional. It’s not malicious. It’s not cause for defensiveness.

That’s not to say there isn’t malicious intent out there, because there absolutely is. Although I once thought we were done with that, there is overt white supremacy and racism in this country. And that must be dealt with as well. But what I’m talking about is blindness. The ways in which white supremacy has slipped under the radar, covertly infecting our systems and institutions, and planting seeds of racial bias.

The ways in which people who have skin color like mine have benefited from this system without even realizing it.

It’s blindness.

But there are prophets among us who are helping the blind to recover their sight. Who are helping us see the biases that are built into the very fabric of our culture and woven into the recesses of our hearts and minds. The biases that privilege those who like me, are wrapped in white skin, and biases that disenfranchise, oppress, and give rise to violence against those who are wrapped in brown and black skin. 

And because those prophets have spoken, we can no longer live in our blindness and say we didn’t know any better. That we didn’t know there was a problem. We can’t pretend to not know any better.

When America herself was a land stolen from her first inhabitants whose very blood was shed for resisting European Colonialism? How can we “make america great again” when America herself was built on the backs of slaves stolen from their homeland? How can we make America great again when her white male founders did not believe in the full value and dignity of every human being? How can we make America great again when the white supremacy that ran through her veins at birth was never squeezed out but just shape shifted from slavery to segregation and Jim Crow to the “war on drugs” and mass incarceration and racial profiling? How can we make America great again when her noble goals and good intentions were overshadowed by her dehumanizing, paternalizing, colonizing, stealing, kidnapping, enslaving, and killing?

We don’t need to make America great again. There is no former glory or perfection that we need to return to. No, we need to turn away from much of our past. We need to recognize it, discuss it, confess and apologize and make amends and offer reparations. We need to repent. We need to heal. And then we need to head in a new direction. We don’t need to make America great again. We need a rebirth. 

America has led the way for the church in some important respects. And sometimes the church has taken the lead. But America is not the shining beacon on the hill that she has claimed to be. In fact, she never will be. She is mighty, yes. She has done good in the world, yes. But for those of us who follow the way of Jesus, America is not the beacon on the hill. The church is called to occupy that space. And the church has failed miserably in this respect. I see precious little difference in the state of race relations in the country and the church. We both have a long way to go. 

No, right now, neither the church nor America is the shining beacon on the hill. But the world is watching. And what is the world seeing? It’s seeing a country that’s tearing itself apart. People who are screaming past each other, neither one hearing the other. Private citizens and police alike arming themselves with bullets and tear gas to oppose people who are protesting peacefully. A society that’s arguing between fact and opinion. That’s struggling with not “how” but “whether” to grapple with an ugly history that’s well-known but consciously ignored. America and the church – we both have a long way to go.

I’m not naive enough to think this will happen quickly. When it’s in the air we breathe, it’ll take years of hard labor to clear out the pollution. Especially when we don’t all recognize it as pollution. When some among us are happy with the way things are. But this is a place where the church can lead. Where the church can be the light shining on the hill that she was always intended to be. Embodying hope and the ways of Jesus as only she can do.

We have to start the difficult work of dismantling. It’s going to be painful. Especially for those of us who have long benefited from the systems of oppression. Those of us who have enjoyed privileges based on the color of our skin, even if we didn’t know it. It’s going to be hard and painful, but it’s necessary. 

There were generations of people enslaved in this country, people whose own grandparents were slaves, and whose grandchildren also became slaves. People whose ancestry in both directions only knew shackles. 

It took generations to pull that system apart and we went to war and died for it. But even war couldn’t undo the evil. Our current war, though, is not against other citizens of our nation. Our current war is not against our friends or family who disagree. Our current war is an internal one–in each of our hearts. Our struggle is to open our eyes. 

It’s not shouting into submission the Facebook friend who has a different opinion. It’s not screaming “facts” and responding “blind opinions!” The pain we have to go through now is looking back and recognizing privilege, blindness, confessing our ignorance. Admitting the biases that exist deep down, the ones we wish weren’t there but they are. And letting the defenses around those armies fall. Our war is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers and principalities. The powers that have planted seeds of prejudice–whether we helped to plant them or we inherited them–we have to pull out the roots. Our war now is to dig them up, root them out, make sure they never grow there again.

Listening is a good start. Learning is critical. But we also have to take action. Because the Year of the Lord’s Favor has been proclaimed. Release for the captives, liberation for those oppressed. Good news for the poor and recovery of sight for the blind. The year of the lord’s favor is here – it has been ushered in and it’s not going away. 

The prophets have spoken and are indeed continuing to speak. Church, how will we respond? How will the history books tell this story? Where is your place in it? May the scales fall from your eyes, you who are blind. May you who are in captivity walk in freedom. May we together engage in the long, hard work of dismantling the racism and white supremacy that are infecting our country and the church. 

May it be so.

Show Notes

S5E1: “We’re NOT Making America Great Again” with Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Wednesday, July 1, 2020
PreacHer Podcast
PreacHer: Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Summary: The prophecy of Isaiah 61 is being fulfilled right now. We are in the midst of an apocalypse – a great unveiling of the way things really are. And we who once were blind can no longer live as if we do not see. Prophets are crying out in our streets daily, #letmelive #Icantbreathe #BlackLivesMatter and freedom is on the horizon. Will the church partner with God to usher in release for the captives? Will the church embody Good News for the oppressed? How will the history books tell the story of the church in this era?

Resources + Social Media Handles:

  • All of Jen Hale Christy’s Links

What to do next:

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