While I tend toward altruism, the reality is I also size people up. Sometimes my perception slips over the wobbly line into judgment. It's been a learning curve. I sometimes think that's why God has let my heart get broken in some of the ways it has. Nothing teaches you compassion like coming out of pain; making it through to the other side, where it no longer rules you. I have certainly messed up with no one to blame but myself. I have certainly been selfish, prideful, even hateful. It's been a process of learning to understand God's heart.
I grew up thinking the way a lot of conservative Christians in the comfort of their white-bread world do: you got yourself into that mess, you might con me, or you're ignoring God...or really whatever other presumption you want to make about people whose lives aren't what we think they should be. The crazy thing is it doesn't matter what we think: God is gracious.
I have been stuck on grace again in the last week or so. In recent years, I had to come to a place where it wrecked me, and made me a little queasy, almost, with how incomprehensible the concept is. Not that I'm not still blown away from time to time, but I am learning more about practical application. (God knows me so well; He's gotta grab my heart before He has a chance at my head.) What does it look like to choose grace? Or what does it look like to choose love?
I am a horribly inconsistent member of a sort of small group that meets at my church. We pray and then take coffee and cups into downtown to share some joe and the love of the Father. I'm inconsistent for who knows what reason, because every time I go I come back encouraged. Tonight was one of those nights. One particular man we talked to stands out. I could tell he just needed someone to listen. As we talked with him and heard about his life, I noted to myself the kindness of his face and that was when it first occurred to me our skin colors were important.
I could have thought that I should stay home, where I'm comfortable - not approaching strangers downtown at night to strike up conversation. I could have drawn up a prejudice, clung to it, and never engaged the man. None of that happened. Instead, I got to do one of the most exciting things I ever find myself doing: speak the truth of God over someone's life. To get to look them in the eye, and with sureness in my core, say that their wrongs are overlooked; that they are loved. That is the God I know. One who reconciles, redeems, and pours out grace.
I love moments like that because though it was simple, it was powerful. I say this not to verbally or publicly pat myself on the back (I attribute this to God working in me), but to express what I'm learning and that is this: that moment was sweet not only because that man needed to hear truth spoken to him, but he needed to be valued by strangers, innately trusted by strangers, shown dignity. To me it was significant in a bittersweet way; that it even had to matter that I was a white woman talking to a black man on a sidewalk downtown Minneapolis after dark. Yet that's exactly what stood out to me. The reason it's not an attempt to tout myself is that it's not me: it's grace. That was special in part because that's what Jesus was all about: show everyone love.
And it's crazy how fear melts, prejudice doesn't rear its ugly head - but you simply see a person as loved by God, and listen to their story, then speak to them love.
While I would've ended there, I feel I must say as a caveat of sorts: I also do not tell this story to say I ignored my judgment by going out. I know and have known many Christians who would think that that is dangerous behavior on several accounts (whether race, or safety, or whatever else). I think truly living out the love of Jesus doesn't come without risk -- in the world's eyes.
A friend asked advice this week on facebook, about a man she saw who had a nice smart phone and expensive headphones, along with his sign pleading for "help". Of course in this age, the post drummed up the usual ignorant responses from a comfortable white world, so I couldn't help but chime in. My closing retort was only this: Jesus wasn't worried about getting taken advantage of, or hanging out with the "wrong" people. He went so far as to the cross, to die a death He did not deserve, among criminals, to show us compassion born of love.
So why be afraid to give to someone? Why not go for a walk and share a cup of coffee and the message of love, with someone different from you? The more you sink into the concepts of boundless love and grace, the more easily it will launch you unafraid into territory you may never have expected.
