This Article Was Originally Published On Jan 18, 2021

The year was 1989, and I was a freshman in high school. I was sitting at a lone desk in an empty hallway because, once again, my behavior had gotten me kicked out of class—but on purpose, actually. Because though I was attending one of the best prep schools in New Jersey and in all honors classes, occasionally, when the learning material couldn’t quite hold my attention, I’d goof around until I was asked to take my desk into the hallway. And what would I do once in the hallway? I’d eagerly pull out Strength To Love, by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Since middle school, Dr. King was always my favorite, reading away and even re-reading the heavier content until I got it. Dr. King was a pure scholar.

“My friends, we cannot win the respect of the White people of the South or elsewhere if we are willing to trade the future of our children for our personal safety or comfort. Moreover, we must learn that passively to accept an unjust system is to cooperate with that system, and thereby become a participant in its evil… Put up thy sword.” — Strength To Love, 1963

This book I always carried with me was actually an original paperback that had belonged to my father during his executive administrative position at Seton Hall University. He had emulated the steps of Dr. King and became a leader in the civil rights struggle in New Jersey, implementing scholarship programs and graduate programs for people of color, which are still active until this very day. But not before he first endured growing up in poverty in the Deep South of the 1950s. He attended segregated schooling throughout high school, where his hungry mind always had to wait until the white schools finished sucking the abridged life out of every textbook before his school could finally get them. Even after earning valedictorian at his school, his physics teacher gave him a failing grade on a perfect paper. When my dad asked why, the teacher told him, “I didn’t give you an ‘A’ on that paper because you said you wanted to be a nuclear physicist, and a colored person has no business being a nuclear physicist.”

On this day when Dr. King’s birthday is nationally honored (his actual birthday being January 15), what does he mean to me?

As far back as I can remember, and even before his birthday became a national holiday in 1986, an integral part of our northern urban culture was to ecstatically celebrate Dr. King’s birthday—even if it just meant turning up Stevie Wonder’s “Happy Birthday to Ya,” extra loud on Mom’s clock radio as we’d get ready for school that morning.

Also, as far back as I can remember, whenever Dr. King’s name was mentioned, the emphasis on the title “doctor” was always sacred, as to just say his name would seemingly usher in a hush of honor and dignity as everyone would seem to hold their heads a bit higher for a second. While others called him by his full name without the title, we remembered him as a man who overcame all obstacles to earn his Ph.D., a rarity for countless black folks in those times. He was beloved in our community: He was like everyone’s unofficial favorite grandfather, father, godfather, uncle or son. A man, who for the sake of fighting for the freedoms of the oppressed, didn’t fear violent fists, fire hoses, bone-bruising batons, handcuffs, prison cells, police dogs trained to go berserk whenever they saw brown skin, or even death itself.

I grew up in a home with a humanistic worldview, attending Catholic church only on the important holidays, so I had a vague familiarity with Jesus. But I remember reading Dr. King’s references to Jesus Christ, Christ’s Sermon on the Mount and Christ’s commandment to forgive and turn the other cheek, and then getting to observe how Dr. King actually lived it out. He was the first person to make Jesus’ life and teachings relevant and powerful to me. Long before I was anywhere close to believing the Gospel and giving my heart to Christ, Dr. King showed this once-young, curious “searching” teenager—growing up on the drug-dealing streets of inner-city New Jersey, while at the same time, going to a wealthy prep school where I had my own countless bouts with both blatant and covert forms of racism—that Jesus was real and that Jesus’ teachings were still relevant in modern times and for modern issues.

Fast forward now: I matriculated at the “Ivy League” halls of the University of Pennsylvania, and though I was a pre-med student, I began learning much more about the world around me.

As an African-American Studies minor, I studied other prominent black leaders who had ideologies quite different from those of Dr. King’s.

I attended various lectures and even sat at the feet of people like Bobby Seale, co-founder of the Black Panther Movement (along with Huey P. Newton). I read Malcolm X and others who critiqued Dr. King’s methods. But to me, Dr. King remained bulletproof from the blaze of any critic; his message of reconciliation was simple and powerful and grounded in the love taught by Christ.

Fast forward, yet again, to when I hadn’t read Dr. King in years, by this point, when I was my senior year at Penn and busy navigating and (seemingly barely) surviving my own personal Ecclesiastes, like the spiritually-wearied King Solomon—suddenly finding everything around me to feel like “vanity” and “chasing wind” when it came to finding “true fulfillment”—and thereby, leading me to discover the regenerating Gospel of Jesus Christ as the true summum bonum (i.e., “greatest good”) for all of mankind. Oh, “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, t’was blind but now, I see.”

As I graduated from Penn and began devouring the Word of God and growing in a (heavy) Bible-teaching church community, I was learning to “rightly divide the word of God” and even hold up the teachings of others against the Word of God—just as Jesus instructs His followers to do (I Thessalonians 5:21; Psalm 138:2). And it was at this point that I learned the difference between good or “sound” theology, bad theology and even “slightly off” theology.

I began learning more about Gospel-centered ministry, and how when Jesus spoke of giving a (refreshing) cup of water to even a child in His name, that even that wouldn’t go unrewarded by Him—and how some are indeed giving the (refreshing) cup of cold water “in His name” (i.e., while sharing the soul-saving “Good News” message of Jesus Christ, while countless others—all in the name of “Christian ministry”—all too often end up compromising with a “Social Gospel,” which still gives the (refreshing) cup of cold water and meets the pressing need(s) at hand, only they neglect doing it “in His name,” as the final element of Jesus’ command.

Thus, as a Bible-lensed believer, I had to now look at Dr. King, my first “superhero,” my first scholar whom I read in empty “naughty” hallways, after getting kicked out of class, the man who greatly inspired my own (hero) father, the man who still made my mom get teary-eyed when she found a rare book by him to gift to me, the man who first made Jesus real to me… I had to look at him through the lenses of “rightly divided” Scripture. And having a close friend who worked directly with Dr. King’s children at the King Foundation in Atlanta, Georgia, I even got access to hundreds of pages of King’s never-released essays, including essays from his younger days attending a liberal seminary, where he even questioned the Word of God’s supreme, inerrant theology, while trying to amalgamate the biblical worldview with ancient Egyptian belief systems. Add to that the pressing questions you hear voiced here and there:

Was Dr. King a socialist or communist? Was he an adulterer? Did he fall victim to Jesus’ warnings concerning “the leaven of Herod,” falling into the trap of mingling humanistic political might with unadulterated Gospel hope? There was so much to think about, but I had to be reminded of one thing: Whenever we are confronted with uncertainties or unanswered questions surrounding a person, we tend to “throw the baby out with the bathwater.” At the heart of observing others, will always remain the ongoing struggle of reconciling the imperfections of the person, with the redeemable parts and lessons of the message and the overall work.

So what do we do with all of this, and as (rhetorically) stated in the title of Dr. King’s last book he wrote, Where Do We Go From Here? I have come to the conclusion that we owe Dr. King the same grace we’ve extended to King David, King Uzziah, Peter & the other disciples, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and his reported involvement in two assassination attempts on Hitler, C.S. Lewis and his non-biblical belief in Purgatory, and countless others. In fact, it is the very same grace we pray to God for concerning our own personal lives every day. The Bible clearly instructs us to “mark the steps of a righteous man (Psalm 37:37),” to call sin for what it is, and to learn from those around us (and those in history), which also included learning from their mistakes, lest we easily slip and fall in (any and all similar) places ourselves (I Corinthians 10:12). Yes, the Word of God is supreme and is to be our guide in all things, but in doing so, love will always remain the “most excellent way” in doing so.

Most of all, here is my biggest question concerning Dr. King: Will I see my hero in heaven?

You know, I’ve read so much written by Dr. King and about Dr. King, that it gets confusing as to where I have read what at times. However, what stands out the most of all that I’ve ever read was an obscure essay he once wrote about the night back when he was leading his first bus boycott for the desegregation of buses in Montgomery, Alabama, and in retaliation, someone shot up his house, leaving bullet holes in the very sanctuary where his wife and kids found refuge.

He proceeded to write of how he sat alone that night in his kitchen—already a husband, father, up-and-coming national civil rights leader, and even a Baptist minister—and shaken to his core by what had happened to his home, he asked himself if he had truly experienced a (spiritually) born again experience in making Jesus Christ his personal Lord and Savior. And not sure of his own answer to that question, but wanting to make sure he was truly “in Christ” and not just deceivingly a mere part of “Churchianity” and “religious culture,” this pioneering visionary, scholar, courageous commander and religious man who emulated Jesus Christ, actually lowered his head and invited the risen Christ into His heart as his personal Lord and Savior for the remission of sins.

I’ve heard many wonder if King Solomon will be in heaven simply because of his severe backsliding (which led him to worship in very demonic ways). But based on his conclusion in Ecclesiastes, I believe King Solomon is in glory.

And I cannot prove it (for who knows the heart but God (I Corinthians 4:5), I believe my hero Dr. King is in glory as well.

In closing, what should be our practical take away and application concerning the legacy of Dr. King?

In this racially-polarized day, when so many (even in the Church) refuse to have the necessary, ongoing, tough conversations concerning race, and when we must be ready to (lovingly) challenge others (and even challenge ourselves at times), let us remember how Dr. King seemed to never grow weary in “leaning into discomfort” for the love of others. In a day when the Church has grossly confused merely knowing with actually doing something with what you know, let us remember how Dr. King’s entire life was a living sermon on how talk is cheap. More so, in a day, when Christians sometimes can’t even garner enough Christian humility to apologize to their next-door neighbors for the slightest offenses, Dr. King made Jesus’ teachings on forgiveness and “turning the other cheek” look supernatural, to say the least.

In a day when Christians can’t even embrace a brother or sister who adheres to a different style of worship or denominational viewpoint, let us remember how Dr. King was able to embrace Malcolm X with love and honor—even after Malcolm X publicly criticized Dr. King and regularly alluded to Dr. King not being “strong enough.” Most of all, in a day when we struggle with sacrificing for anything we deem “too costly,” in Dr. King we see a man who sacrificed even unto death—even (seemingly) prophesying about his imminent death in a message delivered some 24 hours before he was assassinated. In it, he declared that he still wasn’t going to stop and wasn’t concerned with such because he had received a fresh vision of His Lord Jesus Christ, and that He would one day be returning to Earth to reign as King of kings and Lord of lords.

You know, for so many reasons, I still can’t watch this video clip without tears running down my face. And when I grow up, I still want to be so much like Dr. King, just like I desire to be so much like King David, Abraham, Dietrich Bonhoeffer and so many others who have deeply impacted me for Jesus, in one way or another, even as they all prove that even “the best of men, are but men at best” (A.W. Pink).

So dear reader, let’s keep thinking; let’s keep the necessary conversations going while being more eager to listen than to speak; let’s love one another sacrificially; let’s love our enemies as Jesus commanded us; let’s continue facing this current evil day with relevant Gospel outreaches and spontaneous acts of love, all in our deepest desire to showcase Jesus Christ as man’s only solution for every dilemma—and especially the dilemma of race and America’s ongoing reaping from the ongoing sowing of things that clearly contradict the heart and mind of God concerning how people treat and value one another. Happy Birthday, Dr. King! Salute!

“Rarely do we find men who willingly engage in hard, solid thinking. There is an almost universal quest for easy answers and half-baked solutions. Nothing pains some people more than having to think.” — Strength To Love, 1963

There are aspects of teaching literature to high school students that can drive a person absolutely nuts. However, there are also amazing opportunities to weave concepts rooted in the gospel seamlessly into what you are reading and studying. I teach for the most part freshman and sophomores at a small high school in a little Utah town that is more than two hours away from any major city. We are the epitome of rural America. Many of the students that I teach will never travel more than five hundred miles from their hometown, and to be honest, that is perfectly ok. There is beauty in the simplicity of our little community. One of the best elements of teaching classic works of literature to teenagers is expanding their horizons and enabling them to see a world they may never experience themselves. There is a dynamic impact of introducing them to the lives and cultures of people they may not otherwise ever have the opportunity to know.

A large part of our curriculum for sophomores is dedicated to exploring the Holocaust. We read Elie Wiesel’s seminal work Night, and Art Spiegelman’s graphic novel Maus. As we set the context of the Israelite people and lay it alongside the horrors they suffered throughout history to include the Holocaust, there is a move toward a depth of empathy and sacredness in the students who wrestle with humanity so devoid of common decency and respect for human dignity. These are powerful moments as a teacher, and even more so as an evangelical pastor in a tiny rural town in the US. It gives one the deep sense that all is not lost with this bewildered and divided generation.

For as long as I can remember, we have careened through a season of misunderstanding and mistrust in our culture.

One of the aspects of peace that I draw from these times of turmoil and uncertainty is that we have been here so many times before, and not merely as a nation, but also as humans existing in history. One of the saddest aspects of our current world’s condition is the impact that the conversations regarding race are having on the church as a whole. It’s one thing for a nation to falter in its way, but an entirely different thing for the Kingdom of God to suffer the heartache of friendly fire in camp. There seems to be an overwhelming push to build fortresses rather than a desire to build bridges.

One of my greatest joys this year as a teacher has been the opportunity to read and teach the novel To Kill a Mockingbird. It is the first time I have read this novel since middle school. One of the most prevailing themes of Harper Lee’s classic novel is the concept of seeing life from another person’s perspective. The narrator of the story, Jean Louise “Scout” Finch, converses with her father Atticus about the idea of walking around in another person’s skin (Lee 30). Atticus says to Scout, “‘First of all…if you can learn a simple trick, Scout, you’ll get along a lot better with all kinds of folks. You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view. Until you climb into his skin and walk around in it’” (Lee 30). This concept is understood by a six-year-old in rural Alabama in the 1930s, yet it continues to be one of the most fleeting skills in our culture today. It would seem to be common-sense, especially for the Christian, to consider walking a mile in another person’s shoes; to live incarnationally among those we do not necessarily have life experiences in common with.

Jesus says the second greatest commandment (and really part B of the first) was to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39). The principle Jesus is revealing has obvious application to those around us: We should be willing to enter into our neighbor’s suffering. Loving others gets messy. But if we’re unwilling to go deep with those who are hurting, we’re presenting a truncated Gospel. Jesus desires whole-person transformation.

As His partners of reconciliation, we need to be willing to share a deeper understanding of where people are coming from before we can share the truth with them.

A dissonance that continues to baffle me about the conservative evangelical church in the United States is the level of empathy we exercise toward the plights of the people of the Nation of Israel, yet at the same time, there exists in some a reluctance to fully accept the impact of how African Americans have suffered under similar levels of oppression, slavery, and racism. Many Americans believe that because we had radical changes brought in through the Civil Rights Movement, that there has also been a complete transformation in the realities of legal and logistical life for Blacks. Many believe that the progress made in the last 57 years is enough to fully actualize the liberties granted through the Civil Rights Act of 1964. One only needs to read the book of Ezra to understand the dichotomy amidst the mixed emotions of sorrow for the past and joy for the future. Ezra writes, “But many of the priests and Levites and heads of the fathers’ houses, old men who had seen the first temple, wept with a loud voice when the foundation of this temple was laid before their eyes. Yet many shouted aloud for joy” (Ezra 3:12). The concept of experiencing sorrow for the brokenness of the past, while celebrating the strides of the present, is not a strange reality for the people of God. I believe that this understanding is truly at the heart of how we should operate as the church in light of the depth of brokenness surrounding the issues of racism in our nation and the world in general.

When the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed, it was in large part a national acknowledgment of the horrors of Jim Crow, segregation, disenfranchisement, and a multitude of other moral and ethical failures on the part of our nation as a whole. However, the process of righting a nation perverted by centuries of inequality and injustice is an incredibly tedious and lengthy one. We have made incredible advancements in these areas, and no one with an ounce of common sense can deny the incredible progress that has been made by the overwhelming majority of the American population and its institutions. Nevertheless, we, like the elderly Jews who mourned the memory of Solomon’s Temple, must be able to acknowledge the sorrowful specter of racism that still exists in our national conscience. On the other hand, like those youthful, liberated captives whose hard labor and diligence produced the second temple, we should freely celebrate the victories won as each generation passes.

In To Kill a Mockingbird, Atticus Finch correlates courage with someone who, in spite of knowing you are “licked before you begin…you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what” (Lee 112). Atticus Finch defends Tom Robinson despite knowing that the deck is stacked against him: Tom is black, and the members of the jury in a little rural southern town are all white (Lee 216).

The level of courage modeled by Atticus in 1930’s Alabama has enshrined him as an integrity-filled archetypal hero for generations.

Listen to Mrs. Maudie’s words: “We’re the safest folks in the world…we are so rarely called on to be Christians, but when we are, we’ve got men like Atticus to go for us” (Lee 215). Miss Maudie is trying to explain to Atticus’ children why she has hope amidst the sorrow they are all feeling after the announcement of a grievous miscarriage of justice against Tom Robinson. In one breath, she acknowledges the brokenness of her culture, and also the hope she has for the baby steps that have moved them forward (Lee 216).

This is the way forward for pastors ministering in the divergent undertow of our cultural upheavals. We must on one hand acknowledge and mourn over the devastating impact the experiences of racism have on our neighbors, loved ones, and church family. On the other hand, it is vital to our survival to acknowledge and celebrate the successful progress our nation has made toward rectifying the broken road, all the while, looking forward to a continuing city whose builder and maker is God (Hebrews 11:10).

Preamble

In response to the historic, present, and ongoing discrimination against people of color in the United States of America (USA), which has been too often enabled and supported by professing followers of Jesus, the Calvary Global Network (CGN) Executive Leadership Team offers this statement on racism.

Section 1. Beliefs & Acknowledgments

Definition of Terms

Beliefs: As used in this statement, represent facts, attitudes, words, truth-claims, and/or actions, which we support and advocate for, as the CGN Executive Team.

Acknowledgments: As used in this statement, refer to historical facts, attitudes, words, truth-claims, and/or actions, which we believe are reality, but which we DO NOT necessarily support or advocate.

Please read each Belief, Acknowledgment, and Commitment closely and in their entirety with the above definitions in mind.

1. Human Dignity

• We BELIEVE that the Triune God created all people with equal value, dignity, and worth (Gen. 1:26-28; Acts 17:26-27, ESV et al).

2. God’s Omni-benevolence

• We BELIEVE that all people are universally loved and pursued by God, and are the object of His plan of redemption (Jn. 3:16; Acts 2:5-12; Rev. 7:9).

3. Kingdom Diversity

• We BELIEVE that all people are essential for the fullest expression of the beauty of the multicultural, multiethnic, multicolored, universal body of Christ (Eph. 2:11-22; Rev. 7:9).

• We BELIEVE that the ultimate goal of God’s redemptive mission is His peaceful rule with and over a unified, multicultural, multiethnic, multicolored people (Jn. 10:16; Rev. 9:7; 21:1-22:5).

4. Member Equality

• We BELIEVE people of color should be embraced as full, equal members, and essential leaders in the local church, and that our local church leadership, teachers, preachers, conferences, and corporate worship experiences should wonderfully reflect this belief.

5. Inaccurate Biblical Interpretation

• We BELIEVE that while much of the biblical accounts revolve around or take place in the context of indentured servitude, slavery, or forms of oppression, the Bible nonetheless condemns all forms of racism, bigotry, oppression, and exploitation as sin—and that Jesus put hatred on par with murder (Lk. 10:25-37; Jn. 4:1-10; Philemon).

• We ACKNOWLEDGE that many professing Christians have misused the Bible to support racist ideologies and actions at a personal, institutional, and societal level. This misuse of Scripture, and actions resulting from such hermeneutical inaccuracy, has led to the pain of many people, and the defamation of the Name, gospel, and church of Jesus Christ in the USA, and the world (Ez. 36:23; Rom. 2:24).

6. Institutional Racism

• We acknowledge racism has been an element within American history from the beginning. From the legal enslavement of black Africans to the “Jim Crow” laws and state-sponsored segregation, racism has embedded itself in many of our institutions. Sadly, the church has not been guiltless in this matter. American church history has been tragically marred by many examples of complicity with the racist policies of the state being followed by the church. Segregated congregations are a historic example of the evil presence of racism within the church.

Section 2. Commitments

In the gospel, the people of God have every motivation and power to lead the way in pursuing the relational, civic, institutional, social, and ecclesiological transformation that the world desperately needs.

As a collective voice, we believe displaying the glory and power of God in confronting and turning from racism in our personal lives, relationships, local churches, and communities in the USA, will require at least the following biblical commitments by professing Christians:

1. Gospel-centered Transformation

• We must commit, by God’s grace, to pursuing gospel-centered equality in our beliefs, attitudes, actions, words, families, personal relationships, communities, and churches.

The message of the biblical gospel is that God loves and seeks to redeem all the peoples of the world through Christ. The love of God displayed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus is the world’s ultimate hope of reconciliation and the highest affirmation of the dignity of every human. Therefore, the church must prioritize the verbal proclamation and relational demonstration of the transformative power of the biblical gospel (Gal. 3:28).

• We must commit, by God’s grace, to continually realign our hearts with the gospel, to root out any trace of racism in our attitudes, words, and deeds, with the help of God’s Spirit (Matt. 22:27-30; Gal. 3:28).

2. Self-reflection

• We must commit, by God’s grace, to engaging in collective and individual self-reflection before the Lord in prayer, petitioning Him to, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my anxieties; and see if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting” (Ps. 139:23-24).

3. Intentional Listening

• We must commit, by God’s grace, to being “swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath,” as we listen to the experiences and history of people of color in the United States, “for the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (Js. 1:19b).

4. Humble Repentance

• We must commit to, privately and publicly, confess and take responsibility for our personal, generational, and ecclesiological involvement in Christian-supported racism in American history (Dan. 9:1-19).

5. Faithful Witness

• We must commit to glorifying God’s Name, word, and gospel, by modeling the words and ways of Jesus. We acknowledge that the reputation of God and the name of Jesus have been maligned in society, specifically due to the racist words, attitudes, and actions of some professing Christians. We commit to changing this reality wherever we have influence (Acts 1:8; Rom. 2:24).

Section 3. Concluding Remarks + Disclaimer

Because the appropriate application of the above commitments will be as diverse as the relationships, experiences, and people reading this statement, they have been written in such a way as to promote reflection and the embrace of principles, rather than directing specific actions.

This statement does not, by definition or intention, represent the convictions or perspectives of all Calvary Chapel or CGN leaders, churches, or members around the world, many of which reside outside the USA.

This statement intentionally reflects only the collective voice and unified spirit of the fifteen men who serve as the Executive Leadership Team of CGN on the sin of racism.

This statement does and is intended to represent a call to all Calvary Chapel and CGN leaders to prayer, corporate and self-reflection, and where necessary and appropriate, repentance regarding the sin of racism.

“After these things I looked, and behold, a great multitude which no one could number, of all nations, tribes, peoples, and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” (Rev. 7:9-10).

^{CGN Executive Leadership Team Signatures}

^{Brian Brodersen, Kellen Criswell, Ray Bentley, Char Brodersen, Aaron Campbell, Richard Cimino, Jeff Gipe, Nate Holdridge, Phil Metzger, Mike Neglia, Derek Neider, Jordan Taylor, Wayne Taylor, Josh Turansky, Joel Turner}

CGN Members Signatures

_{John Hwang
Nick Cady
Aaron Salvato
Erik Brand
Patricia Arena
Cory Emery
Andrew Rann
Oscar LaSalle
Andrew Enos
Steve Bunnell
David Sharp
Deirdre Keating
Charlotte F. Kelly
Keilah Gaviria
Steve Vandalen
Ethan Moreno
Jevon Washington
Earl Buchan
Brian Kelly
Kathy Gilbert
Joe Gamez
Juana Cuzco
Eric Tharaldson
John Rozier
Daniel Moreno
Michael Mcdonald
Elizabeth Walker
Charise Christianson
Hourik Kazarian
Richard Ortiz
Rachel Escalante
Pete Jansen
Joey Ellis
David Toro
Silas Coellner
Michelle Bannister
Talisa Rogers
Rebekah Adams
Dana Haukoos
Kris Haukoos
Kory Gaviria
Allen Rigg
Amy Stultz
Vincent Proffit
Jim Hespe
Michael Dente
Ken Cowpar
Jon Langley
Steve Snook
Jesse Wallace
David Greer
Solomon Smart
Shirley Bunnell
Bryan Henderson
Travis Spencer
Hilary Flook-Jurekovic
Gunther Kriwinski
Peter Voorhees
Michael Payne
Wavey Cowpar
Joshua Erdtsieck
Benjamin Morrison
Ted Leavenworth
Nathan Jeffers
Kyle Rosetta
Jennifer Tichy
Kyle Vaughn
Jesse Claycamp
Rob Woodrum
Dustin Whitson
Cathy Love
Charles Wandalo
Martha Frazier
Luke Glowacz
Shaunice Aikoo
Brent Smith
Aaran Green
Paul Blundell
Kristine Lacanlale
Marlon Brown
Britt Taylor
Hannah Colt
Hans Stoop
Tyler Gipe
David Yardley
Lindsay Gipe}

_{FaithWake
Andrew Amargo
Cindy Salas
Robert Lucas
Jim Hein
Tyler Moyer
Romy Godding
Laney Smallwood
Cody Nunes
Thales Wake}

In my previous article, I laid out how the concept of systemic racism is a consequence not of “cultural Marxism,” but of the biblical understanding of sin. We ended with the question of how to move forward beyond personal prayer and repentance. A frequent sentiment I’ve heard during the current discussion on racism goes like this: “Even if there is systemic racism, only the Gospel can change hearts. Therefore, we should just focus on preaching the Gospel and not concern ourselves with questions of systemic racism.” In this article I hope to respond to this position and show that, while the Gospel is the ultimate answer, it is the Gospel itself which calls us to do more than ignore injustice and hope that individual oppressors come to Christ.

The Only Power to Change Hearts

To begin, it’s worth pointing out the core of truth in the position we are examining. The Gospel truly is the only thing that can deal with the root of racism. Racism is one of many sinful attempts at building an identity for ourselves apart from Christ. It is an attempt to prove one’s worth apart from the cross, based on one’s ethnicity instead. As with all such sinful attempts, it inflicts damage on both the one seeking to prove their worth and on those whom he or she must sacrifice to do so.

Only the Gospel says that we are loved and valuable, not because of our race, social status, professional success, academic accolades, etc., but as a gift of sheer grace. The idol of race asks us to sacrifice the dignity of other ethnicities to prove our own worth. But in the Gospel, God sacrifices his own dignity on the cross to prove our worth. When that truth of being deeply loved by grace reaches our hearts, it undoes the need to prove ourselves by denying the worth of others. It kills both the pride and the fear that are at the real root of racism—and at the root of any sin.

This is all true and needs to be affirmed. The only hope for deep heart transformation is the Gospel. But does that mean we need to focus only on preaching the Gospel to individuals and ignore any questions of systemic change?

The Scope of Gospel Transformation

A question that will help us answer this is the following: what is God’s intended scope of Gospel transformation? Modern western Evangelicalism has sometimes been accused of shrinking the Gospel to be only about personal forgiveness that lets us escape the world after we die. Sadly, this accusation is not without grounds. But the biblical Gospel is about more than just individual forgiveness. Its final scope is nothing less than the restoration of the universe under the lordship of Jesus.

Christ came announcing the coming of a Kingdom. Forgiveness is what allows us to take part in that Kingdom, but forgiveness alone is not the ultimate goal. In the same way that sin is both individual and systemic, so Gospel transformation is both individual and systemic. It is the full biblical Gospel itself that demands we not content ourselves with individual transformation alone, but prayerfully labor for Gospel renewal in the world, beginning in our own churches.

An Underlying Assumption

There is an unspoken assumption in the suggestion to “just preach the Gospel” and ignore issues of systemic racism. The assumption is this: individuals shape society, but society does not shape individuals. The argument implies that only by seeing individuals changed piecemeal will society—maybe, eventually—be changed. Additionally, it suggests that if enough individuals are changed, society will change all by itself. Thus, societal change is a byproduct at best.

But this approach fails to take seriously the reality that not only do individuals shape culture, but culture shapes individuals. Surely we can see this realization behind the concern for our children to be raised with biblical values. Because culture is so key to shaping individuals, a true concern for individual hearts means we should also be concerned about the society which helps form them.

Moreover, even if every last person in a given society came to faith in Christ but no one dealt with the systemic changes necessary to reflect biblical values, the changes would be no more permanent than those individuals. The final chapters of Esther show just such an example. Even when the racist, genocidal Haman was removed, the evil system he had set in motion still needed to be dealt with directly. Systemic change is not automatic simply because individuals in that system have changed. Systemic change must be pursued directly if it is to be ubiquitous and enduring.

A Gospel Witness in Society

The suggestion to “just preach the Gospel” and ignore questions of systemic justice may seem right at first. After all, it seems to be lifting up the power of the Gospel—and who among us Christians would disagree with that! But there is another problem here.

First, the Gospel must always be accompanied by its fruits. While the Gospel must not be confused with its fruits, a Gospel without fruit is no Gospel at all. Therefore, when people suggest the preaching of a Gospel that does not bear as one of its consequences the fruit of racial justice and neighbor love, something is wrong. In fact, often the fruits of the Gospel act to draw people to the Gospel. Thus, a true concern for the Gospel to be lifted up in society must be concerned to show the beauty of the Gospel in all of its outflowing results.

Secondly, to argue that we must focus on the ultimate good (the Gospel) to the detriment of other real goods is a theological fallacy. We certainly don’t say, “Well, I’m no longer going to shower because I need to focus on preaching the Gospel.” No, we realize that regular hygiene is both good stewardship of our bodies and a very practical form of love to our neighbors—especially to their noses. If anything, practicing this simple good might aid us in promotion of the Gospel. How much more then if we seek to love our neighbors by promoting justice in society! A suggestion to preach the Gospel that cuts off that Gospel from its fruits and any other good smacks of Gnosticism in which God is unconcerned with this world.

A Consistent Approach

If you are among those who would be hesitant to tackle systemic racism, opting instead to simply “focus on preaching the Gospel,” ask yourself this: “Is my approach consistent?” For example, if you are content to ignore issues of systemic racism and “just preach the Gospel,” do you take the same approach with other issues in society—say, abortion? After all, even if abortion were outlawed, this would not “change anyone’s heart.” So why not ignore it and “just preach the Gospel”?

But many Christians are not content to merely hope that individuals inclined to get an abortion come to Christ and so change their minds. While that might represent the deepest kind of change, it does nothing to dismantle a system that promotes injustice against the unborn. Chances are, you want to preach the Gospel to individuals and work to reform the system. And that’s really the point: one approach does not contradict the other. We can and should be concerned about systemic justice as well as individual conversion.

It’s true that legislation cannot change hearts. That’s not its intent. Rather, its intent is to provide protections and order in society against abuses by those whose hearts are not yet changed. In the words of Paul, “the law is for the lawless” (1 Timothy 1:9). The argument to ignore systemic reform because it doesn’t change hearts actually ignores what the Bible says about the law. It is because hearts are not changed that they need systemic reform.

Policy changes cannot deal with the root issues that cause racism in individual hearts. That’s why we need to continue to preach the Gospel and specifically show how it deals with the idol of racism. But policy can make it less likely that people will act on sinful racist inclinations. At the same time, while legislation is not the same as God’s Law, where it aligns with God’s Law it can serve to convict and show the need for repentance. Ultimately, the choice to preach the Gospel or work to change systemic racism is a false one. Instead, we must preach the Gospel and work to change systemic racism because of the Gospel.

What Now?

My intent has not been to lay out any specific policy prescriptions in this article. I do not claim to be an expert in the intricacies of policy and how best to reform it. My concern in these articles has been to help us as Christians see the reality of systemic racism from a biblical standpoint. These articles will not give an answer to how we go about tackling systemic racism—a complex task to say the least. Rather, my hope has been to show that, in line with the Gospel and as a fruit of the full biblical Gospel, we must begin the work. We must lay aside unbiblical and inconsistent excuses and take seriously the cause of addressing systemic racism in society. In so doing, we will “adorn the doctrine of God our Savior” with the beautiful fruit of justice.

2020 has been a politically charged year. Between COVID 19, the upcoming election debates about health and safety vs. rights and religious freedom; and now the recent murder of George Floyd and the following Black Lives Matter protests, one thing has become clear: Our nation is divided. Our nation is caught in a never-ending culture war between left and right, and many on both sides of the divide see the battle as a clear cut case of good vs. evil. Aaron sits down with Scott Curran, the resident church planter at Park Hill Church, to discuss the deep political divide and how followers of Christ can rise above it, be lights in a dark culture, and make a difference for the Kingdom of God.

We hope this conversation is helpful to you as you seek to follow the Way of Jesus in the difficult days we find ourselves in.

––––

The GoodLion podcast is a show by Aaron Salvato and Brian Higgins, the founders of CGN’s GoodLion Podcast Network. Each episode, their goal is to ask hard questions, push past easy answers and always look to Jesus, the God who is not safe but is very good. Visit GoodLion.io.

I can’t breathe.

These words are haunting. After more than 100,000 Americans lost their breath due to Covid-19, the words of one man still echo in the American psyche: I can’t breathe. We watched for more than eight excruciating minutes as the breath of life was snuffed from George Floyd’s body in a prolonged act of police brutality.

Only a few weeks earlier, we watched a video of the attack and murder of Ahmaud Arbery as he jogged down a Georgia street. The racial slur uttered by his attackers over his lifeless body reminds us there is something deeply broken in the American soul.

And then came the protests, riots, and looting. Police attacking protestors. Protestors attacking police and property. These images flooded the televisions in our living rooms and social media feeds creating a disorienting cocktail of anger, sadness, confusion, and frustration. And all of this came on the heels of three months of isolation, fear, loss, and economic uncertainty brought on by Covid-19.

Most people I talk to are just tired—2020 was not supposed to turn out this way. But in spite of the numbing exhaustion, the gospel compels us to seek a way forward because, as God’s people, we’re called to the ministry of reconciliation.

Reconciliation is defined as the restoring of a broken relationship.

It sounds so simple, right? But we all know reconciliation is hard and uncomfortable work. If you’ve been deeply hurt by someone or something, you know the struggle to forgive and restore the love and trust that once made that relationship strong. The work of reconciliation was uncomfortable for Jesus, too. Our own story reminds us that sin had broken our relationship with God and created a separation that no one could bridge. Only Jesus could restore what had been stolen. Coming from heaven to earth, trading glory for humility, trading worship for ridicule—it was uncomfortable, but Jesus chose this work because of His love for us.

It’s Our Turn

And now, it’s our turn. We’re called His ambassadors. As citizens of another kingdom, we’ve been entrusted with the same mission. Above all else at this moment, we must love like Jesus.

As in Jesus’ day, some will argue the work of the Church is to pray, read the Scriptures, and preach the gospel, but Jesus Himself reminds us that it’s possible to create a faux religious experience void of justice and mercy. He minced no words in calling out this form of systemic injustice and religious hypocrisy:

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill, and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy, and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former” (Matthew 23:23, NIV).

The gospel is not only about proclaiming the good news of the kingdom of God, but about embodying the values of the kingdom as we preach. Anything less is a truncated gospel.

Seizing the Moment and Representing Jesus

And so at this moment, how do we gain the right perspective about what’s happening in our world and our response as God’s people? For me, I’ve found the picture of boats in a storm helpful. Right now, we’re all going through a storm, but we’re not all in the same boat. We see this in our Covid-19 experience. This pandemic has affected us all, but it has affected us all so vastly different. Some of us have been in a proverbial cruise ship and gotten mildly seasick, while others have ridden out this storm in a rowboat and have experienced great loss. Same storm, different boat.

One of my good friends contracted Covid-19 and battled for his very life. Another friend lost his brother to Covid-19. Others lost jobs, businesses, and quickly learned to juggle homeschooling kids all while working full-time. At the same time, other friends have enjoyed the pause. No more rush-hour traffic. Dinners with family. Walks around the block. Game nights. Sure, there was economic uncertainty and the loss of retirement assets, but generally, Covid-19 didn’t create an upheaval of life for most of us. Same storm, different boat.

This explains the great divide in the responses to this global pandemic. Some of my friends wonder what the big deal is, while others think getting back to normal too soon is foolish and irresponsible. Like Covid-19, it’s hard to believe racism still exists, unless you’re experiencing it.

The enormity of racism in our country’s past and present is a lot like that storm. We all feel the effects of it but in vastly different ways. For my white brothers and sisters, this moment has created a seasickness—I can’t watch this and feel good about where we are as a country. But for my black and brown brothers and sisters, moments of racially charged killings and police brutality in the present brings centuries of pain, loss, and grief back into the present. Same storm, different boat.

And to be honest, this disparity is really uncomfortable. Doesn’t it feel easier to say nothing and hope this moment will pass. Can’t we just get back to normal? But as a Church, we’re compelled to represent Jesus at this moment.

So, what can we do? The vastness of century-old issues can feel paralyzing. If this couldn’t be solved for the last three centuries, what hope do we have now? The truth is, no one person can solve this, but everyone can do something. There are some simple things we can do and should do because the Gospel of Jesus Christ compels us. And now is our time, not to shrink back, but to love like Jesus. I’ve found the following biblical framework a helpful guide to our response: Listen. Lament. Repent. Act.

Listen

Pursuing justice and mercy starts with listening. When human beings go through tragedy, the first and most powerful thing we can do is show up—and listen.

The only thing Job’s friends did well as they watched him go through unimaginable losses was to sit with him until he was ready to talk. The gift of presence is powerful.

“Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was” (Job 2:13, NIV). This is also why James, the brother of Jesus wrote, “Be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires” (James 1:19-20, NIV). Everyone can listen.

Recently, I joined a group of white, black, and Hispanic pastors and Christian leaders on a video call where we simply listened to each other. Some were leaders I’d known and worked with for more than a decade. As I listened to my black and brown brothers and sisters share, I had a growing sense I’d missed the mark as a friend and partner in our gospel work.

“I was profiled last week walking in my neighborhood. I’m tired and afraid.”

“I feel overlooked.”

“I’m angry.”

“Pray for me. My heart is getting hard.”

“I’ve never jogged with my ID on me, but now I feel like I have to.”

“I call my son 3-4 times a day just to make sure he’s ok.”

The words and emotions poured out of shared experience and pain—a pain that was foreign to me. After dinner and a brutally honest discussion about her journey with racism, one of my close friends said, “I want to apologize if I said too much.” Too much? I thought our friendship was a safe and trusted place. I assumed all my friends felt safe to speak their minds—but I had made too many assumptions.

Maybe I made these assumptions because I don’t consider myself a stranger to the black experience. I spent a summer working in a housing project in Atlanta, where the expressed mission was to immerse college students in the inner-city experience. I worked for years in a predominately black school as a public school teacher. My wife and I are raising two adopted sons of color and live in a predominantly black neighborhood. We regularly have friends of color in our home. Though I’d heard the stories, gotten angry, and advocated where I saw injustice, I’d clearly failed to listen and feel the pain of my friends. Everyone can listen. And if we listen closely, we can learn to lament.

Lament

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:4, NIV).

Jesus shared these words in what Christians affectionately refer to as the Beatitudes— words meant to shape the attitudes of those who follow His kingdom. In 1 Corinthians 12:25-26 (NIV), the apostle Paul instructs, “If one part suffers, every part suffers with it.” As Christians, we’re called to be one family and one body. If we don’t feel the pain of our brothers and sisters when they suffer, there may be something wrong with us. But as we weep with those who weep, together we find the comfort and healing Jesus promised to His family.

Where Job’s friends went wrong was in their attempt to diagnose the reason Job was suffering. As Job is cross-examined in the midst of his suffering, he speaks a powerful truth, “Those who are at ease have contempt for misfortune” (Job 12:5, NIV).

Let’s be honest, it makes us feel better when we can justify why bad things happen to people—it helps us enjoy what we have without the guilt. If we could just find out what George or Ahmaud did to deserve this, then we can confirm our own biases, go back to our comfortable theological boxes, and feel a sense of relief. The problem is God will not fit in our box. Our echo chamber is not reality. Job’s friends spent the better part of 30 chapters pontificating from their limited viewpoint, and in the end, heard a direct indictment from God Himself. Their love got lost as they searched for the cause—and if we’re not careful that can happen to us. When we love, we listen, and we lament. And this requires very few words.

As I listened to the call last week, I began to feel pain. One of the pastors described the great vacillation between despair and hope at this moment—it was the same feeling he had experienced when his brother died. His wife could see the pain on his face, and he said it’s that sorrow that is a shared experience among most in the African American community.

As he described the events of the week that brought all the pain of the past back into the present, my thoughts wandered to a long-suppressed memory of an interaction with my youngest son when he was in kindergarten. I remember him coming home from his Christian school and bursting into tears sobbing as he said, “A boy at school called me a n-gger.” I’m not going to lie—my first reaction was just straight-up anger. But my son was more sad than angry. As I held him and his tears fell on my arm, my tears joined his. What kind of world was he growing up in, and how would I have to prepare his heart for the many times in his life he would have to experience that feeling?

This was the first time I felt the pain of racism in my body, in an emotion that was more than anger. It was sadness. It was momentary, but I still remember it. As Christ-followers, when we watch the video of George Floyd’s life ebbing away, we should feel pain. If we don’t, we should ask God to soften our hearts.

A good friend of mine took his son to a rally last week and they kneeled on the ground for almost nine minutes as they honored the life of a man they never met. As he kneeled beside his son, my friend began to weep. George Floyd was a son—and he felt that pain in his own body. When we as Christians feel the pain of others—we’re embodying the work of reconciliation that Jesus felt for us.

“Remember also those being mistreated, as if you felt their pain in your own bodies” (Hebrews 13:3, NLT).

Everyone can lament. And if we lament well, then we can repent well.

Repent

I’ve heard many white people say to me in the last two weeks, “What are we supposed to do?” Some are well-meaning, others want to see this moment pass. But the Scriptures are clear—our next action after we listen and lament is to repent. We have to see where we’ve been thinking or acting wrongly. We have to acknowledge that we don’t have all the information and that others can teach us.

Very few people I’ve met would say they have a racial bias. By the same token, very few people would admit they are hypocrites. Yet both of these tendencies thrive in the recesses of the human mind and heart. If we’re honest, all of us struggle with certain people of different races, genders, or cultures. They seem so different from us. We also struggle to live out what we say we believe, which is the definition of hypocrisy. So, the bad news is that all of us suffer from subtle forms of racism and hypocrisy. Fortunately for all of us, there is a way forward.

Repentance is our way forward, and it’s not a one-time event. Repentance is described in the Bible as a sorrow that leads to a change of thinking and behavior—an acknowledgment that comes from a combination of confession and conviction that something needs to change. In repentance, we sometimes have to use difficult words: Sin. Racism. Systemic injustice. White privilege.

Often, I hear white Christians say, “Slavery and systemic racism are clearly wrong, but how can we repent from something we weren’t a part of?” This is a really important question. And we actually see clear examples of this in the Bible.

Daniel and Nehemiah were both leaders who prayed prayers of repentance for a nation’s sins in which they did not directly participate. There is something powerful about leaders taking responsibility for sins, even if they didn’t actively commit them. After all, isn’t that what Jesus did for us in His work of reconciliation?

Start by simply acknowledging that “liberty and justice for all” are not enjoyed equally by everyone in our country. Acknowledge the fact that the privilege you may have enjoyed your entire life was not shared by everyone. After that acknowledgment and confession comes repentance—and repentance asks questions like: “How can I extend the privilege I’ve enjoyed to others?” and “How can I use my influence to bring equity where it does not exist?” Isn’t this, after all, what Jesus taught us to do when He said, “Do to others what you would have them do for you” (Matthew 7:12, NIV)?

True repentance leads to a sorrow that leads to an action that leaves no regret (2 Corinthians 7:10-11). This gives us the foundation to walk with humility and wisdom that can see beyond our experiences to the viewpoint of God Himself. God wants us to have His mind, so we can do the hard work of justice and mercy in the world.

The prophet Micah reminds us that this is what God requires: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8, NIV).

After walking through the process of listening, lamenting, and repenting, there inevitably will be a time to act.

Act

Doing justice is about making right the things that are wrong. The gospel puts demands on our soul in regard to justice, and we can’t be more committed to order than justice. Justice is a part of the gospel ethic, not reducing the gospel to what happens after we die, but joining God in the renewal of all things. Where inequities still exist, God’s people can be advocates to bring kingdom renewal.

The first action everyone can take is to build a diverse community. It’s been said that in life, we should begin with the end in mind. It only makes sense to work to build now what we will ultimately experience. As Christians, one day soon we will stand before Jesus in the greatest family reunion of all as we worship “from every nation, tribe, people and language” (Revelation 7:9, NIV). Justice looks like working towards what our future looks like—on earth as it is in heaven. This beautiful expression of the Church doesn’t have to wait until heaven. In fact, it was Jesus’ passionate prayer in John 17 that it would happen on earth. You can answer that prayer today.

If you have a trusted friend of color, invite them over for dinner. Ask them to share their story—unfiltered. As you listen, you‘ll learn how racism affects real people. If you have no black or brown friends, pray that God would direct you to a person who can guide you on your journey. Sadly, we know the gospel can be distorted by racism; we see these effects so tragically played out through history. But I want to remind you of a greater hope—racism is vulnerable to the gospel.

And the Holy Spirit is still working to break through these barriers.

The move of God’s Spirit at Pentecost displayed the power to bring sons of Babel back together as their new tongues spoke of the God who saves and renews. That same Spirit we see in the early church saves a son of Ham (Ethiopian eunuch), a son of Shem (Saul of Tarsus), and a son of Japheth (Cornelius the centurion). God brings together this natural band of enemies and makes them into a family—unified through something greater than what divided them, or should I say someone.

The second thing everyone can do is learn to be an advocate. An advocate is simply someone who speaks for a person who has no power to speak for themselves. This is what Jesus does for us before the throne of God (1 John 2:1).

History is full of Christian advocates like William Wilberforce, Frederick Douglas, and Harriet Tubman who all skillfully used their voices and influence to build bridges between an oppressed people group and a majority culture who possessed the power to bring justice. And they approached this journey with both urgency and patience. The urgency was driven by the reality that every day real people were being crushed by injustice. The patience was an acknowledgment that the strongholds of injustice wouldn’t fall in a day and needed a sustained effort with incremental victories over time. As an advocate, both urgency and patience are necessary.

To do what justice requires, a cause-of-the-week trend on Twitter and Instagram will not suffice. Justice requires sustained attention. After the protests and social media wars wane, the need to build bridges will continue for years to come. For my white brothers and sisters, justice looks like acknowledging your privilege and working to extend it to others.

You can’t tackle racism in the world all by yourself, but you can advocate for someone you know. The battle for justice often happens with one person, one conversation at a time. Maybe you’ve heard it said, “Do for one what you wish you could do for everyone.” If we all found one person who needed a bridge to be built between their need and those who had the power to meet that need, we would be the change the world needs.

My wife and I put that challenge to the test a few years back with a former foster child. It was amazing to see how differently we acted toward her when we began to do for her what we would normally do for a member of our own family.

And finally, the most important thing everyone can do is to do everything in love. There are many mysteries in the Bible, but there’s no mystery about our call to love others. Jesus calls it the greatest commandment: to love God and love your neighbor (Luke 10:27).

He told a story about a Good Samaritan, where He illustrated how love breaks through centuries of entrenched racial barriers. Jesus said everyone would know we are His disciples by the love we demonstrate to one another (John 13:35). We can’t control how non-Christians engage in rhetoric or division, but as followers of Jesus, we can make sure the motives behind our words and actions are done in love.

Pause for a moment and think about your recent social media posts and conversations you’ve engaged in both online and off. Were they spoken in love? Even if you think your words are right, if the motive behind them is not love, then they’re what the apostle Paul’s calls “a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal” (1 Corinthians 13:1, NIV).

Through the lens of love, we’ll see with new eyes—kingdom eyes—and we’ll not be so easily offended. We’ll not be so quick to cut people off when we don’t agree. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not easily angered. The love of God exemplified in and through His people trusts, hopes, and endures all things.

The love of Jesus never fails. It’s our turn to be those people.

“Do everything in love” (1 Corinthians 16:14, NIV).

Hosts Riley Taylor and Jarryd Bryant interview Pastor Tony Clark of Calvary Chapel Newport News on questions about discipleship, how Christians should handle racism in our country and more!

You can also stay up to date and enjoy all Church Van episodes!