February 22, 2008

• Confession of a racist

  In the context of celebrating Black History month at chapel tonight, Theola asked a very poignant question, “Will your history be one that only includes your ministering to, loving and caring for those who look like you?  Or will it look more like Jesus where you cross cultures and break down barriers?  Are you going to have a history worthy of being remembered by Jesus?”

  Good questions to ponder.

  I used to be racist.  

  Though at school around this time every year, we learned that the color of one’s skin does not determine a person’s value because all people are equally valuable, I still heard a different message over and over again more often repeated than that one.  The message said things like Ethnic A were all lazy, Ethnic B were all gangsters and murderers, Ethnic C were all backstabbers and gossips, and people who had a certain look were bad people and had no ounce of good in them.  The message said that I should be suspicious of all people.  And all these judgmental thoughts were ingrained in me.

  Sometime after I became a Christian, God began to do a massive overhaul in me to purify me.   One of the things He convicted me about was the appalling truth that I was prejudiced and racist.  And as I walked across my college campus, I begin to catch myself having these self-righteous, wicked thoughts for every other person who walked passed me.   It was awful!   I had been so used to being so judgmental that I hadn’t even noticed it up until this moment in my life.   As the reality slammed me in the face, I got on my knees and confessed my racism, my prejudice, my constant sin of stereotyping others…

  and though God forgave me for my sin as soon as I confessed them (1 John 1:9), it did not completely destroy the broken record in my head.  Every day, I was continually confronted with my wicked thoughts until I was begging Him to help me stop them.  I realized that I needed to take captive every thought and make it obedient to Christ (2 Cor 10:5).  Every time a racist thought begin to form in my mind, I said, “no!” and gave it to God.  I had to be vigilant in my effort to not let one thought escape, because I knew my whole life was on the line.  How could I ever be a missionary if I did not believe that all God’s people were wonderfully made?

  This went on for days and weeks until one sunny and warm day that I still remember very vividly when I was driving past a bus stop near campus.  I saw two girls who were wearing some traditional garb and I involuntarily thought to myself, “Those girls are so beautiful.”  And just as soon as the thought materialized, I began to weep because I realized that I had finally stopped seeing people from a “worldly point of view” (2 Cor 5:16) but instead, I was seeing them through Christ’s eyes as He would see them.  What a victorious day!  I felt this dark, oppressive weight inside of me melt away.  I was freed at last from the racial prejudice that had been a chain on my soul for far too long.

  Today, I can’t imagine ministering to only people who are Vietnamese or to only people who are Chinese or Asian or middle class.  I can’t imagine being so close-minded and unChristlike as to shun others for the color of their skin or the difference in their dress or education.  What a sad history I would write for myself if I only loved those who looked like me.  Thank you, Jesus, for setting me free to love and by it, to experience joy.

  • 2:25 am
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