I work in social media, so I’ve seen how this goes, but I can’t not say something. My heart is too broken not to.
See, I don’t like getting political on the internet because I have watched time and time again as people forget that there is a very real human being at the other end of their rage-ladened comments. But this weekend, the rage went beyond the internet and out into the streets in a manner I cannot abide. As this reached far beyond political, I can also no longer abide being silent.
To see scripture references scrawled on signs in the name of hate toward fellow image-bearers in such an ugly, appalling, and shameless way makes me sick. And angry. And so homesick it hurts.
Because what happened this weekend was evil.
There was nothing justified in the action of those white supremacists—because we call ugly hateful things what they are.
I’ve watched a lot of broking things go down because the church remained silent and right now I can’t be silent.
But I have no words, just a heavy feeling of lament. My sphere of influence is small, but I’m committed not to just shed a tear, shrug a shoulder, and move on. So I sit with the tension here.
In doing some work over the weekend, I ran across some beautiful words from Martin Luther King, Jr. I think we all need:
The church must be reminded that it is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state. It must be the guide and the critic of the state, and never its tool.
If the church does not recapture its prophetic zeal, it will become an irrelevant social club without moral or spiritual authority. If the church does not participate actively in the struggle for peace and for economic and racial justice, it will forfeit the loyalty of millions and cause men everywhere to say that it has atrophied its will.
But if the church will free itself from the shackles of a deadening status quo, and, recovering its great historic mission, will speak and act fearlessly and insistently in terms of justice and peace, it will enkindle the imagination of mankind and fire the souls of men, imbuing them with a glowing and ardent love for truth, justice, and peace.
—Martin Luther King Jr., “A Knock at Midnight”
I am praying today that our imaginations are realigned with God’s. I’m praying that we remember that courage comes after obedience. I’m praying we remember that no matter a person’s race, religion, or political bent, we are image-bearers—and that is so beautiful.
Perfect love casts out fear. May this stir us closer toward perfect love.
If you want to take a next step with me, pick up a copy of Ken Wytsma’s latest release The Myth of Equality. His thoughts are so relevant and needed in these dark times.
We are never without hope. We are the salt of the earth and a light on a hill. Truth can never be drowned out and love never fails—even in the face of such blatant despicable hate. I stand for my fellow image-bearers.