It’s safe to say that few have
inspired me more than Smith. His love
for me, coupled with his passion for the Church, have significantly impacted
the way I think about God beyond the madness that I write about, and attempt to
eradicate through my teaching and preaching.
It has been difficult to locate
grace lately. The misfortune that
launched Ferguson, Missouri into the national spotlight reminds me of the
massive layers of dysfunction that challenges us in communicating a consistent message. Smith’s teaching compels me to articulate in
a way that leaves those who listen with a pronounced awareness of the function
of the Church within the chaos.
My personal skirmish is partially related to the glaring illogicality that smears
both the image and message of the Church.
The call for peace is mired by the presence of extreme evil that is
grounded in tons of historical dung. The
doctrine of the Church calls for nonviolent resistance.
Our call for peace must be juxtaposed
within the context of enduring pain. How
do we defy the broken not to fight back?
What are the implications related to measuring their defiance as counter
intuitive to the teaching of our faith?
What are the conclusions elevated from our assumptions, and how do these
claims impact the spirituality of those devoid of a place to be heard?
Central to my theology is the
notion that resistance is an ethical decision.
This presupposition allows broader space for the terming of valid resistance. It is assumed that resistance is a justifiable
action when nations are confronted with evil opposition. It’s deemed ethical to go to war against the
enemy of our national agenda.
Our theology and ethics compels
us to measure our views from the context of patriotism. We should be careful
not to merge a national agenda with a Christian ethic. With that being said, conversations involving
domestic resistance should be measured from the milieu of our assumptions
related to national resistance.
The argument opposing black rage,
as a justifiable ethical decision, controverts the assumption of national
privilege. This is not a new argument,
but one that has impacted black resistance dating back to slavery. When is it appropriate for a segment of
American citizenry to battle systems that enforce their subjugation?
What terns do we use to translate
meaning of the rage that leads to resistance?
Is it ethical to demean and dismiss the integrity of those willing to
die to end such tyranny? Should we
assume that all forms of resistance are fixed within the context of deviant
thinking that demands force to restrain?
This is how Smith simple message
helps me. Where is the grace of God in
all of this?
We can begin by questioning the
ethics related to our judgment of resistance.
Rather than questioning the morality of this form of resistance, the
ethics that molds our faith demands that we consider the pain that stirs the
rage.
So, where is the grace of God in
all of this?
It shows up in two ways. The
first involves the construction of a radial street ethic. The pain in the
streets has resulted in the unification of forces once in opposition. Street gangs have decided to work
together. They have stood together in
protest. They now fight against their
common enemy – the police. Their act of deviance can be used to begin
conversations about restoring what has been lost.
During their resistance, the
tension elevated so high that many were willing to die for their cause. This is the second place where the grace of
God shows up. It shows up in the
reconstruction of sacred space.
“I might as well fight back,
since you gonna kill us anyway,” onlookers heard someone yell as tear gas
filled the air.
They were willing to die. It’s an important subtext that gets lost in
the moralizing related to the form of resistance. As gang members fought back, they stood
beside those wearing the colors of competitive gangs. They embrace a new battle. No longer was the enemy a Blood or Crip, but
those fighting against a perceived common enemy.
Then it happened. In the crowd were others watching the escalation
of rage. They heard the cries for death.
Then it happened.
The others formed a wall to
protect them from their wish. They -
ministers, residents, men and women tired of watching young men cry - formed a
wall to save them from death.
This is the grace within the
chaos. This is the message of hope. It’s found in the pain of those unwilling to live another day. The grace is in what we
hear. When we listen to them give up on
life, we show up. When they no longer care about the hope in the coming of a new day, we
build a wall to protect them.
This is the grace of God. This is
where a new community emergence from the valley of dried bones.
We hear you. We got you in this. Get behind us now. We’ve seen enough of your pain.
This is the grace of God.
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