Why Race Matters

“So God created mankind in His own image, in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them.” -Genesis 1:27

A convenient by-product of believing in God is seeing purpose in our world, lives, and circumstances.  Not that you need to spend time searching for the reason behind the lint pattern in your dryer trap or why you’re always in the slowest grocery line, but you don’t see life as a series of accidents anymore.  There is meaning underneath.  This makes things both harder and easier, usually at the same time.  Especially during suffering.  Sometimes blaming God and running to Him in the midst of pain can look very similar.  Because, at the end of the day, we want a reason.  An explanation that makes sense of it all.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about why Jesus made us so different.  Not just the superficial stuff like physique or skin color or gender either.  But personality, motivations, passions, giftedness.  If God had made us a little less unique, a little more cookie cutter, would we still feel the need to compete?  To magnify our opinion?  To turn every issue into a two-sided debate?  Perhaps we would, perhaps we wouldn’t.  I’m sure that cookie cutter world would be a little dull.  But THIS world feels split straight through with the frustration that arises when we assert our distinctive qualities, whether they be superficial or innate.

So, wading through diversity minutiae is complex.  This we know.  It is SUCH a loaded topic.  But, as with everything, I believe purpose lies within these differences.  Genesis states, “God created mankind in His own image…”  What I take from that verse is: God could not fully express His image with just one type of person.  He is infinite, therefore so are we.  The Caucasian American experience does not come close to encapsulating all God wants to reveal about Himself.  Not by a long shot.

Considering this, it’s puzzling why His gorgeously distinct people fight with each other.  Especially when the fights stem from those God-appointed variances.  I mean JC must have seen that coming, right?  Yep, He did.  That’s why, while hanging out on earth, He fanned the flames of some pretty subversive teaching.  When asked the most important tenet of the law, He replied (in Matthew 22:37-40), “ ‘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.  And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”  Wow, that answer threw the hoity-toity, rule-loving Pharisees for a loop. It’s as easy (or as hard) as this: Love God, love people.  But the religious experts, being the buttheads they were, couldn’t let it go at that.  So one of them asks, “And who is my neighbor?”  A famous question that launched Jesus’ most familiar parable found in Luke 10.

The good Samaritan.  Here’s a little history: The Jews and Samaritans HATED each other with the fire of a thousand suns.  Mainly because the Jews considered themselves pure descendants of Abraham.  The Samaritans, however, were a race of people created after Jews married the Assyrians who invaded their northern kingdom.  They were looked down upon, avoided, treated as inferior by the Jews.  Think immigrants and refugees today.  The outcasts.  And a member of THIS group was the hero of Jesus’ story.  NOT a mistake, friends.

 Recently our family attended an Ethiopian new year’s festival.  It was an amazing evening full of delicious food, traditional song and dance, exuberant clothes and personalities.  Participating in events like this is bittersweet for us.  Obviously.  The ache for our daughter deepens when surrounded by her people.  These beautiful, welcoming people.  I felt we were grafted in as family for the night.  And here’s what I recognized: Sometimes the prospect of intercountry, interracial adoption is scary and overwhelming.  Because we want our baby’s first identity to be daughter.  A loved, cherished daughter of ours.  But that doesn’t mean that she can’t also be Ethiopian, African, adopted, American.  Her heritage and history doesn’t diminish or negate her identity as our daughter, it enriches it.  It enriches our family.  So also with our brothers and sisters everywhere.  Yes, personhood is our most significant identity.  Being a member of the human race, a child of God.  But people shouldn’t be asked to stifle their history or heritage in order to be accepted in our culture.  This SHOULD be celebrated, not ignored.  How confusing for our girl if we said, “We love you, just not your Ethiopian background.  Let’s not talk about it.”   Um, what?  But so often this is what we silently require from our multicultural friends.  

Before the new year’s festival started, we had a moment of silence acknowledging the civil unrest happening in Ethiopia right now.  I was struck by the collection of solemn faces around me.  Jesus, be with our world.  And I realized how much peace could be promoted by just a little silence and introspection.  Especially when a people group voices a concern, cries out for attention.  When someone tries to relay truth about their experience, what if we listened?  I’m NOT suggesting you need to be a martyr for every cause, a voiceless fool steamrolled by the latest bandwagon.  But beware the opposite response as well.  What good would have come from me jumping up during that moment of silence and demanding, “Well, what did Ethiopians do to cause this unrest?”  This kind of thinly veiled preconception breeds dissension.  Duh, of course it does.  How can we have healthy discourse if sides are created and blame is assigned before the discussion even starts?  Look -really look- at the solemn faces of the brothers and sisters around you.  These are not statistics; they are members of families, communities, churches.  Don’t judge their stories before they’ve spoken them.  Just listen.

As the festival started to pick up, a lady dressed to the nines in vibrant blue robes and a head covering sat down next to Elijah.  She was an open book, good vibes rolling off her.  I was in love immediately and we began talking, while my introverty son remained shy and unconvinced.  When the band really got going, she looked over and goes, “Elijah, you get ready.  I’m taking you out to the dance floor!”  He couldn’t have been more terrified.  My smile nearly split my face in two.  Although they never danced, we sang and clapped and stomped and yelled.  And it just made sense.  God’s plan of diversity.  We are one big family.  No outcasts, no misfits.  Everyone’s heritage and history is relevant because it informs our experience as a whole.  Mankind was created in God’s image and, from what I saw that night, God’s image is absolutely breathtaking.