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We use the language of reconciliation fairly often in Christian social justice circles. Sometimes we offer ourselves synonyms like diversity or multiculturalism, but I think it's really important for us to explore the realities of practicing reconciliation. The fact that there is no singular definition of racial reconciliation, practically speaking, has created a situation where we are not entirely sure when we're doing it and when we are failing miserably at it. So let's explore the requirements for reconciliation to take place.

Heres what many think reconciliation looks like:

1. Having friends of color
2. Having diverse congregations
3. Serving in justice ministries
4. Hiring a person of color

I know this is going to be a little disheartening, so I am just going to say it. None of these things fall under the umbrella of reconciliation without one very large precondition: Justice.

Thats right. You could have an Asian friend, attend a diverse church, read to Latino children after school, and hire a Black speaker for the conference you're planning--- and still you may not actually be practicing reconciliation in your life. Why? Because none of these things require the presence of justice, equality, shared power.

Reconciliation is what we practice after we have chosen justice.

Reconciliation requires far more than hugs, small talk, and coffee dates. Being nice is well... nice, but it is not reconciliation. Reconciliation is what we do as we listen to hard truths from the marginalized among us. As our friends point out how troubling our words have been, how hurtful our actions have been, it's our reaction that determines whether or not we are practicing reconciliation. Drinking in the words. Sitting in the pain. Committing to understanding. Committing to doing better. Desiring the hard truths because they lead to growth. These are the sign posts on the path of reconciliation. It's spending time in each other's spaces- physical space, head space, heart space. And it's creating shared spaces where both can breathe freely.

Reconciliation requires more than a rainbow of skin-tones at the 11:00 o'clock service. Diversity without justice is assimilation. And assimilation makes clear whose culture is the favored one, the good one, the right one, the holy one. If your culture is the standard for rightness, you have found the Imago Dei in others to be insufficient. It is the definition of racism- the assumed superiority of your race, your culture, your way of being. We can discuss who is assimilating into what, how and why, but a pound of diversity without an ounce of justice, is not reconciliation. Reconciliation is how we respond after being told we are racist, sexist, xenophobic, homophobic, agist, ableist congregation hiding behind platitudes of love rather than acting justly. Reconciliation is having our hearts broken that people are experiencing these things, not having our feelings hurt for being called out on it. Reconciliation is staying in relationship until all these are cast out and love reigns.

Reconciliation requires more than hiring a person of color. Reconciliation is when we cheer for decisions to implement new, just policies and processes. Reconciliation is our commitment to stay in organizations that restructure leadership positions and add co-positions in order to place marginalized voices front and center. If your leadership (or speaker line-up or authors or cabinet or board of directors or elders or management) is monocultural, you should ask yourself whether or not you have bought into the lie- that whiteness is preferable. Could it be that your leadership reflects a belief (conscious or not) that leaders must be like you? Act like you. Speak like you. Dress like you. Think like you. If you have a negative reaction to sharing power, raising up new leaders, adding decision-makers who embody diverse experiences, you're not ready for the work of reconciliation.

Reconciliation requires more than serving people of color. Reconciliation is what we do while we confess the ways folks have been excluded, left out, cast aside, downgraded, and treated only as recipients of paternalistic spirituality. If you only encounter "the other" through participation in a clear hierarchy of power and therefore value, it might be service, but it is not reconciliation. Are you in a position of equality or subordination to those you "serve"? Are you just the feet to the plan created by those experiencing homelessness? Are you advocating according to the instructions of those who eat at your food pantry? Are you learning the Scriptures from those who are imprisoned? Are you so valuing the innate human dignity of the marginalized that you are willing to share power or even submit your will to the oppressed? If so you might be moving from service work to reconciliation work.

I believe each if these can be on-ramps to the work of reconciliation. I do not believe one of these is better or more impactful than another. They each have the ability to open us wide, to challenge us beyond measure, to make us better people. They have a tendency to bleed into one another. When you've grappled with one, it's impossible to turn away from the others. They chase after one another desiring the fullness of the Kingdom. It's not easy work. The internal work and external effort can be gut wrenching. And yet. And yet there is no experience like working toward justice and watching reconciliation unfold.

This is for Cynthia. 

And this for you when told that you deserved to be harassed because your clothes are too skimpy, too revealing, too low cut, too high waisted, too sexy, too skinny, too attention grabbing. This is for you because you can't wear anything unflattering enough to guarantee not being harassed. This is for you because you were taught to take ownership for the vileness of strangers.  May this weight be forever cast off; its not yours to carry. 

This for Cynthia.

And this is for you who stared down the barrel of a gun and wondered if today would be the day, the one when you couldn't make yourself small enough, when you couldn't stay out of the way, when your cloak of invisibly was broken. This is for you because no matter how much you gave, loved, sacrificed, offered, released, tried- it was never enough to create permanent change. May nonviolence not be an abstract concept but a practice in every aspect of your life. 

This is for Cynthia.  

And this is for you who couldn't share that you've been sexually assaulted because he is a nice Christian guy with a good GPA and is well liked, and sex isn't a word you use on a Christian college campus. This is for those who were coerced by an authority figure- someone you were supposed to be able to trust. May truth win. 

This is for Cynthia.

And this is for you who cannot speak about what happened that day, that night. Who doesn't want to remember but cannot forget. Who must drive by the same spot. Who must go to the same class, same job, same church. Who must sleep in the same bed, or in the same house, or under the same roof. Who cannot trust. Who cannot get away from the trauma. May healing be yours. 

This is for Cynthia.

And this is for you who must hide- in closets, in bathrooms, in bedrooms. Who hide the bruises, the scars, the scrapes, the burns. Who hide from family, from friends, from pastors, from coworkers. Who put on your smile with make up, who use visine to hide red eyes, who knows more tricks than anyone should to cover the pain. May visibility finally equal love. 

This is for Cynthia.

And this is for you who attend a church that never talks about abuse or harassment or assault or rape. Who has heard numerous sermons on being submissive, but not one on how much you deserve respect and love. Who believes this is Divine. Who believes this is love. May our churches do better for you. 

This is for Cynthia. 

And this is for you who tried to tell, tried to tell the men you loved and were asked 20 questions about what you should have done differently and how you handled that badly and how you should do 25 things differently next time. Who knows there will be a next time. May you be heard by someone who will protect you. 

This is for Cynthia.

This is for you who tried to tell your mom, your girlfriends, your sisters but were silenced instead. Who dropped hint after hint but no understood. Who expected words, hugs, comfort, and a game plan. Who received a lecture on why you must stay. Who expected more. May you be heard by someone who will protect you. 

This is for Cynthia. 

And this is for you because everything hangs in the balance- a home, a family, children, money, career- your entire world. This is for you who risk it all when you attempt to leave. This is for you who loves someone who stays. This is for you who lost someone who had the courage to leave. May freedom and peace be yours. 

Cynthia is a woman I loved deeply. She was my parents best friend, who in many ways took on the role of my aunt. She tried to leave her abuser, and when she did was chased out of her home and held at gunpoint in the middle of the street. He shot her and broke the hearts of many- most significantly her children. I still think of her often.

Knowing what can happen to a woman who tries to leave, I have no time for judging why women stay. I hope all of our hearts will be ruled by compassion rather than condemnation. They have enough condemnation in their lives. Choose to sing a different song- of love, of peace, of care.

This is for Cynthia, I miss you. -Austin

So I recently wrote this thing. I was sitting at a beach, steaming from all that was unfolding in Ferguson. I said some things. Things I stand by. But I also included a list. A list of what individuals who are tired of easy answers can do. I also stand by my list which came from the inspiring decisions my friends have made to change their lives. But in my emotional state, I made a mistake. I made a list that was highly individualistic and didn't talk at all about what churches could do as a body to respond to racial injustice. So, I'm back to fix that. 

This too will not be an exhaustive list. Sadly, there is so much work to be done, I'd have to write a series of books to name everything that we have to work on as a Church. So this list is just what has been churning in my head and heart. I pray that it serves as a good starting place, a match that the Holy Spirit might strike. 

1. Study with honesty and integrity the history of your church from a social perspective. Admit if your church body has always been centered on whiteness. Admit that it ignored racial tensions of the [insert decade here]. Admit when whiteness failed AND how that effected communities of color. That second part is really important. Its not enough to pretend that your choices as a church existed in a vacuum. Your choices as a church effected people. Families of color didn't feel safe coming to you. Multiracial families were isolated in your church. Your church members didn't allow a shelter to be built. You were so busy running the food pantry, you didn't vote for wage increases that could have helped every family who comes. Your members moved when people of color started to arrive. People of color are regularly pulled over on the way to your church because its so racially isolated, and your church has done nothing about it. I don't know your story as a church, but you should. Confess the ways your church has promoted whiteness and then move to confessing how that impacted the rest of God's Church.  

2. Stop talking around the racial realities that your church is already involved with. You have homelessness ministries, food pantries, prison ministries, after school programming and more. Some of them you have had for decades. You consume books on how to improve the ministry, how to be better, how to stretch those dollars further, how to be of help to those who partake of the services. And yet you cannot recite one statistic on the racial injustice therein. What is the connection between urban renewal, the displacement of African Americans and their overrepresentation in shelters? You should know that. Why are there food desserts in black and brown neighborhoods that force folks to come to your food pantry? You should know that. How are laws constructed and enforced that allow for the gross overrepresentation of black and latino people in the criminal justice system? You should know that. What accounts for the lack of after school programming in under resourced communities? You should know that.  Become an expert. Trace how these institutions, policies, and laws have changed over time, how they effect the lives of the people you serve. Its time to stop patting ourselves on the back for having these services; we need to start figuring out what injustice has occurred that makes them necessary in the first place. 

3. Racial reconciliation can't be talked about once a year during MLK. Your church is committed to teaching the Word of God, right? Do you only do that once a year? Your church is committed to prayer, right? Do you only pray when a tragedy happens in the congregation? Your church is committed to families, right? Do you only talk about families once at Christmas time? If you are only talking about racial reconciliation during MLK and perhaps if a national tragedy takes place, your church may be interested in racial reconciliation, but it is not committed. Racial reconciliation must become a consistent part of your conversation as a Church; otherwise its not going to happen. If you need some examples for how churches are making this a sustained conversation check out: Quest Church, Church of All Nations, Willow Chicago, River City Community Church, and Bridgeway Church. I'm sure there are others I am forgetting; find the ones in your area for inspiration. But don't be afraid to carve your own way. Your steps may be different based on your responses to #1 and #2. What I can assure you, is none of these churches sacrifice prayer or Scripture, or family picnics to give space to racial justice and reconciliation. Its just a part of who they are.  

Again, this is not a complete list by any means. Its only three suggestions. But I hope my point is clear. If you are tired of injustice (not tired of your feelings when injustice occurs), your Church can choose to be different. Your Church body is absolutely capable of making the world better. But you must decide whether or not you get a small high from reciting all your service projects. You must decide whether or not you enjoy being the savior for families or if you want them to never have to come back your pantry ever again. You have to decide if you're ready for confession and the repentance that confession will require. You have to decide if discussing reconciliation will be your church's hobby or if practicing reconciliation will be your legacy. 

"Just wait a few more generations. Soon all the old people will be gone."

"My children's generation is so much more diverse. They'll be better at this."

"The bigotry will end as the generations move further from history." 

These are statements I hear pretty regularly after discussing racial injustice. They are followed with stories about how much more diverse suburban classrooms have become, or how much diversity was present at a child's birthday party. Proud parents and grandparents are quick to point to any evidence that counters the narrative of the segregation they faced as children. The difference between then and now, rightfully, offers a glimpse of hope, especially in the midst of a racialized tragedy. These statements are filled with hope that we are getting better, that our children will be different as we move further from the civil rights movement of the 60s. Those who make these pronouncements are well-intentioned but ultimately naive. 

The idea that we just need to wait for a generation to die, and then things will be better doesn't take into account the fullness of our racialized society in the following ways: 

1. It assumes that racist ideology isn't being passed down. Its still happening. Now, I don't know how many parents are saying the words, "we are the supreme race," at the dinner table, but the ideology is certainly being passed down in quite normal and therefore insidious ways. Being taught to fear black men, avoid black women, assume Latino's are not citizens, turn Asians into model minorities, and appropriate First Nations culture while dismissing their history… are all being passed down, along with many other assumptions, stereotypes, and prejudices.

As long as our language continues to uplift one race over others, center one race instead of our combined stories, and perpetuate the idea of racial inferiority, our children will do the same. Though they may never know the name Bull Conner, they will certainly participate in the dehumanization of others, unless it is modeled for them how to be and do better.   

2. It assumes racism is only interpersonal rather than both interpersonal and systemic. Even if we managed to rid ourselves of all the problematic racial language/notions around us, we still have a problem. Racism is not only about how we treat one another. There are entire systems of racial injustice that must be dismantled, recreated or obliterated altogether.

Our children will be active participants in racial injustice if we do not begin to name, and teach them how to work against injustice. The systems that uplift one race at the expense of another will survive, whether we get our language at the dinner table right or not. To ignore systemic injustice is to minimize racism and misunderstand how unjust systems will continue to thrive no matter how many generations pass. Thats the purpose of a system- to continue regardless of "turnover".  

3. It erases the urgency of now. Placing all of our hope in our children to "get it right" while simultaneously waiting for a generation to pass, is quite frankly not very inspiring. It seems both mean and extraordinarily passive to me. But beyond that, it also creates no sense of urgency. It assumes we can afford to wait. It accepts that injustice is okay for now. Its okay for unarmed young men to keep dying in the streets at the hands of police. Its okay for women to remain defenseless against the systems that are supposed to protect them. Its okay for our health disparities, income disparities, ownership disparities, employment disparities, environmental disparities, criminal justice disparities, mental health disparities, and educational disparities to continue.

No. No. No.

Thats unacceptable. Its unacceptable right now. Today. In this moment. We must believe the loss of life (physical, mental and spiritual) is urgent. 

When will we be sick and tired of waiting? When will our hopefulness turn into demands for change now. When will our own souls break wide open over the injustice perpetuated by our own generation. Will we rise to the hopes and dreams our parents had for us?  

Will we choose to create better for our children instead of expecting our children to fix it? 

Your children may in fact be great at navigating racial conflict. They may be anointed for reconciliation. Im not discounting their potential contribution to the world. But what about your contribution? What if God is calling you to this moment in history? 

The Church who declares a deep belief in the Imago Dei within all people, cannot afford to be apathetic, even if that apathy is well-intentioned. We must get to work while there is work to do. Too many lives hang in the balance. If we choose to remain inanimate, the same racist ideology that has caused so much tragedy in our own lives, will certainly survive into the lives of our children. It has survived hundreds of years; it can last another generation…

Unless we decide we've had enough. 

Unless we decide injustice is an urgent matter now. 

Unless we decide resistance is love.