Being Black in a Broken World

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Restore us to yourself, O Lord, that we may be restored! ~Lamentations 5:21


I am angry and hurting.  I am trying to sympathize, not only with the black community, but also with those who have a hard time relating to the pain. When those who want to talk about ISIS or American troops dying in Iraq point to the statistics of black-on-black crime in order to help “put things into perspective,” I am angry.

Why should I have to justify my anger?  A man was taken from his family by the ones who swore to protect him… or did they?  These stories are causing suspicion of whites, blacks, and police officers.  I think of a black police officer in my church, who has to tell his children not to let their black friends know about his profession because he has seen them  be bullied because of it.  I know that there are thousands of law enforcement officers that want to uphold justice.  They want to find a way to de-escalate without jumping to deadly force.  They want to actually use their formal combat training to protect and not just execute. But, even law enforcement is broken.

As a child, my father sat me down and explained to me the importance of being careful with white police officers, in particular, because they would not hesitate to view me as a threat and either arrest me or shoot me.  You think I am irrational?  You think I do not have cause to be concerned about the mishandling of power?  That is fine . . . but I am still angry and hurting.

Our world is broken.  It is inexplicably broken.  There are countless ways that we can see it.  Our response should not be taking sides or offering justifications.  Sin is absurd and incomprehensible.  We should lament and be angry.  Let us lament and be angry.




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