I learned about being a black woman from my mother. The secrets of black womanhood were written into the shape of her brown eyes, buried in the kink and softness of her curls, coursed through the playfulness of her hips and the strength of her stride. My mother purposefully shared with me the joys of being a black girl- dancing to Stevie singing about sunshine on vinyl, braided hair that could survive the summer, books that reflected my face back to me. She taught me to love the laughing sound. Music. Poems. History. Literature. She wanted me to know it all; she wanted me to know myself. 

But it wasnt long before she had to tell me that most of the world could not see the beauty of blackness. Our beauty is a secret not shared with the world. She asked me to gently turn over my name. Austin. And I realized on the other side a long line of white men, some other bodies too, but mostly white men. She wanted to keep the secret of my identity safe. Wanted others to know my list of accomplishments, activities, anything I chose to write on a page, before the secret was revealed. Constantly walking the line between being honest with me and her urge to protect me, she tried to give me a fighting chance in a racist, sexist world. 

She knew about lemons. She tried to protect me from their sour taste for as long as she could. 

"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade" should be much too cliche for a woman like Beyonce. It has been said too often, too flippantly. But in the hands of Beyonce's artistry, it renews its depth. Beyonce doesnt shy away from life's sour taste as a black woman. She takes us on a journey. Intuition, denial and anger become apathy and emptiness. Accountability and reformation fill the space. Forgiveness breaks into resurrection, hope and redemption. We are left with a Beyonce we're just getting to know in Formation. We witness the journey on the edge of our seats most explicitly through her relationship with Jay. 

Much will be written about infidelity and who is she and what possessed Rachel Roy to even suggest she is the one with the good hair, and me thinks some of you owe Rachel Ray an apology. But truth be told, Im not all that interested in those details. I am far more captivated that Beyonce reflected back to me the emotional journey of a black woman being hurt by a black man. I know that pain. Heartbreak is all around us. Heartbreak exists beyond the boundaries of black relationships for sure. My point here isnt to make heartbreak exclusive, its to make exclusive the unique pain of trying to find and hold onto love in the midst of a society that doesnt love you. A society that doesnt see you. A society that worships Becky, that holds her with care, that believes in her innocence. that has convinced itself her appropriation of blackness is wholly creative and original. A society that thinks Becky is better than you. 

Its really hard to put back together a broken heart in a world that derives pleasure from black women being treated inhumanely. Though Beyonce gives us a window into what that means for her and Jay, she does not stop there. She gives us the faces of black women who have been publicly and viciously dehumanized. She visualizes their humanity. Twerking and still. Looking fierce and soft, playful and serious. Standing shoulder to shoulder. Playing in each others hair. Beyonce plays with subtly and boldness as she sometimes whispers and sometimes screams, "I see you. I am you." 

She makes it clear that she is not God. She literally, spells that out for us, as she places the depth of her humanity on display and dares us to attempt to turn away.

As she moves from her raw emotions into the search for accountability, I am struck by the ways she centers the black woman's relationship with her mother, her father, her grandparents and her home. She acknowledges the heartbreak and complication of seeing your mothers heartbreak, mistreatment, and pain. She explores the intricacy of recognizing how your father had "his arms around your mothers neck" while also desiring his daughters kisses. She returns to the woods, gardens, water. She returns to the words and wisdom of our grandmothers. "Life served me lemons. But I made lemonade." 

Beyonce brings home for us in that moment, that the lemons a black woman swallows are altogether different, and have always been. The bitter fruit. The strange fruit. We have had to bear. The "lemons" in the life of a 90 year old black woman are not just a couple bad days. I dont know her story, but the truth is I could probably guess. White supremacy is awfully predictable and consistent. Her sweet voice smiles and says she made lemonade; my eyes fill with tears. Is there anything sweeter than a black woman who has survived it all? 

My thoughts, my interpretation of Lemonade is ongoing. I have much to process as I drink in specific songs like Sorry and Freedom. I have only just begun to think about the Church and its relationship to blackness. I cannot get the mothers of the slain out of my head. Im still thinking about art and vulnerability. About middle fingers and honesty. About the power of anger and the meaning of forgiveness. I can still hear Malcolm's voice in my head. Im still thinking about the healing power of sisterhood. I think there will be more processing, more writing from me. But for now, I just want to say to my sisters, to my mothers, to my grandmothers- I love you. I love abiding with you.

And I love being a black woman who is served lemons but has been given an intergenerational recipe for making lemonade.   

If you liked this, you may also like: The Recipe 

While it is still dark, Mary Magdalene rises from her sleep. Its time to visit the tomb. She fully expects to continue her mourning, grieving in the quiet stillness. No crowds. No Romans. None of the terror that surrounded her hours ago. 

Arriving at the tomb, the stone is rolled away. Here the gospel accounts share differing details, but what becomes clear is that the terror is not over for a moment!

The body is gone! Did someone move it? Another earthquake shakes the ground. Who are these frightening angels? Guards meant to ensure no one steals the body are rendered helpless.  What is going on?! 

"He has risen. He is not here." 

Jesus is on the move. Death could not contain him. State violence could not stop him. Humiliation could not distract him. The tomb could not hold him. Hell could not imprison him. Guards could not control him. The cross could not restrict him. The human body could not limit him. Jesus is alive! 

Sunday has come. Hope is restored. The Good News of the risen Christ is carried by women to the disciples. The story isnt over! 

For the next 40 days Jesus makes appearances. Showing up. Teaching. Revealing. Communing. It is beautiful and sweet and miraculous. Jesus is also preparing. Preparing them for his ascension. His disciples will stay in the world. But they wont be alone. A Comforter is coming. A Comforter will be needed.

A Comforter will be needed because Jesus crushed violence but this has yet to be fully realized in the world. A Comforter will be needed because death has been conquered but we still feel its pain. A Comforter will be needed because the state still tramples across people for power. A Comforter will be needed because the world is still awful. Jesus has conquered it all, but we wait for our Sunday. 

For when Sunday comes our troubles will be over.  

I know its hard to look at the world and believe in Sunday. Its hard to be witness to the destruction and devastation, the injustice and pain, the hatred and evil. At every turn the world makes a mockery of our hope. Hitting us in the gut, it demands to know, "where is your hope now?"

Our hope is no longer in a tomb. Our hope is not dead. Our Hope is on the move. He is risen! And Sunday will come again. May our hearts rejoice in this! May we lay down the fear and doubts, allowing ourselves to encounter Hope again. 

Amen. 

And Happy Easter!  

Gathered with friends, his night is interrupted as loud footsteps come closer. He is in the place where he's spent time meeting with his disciples. But tonight this place will cease to be peaceful, he can feel it. Guards approach fully armored, fully alert, fully prepared to take him into custody. This is not an investigation or inquisition. Tonight, under the cover of darkness, he will be arrested. He sounds a little incredulous when they arrive, "Have you come out, as against a robber with swords and clubs?" (Luke 22:52). He is not surprised by their presence, but by the apparent assumption that he is dangerous. He is placed under arrest. 

Once arrested his trial begins immediately. Standing before the high priest, he is peppered with questions. The witnesses cant get their story straight. The evidence is leading no where. The high priest gets frustrated that Jesus isnt incriminating himself.  He asks about Jesus's doctrine, his disciples. Jesus responds, "I spoke openly to the world. I always taught in the synagogues and in the temple, where the Jews always meet, and in secret I have said nothing. Why do you ask me? Ask those who have heard me what I said to them. Indeed they know what I said." (John 18:20-21). Please allow me to paraphrase. "Y'all came and arrested me, bound me up and brought me to this illegal trial. I have been upfront, speaking in front of crowds, answering calls questions all along. There is no secret plot. I have been open. And now you want me to incriminate myself for you? This is a trial! Ask your witnesses? They are all here. Ask them what I said! Make your case." 

This is not the response they were looking for. An officer who stood nearby, reached back and swung at Jesus, hitting him with the palm of his hand. Then he preceded to scold Jesus for being disrespectful (though it was he who was breaking the law by inflicting a punishment before the trial was over). After being hit, Jesus turns to the officer, protesting being hit, "If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the evil; but if well, why do you strike me?" (John 18:23). The trial goes on and on as false witnesses try to get their stories to match. 

Finally they come close. "He said he is going to tear down the temple and then rebuild it," (Matt 26:51) which is not quite what Jesus said. But its close enough to qualify as the necessary indictment... except Jesus still wont respond. The high priest is having none of it. Putting Jesus under oath and demanding that Jesus incriminate himself, Jesus is asked, "Are you the Christ, the Son of God?"  Matthew records Jesus saying, "It is as you said." Mark records Jesus response as, "I am." In either case, it is all that is needed to move forward... to the death penalty. 

And the physical abuse begins. While in custody, Jesus is spat upon. Blindfolded and punched. The officers turn it into a game of mockery. Punch. "Tell us who hit you!" Punch "Come on, prophesy!" Punch. Punch. Punch. (Mark 14:65) 

When morning comes, Jesus is taken before Pilate. Pilate is unconvinced by the proclamations that Jesus is disturbing the peace among other charges. He ultimately determines that Jesus is not a criminal, but sees an opportunity to hand off the case to someone else- Herod, who jurisdiction is Galilee. 

Herod is thrilled to see Jesus for a chance to witness one of the miracles Jesus has been known to perform. Jesus is rather magical he hears, and he cant wait to be entertained. But after being arrested, submitted to trial, beaten, examined by Pilate and now Herod, all that stands before the political leader is a bruised man. There is no fairy dust, no magic, no miracles. Jesus does not even speak. 

Fed up or perhaps bored and disappointed, Herod allows his officers the chance to mock Jesus as well. They place a rich garment on him, no doubt teasing him about being a king or leader. Herod sends Jesus back to Pilate. 

Pilate must now take the decision-making weight. He tries multiple ways of wiggling out of the decision, even symbolically washing his hands of the matter. The shouts from the crowd. The silence of Jesus. The increased political risk. Jesus will be crucified. 

But first he will be scourged. Jesus is stripped of his clothing. His arms are tied to a post in the ground. The entire back of his body is completely exposed- shoulders, back, buttocks, legs- already covered in bruises. Two soldiers stand on either side of his body, leather whips in hand. With a snap, they crack across Jesus back. Bits of iron and bone dig into the flesh before being snapped back to the control of the guards. They alternate. Snap. Rip. Snap. Rip. Snap. Rip. Jesus back begins to look like red ribbon as tissue and muscle are torn apart. 

When finished with the beating, the mockery has only just begun. Across his tender wounds they clothe him in purple. Smashing a crown made of thorns into his head, they then beat on it. (Matthew 27:27-30) Blood surely runs into his eyes. He is given a wooden staff and then a wooden cross.

The cross. A punishment of pain and public humiliation. A punishment reserved for lowly criminals or those who committed a crime against the state. The cross. 

Jesus carries his cross through the crowd with the help of Simon of Cyrene. Slowly they plod toward Golgotha, place of the skull. There Jesus submits to crucifixion. The mocking continues. The women lament. His garments are taken and divided like some sort of prize or memento. After hours of torture, Jesus dies.  

Jesus dies. 

And it seems all that his followers had hoped for was gone. All that was given to the ministry evaporated with his final breath. There was no miraculous recovery. Things did not turn out to be "okay". Things got strange, but things did not get better. The world was dark. Jesus was gone. 

This suffering matters. The bruises. The abuse. The illegal trial. The violent arrest. The accusations and false witnesses matter. The torn flesh, the crown of thorns, the blood spilled before he got to the cross all matter.

Jesus knows suffering.

Jesus didnt opt out. Jesus didnt save himself; Jesus chose to save us instead- not symbolically, not abstractly, not intangibly- but through waves of torture at the hands of both the religious and the state. Jesus knows the pain that both can inflict- the religious and the state. Jesus knows. 

There is no hope on this night. The politics of violence and control seem to have won. 

The politics of violence and control seem to have won. 

This is Good Friday.

Jesus. 

Following Super Tuesday as political analysts announced Trump's wins, they were quick to note that more than any other republican candidate, Trump has thus far been winning the vote of white evangelicals. Many have taken on the question of why this may be. Some suggestions include Trumps authoritarian bravado, others point to a hope that he will "shake things up" in Washington; still others have wondered if its because Trump is not afraid to fight. This article on the PBS website offers a few more reasons why white evangelicals may be drawn to Trump. I think all of these are interesting reasons, and may be true to one degree or another. But what seems to only be hinted at (if mentioned at all) is race. 

Yep. It is the thing we most hate to talk about in America though it so clearly defines much of the American experience. Education. Health. Home Ownership. Wealth. Safety. Mortality Rates. Incarceration. Job Opportunities. Environmental Quality. All have clear markers around race. And yet when it comes to speaking about policies and politics, we have a tendency to rely on colorblind rhetoric as if race is not a factor in politics. Even as we watch a candidate appeal to racism, nativism and ethnic exclusion as core components of his campaign. And backing much of the ugly rhetoric is a conviction to rebuke political correctness, which is more colorblind rhetoric for I-want-to-display-my-hatred-for-others-without-being-labeled-a-bigot... please-and-thank-you. 

But before we demonize Trump, the human, we would be wise to ask ourselves how the hell he got this far. Surely, if we were truly against everything Trump embodies, his campaign would never have gotten off the ground. Instead it appears to be sweeping the nation. And its not because Trump is so charismatic that he has seduced people. Its because Trump is saying out loud what has been nurtured in America (well, for centuries but) especially in the last few years of Obama's presidency. 

Since Obama took office (and while he was running), the colorblind rhetoric we have been so committed to became much stronger- as did the dog whistles, appeals to racist ideology and tapping into the fears of white Americans. The idea that people of color are taking from white people has been nurtured, watered and cultivated in every form possible: 

Politics. News. Entertainment. Schools. Social Media. Dinner Tables. and yes Churches. 

Now racism was a thing long before President Obama arrived on the scene, of course. But when America realized Obama was actually going to win, the {white} Church lost. its. mind. My husband and I had been attending a church in Ann Arbor, MI. It was a multicultural church with at least 500 members. We were thinking about joining until the pastor announced that she wanted to share a prophesy with us. It had been revealed to her who the next President would be (and she was sure we all knew as well). But what she really wanted to tell us was that as soon as he was installed there would be earthquakes across the country and martial law would have to be established immediately. She went on and on about the doom coming our way. And I know this church was not alone in its "prophetic" pronouncements. 

Did you all happen to walk into a Christian bookstore in 2007/2008? Those shelves were filled with books predicting the end times. There wasnt much more to purchase other than "be afraid, be very afraid." 

But Obama got elected and (surprise!) the world did not end. However, resentment took over this country. Outright, public, organized resentment. The jokes and comic strips being leveled at black people and middle eastern people was so over the top. And politicians used that resentment. Not just tolerated it. Not just remained silent about it. But used it, organized around it. Tea Party anyone? And the {white} Church remained apolitical... silent. The truth is even apolitical churches capitalize on the fear and resentment by not addressing racism- it means more people coming or at least not losing anyone. Too many churches did nothing to combat the fear and resentment based on the ideology of white supremacy. And now those same fears, resentments and ideology created this moment.

All this time too many Christians have been assuming that racism was fringe, a part of a dying generation that would simply change with time. While people of color have been working over time trying to point out how racism operates in our daily lives, in statistics, in systems, in the organizations where we work, and yes in our churches... no one wanted to believe that racism is doing quite well in this country. It is not dying; it is healthy and strong.  

Even if you wish to not acknowledge the statistics that showcase racial injustice in almost every aspect of our lives, even if you want to ignore everything #blacklivesmatter was brought to our attention there is still this: 

On June 17, 2015 a 21 year old, white male walked into a black church, sat down, observed the people, spoke with the pastor, and then resolved to shoot and kill as many of them as he could. 

I want you to read that sentence again because it flies in the face of everything we tell ourselves to make us feel better about racism. "Its just old people?" Nah. "Its not ever violent anymore?" Nah. "Christians transcend racism?" Nah. "The Civil Rights Movement fixed it?" Nah. "If we just spent time together, it would be better?" Nah. Roof stayed awhile, pondered, analyzed, even had a conversation, and he still opened fire.  

And this was months ago. Just months ago. 

Not in the days of slavery.

Not in the heat of the civil rights movement.

Not years ago. 

Less than a year ago was the execution of black bodies bent over their Bibles in church. And there were still some who were convinced that Roof was some sort of strange anomaly- as opposed to a young guy who grew up hearing the rhetoric, being nurtured by the rhetoric of the previous eight years of his life. 

Before you start to think through the lone gunman response, consider this. One action that has become a defining marker of a Trump rally is the abuse of people of color- yelling. screaming. kicking. ejecting. pushing. shoving. screaming racial slurs. We have photos, videos, and interviews of people of color being treated violently in public when those who are violent know cameras are on. One person decided to make a photo of him screaming at a black woman the cover art on his Facebook page. My point here is that while Roof was the only one to commit the massacre, he is not the only person being nurtured by racism. And until we really reckon with the culture of racism, we will continue to see violence erupt wherever we condone it (including but not limited to Trump's rallies).

For too long our nation has refused to deal with the legacy of white supremacy in all its forms. We have instead capitalized on it, to our shame. 

The problem of racism was created long before any of us got here. This is true. But it will remain for as long as we use that as an excuse to do nothing. We the Church can no longer afford to remain silent (or apolitical or any other fancy terms for ignoring whats happening). The Church must be on the forefront of combatting white supremacy and the fear, resentment and scarcity that white supremacy nurtures. Or else we will continue to pay a heavy price for the burdens  and violence of racism, nativism, exclusion, resentment and fear. All these lead to violence. Every time. It is the only place they lead. 

For the record, I want to reiterate that I think Trump is little more than a billboard, or perhaps a mirror. He is only reflecting back to us the flames of anger, fear and resentment that have been stoked unabated. He is not really the problem. He is only tapping into what already exists in America- in large scale. Not fringe elements, not isolated cults, not one singular demographic... but large portions of America. And truth be told, other candidates are tapping into it to one degree or another on both sides of the aisle. Race has been and will continue to be a political pawn for as long as we have a race problem. The exploitation of race is real, yo.

So what is the church supposed to do, exactly? Well aren't you glad I asked a few friends  to assist me in answering this question? Here are some suggestions, but I pray more churches (Christians) who are convicted by these present realities will get creative and add more to the list! 

Nathan says, "The white church needs to have a real discussion about white culture and realize that white culture does not equal every white person." 

Caris says, "I wish every church would read Divided By Faith, Disunity in Christ, and Radical Reconciliation." 

Abby says, "I wish the white church would listen to black church's story and take it at face value instead of getting defensive." 

Giovanni says, "study America history. Recognize connections between past and present. Bring the results of that study to the pulpit." 

Jonathan says, "the Church (the people) must stop waiting on the church (the institution) to initiate change, and start seeking to understand." 

Mindy says, "The Church can pray against the spirit of deception and blindness that keeps white Christians from seeing the obvious truth of racism." 

Amy says, "to move theology book by people of color onto the shelf that hods Calvin and Barth. Theology needs to be the WHOLE church in discourse." 

Ruthie says, "Pray over the church- that minds would be renewed and the veil lifted. Holy Spirit Come!" 

For more thoughts (or to add your own) hop on twitter and use #WhatTheChurchCanDo.

I hope we will do something. Doing nothing is no longer an option. 

*PS- if you dont understand the references to the white church and the black church please read Divided By Faith as an introduction. It is a short book and will lead to longer works to fill in the blanks.*