Ron Miller's Blog: Ron's Reflections, page 6

The Call on My Life

Note: I am re-hosting some of my previous work from another blog. This is a personal reflection of why I do what I do, and how I got there.

August 19, 2017

If I may get personal for a moment, I want to explain some things to you, gentle reader, about the passion that the Lord has placed in my heart to bring black and white Christians in America together to the table of grace that Jesus Christ has lovingly prepared for us.

I truly love people and harbor no hate in my heart toward anyone, so I have a broad network of friends and acquaintances of varying races, classes, creeds, political persuasions, and more. If we can have a civil conversation and respect one another, I'm likely to invite you into my circle. 

This has led, however, to some interesting reactions to the posts, images and articles I share on the volatile topic of race.

Some of you think I spend too much time focused on the issue of racial conflict in America. Conservatives are supposed to be "color-blind" and "merit-based", so talking about this difficult issue causes some to question my conservative bona fides.

Others think that, because I embrace conservatism as a philosophy -- not the "conservatism" of today's hyper-partisan politics, mind you, but the conservatism of Russell Kirk, just to be clear -- I lack the standing to speak with authority on race, even though I am a person of color.

Some think I am making mountains of molehills, particularly when compared to where we've been in the past and where other nations are at present. Still others believe I give those who dismiss the issue of race too much of a pass.

Yet others think that I'm giving aid and comfort to America's "enemies” or I'm being duped or manipulated by vast conspiratorial forces when I write or speak about how our nation has fallen short of achieving true and lasting racial peace. 

What's a man who desires to glorify God with everything he does supposed to do? Well, I think listening for and responding to God's call is a good start -  “We must obey God rather than human beings!" (Acts 5:29) - and that is what I am endeavoring to do.

I shared a story recently with a friend about my evolution on the topic of race in America because she said she had noticed a change in my perspective from when she first knew me. For the longest time, my perspective was governed by my own personal experiences, which had been largely positive and free of racial strife. I could count the instances of overt racism I had experienced on one hand and, if there were more subtle instances of racism in my life, I was ignorant of them and they didn't stop me from achieving professional and personal success. As a result, I attributed most cries of racism to either a hypersensitivity that perceived any slight, intended or otherwise, as racially motivated, or a cynical appeal to victimization to keep blacks in a constant state of grievance that could be exploited for purposes of gaining or maintaining power. To me, racism was an aberration and a fringe behavior that no decent citizen, regardless of race, would tolerate.

I didn't feel the need to be conscious of my race or ethnicity until I ran for public office in 2006, and it wasn't until I became a minor public figure through my blog, my book and my political activism that our nation's enduring racial divide became a topic of persistent presence in my daily life.

Despite this new awareness, however, I stood firm in my perceptions and it wasn't until I experienced a series of racist responses to a post I shared on my public Facebook page many years ago than the scales fell from my eyes and I saw for the first time that America is still not fully healed from the wounds of nearly 500 years of chattel slavery, institutionalized discrimination, domestic terror and racial animus.

I posted a Washington Times article in 2014 about how the city of Chicago and the state of Illinois, in the wake of the 2010 McDonald v. City of Chicago Supreme Court decision that the city's handgun ban was unconstitutional, had implemented cost and regulatory barriers to citizens obtaining concealed carry permits. These policies had a disparate impact on inner city black residents who couldn't afford the fees or comply with all the regulations - traveling long distances to train at a certified gun range, for example.

I thought my conservative followers would be outraged at this blatant attempt on the part of the state and city governments to circumvent the court ruling and deny these black citizens their 2nd Amendment rights. What actually transpired, however, shook me to my core and caused me to reevaluate what some of my black friends had told me through the years. Here's how I described it back in 2014:

Some suggested that if "they" didn't spend their money on "iPhones and Nikes", they wouldn't have a problem affording the permits, despite the fact that cost was just one of many barriers erected by the city and the state, both of which are behaving like petulant children after the Supreme Court threw out their gun ban as unconstitutional. Moreover, most of the citizens complaining about the restrictions were middle-aged or elderly, not likely to be excessive consumers of high-end electronics or athletic footwear.

Some suggested that they weren't applying for the permits because they had criminal records and wouldn't pass the background checks anyway. What a pernicious stereotype!

I am disturbed by the thought that had it been a working-class white community in which its law-abiding citizens were denied their 2nd Amendment rights due to the regulatory state, the comments would have been quite different.

Since then, I have set aside my pride and I have listened, not to the partisans, pundits and activists because they have agendas, but to everyday people, thoughtful commentators about faith, culture, and society, and Christians whose hearts are rent asunder like mine when they see people, especially fellow Christians, at each other's throats. I try to listen more and give people, regardless of where they're coming from, a chance to be heard and to describe their experiences. Just because God has granted me the favor of never really experiencing racism in its most aggressive and debilitating forms doesn't mean someone else hasn't.

At the same time, I have also listened to my white friends and their frustration with being stereotyped or painted with a broad brush when it comes to racism, generally mirroring what they acknowledge white Americans did to black people for many years, and they wonder how these two wrongs can make a right. They decry being demonized, sometimes even when they're sympathetic to the cause, and I wonder how the more outspoken black American activists and those who purport to speak on their behalf expect to achieve unity if their default setting is accusatory and not conciliatory. Perhaps unity isn't their goal, in which case shaming is guaranteed to work.

I'm not claiming to be an expert in communications but, as my father used to say, "You attract more flies with honey than with vinegar." He grew up in the segregated South and I know he had to have experienced racism in its ugliest forms, even though he's never talked about it to me, but I have never known a man to be so loved by so many people across racial and ethnic lines, and I think he embodies Paul's instruction in Romans 12:18, "If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone."

The stories brought to light in recent years of the abject poverty, family breakdown, cultural dysfunction, self-medication and untimely death among the white poor and working class of America have broken my heart in much the same way as the same stories coming from America's black communities, and I wonder why the pain they share doesn't bring them together but seemingly drives them apart.

When these two views collide, it's like people are speaking a foreign language to one another, as I wrote about previously. I've looked at this issue from multiple perspectives, however, and I think I understand them enough to be able to translate between the disagreeing factions and help to bring about some understanding. That's a very difficult task under any circumstances, but my ministry is focused on those who proclaim themselves to be followers of Jesus Christ because they have more at stake than just reaching a political solution or achieving cultural harmony.

If they haven't already, all Christians should internalize the prayer Christ made to the Father just before He went to die on the cross for you and me, "that they may be one as we are one."

Do we understand that our Lord and Savior wants us to have the same communion with one another that He, the Father and the Holy Spirit have with each other? That is a goal to which all Christians should be fully dedicated. Political scientist and author S. Adam Seagraves believes, as I do, that the church can and should lead the nation toward racial reconciliation:

Christian churches—Baptist, Catholic, and nondenominational alike—need to preach racial reconciliation and the Gospel’s message of charity from the pulpit, pointing out the obstacles to these Christian goals that beset current American politics and inspiring congregations to care about overcoming them.

He concludes:

Only once white America and black America become a single America united on the common ground of humanity and natural rights can we hope to achieve meaningful and lasting progress in other areas of American society.

Indeed, I can think of no other institution better equipped or more highly called that the church to accomplish this noble purpose. Has the church failed in this endeavor? Without a doubt. Do man's failures abrogate Christ's prayer for unity, His command that his disciples love one another, or His admonition that we must deny ourselves and our puny gods of race, ethnicity and culture, pick up our crosses and follow Him? Absolutely not!

Bringing black and white Christians together in union with the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, in contravention of "the authorities," "the powers of this dark world," and "the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms" (Ephesians 6:12) is my heart's desire and the cause to which I've dedicated the remaining years the Lord has decided to grant me.

This is a hard road for me because I know that talk about race generates a visceral reaction from people on both sides of the issue, and I abhor the conflict and what we become when the subject arises. Friends and acquaintances I hold in high regard turn on each other, or on me for bringing it up. It would be so easy and much more comfortable for me to just post family news and pictures or share the wonderful things happening here at Liberty University, or a funny or interesting story or two. Yes, I would be much more comfortable doing that.

Jesus doesn't care about my comfort, however. When Jesus was preparing Peter for the difficult work ahead of him and Peter asked about the posture of another disciple, He responded, "...[W]hat is that to you? You follow me!” John Piper, the great pastor and teacher whose book, Bloodlines: Race, Cross, and the Christian, is a must-read for any Christian seeking to bring about racial harmony, spoke to the liberation of these words of Scripture:

"That word landed on me with great joy. Jesus will not judge me according to my superiority or inferiority over anybody. No preacher. No church. No ministry. These are not the standard. Jesus has a work for me to do (and a different one for you). It is not what he has given anyone else to do. There is a grace to do it. Will I trust him for that grace and do what he has given me to do? That is the question. O the liberty that comes when Jesus gets tough!"

You may have a different calling than mine, but that doesn't make mine any less compelling or God-honoring. Ephesians 2:10 reads, "For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

I envision God with a piece of paper, blank except with my name across the top, and He writes down my earthly to-do list from birth to death. He then designs me even before I'm conceived, embedding the abilities and temperament I will need, and determines in advance the times, places and events in my life in exactly the sequence necessary to equip me for the very tasks he's defined for me. When I became a Christian, my spiritual gifts were added to the mix, and He gives us His Word "so that the servant of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work" (2 Timothy 3:17).

So that's why I do what I do. It's not going to appeal to everyone and not everyone will accept it. Jesus said in Matthew 10:14, "If anyone will not welcome you or listen to your words, leave that home or town and shake the dust off your feet." Jesus didn't have time for the hard-hearted or the hard-headed and neither do I.

I have a lot of irons in the fire to try and do what the Lord would have me do. I covet your prayers and words of encouragement so I may do what's best and leave out the rest. Peace be with you.

Foreign Exchange

Note: I am re-hosting some of my previous work from another blog. The events in Charlottesville tragically revealed how divided we still are, and how little we know of one another.

August 12, 2017

As I write this, the governor of Virginia has declared a state of emergency in Charlottesville, Virginia, just an hour and 15 minutes up the road from Lynchburg, because of clashes between thousands of white nationalists, assembling to protest the proposed removal of a statue of Confederate general Robert E. Lee, and groups opposed to their presence and message. Not long after the governor's declaration, a car plowed into a crowd of peaceful protestors, and thus far one person is dead and several injured. The driver was chased down and arrested, but there is no other information on his motives or affiliation at this time.

Prior to this horrific act of cowardice, there were other outbreaks of violence, lawsuits and court injunctions and an eerie nighttime torchlight rally last night reminiscent of some of the darkest times in our world's history. It is episodes like this one that spur me on to the task God has placed on my heart, and while words are my only weapon, I pray that the Lord can take my offering and use it in a supernatural way to advance love and justice and repel evil.

Not long ago, I shared on Facebook my trepidation over two proposed media series which offered alternative outcomes to the most fractious time in America's history to date, the Civil War. This genre of entertainment, loosely described as "alternative history", a subset of the dystopian dramas that seem to be popular these days, has as its most obvious example The Man in the High Castle, an adaptation by technology giant Amazon.com of a 1962 Philip K. Dick novel in which the Axis powers from World War II - Germany, Italy and Japan - won the war and now divide up the United States between them. It has won numerous awards and critical acclaim, and some have declared it socially relevant in a time of increased racial tension. 

On the heels of this success, the producers of HBO's Game of Thrones recently announced they were developing a series called Confederate based on the premise that the South succeeded in separating from the United States and establishing a new nation in which chattel slavery continues as a modern institution. The public reaction to this news was swift and critical, and HBO pleaded with the critics to reserve judgment until they actually saw the series. 

In response to this news, a former producer of several black-themed films, to include Straight Outta Compton, and the creator of the Boondocks animated series announced they had been working on an alternative history series called Black America, and their post-Civil War vision has former American slaves awarded the states of Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama as reparations for slavery following Reconstruction, and establishing the nation of New Colonia. The series addresses the ongoing cooperation and conflict between New Colonia and the remaining United States of America. The creators of the series were not aware of the proposed HBO series as they were working on their project and largely chose to refrain from commenting on it, except to question the notion that chattel slavery could be a topic with entertainment value:

...[T]he fact that there is the contemplation of contemporary slavery makes it something that I would not be a part of producing nor consuming...Slavery is far too real and far too painful, and we still see the manifestations of it today as a country for me to ever view that as a form of entertainment.

As someone who sits on the consuming end of these "entertainment" options, my initial response was one of apprehension. Can a nation as fractured as we are at present handle one racially provocative series, much less two, without incident? When I shared the information about these two proposed series on Facebook, I expressed my belief that we are not mature enough as a people to deal with the controversy and questions they would raise. The responses to my Facebook post seemed to validate that belief, and it would appear that the events in Charlottesville provide something of an answer to the question of what kind of responses these fictional alternative histories could generate.

Many of the responses to my inquiry were excoriations of Hollywood for using their artistic platform to stir up dissent, and some attributed it to their political leanings, but one thread in particular disturbed me. I am paraphrasing a long and drawn out exchange here, but a black friend essentially said that, in his opinion, white people would be the only ones to react to these programs because his observation is that whites tend to be more easily provoked by race-based commentary than blacks.

This resulted in a lengthy thread of points and counterpoints and accusations of stereotyping, repudiation of another's experiences, and racism, and the conversation devolved from there. I had called for civility in advance of soliciting comments on my post, but it was clear that this exchange had crossed that border into open conflict. It grieved me because everyone engaged in this conflict were my friends and I think well of all of them. Why could they not have a civil conversation about race? Is race the third rail of public discourse, off limits to any and all attempts to address it?

A few days later, I was having lunch with a friend and local pastor who described how he arrived at college with a very limited perspective on race because of his upbringing in Mississippi. His contact with black people was largely limited to a housekeeper that worked for his family, and so he was admittedly ignorant about the experiences of black people in America. It took the friendship of a black athlete and fellow Christian to expand his horizons and change his life.

Today, this friend and pastor, Brett Eubank of Rivermont Evangelical Presbyterian Church here in Lynchburg, leads his church's community outreach efforts and heads the board of the No Walls Ministry which I also serve as a board member and director of education. The ministry is dedicated to bring churches together across cultures and denominations to serve the needy and break down racial barriers.

As Brett shared his story, I was reminded of something I used to see when we lived overseas. Many Americans, myself among them, are monolingual, and the one language they speak is English. When encountering someone in another country who doesn't speak English, they soldier on and speak English to them anyway. When the individual indicates by gestures or their native tongue that they don't understand, what does the monolingual American typically do? THEY SPEAK MORE LOUDLY.

An example in reverse from my time overseas was an incident in the elevator of the Eifel Tower in Paris. The elevator attendant instructed the crowd of tourists in French to move to the rear of the elevator so he could close the doors and operate the equipment. Many of the tourists didn't speak French -- fortunately, I was with my wife and I followed her lead -- and they stood there befuddled. What did the exasperated elevator attendant do? HE SPOKE MORE LOUDLY.

Of course, this tactic does nothing to facilitate communication but the higher volume leads to frustration on the part of both parties and they fail to understand one another. This reminded me of the kind of communication I see all the time when the topic of race comes up. People express their views on the subject at hand, others respond, understanding doesn't happen, and so they repeat their response but at a higher volume. Frustration rises and communication, if ever there was any, breaks down.

That's when I had my epiphany and I shared it with Brett; we aren't communicating because we're speaking totally different languages, rhetorically speaking. Of course, we're speaking English but the filters that exist between what we hear and what we understand, some of them of our own making and others a byproduct of our experiences, cause us to perceive what was said in a way the speaker never intended. Let me give you a couple of examples.

Most conservatives believe in a limited federal government and that the best solutions to problems are devised at the lowest level of governance, starting with the family and going up from there. As I once wrote, "The organizational level closest to the person or issue in question has a better understanding of all the factors involved, is more directly invested in a resolution, and can deliver a tailored solution more quickly than an entity that is distant from the problem." The closer proximity to state and local government also gives the citizen more direct access to their representatives and, ostensibly, more influence on their decisions.

Some of us call this "federalism", and others call it "states' rights." To a true conservative, "states' rights" means "political powers reserved for the state governments rather than the federal government", a principle which is codified in the Tenth Amendment to the Constitution in the Bill of Rights: "The powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States, are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people."

The phrase "states' rights" means something entirely different to most black Americans, however. It recalls the cry of southern states to secede from the Union, the imposition of Jim Crow laws, the domestic terror of the post-Reconstruction era, and the battle for civil rights. The formal name of the 1948 breakaway political party known as the Dixiecrats was the States' Rights Democratic Party, and their political platform stated:

We stand for the segregation of the races and the racial integrity of each race; the constitutional right to choose one's associates; to accept private employment without governmental interference, and to earn one's living in any lawful way. We oppose the elimination of segregation, the repeal of miscegenation statutes, the control of private employment by Federal bureaucrats called for by the misnamed civil rights program. We favor home-rule, local self-government and a minimum interference with individual rights.

So when a person utters the words "states' rights", the understanding of what that means will be different depending on who utters it and who hears it.

Another good example of how we perceive things is based on how we were socialized in our respective cultures. African cultures were largely collective in nature with strong family, village and tribal ties. The slaves brought to America were ripped from their tribes, villages and families, but after slavery ended, they moved heaven and earth to find family members from whom they'd been separated. Racism, institutionalized discrimination and threats to their safety forced black people to band together and depend on one another, and collectivism took on a positive and negative connotation for them. On the one hand, they were stronger together than apart; on the other hand, they were judged and often condemned as a group. That is why, even today, the bad behavior of one black man is, in the minds of many, indicative of the race as a whole. We are used to being held collectively responsible for the sins of our own, and even I cringe when I watch the local news and the crime report shows a black face in the lineup because I know the narrative.

Outside of identity due to ethnic pride, however, most white Americans were raised in a culture that praised the individual and promoted individual responsibility and accountability. Community life once dominated the early American landscape, mainly due to virtues derived from religion and the necessity of cooperation in a strange new world. "Rugged individualism", the frontier spirit and American concepts of individual rights and liberties gradually subsumed the sense of shared responsibility for one another. Most white Americans feel no real sense of group identity and largely view the world as what you make of it on your own. That is why concepts of individual merit and mastering one's own destiny resonate with most white Americans.

Because of the different ways in which blacks and whites in America were socialized, it makes it harder to communicate issues of collective or individual responsibility depending on which side you're on. Black Americans find it natural to see the world through a collective lens, while white Americans struggle with the idea. As a result, when white Americans look at black struggles, they attribute them to individual failures, while black people see them as the outcome of collective "privilege" in a society that is designed by whites to favor whites. When a black American accuses a white person of "privilege", the white person becomes defensive because they look at privilege from an individual perspective and if they are personally disadvantaged in any way, they cannot relate whatsoever to being a recipient of "privilege".

As my friend Brett described how his athlete friend opened his eyes to the world from a black person's point of view, he indicated how patient his friend was with his questions, many of which he's sure were insensitive or not particularly artful. I've no doubt that his friend learned something about how Brett viewed the world. Because they were both Christians who not only believed the Word but did what it said, they extended grace to each other and were slow to take offense. Moreover, they exhibited the humility that allowed them to accept each other's experiences as genuine and worthy of respect.

How many times have you been offended by someone's comment or question and they reacted with surprise because they had no idea they were being offensive? How many times have you shared a deeply personal experience only to have someone reject it out of hand because it's never happened to them or around them and they can't fathom it? Grace and humility are the lubricants of constructive conversation because they create space in which we can speak and be heard without fear.

My wife is from the Alsace region of France and, before I met her, I was only familiar with it because of a brief recollection that it had gone back and forth between Germany and France throughout history. She was attending Texas Tech University on a semester abroad and had never been to America before. She and I became friends and spent several months just talking to each other and learning about each other's cultures. It was a fascinating experience; I remember after watching the movie Guess Who's Coming to Dinner with a group of friends, she asked me, as the only black person in our group, what the fuss in the movie was all about. Puffed up with importance, I started to impart to her an abridged history of race relations in America as if I was an expert! It was fascinating to me that, although she was white, she was completely innocent when it came to race. Truth be told, I was a babe in the woods on that topic, too. I had been raised mostly on integrated military installations and spent a good part of the 1960s far away from the strife of the civil rights movement. I hadn't heard of Martin Luther King, Jr. until the night he was assassinated. My first exposure to the challenges of race was in 7th grade and, ironically, it was my classmates at a predominantly black school who harassed me for "acting white" because of the way I spoke, dressed and respected my teachers. That drove me to becoming a loner and it wasn't until 10th grade that I started to come out of my shell and trust the world again. Still, here we were, two people from different worlds trying to learn from one another, and we must have liked what we learned because we married three years after we met and have been married for 33 years.

In some respects, we broke through the barriers of culture because we applied the four factors of cultural intelligence:

Metacognition - We had the capacity to become aware of our cultural differences.

Cognition - We acquired knowledge of how our cultures were similar and different.

Motivation - We had the interest and desire to connect with one another.

Behavior - We took action.

In fact, there is more academic verbiage to these concepts than I provided, but the point I'm making is clear. Rather than assuming we know what the other person must think or feel or perceive, perhaps we should start with the understanding that our experiences in this great nation are fundamentally different, get to know how those experiences have shaped us, show a genuine interest in one another and take the necessary steps to come together. After what we've witnessed today, do you see a better alternative?

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. ~ Philippians 2:3-4

Southern (Baptist) Discomfort

Note: I am re-hosting some of my previous work from another blog. The nation’s largest Protestant denomination has been in the spotlight recently for all the wrong reasons - Christian nationalism, Trumpism, sexual abuse scandals and coverups, and lingering issues of racism and sexism. This is just a snapshot of one particular episode.

July 27, 2017

The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC), the largest Protestant denomination in the United States, recently held its annual meeting in Phoenix, Arizona, and among the items of business addressed were various resolutions establishing the sense of the assembled participants on current issues. Unlike many denominations, the SBC believes in and stresses the autonomy of the local church, so these resolutions, although they may speak to the general sense of the denomination as a whole, are not necessarily reflective of a particular local congregation.

I experienced this first hand when we lived in Valrico, Florida, just outside of Tampa. My family and I were searching for a local church after moving to the area from a company assignment in Germany, and the first church we attended was very traditional in its presentation and style of worship. The church we eventually called home was dramatically different, with a large auditorium rather than an ornate church sanctuary, contemporary music and creative arts for worship, and a casually dressed pastor who oftentimes used pop culture to set themes for his sermon series. One would never have guessed that these two stylistically different churches, mere miles apart, were part of the same denomination.

Over the past year or so, the Southern Baptist Convention, perhaps more so than any other denomination, has found itself struggling internally over the questions raised by the candidacy and presidency of Donald Trump. The issues raised by his rise to power date all the way back to 1998, when the SBC passed a “Resolution on Moral Character of Public Officials" in the wake of President Bill Clinton’s infidelity with young intern Monica Lewinsky.

Some in the SBC, most notably Dr. Russell Moore, the president of the SBC’s Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission (ERLC), looked at Donald Trump’s history of infidelity, multiple marriages, and generally intemperate comments about women, minorities and others who drew his ire, and saw no difference between his character and that of the former President, and they were highly critical of him as a candidate for public office.

This was in stark contrast to the warm embrace Donald Trump received from several conservative religious leaders, including prominent Southern Baptists such as Robert Jeffress, the pastor of the First Baptist Church of Dallas, and Jerry Falwell, Jr., the president of Liberty University, the world’s largest Christian institution of higher learning. In fact, most polls suggested that white evangelical Protestants, which make up a majority of the SBC, were among Mr. Trump’s most ardent supporters.

Incidentally, in the interest of full disclosure, as is apparent to most who are familiar with me, I am an employee of Liberty University. President Falwell’s endorsement and support of Donald Trump during the 2016 campaign, however, was a personal endorsement and not that of the university, which, as a 501(c)3 organization, is non-partisan.

That is how Liberty University, unlike practically any other college or university today, could host as guest speakers former Democratic presidential candidate Senator Bernie Sanders in the same year as Republican presidential contenders Senator Ted Cruz, Dr. Ben Carson, and Mr. Trump without the disruptions which seem common to other campuses which struggle with allowing views divergent from their prevailing cultures to be heard. But I digress.

The conflicting views of SBC members on Mr. Trump became a source of rancor within the ranks of the denomination. People who agreed with Dr. Moore accused their fellow Southern Baptists of spiritual hypocrisy and blatant political partisanship for endorsing a candidate whose only distinction from past political figures of equally disputed moral standing, in their opinion, was his political affiliation. Those who endorsed Mr. Trump fired back that his opponents in the SBC, indeed in the Christian church as a whole, were self-righteous and seeking to impose a religious standard on an office which has no religious test to determine one’s fitness to serve.

They also pointed out that former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, Mr. Trump’s opponent and, ironically, the wife of the former President whose behavior was the catalyst for the 1998 SBC resolution on the character of public officials, was known to be hostile to the SBC’s positions on sexual ethics and morality and religious freedom. They argued that if she became President, with the power to select liberal Supreme Court justices for lifetime appointments, her policies on abortion, LBGTQIA issues, and religious liberty could become entrenched and immovable for decades to come.

This split in the SBC nearly came to a head after Mr. Trump’s victory in the 2016 election, with some SBC congregations withholding or threatening to withhold their contributions to the SBC over Dr. Moore’s continued criticism of their unquestioning support for the new President, and Dr. Moore’s future as the head of the ERLC, the SBC’s conscience on moral and public policy issues, came into question.

Eventually, the president of the SBC affirmed Dr. Moore’s leadership of the ERLC and Dr. Moore, while still holding fast to his beliefs, offered an apology for the tone of his criticism, which he acknowledged as lacking in grace for those who took a different view from his own.

I recited this recent history to set the stage for the event I mentioned at the beginning of the article, the SBC’s annual meeting, and what transpired there. The meeting and its aftermath have demonstrated that the rift in the SBC over Donald Trump is still present and threatens the unity of the denomination as nothing has since the 1979 conservative takeover of the SBC from more moderate leadership. This threat isn’t just a matter of a religious organization in conflict; it goes to the very heart of how Jesus Christ proclaimed the world would be able to distinguish His people from all others:

A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. ~ John 13:34-35

One of the more disturbing trends of the recent political season is the rise of the “alt-right”, a term coined to describe a collection of groups and individuals who advocate white nationalism and, by extension, promote what most of society regards as racist and anti-Semitic views. Their resurgence coincided with Donald Trump’s unlikely ascension to the White House, and some believe his appeal to working class voters threatened by illegal immigration and the perception that social welfare benefits are being accrued to many who are underserving of them is responsible for their newfound boldness. Of course, his political opponents are all too willing to link him to the “alt-right” movement and its odious positions despite his multiple public condemnations of their words and actions.

It's against this backdrop that the Reverend William D. McKissic Sr., a black pastor and the leader of Cornerstone Baptist Church in Arlington, Texas, introduced a resolution at the meeting in which the SBC condemned the “alt-right” movement. Rev. McKissic and other minority leaders in the SBC were concerned about the public perception, especially within their congregations, that significant SBC congregational and leadership support of President Trump equated to an implicit endorsement of the “alt-right” movement by the SBC, and they felt it was important for the SBC to go on record condemning the movement.

The original resolution, however, never made it to the floor for a vote because the resolutions committee withheld it for what it called “inflammatory” language. After some tense moments and behind the scenes actions by SBC leaders, a revised resolution did eventually come to the floor for a vote and it passed overwhelmingly.

The initial action rankled some minority SBC members and they were not appeased by the outcome despite it being ostensibly in their favor. Some of their discontent comes from the SBC’s long and troubled history in race relations. After all, the SBC is the denomination which broke away from the nationwide Baptist association in 1845 over the issue of slavery, thus the word “Southern” in their name. Most of the SBC’s congregations endorsed segregation and opposed the 1960s civil rights movement and, until recently, it was largely a conservative, white and Southern denomination.

In 1995, the SBC formally apologized for their role in perpetuating slavery, racism and institutionalized discrimination. In 2012, the SBC elected its first black president, Fred Luter Jr., the senior pastor of Franklin Avenue Baptist Church in New Orleans, and he served two terms. The SBC has promoted the inclusion of more minority congregations in its membership, and Dr. Moore, who grew up in Mississippi and observed racial tension in the church first-hand, is an outspoken advocate for racial reconciliation in the church.

Despite this positive record of progress on race relations, many minority SBC pastors were disillusioned by the tempest at the annual meeting over the “alt-right” resolution. One of them, Lawrence Ware, decided to take to the pages of the New York Times to express his disappointment and announce his decision to disassociate himself from the SBC. The article sparked a lot of discussion and debate over the progress within the SBC on racial reconciliation, and even some black pastors disagreed with Mr. Ware’s decision and the way in which he chose to announce it.

Of note, Mr. Ware cited the events at the SBC annual meeting as the catalyst which led to his decision, but he was not in attendance and those who were felt that he mischaracterized what took place. Rev. McKissic, the sponsor of the original “alt-right” resolution, indicated he was satisfied with the outcome and would continue to work within the SBC for racial reconciliation and unity.

Mr. Ware also took the opportunity to raise other issues which made the article read like a progressive political manifesto. Richard Land, the former head of the SBC’s ERLC, pointedly addressed Mr. Ware on one of the progressive issues raised in his opinion piece, stating, “If Ware no longer agrees with the vast majority of Southern Baptists past and present on LGBTQ issues, then as a matter of integrity he probably ought to leave and join a fellowship that is more in line with his views.”

The tone, content and objective of Mr. Ware’s opinion piece become more evident when one reads Mr. Ware’s bio at the end of the article. He is described as a “co-director of the Center for Africana Studies at Oklahoma State University and the diversity coordinator for its philosophy department.”

Only in the article itself does he give any indication that he is a minister, and even then, he describes himself as “a black scholar of race and a minister who is committed to social justice.” I found nothing in the article that gave primacy to the Gospel or to Jesus’ command that his disciples love one another. Instead, the article makes broad accusations about the SBC’s members and uses provocative language to describe the resolutions committee that originally tabled the “alt-right” resolution because of its language. In calling them “a contingent of predominantly white, old-guard members” who “refused to take the resolution seriously,” he reaches conclusions which any discerning reader should question. After all, since he wasn’t there, one can only presume that he was either told by someone in attendance that the committee was comprised of “predominantly white, old-guard members” who “refused to take the resolution seriously,” or he reached that conclusion on his own.

While Mr. Ware references some instances of inappropriate behavior by individuals affiliated with the SBC from his childhood and in more recent times, he uses the SBC’s history, these discrete personal and public episodes, and his dislike of President Trump to weave a narrative which establishes from the very beginning that his objective, his professions of love for the church notwithstanding, is to cast aspersions on the SBC and its members.

The most telling statement comes at the end of his article, when he declares, “I love the church, but I love black people more. Black lives matter to me. I am not confident that they matter to the Southern Baptist Convention.”

As a person of color, black lives matter to me as well, and I understand that this statement, as controversial as it has become, has at its heart a plea for acknowledgment of equal value with the rest of humanity, not dissimilar from the plea in the days of British legislator and abolitionist William Wilberforce when he and his “Clapham Saints” asked on behalf of black slaves, “Am I not a man and a brother?” It’s a shame that the phrase has become entangled in partisan agendas and has been weaponized by those who seek to bludgeon their political opposition with it because it didn’t originally seek to exclude, elevate or isolate. Instead, it was a call to bring those who’ve been excluded forward to stand alongside their fellow human beings as equal heirs in the sight of God. I intend to expand on this thought in a book I’m writing – slowly, I’m afraid!

My faith in Jesus Christ, however, is the organizing principle around which I order my life, and the church, whatever form it takes and whatever its failings, is His bride for whom He gave His life. The church is us, all who call Jesus Lord and Savior, black, white and every shade or ethnicity in between, and to love anything or anyone more than Christ and his church is to violate the First Commandment in all its Scriptural forms:

You shall have no other gods before me. ~ Exodus 20:3

Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. ~ Deuteronomy 6:5

Jesus replied: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment.” ~ Matthew 22:37-38

Jesus said, “Anyone who loves his father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me; and anyone who does not take up his cross and follow Me is not worthy of Me” (Matthew 10:37-38).

Does that exclude loving them, or loving black people, or anyone else we hold dear? Of course not. What is does, however, is give precedence to our love of Jesus Christ and, by extension, those who love Him as we do:

While Jesus was still talking to the crowd, his mother and brothers stood outside, wanting to speak to him. Someone told him, “Your mother and brothers are standing outside, wanting to speak to you.”

He replied to him, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” Pointing to his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers. For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.” ~ Matthew 12:46-50

The sad thing we as Christians often fail to realize is that when we put Christ in His rightful place on the throne of our hearts, He promises to provide the good and worthy things that matter to us. Jesus said, “But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Matthew 6:33).

That includes the emphasis on black lives that Mr. Ware seeks. After all, it was Jesus’ disciple John who emphasized:

You can’t love Jesus and hate your fellow Christian. Those two passions cannot reside in the same space and anyone who worships the Lord while denigrating his or her black or white brother and sister is deceiving themselves.

If we truly want racial harmony and to repudiate the rage of the “alt-right” or the more radical elements of the BLM movement, black and white Christians need to put aside their idols, whether they are movements or people, and put Christ first.

When Jesus prayed for us before His crucifixion, it was his fervent desire that, in the midst of a world which would hate us and persecute us, we would be as one under Him:

“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me. I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” ~ John 17:20-24

How beautiful that our Savior prayed so passionately for us to the Father even before we were conceived! It moves me to see into the heart of Jesus and to know how much it meant to Him that we become one in His name. That is why I have made it my life’s goal to bring the church together across the racial divide and model the love of Christ to an unbelieving world.

I hope that those in the SBC who are truly devoted to Jesus Christ will ignore the idolatrous forces that seek to tear Christ’s church apart, whether they are “alt-right”, BLM, progressive, conservative, or whatever phrase or acronym one wants to use to describe them. Let us honor the prayer He made for us before He went to the cross to secure our salvation. Peace be with you.

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