Hope and Mercy Amidst Suffering and Injustice

The death of George Floyd and the nationwide protests and riots that have followed have left our nation, and even the world, swimming in a sea of emotions, responses, and opinions. These have been weeks filled with anger, despair, fear, and newfound resolve. They have been filled with protest, prayer, dismissal, and violence. Social media is certainly filled with memes and “hot takes,” some thoughtful, many terribly thoughtless. Of course, much of this fullness has been inspiring -  streets full of peaceful protesters, media full of minority voices long-overlooked - but often, when things get too full, we tend to get paralyzed, overwhelmed by the events and media flooding our senses, and lose sight of Jesus and the Kingdom that he has proclaimed to be at hand. Therefore, we must ask, how can we as individuals and a congregation keep our eyes on Christ and our hope oriented toward his Kingdom in a way that reflects Biblical justice in our present-day? 

As a starting point, we would do well to seek out space and time for self-examination, opening our Scriptures, turning to the Lord in prayer, and processing these events with trusted and wise friends, especially those who’ve journeyed farther down this road. Personally, I’ve spent some time in self-examination and reflection over the past weeks, and I’ve realized that, for too long, the cry from the Black community about the systemic injustice in this country has rung hollow in my ears. To be sure, I heard these cries and even joined in these tears after the Emanuel shooting in 2015. However, I ultimately failed to listen and these concerns were relegated to a secondary status in my life and ministry. Yet, with the recent, tragic deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery, these cries have persisted and the Holy Spirit has been shining light on my, and many in the Church’s, failure to listen. Therefore, my self-examination has led me to a place of repentance, seeking not simply to hear but to listen, to learn, and to stand with these voices crying out for justice.

In reflecting, I have been led again and again to the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37), after which our church is named and our mission is modeled. In this parable, the true neighbor was the one who showed mercy to the man left for dead by the thieves. The true neighbor is the Samaritan who, despite the deep cultural animosity between himself and the forsaken traveler, showed mercy where others had failed and demonstrated the neighborly virtues of the Kingdom of God. It is clear from this parable that the way of Jesus is the way of mercy. In our self-examination, the Spirit reminds us that Jesus has first shown mercy to us and that we are called to extend this mercy to others.

But what does mercy look like for a culturally White church in this present moment? For starters, we need to be prepared to listen with charity in order to understand the concerns and pain of the Black community. The protests that have erupted across the nation and world are a direct result of this country’s decades-long failure to listen charitably to those sounding the alarm all around us. Yes, some peaceful protests have been marred by violence, but we do not have to condone this violence in order to acknowledge the very real frustration at the heart of this movement: we live in a nation that has failed to listen.

In contrast to our failure to listen, a merciful response to these protests and the cries of injustice will listen with charity to the voices and stories of people of color, even when they are convicting and difficult for us to hear. Sure, we may disagree at times, longing to defend ourselves or our perspective, but mercy welcomes us to listen in order to understand rather than listening in order to defend. It is time to allow these voices to both speak and to be heard. If we do so, if we can listen with charity, I believe the Holy Spirit will shine light on truth that has long been obscured in darkness.

Secondly, to be a people of mercy, we must be willing to speak with humility. Too often, when challenged, we respond not with humility, but with self-justification. One example in our current context would be the ever-present temptation of “what about…?,” whereby we point out the faults and hypocrisy of others while refusing to listen and speak to the concerns at hand. Other times we insinuate a dishonest moral equivalence, suggesting, for instance, that prior criminal acts, or even being caught in a criminal act, justifies an inhumane death. Or perhaps we suggest that the violence of rioters negates the voice of the protesters striving to be heard. Any and all of the above examples are failures to speak with humility, but rather these responses seek to justify ourselves, diminish our neighbors, and muzzle the voices that are crying out for justice.

When we speak with humility, we admit that we have blind spots and recognize that the experience of Black Americans in this country is far different than that of White Americans. To speak humbly is to elevate voices that are not always heard so that solutions and policies can be implemented that address the actual problems of this country’s racial disparities. Further, to speak with humility recognizes that the issue of race and injustice is not the zero-sum game our current political climate would have us believe. Rather, we can decry a system that targets and criminalizes people of color at disproportionate rates and support faithful, compassionate policing that serves and protects local communities. We can speak strongly against the particular injustice of racism, full stop, without diminishing our work against other injustices that sadly persist across the world. We can name the fact that our country still has a “race problem” while remembering that all of us do indeed struggle with a sin problem as well, of which racism is a particularly vile symptom. By speaking with humility, acknowledging pain and injustice without qualification, we provide room for conversation and collaboration that will move us toward healing.

Finally, let us remember that we are a people of hope, recognizing that earthly empires or even our own imperfect longings for justice are but penultimate realities in God’s work of redemption. No, our ultimate hope is not in the realization of a utopian society, but in the resurrection of the dead. On that day, God will, in His infinite mercy, condemn the suffering of this present age and set all of creation “free from its bondage to corruption” in order that we may “obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Romans 8:21). On that day, the tears will be wiped from George Floyd’s eyes, “and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4) and we will rejoice, with God’s children from every tongue, tribe, and nation, in the presence of Christ in the new creation (Revelation 7:9). 

Therefore, let us begin this difficult work by reminding ourselves of the hope that is set before us. Let us anticipate the fullness of God’s Kingdom, striving to be a people of mercy. In the coming months, I pray that we will have opportunities to do so as a community. In the meantime, may we find opportunities as families and individuals to listen and learn - find a book, listen to some podcasts, or better yet, talk to a friend (you can find some resources for listening with charity here). As we walk this road together, let us remember to be constant in prayer and eager to listen with charity and speak with humility.