Reflections as February Ends

In light of the conversations we have been having and the Racial Reconciliation group and reading Christina Cleveland. I found this article about “Disunity in Christ” (as I am trying to process what all this means for me), and it really resonated with me. And caused me to try to articulate “on paper” what all this means for me. I confess my fear in sharing with others my process as though it’s my place to do so or that I might say something stupid. Well, I guess I might say something stupid… So I guess this is what it is…

First of all, thank you!
Thank you for your commitment to God and being willing to have these conversations.
Second, I apologize if any of this is triggering, it was not my intent and I confess my ignorance as I jump into this.

“Halfway through the book, I began thinking less of who needed to read this book and more about the things I needed to confess.”

The Red Couch: Disunity in Christ Discussion

As a white person, my interactions with racial reconciliation have taught me that I need to listen, that I need to defer my own verbalizing till I’ve “got it,” and that it’s not my place to make statements as though “I know.” As a white person, I confess I steady stay believing that I will eventually “get it,” that I am the exception, that I am exceptional, that what I feel is valid, and I am entitled to verbally process every emotion and situation that comes across my path. It was recently articulated that “it is because I am white that I have the luxury, as a white woman, to overindulge.” In scripture we see that we are held accountable for what we know and I think it’s the same in life. I confess I’ve thought about how I can choose out, walk away, and not have to think about the complexities of life or my skin color, or how that effects others. That. That there. That there is my privilege. The very fact that I think I can write this share it with you is my risk but also my indulgence.

I am because we are. Because we are all choosing in and I will never be the same. I am not exceptional, I am loved. I am not right, I am broken and flawed. I confess my fear to speak, to be held accountable for the ignorance and insensitivity that will come out of my mouth and reflect what is in my mind, what I believe and think about. I confess that I am still choosing out.


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