As we celebrated our nation's Independence Day , I couldn't help but think of the thousands  of times I stood by my desk with hand over heart and pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America (is this still a thing?).  The final sentence "with liberty and justice for all" is both beautiful and unsettling for me right now.
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I have been working on a short series of devotionals designed to explore the Biblical view of justice since George Floyd's life was taken from him in a terrible and very public act of injustice.  To be honest, I feel like I barely understand the scope of God's passion on this issue. 

This series is five devotionals, each designed to last the length of time that George Floyd was held down by a police officer's knee as his life breath ebbed away.  There is nothing political about them--just a few thoughts and Scriptures that lead you on your own journey to: Read, Reflect, Repent, Respond and Rest in silence.  CLICK BELOW 

​Dress-up games are children’s fanciful privilege, fostering dreams and expanding imaginations into visions of glorious futures.  Dressing up was one of my favorite childhood past-times, which may explain why I remember the story I share here. It was a normal summer day and I’d put on some of my mom’s old petticoats, a broad-brimmed hat, stiletto heels and a slew of jewelry.  I came strutting into a room of adults and pirouetted as they told me how beautiful I looked.  But then someone said these words that I’ve never forgot: “You look like Juneteenth.” As laughter ensued, I sensed a hidden unkindness in the words.  

​As I read the history of Juneteenth this morning, I discovered why.  More on that in a minute, but first, in case you don’t have a clear grasp of this vital American celebration, here is a brief summary:  While President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, the Civil War didn’t end until April, 1865 and the North struggled to enforce it in the rebel confederate states.  On June 19, 1865, Union soldiers arrived in Texas, one of the most resistant states, where General Gordon Granger read a proclamation that included these words: ​"all slaves are free."

​​When African American slaves heard this, they were in utter shock and disbelief, and for them, the true celebration of emancipation began. Through the years, honoring that day became tradition as people gathered to eat, worship, play games and comemmorate their freedom day.  While true equal rights would elude African Americans in the centuries to come, Juneteenth has continued to be a time for families to celebrate and pass on their rich heritage on to future generations. Many states now officially recognize the date, including Texas, and there is strong pressure to make it a national holiday. 
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Back to my story.  Reading about Juneteenth, I came across the following and then I understood the shame I felt on that dress-up day some six decades ago:

​When I read that, I understood that while the adult who described my dressed-up self as looking like Juneteenth probably did not know the history behind those words, it is clear to me now that it was a derogatory phrase, most likely handed down in generations past by angry slave owners whose lives were upended on June 19th, 1865. 

Here’s the thing. No one had to tell me that “looking like Juneteenth” was shameful—I felt it and have not forgotten it for over six decades.  I share this now because I am learning how deeply ingrained my own cultural influences can be, and how easily they are passed along.  New generations, not knowing the history behind hurtful words or even actions, simply repeat what they have heard, never understanding how they may play a role in perpetuating painful stereotypes and false narratives.
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​The events of the past weeks have felt to me like watching a slow-motion film as a scab is ripped from a deep and dreadful national wound, its infection spilling into the streets and shaking up my ordered white privilege world. I am seeing daily how much I must learn and am unequivocally committed to the process. I am studying biblical justice and letting God’s heart soak into mine.  I hope to offer a series of devotionals on it here in the coming weeks. I am listening to people of color and other spiritual leaders who are speaking into the issue of racism and social justice.  I have included some links below.

But today I am going to celebrate Juneteenth.  I am going to rejoice with my African American brothers and sisters on this, their independence day, and thank God for that moment when newly freed slaves shed their rags and donned the beautiful clothes they’d once been denied.  I might even get dressed up myself. 
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A Conversation on Race and Justice: Hosted by Ed Stetzer, Executive Director of the Wheaton College Billy Graham Center, along with several Christian leaders, both white and black. Done just after the George Floyd killing, this conversation touched on so many questions--is there systemic racism?  What does it mean to agree that black lives matter?  How can we take next steps?

The Unabridged Gospel: Message by Brian Brodersen, pastor of Calvary Chapel, Costa Mesa in response to the George Floyd killing and ensuing events. 

We Are All Peoples; We are Family: My own pastors Robert and Stefanie Herber share a theology of equality and the biblical basis for our multi-ethnic church, then engage in a vulnerable conversation with an African American couple who are part of our church family.  

A Courageous Conversation: This touching dialogue between African American Jonathan Tremaine Thomas, founder of Civil Righteousness, and his caucasion Southern father-in-law will bless and deeply encourage you. (see civilrighteousness.org)
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Reconstruction: America After the Civil War: This is the story I did not hear in any history class I took in school or college.  It helped me understand in a way I never have.  There are four hours and well worth all of them. 
Reconstruction: America After the Civil War (parts 2-3)

My 91-year-old mom spends the night with us on occasion, and I’m embarrassed to say we’ve made her sleep on a 25-year-old mattress for far too long so a couple of weeks ago I ordered a new one. But then I made the mistake of taking a good look at that guest room and before I knew it, we were in the middle of a messy renovation. I say we because I dragged poor Joe into it when I started stripping wallpaper and realized what I was up against.

​In short, under the textured, painted paper that has adorned the walls for at least a couple of decades, lay a layer of white paint, and under that, another coat of vinyl wallpaper, circa 1980s floral.  I wish I could blame it on the previous owners, but we are the previous owners.

For days on end Joe and I picked and pulled and sprayed and sanded and scraped and tore those walls up, trying to ready them for a fresh coat of paint. DIY projects bring out the worst in Joe and me, and I’m pretty sure Joe got the bad end of that stick. But in one of my calmer moments, I commented how much easier it would have been had I done it right years ago, adding under my breath, “I feel a blog coming on.” Well, we finally got down to the nubs and after an amateur re-texturing job, were able to paint three walls.  I covered up the fourth with bead board—just didn’t have it in me to tackle it.

In the back of my mind I assumed I’d blog about personal transformation and how covering up or plastering over sinful patterns will only make things that much harder—you get the point.  But then George Floyd was killed by a Minneapolis police officer and our nation started coming apart at the seams.  Bedroom remodels felt inanely irrelevant in view of the collective pain and angst that poured out as people took to the streets to protest systemic racism in city after city. Looters and violence aside, there have been tens of thousands of protesters across the land—people like you and me—peacefully calling for change, almost nonstop.  I have felt undone. 

​The thing is, I did not want to write this blog.  Words are cheap these days, and as a white, middle-classed evangelical, the last thing I want is to be one more voice in a sea of platitudes that does nothing to facilitate change.  
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But then there was this wallpaper fiasco and the still, small voice I’ve learned not to ignore, whispering in my heart about a country that has papered over injustice for millennia, and has slathered on short-term fixes like that paint on my wall.  Brenda Salter McNeil, a African American, Christian professor and author, writes that catalytic events like the ones we’ve experienced these past several weeks can force needed shifts, but it isn’t easy, and will always first produce distress and chaos (Roadmap to Reconciliation, published by InterVarsity Press). 
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I came of age during the civil rights movement, but the reality is that we simply haven’t done enough of the hard work of digging through all the layers, of refusing to stop or give up until racial oppression is no longer palatable—personally, and in our cities, states and indeed, the world. I guess you could say I am writing this blog as a form of accountability—I do not want this to fade away and die down so I can go back  to a normal that allows a man like George Floyd to be killed as he pleads for breath.
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If you are like me, you find yourself wondering what you can do.  This is such a personal decision, but our pastor offered a simple acronym yesterday that I think we can all embrace.  It is time for a new ERA:

• EDUCATE: become a learner and teach your children well, determine to LISTEN to the stories of your black friends and neighbors—they have them, if you will just ask. 
• RELATE: Invest in real relationships with people of different ethnic or cultural backgrounds, the kind where you share meals and playdates with kids, and really get to know each other.
• ADVOCATE: Use your voice to influence just policies—from your local city council members to your state and national leaders. 

​I’ve thought a lot these past few days about the efforts at racial unity I’ve been a part of over the years, particularly within the church.  There have been powerful and meaningful experiences, and yet I do wonder what impact they have had. The lesson of my wallpaper is that there is no quick fix here, that it is going to be painful and difficult and at times it will feel as if we’ll never get the job done.  Yet we must press on.  In all honesty, I am not sure how, or what difference I can make, but I am leaning into prayer like never before, and listening more carefully than ever before, trying to understand what it means to be a broker of God’s kingdom in this moment.  

Joe was supposed to leave for France this Thursday to help strategize for a church plant we are doing there.  Last night we decided he better not go, given the outbreak of the corona virus there, and the fact that he is in the at-risk category.  I know everyone has an opinion on this pandemic and none of us really know who to trust, but that’s definitely NOT THE POINT OF THIS BLOG.

Before we had decided, I was working on getting him hand sanitizer, but of course, it is sold out everywhere, including Amazon!  That’s when I went online and learned how to make my own.  I found one with ingredients I had around my house, and I love it so much I’m going to share the link below.  Speaking of that, when you see the ingredients you might wonder why I just happened to have a Costco sized bottle of vodka. Seriously, not a drop of the stuff has ever passed the lips of this good old Baptist girl.  (Well, there was that time someone in our church served vodka slushes at a party in their home and Joe unwittingly drank a couple of them, talking all the way home about how delicious and unique they were, but that’s another story altogether.)  That is also NOT THE POINT OF THIS BLOG.
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​Sorry for the whiplash here as I move from vodka slushes to my Sunday morning prayer time.  I was praying about Joe’s trip, and I began to feel God speaking about the whole corona virus scenario.  In short, I felt him say that this could be the greatest opportunity we as a church have had in the past century to shine the light of his glory in a world where panic may become the norm.  And then I sensed him saying that it could be the precursor to the revival we have longed for, cried out for, pined for, petitioned for and pleaded for over the past two decades.  I am not a prophet and am not even suggesting that this a prophetic word, but these are the things my heart was sensing and I feel compelled to share them.​
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So much more could be said, but I’ll leave it there.  Before I share the link for hand sanitizer, let me say I have no tie to this website—I just liked the recipe. Do your own google search but I’ll forewarn you that most recipes involve rubbing alcohol, which is now also almost impossible to get.  Click here for the link. And if you have the Costco vodka hanging around too, now’s the time to use it!