Building Walls

I think that I now hate the poem Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. When I saw people starting to post it almost immediately following the election results, I knew exactly why they had chosen that particular poem.  Her words have been imprinted on my soul, speaking my life, for as long as I can remember. She never knew it, but she was a mentor to me. Her, a black woman from the Mid-West, growing up with little stability in the midst of the Civil Rights movement. Me, a white woman from the West Coast, nurtured in every possible way and taught that racism had been defeated, because this was America. To see her words on social media was too much. Too powerful, too searing, too raw.

You may write me down in history
With your bitter twisted lies
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I rise

I cannot describe to you the grief I felt, feel, at needing to rise from this muck of hatred. And actually, I shouldn't have to describe it because the trauma that accompanies the decision to normalize oppression should be self-evident to anyone who holds even a thread of compassion in their heart. I am not surprised that he won. I have seen racism and abuse in all facets of our society. I have seen ugly truths barely simmering beneath the surface and knew that like a festering wound they would spread to everything they touched. No, I am not surprised that evil won. I am devastated that good lost. I am heart-broken that people I consider family, church family, people who are in the same bracket as me, who identify with me, and who are called to a higher purpose with me, failed. Utterly and completely failed.

For day after day they seek Me out;

they seem eager to know My ways,

as if they were a nation that does what is right

and has not forsaken the ways of its God

But then, to add insult to injury, I am told to not be upset about this tragedy. That I am overreacting. To get over it. Move on. God is in control. 

Listen and listen well.

I spent years in an abusive relationship. Being told that I was overreacting, to get over it, to move on. My voice was silenced, I did not matter. Well no more. I am a strong woman and I have a voice. I not only matter, I am cherished. Do not even dream about telling me how to feel. When someone has been through something painful, it is not your place to tell them whether they should be in pain. There is a reason that studies show phases of grief, that is healthy, "getting over it" is not. I am my own person and I am in charge of how I process an experience. No one else, just me. That's exactly how God made me. He did not make robots, He made vulnerable people. And He made us different. We act differently, we interact differently, and we react differently. And that is beautiful. And so, maybe there is a purpose for me to stay in the muck longer. Maybe God speaks to us in the dark places, when we're not listening, when we're angry and hurting. Maybe.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts my ancestors gave

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

I make no claims to be "the hope of the slave." But I can certainly be the voice against oppression. Something is happening. Movement.  Maybe some of us have been moving, like choppy waves blown by the wind. But what I am longing for is the force of deep ocean currents. Yes, God is in control. He was even in control while I was in an abusive relationship. But God did not stay on His cozy little throne. No, he got down and came into the muck. And I believe with all of my broken heart that He is calling us to do the same.

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:

To loose the chains of injustice

And untie the chords of the yoke

To set the oppressed free

and break every yoke?

There are people in our country, I am one of them although in a more privileged place than many, who are terrified at what we've done. They've already experienced oppression and are now living in fear that it will get worse, much worse. We do not get to discount their fears; we get to stand up and fight for their freedoms. And besides, if you tried to dismiss people's experiences, you would not only be heartless, you would be wrong. White people use more drugs, but black people are arrested for drug possession three times more often. Young black boys are 21 times more likely to be shot by AND killed by police than young white boys. A white male who has a criminal record is 5% more likely to get a job than a person of color who is just as qualified-AND has a clean record. In New York, 83% of the people receiving life sentences in prison were people of color. Even for children as young as preschoolers, black children are more likely to be perceived as being guilty, and receive school suspensions than white children. Preschoolers. 1 and 2

The list goes on and on. And that doesn't even begin to talk about misogyny, treatment of Muslims, disabled people. Okay, let's talk about that one for a minute. We just elected a man who went on television and mocked a disabled man. Doing what would have landed a school child in the principal's office, he moved his arms in an awkward manner repeatedly to cruelly imitate the uncontrolled movements of a reporter who suffers from condition that affects his joints. Do you know who else faces challenges controlling his movements? My son. Due to low muscle tone he often holds his arms awkwardly or makes odd looking repeated movements. He mocked my son.

He mocked my son.

We elected a man who normalized something that should be so unacceptable as to bring shame to anyone who even witnessed it. And that doesn't even begin to delve into the messages that he sends my daughters. This is not about politics, this is about humanity. This is not about red and blue states, who lives where, the city, the economy, or who speaks for who. This is about people. Loving people.

But.

You say, I know he is not a good man, but my vote is justified because of x, y, or z. And therein lies the problem. How did we get to a place where we have accepted the rationalization of racism, sexism, illegal and outright dangerous behavior? We didn't get to this place; we've already been here. Because we, the church, evangelical Christians, whatever you want to call us, remained silent in the face of adversity. We stayed on our thrones. We didn't want to risk burning some bridges so we completely failed in building others. Do not call me an evangelical Christian. I will not be associated with such hatred. But I will follow Christ and I will fight against oppression. If the oppression exists in the church, I will fight it there. And if I have to burn bridges to do so, so be it. He calls me to be His light and His love to all people. Not to some people who are like me. Not to stay quiet and not rock the boat. Have you felt tense this week? Good. Stay in that tension, don't leave it. Let it become unbearable. It is going to be unbearable and then we need to bear it together.

Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light, where there is sadness, joy.~St Francis

There are pictures all over the internet hashtagged, Not My President. I get that, yep, I'm there. But we have to move beyond that, maybe I am ready. Not my church.

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Out from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise~Maya Angelou

I feel like I could so easily insert a Hamilton quote here about rising up but I'll refrain. 

People of God, rise up. 

It should not surprise us to see evil, in all its forms. It should give us an opportunity to show good. If you see something, say something.  Be the voice for the voiceless. Be the hands and feet of Christ. "Fill up in [your] flesh what is lacking in Christ's afflictions, for the sake of His body, that is, the church." There are organizations in your community right now that are reaching out to marginalized people, groups coming together to speak out against racism, hatred, to work, to restore and repair. If your church is not one of them, then change your church.

Years ago when my own life was crumbling around me and I was vulnerable, afraid, a good friend said she was standing in the gap for me. An illustration from the book of Ezekiel, standing in the gap refers to people in need being oppressed by those in power. They needed someone with strength to intercede for them, to block the waves of transgressions threatening to overwhelm and destroy areas they were weak. My friend was saying she would put herself on the line for me, that she knew I needed support and she wouldn't just remain a bystander. In 2015 there was an incident on a bus where some frat boys sang a song with racial slurs. Again, what was shocking to me was not the fact that they sang the song itself-although of course that alone is disgusting and reprehensible. No. What made it far worse was that no one on the bus told them to shut up. How can we fight against oppression if we aren't actually willing to fight, to put ourselves on the line? We have broken down entire people groups and if we did not do the breaking ourselves then we have benefited from it. And the crushing weight of our silence has all but prevented any rebuilding from taking place.

I feel homeless, lost in my own country, "I am a foreigner to my own family, a stranger to my own mother's children." If I am not an evangelical Christian, what am I?

If you do away with the yoke of oppression

with the pointing finger and malicious talk,

and if you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry

and satisfy the needs of the oppressed,

then your light will rise in the darkness,

and your night will become like the noonday.

The Lord will guide you always

He will satisfy your needs in a sun scorched land

and will strengthen your frame.

You will be like a well watered garden

Like a spring whose waters never fail

Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins

You will be called Repairer of Broken Walls

Restorer of Streets with Dwellings.~Isaiah

I am a fighter, come fight with me. I am a peacemaker, come bring peace with me.

I am a Repairer of Broken Walls.