For Those Who Are Not Racist

This is not a post condemning nor excusing racists or racist behavior. If that's what you came here for, I want to save you from wasting your time and tell you to read no further.

This is specifically for people who are so non-discriminatory that they don't recognize their own privilege. White privilege. Male privilege. Adult privilege. Whatever it is that places you "above" another human being in society, whether intentional or not.

I thought I had avoided having to write on this topic. I thought I had shared enough posts and videos from other people that echoed my sentiments to where my stance was made clear without having to use my own words.

As God continues to mold me, I am coming to terms with the phrase I was wrong. I am also very sensitive to the promptings when I am called to be silent and when I am called to speak.

Scrolling through Facebook the past few weeks, as when anything racial or political drives social media interaction, I have seen many posts from people that have both surprised and hurt me. Particularly from other people who profess Christianity. I have been relatively silent. I have wrestled with removing people from my friend's list for the sake of preservation and keeping them with the prayer that my actions and the collective action of other Christ-followers will demonstrate that not everyone fits the stereotype they are arguing about.

Last year, I wrote this post about the Trayvon Martin verdict.  I still feel the same way today that I did when I wrote that, except maybe a little more disappointed because it has taken countless more deaths for any action to take place.

Christianity, the whole dagum thing, the message of the Gospel, is about grace. Grace. That is it. If you understand the concept of grace, you understand what Jesus Christ died for. 

Because much grace is given to me in my very sinful nature, I am required to extend much grace to others and God gives me ample opportunity to practice that.

Recently, I was having dinner with a group of people I love dearly. When asked about specific prayer requests I had for this season, one of mine was guidance and clarity on what my living situation will be for the additional three months I will now be staying in America after my lease is up in February.

As kind of a joke, one of the people I was dining with offered for me to stay in their guest bedroom and help watch their children. It was cute and could have been left there.

In the same joking tone, this person (who is white) continued by saying "If we had them call you Aunt Jemima would that help?"

I must stop here because I want every eye reading this to recognize that this person is not racist. This person is an incredibly talented leader, gifted communicator, theologically sound Christian and generally a fun person to be around. This is a person I respect immensely, and whose own story of redemption and restoration has given me much encouragement over the years. This person loves with one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen and I count it an honor to know him.

The thing is, in this day there are so many people who aren't racist that they have no idea the weight of their words to those who experience discrimination. There are so many people who don't see color that they make those of us who are full of color, essentially colorless.

In that moment, I had a choice to make. I could have chosen to be offended. It was well within my right. I could have chosen to speak on the topic immediately. Or I could  have chosen to continue the conversation. I chose the last option, succinctly saying "that definitely wouldn't help" and closing the gap in the air, though to know me is to know I had to work hard to regain immediate composure of my facial expressions.

I had a choice to make, and it was mine to make. I did not chose this out of fear, but out of grace. I looked at the factors -- we were in the middle of a restaurant and young children were also at the table -- and the circumstances and the history of my relationship with the person who said this. I honestly can tell you that I truly don't think he even knew what he said. You may have chosen to act differently. That's the beautiful thing about free will.

The thing about grace is it has nothing to do with me. I didn't extend grace because that person deserved it. I didn't extend it to be the bigger person, to be a "good Christian." I extended it because of the very fact that I don't deserve it, yet the Lord delivers it to me in abundance. I have had so much worse said and done to me. Yet the Lord says if we do not forgive, He will not forgive us (Matthew 6:15). And let me tell you, I need a whole lot of forgiveness. 

So because of what God has done for me, I can rest knowing He will handle the details. Resting doesn't remove the pain, resting doesn't numb the pain, resting just assures you that the pain will not always be there.

There's something else important about grace that needs to be said: grace doesn't excuse behavior. I have suffered many consequences for my sinful actions, in the midst of receiving grace. Grace doesn't say you get away with this, grace allows God to step in and fill the space with His truth. 

One of the messages I read from a Facebook friend illustrated just how much of the mark is being missed right now. She is a Christian, served our nation and currently teaches in a low-income high-need school. She is also white, but if anyone understood what is going on, I thought she would. Yet her statement regarding a picture of protesters holding up signs that said "Black Lives Matter" was that all lives matter, children should be taught respect and the issues would disappear.

A popular comedian tweeted recently, "Do people who change #BlackLivesMatter to #AllLivesMatter run thru a cancer fundraiser going "THERE ARE OTHER DISEASES TOO"

That's the point. All lives do matter. But the lives that are in black and brown bodies seem to have to scream a little louder to be heard. Work harder to receive the same credit. Go above and beyond to prove we are not a threat.

All lives do matter.

But the lives that are in female bodies have to dress a little more modest to avoid unwanted advances from males. I was wearing jeans and a crew neck t-shirt the first time I was attacked. What's your next suggestion? 

All lives do matter.

But the lives that you can't hold yet, even though they have hearts beating and limbs forming and brains developing, those lives that may be just an inconvenience, have to be sacrificed so you can live the life you planned before the consequence arrived.

All lives do matter.

But the lives that live in bodies that do things differently than I would, that don't practice things that I think they should, are pushed out of communities of love supposedly in the name of Christ.

You cannot say that all lives matter and not stand for every single one.

So the issue isn't which lives matter. 

The issue is how are you going to use yours.

How are you going to influence the lives that are under your care?

How are you going to stand up for the lives that matter?

Because that's every single one, whether you've experienced what they've been through or not.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to follow Scripture directly.

Do not tell those who are weeping how to weep, do not tell those who are mourning their time is up, do not think of yourself as any different than your neighbor, but love them harder than you've ever loved before recognizing that you are indeed different and that is good.

"Don't just pretend to love others.

Really love them.

Hate what is wrong.

Hold tightly to what is good.

Love each other with genuine affection, 

and take delight in honoring each other...

When God's people are in need, be ready to help them. 

Always be eager to practice hospitality. 

Bless those who persecute you.

Don't curse them; pray that God will bless them.

Be happy with those who are happy and weep with those who weep.

Live in harmony with each other. 

Don't be too proud to enjoy the company of ordinary people.

And don't think you know it all!

Never pay back evil with more evil.

Do things in such a way that everyone can see you are honorable.

Do all that you can to live in peace with everyone."

Romans 12:9-10, 13-18 (NLT, emphasis added)

"I have come that they may have life,

and have it to the full."

John 10:10b

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When the Rains Come and the Grace Runs Out

You know those days that go so terribly awry that you’re afraid to even wonder how bad it would have been if you hadn’t started your day praising God?

Holler at me if you’re not sure what I’m talking about and I’ll share a bit of my day with you in another conversation.

On this blog, though, I’ll spare the details and just say that though the enemy is busy, I am thankful my God is even busier, and that He is the one who wears the victor’s crown.

This morning started off with an internal battle about whether it’s time to jump on the treadmill again for my workouts or if I can squeeze a few more mornings outside.

Hate is a very strong word and I really try not to use it. Sometimes in anger….and many times today, in fact….that word has slipped out. Better than some other four-letter words I’ve used though, right?

Anyhow, I HATE the treadmill. Like, despise it. It is my absolute last resort in running and in fact, I have gone whole seasons of not exercising just because I didn’t want to get on the treadmill. 

Give me fresh air. 

Give me space. 

Give me sunshine.

At the very least, give me a place where muscleheads aren’t staring at themselves in the mirror and grunting while I’m trying to get a few miles in for cardio.

This is why I still run the road even though we’re getting to the time of year when it is still dark at 6am. 

My debates in the mornings between myself and my more dramatic self usually entail me counting the costs of using a highly advanced piece of machinery in a nice air-conditioned fitness center or running through tall grass next to a wooded area that is assuredly ridden with predators (which are probably just deer, but I honestly have seen a fox or two…or at least the same fox twice) making me a prime target for someone or something to attack. 

And since there are no street lights on my favorite path, of course I start thinking about if I am indeed attacked and lying wounded on the sidewalk, what happens if I roll into the fairly busy street and a car runs over me or even worse, I fall over the side of the overpass and land on 485, with more than some scrapes and bruises but more devastatingly…a shattered phone.

Well about 10 minutes into this debate this morning -- and yes, it really took that long -- I realized I was wasting precious time and I needed to just get up and go. Unfortunately, about a half-mile into my run, the voice of my more dramatic self began to gloat because though she lost the debate before I left home, she was right on the money this time. It was way too dark and completely unsafe so I turned around and headed back home, annoyed because I would now be reduced to running circles in my apartment complex.

Turns out, that was a great decision because as I continued my loops, it began drizzling pretty heavily. I was thankful that I was closer to home than I would normally be at this point in my workout, but I was determined to finish at least another mile before getting ready for work. And at the very moment the rain picked up, lyrics to the song I was running to hit me like no other.

Can you feel the grace

Pouring down like rain

It’s almost too good to believe it

It overwhelms the shame

It’s effortless change

Now can we just receive it

It was one of those moments you imagine being in a movie. As I cried out to God, grateful for the grace I have never deserved but have been so freely given, I prayed He would continue to drown me in it day after day. Whether it was a drizzle or a downpour, I prayed for the grace to come.

Little did I know that the next few hours my grace would dry up quickly. But as I left for lunch, and to clear my head, the gray skies gave me yet another reminder that though my grace may dry up, I only have to look to the Lord for more rain. 

There’s only one thing I have to do and that is run to Him.

In a place of utter frustration and extreme confusion, I can rest knowing that our Father will never give us too much or too little…but exactly what we need, when we need it.

And my prayers turned to me begging God to always remain in a place open to correction, to never have a heart hardened towards those who lovingly point out my blind spots. 

I need the grace to hear what others are saying more than I want them to hear what I am saying. 

I need the grace that forgives, yes, but that reminds that I have been forgiven. 

I need the grace that is never satisfied with staying stagnant, but is always pushing forward. The grace that never wants to leave anyone behind. 

I need the grace that only our Father provides, and from which only we can extend to others.

I needed that grace before my day started. I didn't have enough to last me the whole day, but I have a God who was waiting, ready to give me more.

All I had to do was run to Him.

Only grace can mend and make me whole

Only grace can restore my soul

But you can’t earn the grace that took your place

And the blood that speaks for you

Only grace

Only grace can do that

Only Grace, Dara Maclean

"So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God.

There we will receive his mercy,

and we will find grace to help us when we need it most."

Hebrews 4:16 (NLT)

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The Grace to Die Empty

To die empty.

That’s what I want to do. Don’t you?

Maybe not. Our world is terrified of "empty." An empty gas tank can strike panic in someone who doesn't have enough money to fill up again until pay day. An empty pantry or refrigerator can bring fear into the people whose stomachs are also empty as a result, and gives way to feelings of frustration and shame for the inability to provide for themselves or their families. An empty heart is felt by many who have suffered losses in many forms. 

So to avoid any type of empty, we walk through life with closed fists. 

We buy food in bulk and end up throwing it away because it expires, but never think to pack an extra sandwich to give to the homeless person we drive past every day because we need our food.

We don't give to others because we can't seem to find it in our budget, but Karaoke Night and $2 pints sure make their way into our wallet.

We keep our smiles, our laughs, our kindness, our depth, bottled up inside because the last time we let them out we were hurt. We were left....empty.


But I'm not talking about empty in the way that you’re thinking. Not empty as in broken and devoid, lacking something that should be there.

No, no…I want to die empty in the sense that when I take my last breath I can truly say that I gave fully of myself over a lifetime, without reserve.

Without fear.

Without doubt.

Without discontent.

Without apprehension.

Without avarice.

With nothing but love.

My love for Jesus fueling my love for others. My love for others reflecting my love for God.

I've got a long way to go, friends.

I originally chose my URL to be “gracefilledlove” to direct readers to this blog, not because grace-filled anything is what I am adept in living daily but because it is something I strive for. And quite frankly, it is something I am always reminded of how short I fall.

Not only do I struggle with extending grace to others (mainly the people who really push my buttons), I am generally just not a graceful lady. I run into and trip over things…a lot. I spill food and drink, often both, on myself daily. DAILY. I also spill things on other people. And drop things. All the time. Always dropping my cell phone, laptop, scattering papers, getting caught up in wires. I've actually (accidentally, I promise) flung a pen at one of my students’ faces in class on TWO different occasions. Grace does not live here, y’all.

But grace is something I need to receive, and grace is something I need to give.

We talk about how we want to live our lives, whether it’s the characteristics that we want to develop, the places we want to live, the goals we want to attain, the lifestyle we are working towards, the values we want to instill in our families….whatever the case may be.

And it all sounds really good. Especially after going to a conference. Or leaving a worship experience. Or reading a really inspirational book.

But we rarely talk about how we want to die.

Death is painful. Death is depressing. Death is final. Death can be tragic, particularly when unexpected. But death……is inevitable.

So rather than waiting for death to find me full, whether 60 years or 60 minutes from now, I want to practice emptying myself while I'm alive.

Emptying my doubts and fears and worries and bondage and laying them at the foot of the cross.

Emptying my gifts and blessings and love and grace and laying them wherever and with whomever God leads me.

And looking only to the Holy Spirit to be filled up again.

Because we are not filled to become storehouses, we are filled to be emptied again. 

We are filled with goodness so we can pour that goodness out onto others.
What a rather sad life to be so afraid of not having, that I become practiced and proficient in not giving.

If that ever becomes the case, I pray now that the words leaving my lips then would be “take me, Lord.”

People keep telling me how “amazing” I am for stepping bungee-jumping into God’s call to long-term overseas missions. I have heard that more times than I can count. And while I absolutely love sharing what God is doing (I'll be able to publicly share more in a few weeks) and I am deeply humbled each time I hear of how different parts of my story have inspired different people, I find myself cringing at the word “amazing.” So, I’ll say here what I have said to each and every person who has shared in my excitement and offered their encouragement:

I am not amazing. I am not brave. I’m not even really sacrificing anything (except maybe easier access to some dope hair products). What I am….is grateful. I am grateful for having life and freedom. Grateful that God chose to restore and redeem me. Grateful that His love is healing. I wrote in a previous post that "If all God has done for me this far in my life is all He ever did for the rest of my time this side of Heaven, that is more than enough," and I mean it. I could never pay God back for what He has done for me. Being obedient, in fact, is the very least I can do. 

The truth is, I’m nowhere near amazing.

I just want to die empty.

"If then there is any encouragement in Christ,

if any consolation of love, 

if any fellowship with the Spirit, 

if any affection and mercy,

fulfill my joy by thinking the same way, 

having the same love, 

sharing the same feelings,

focusing on one foal.

Do nothing out of rivalry or conceit,

but in humility consider others as more important than yourselves.

Everyone should look out not only for his own interests, 

but also for the interests of others.

Make your own attitude that of Christ Jesus, 

who, existing in the form of God, 

did not consider equality with God 

as something to be used for His own advantage.

Instead He emptied Himself by assuming the form of a slave,

taking on the likeness of men. 

And when He had come as a man in His external form,

He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death--

even to death on a cross."

Philippians 2:1-8 (HCSB)

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Take My Heart, Take All that I Am

Beautiful God

Laying Your majesty aside

You reached out in love to show me life

Lifted from darkness into light

"Like An Avalanche" by Hillsong United is one of my absolute favorite songs. So much that I’m surprised I haven’t included it in a previous post. In fact, I actually may have. But if you don’t remember either, we’ll call today’s the first and keep whatever secret that may or may not exist between us.

There are many things that rock my world these crazy days. One of those things is how Siri works. No wires in sight, how do you understand me, freak machine? One is solar-powered energy. I can’t even…..Another one is how much Siri doesn’t work. I paid way too much for you to change things I would NEVER say and that NEVER fit into a sentence and call it autocorrect. Fool.

But another thing that rocks my world time and time again is how much God trusts me.

For the life of me, I can’t figure out why God trusts me so much when I keep proving that I trust Him so little. 

He blesses me. He teaches me. He waits for me. He listens to me. And then He blesses me again.

And it’s not just about material blessings. In fact, so often it is much deeper than that.

This week, several of my blessings have come in the form of lessons while praying for others. He trusts me to pray for His children. And I suck at it.

A dear friend of mine reached out to me asking me to lift up her youngest daughter and her recent clingy nature. This friend, who is an absolutely incredible wife, mother and ministry leader, is already struggling with guilt in regards to spending a great deal of time away from her beautiful children, and with the youngest’s regression into this “hold me in your womb at all times” phase, she is fighting with the enemy all the more.

As I’m praying for this precious child and her wearied mama, that God would release all negative emotions and break the strongholds of guilt and shame from Mama’s heart while at the same time wrapping up that baby in the biggest blanket of love so that she never doubts her place in her earthly family or in God’s, I hear one thing over and over: you should cling to Me that way.

Ouch. Dang God. I’m trying to be all holy and pray for someone else….is this really the time for convictions?

But He’s right (as if there’s ever a possibility that God is wrong). I should be clingy with God. I should be so desperate to remain attached to my Heavenly Father that the second there is even the slightest chance of separation I fall into such a state of despair that I have to readjust my entire perspective.

And I’m not. I’m far from clingy. I talk to God. Well, mostly these days I beg and I whine. I plead with Him to help lead me away from temptation and then I complain about not having what others have.

Will I ever get it together?

Probably not, because my same sweet sister in Christ reached out to me yesterday asking me to join her in praying for another friend who caught her husband in an ongoing intimate relationship with someone else. My heart broke for this woman. Shattered in pieces. Her circumstance surrounding this situation, her family, the decisions she has to make….I couldn’t handle it.

And so I prayed for her. All day. Whenever I thought of her. I prayed that the reality and the rawness did not smother her, and that even though it hurt more than I could ever imagine she would be able to see Jesus’s face throughout this ordeal. I prayed for her child. I prayed for comfort everlasting to envelope her in those tender moments when she wakes up in the morning and remembers that this is real life, even though she wishes it were just a nightmare. And then I set a reminder to pray for her all throughout the next few days, because that’s what Christians do, right?

Except my reminder said: "pray for friend whose husband is an adulterer."

What is wrong with me?!

Literally, while praying, I wanted to physically harm someone and was completely unapologetic about it.

Now, I’ll be the first to tell you, I ain’t no saint. And I can guarantee, if you’ve been around me for more than 7 and 1/2 minutes, you already know the same. But when God reminded me how absolutely broken I am, and how in my judgment of this man who is tearing his family apart, I am in as much need of grace as he is, I could do nothing but thank the Lord.

I am grateful for these painful moments for the sole purpose that they serve to push us straight into the arms of our loving Savior.

I am grateful for the experiences that show us the reason the only place we can run to is towards God because that’s the only place we need to run.

I am grateful for these times that suck so terribly bad, because they are the only place life is reborn.

And I am grateful for rebirth.

Good Lord, I am thankful for rebirth.
And though I spent the morning beating myself up for being a terrible pray-er, I spent the evening watching the rebirth of my purpose. 

Tonight I began training for my part time gig at this awesome Wine Bar to save money for Uganda. And while I was teaching a beautiful Caucasian woman with long curly hair how I twist my curly hair into an updo (read: upmess, but she liked it) -- right after I internally judged her for what I interpreted as a snobby attitude -- and I was explaining that “yes, I’m literally selling wine to fund my trip to share about Jesus…I know the paradox is uncanny, but can I get an AMEN!” I remembered how much Jesus loves to meet us where we are. 

He meets us when we’re clingy. 

He meets us when we’re independent. 

He meets us when we’re cheating. 

He meets us when we’re judging. 

He meets us when we’re hurting. 

He meets us when we’re broken. 

He meets us and He looks us in the eyes and says, “I love you, still."

And I find myself here on my knees again

Caught up in grace like an avalanche

Nothing compares to this love

Love

Love

Burning in my heart

*If you've never heard this song, listen now!

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