brutality

Brutalized by police, arrested by authorities, hounded by hypocrites, abandoned by students, forsaken by followers, flogged by officials, abused by interrogators.

The guilty accusing the innocent, peasants mocking the king, criminals judging the judge, the impotent waving the sword of fleeting power, the almighty staying the hand of eternal power, the vile clothed in honor, the blameless clothed with shame.

Hell on earth.

The darkest of Fridays, a crown of thorns, a robe of mockery, a tree of cruelty, beaten without mercy, nailed without pity, positioned between criminals, numbered with transgressors.

Miserably thirsty, shamefully uncovered, publicly exposed, mocked by the bouncers, disgraced before his mother, forsaken by the father.

Absolutely alone.

Bearing grief, carrying sorrow, stricken and smitten, wounded and bruised, absorbing wrath, paying debt, deflecting destruction, bearing the scars of treachery, the hell of humanity.

Freedom is coming, hope is alive, redemption is paid.

Say his name.

Repeat After Us

1. My all-time favorite Florida Gator is Joakim Noah.

Last week I was reminded why I loved this guy so much when the SEC Network aired their 52-minute documentary on the back-to-back Gator basketball champions. Repeat After Us is the story of the team who started school together, sweat together, bled together, beat the odds together, wept together, and put together one of the greatest teams in the history of college basketball. After winning it all, each of the big four had every opportunity to leave school early and make their millions in the NBA. Instead, they came back for the incredible repeat. I had forgotten how special this team really was. By the end of that documentary I found myself choked up as I realized again, these guys really loved each other.

It reminded me of Jesus: “By this all will know that you’re My disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:35)

Joakim Noah was a ringleader of love.

2. It’s been another love-challenged week for the nation. As I watched the riots in Charlotte, you could feel the despair and tension in the air. Hope deferred really does make the heart sick (Proverbs 13:12).

It causes me to revere again the otherworldly nature of Martin Luther King’s leadership. The more I watch current events, the more magnificent and virtually miraculous his influence is revealed to be. How in the world did those civil rights leaders do what they did? How did they maintain a non-violent conviction in the face of such evil? How did they persevere long enough to transform hardened hearts?

Repeat after us.

I’m not hearing enough of a call to learn from our activist predecessors. They did cry out for justice. They did lift their voice. They did take action. They did renounce evil. They did get angry without sinning. They did affirm dignity. They did not accept the status quo. And yet they found a way to do all of that without forsaking love.

3. Unity matters. “I plead with you by the name of Jesus, that you all speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly joined together in the same mind and in the same judgment.” (1 Corinthians 1:10)

I am personally dumbfounded with how easily the political parties have hijacked (and divided) both the left and right wings of the church. For the life of me I cannot understand how we have allowed such blind spots to go on unresisted. Can we not agree that the way of Jesus is to stand with the oppressed? Can we not understand that the effects of hundreds of years of racialized sin will not disappear as quickly as white people would like to move on? Can we not acknowledge the need for police reform while simultaneously acknowledging the multitude of officers who serve above reproach? Can we not recognize that when right-winged Christians are silent in the face of racial injustice they lose credibility? Can we not recognize that when left-winged Christians are silent in the face of abortion injustice they lose moral authority? Can we not concede that cherry-picking our biblical issues is not a biblical option? Lord, make us one.

I relate to hip hop artist Sho Baraka, who feels left out by both major political parties. “Baraka, an evangelical Christian, recently wrote a column entitled Why I Can’t Vote For Either Trump Or Clinton. In that article, the son of a former Black Panther says that ‘as an African-American, I’m marginalized by the lack of compassion on the Right. As a Christian, I’m ostracized by the secularism of the Left.'” (NPR interview here)

Do we not see that when the church fails to lift her voice for justice with Jesus, we leave a void where culture offers justice without Him? This is why, while I really like a lot of the current media voices, I’m troubled when modern activists are reading more Shaun King than Dr. Martin Luther King. It is mind-blowing to go back and read the Scripture-dripping words of the leaders of the Civil Rights Movement. My heart is convicted, my blind spots are confronted, and my soul is challenged to take the holistic Gospel seriously.

Repeat after us.

4. Leadership matters. But leadership must become clear. I am highly concerned by the lack of clear leadership with a clear voice and a clear direction in this moment in our history.

  • Let us confess our sin. Call it what it is, and repent. Stop denying your racism. Don’t say black lives matter but ignore the 1500+ black lives that will be aborted today.
  • Clarify what we (you) want. What’s the goal? What would get Colin Kaepernick standing again? What constitutes discernible and acceptable progress? When goals are unclear, progress is unlikely.
  • Engage in relationships with people of other races. Share meals, share hearts, and listen.
  • If you’re white, please read The New Jim Crow. Or Just Mercy. If you’re angry, read more Bible and less internet. Stop reading the trolls on people’s social media posts.
  • Don’t surf the net more than you pray. Your response will be nothing but flesh.
  • Use your time. You can help us reach unto neighborhoods all over our city with holistic, strategic initiatives.
  • Use your voice. When tragedy strikes, say something. But do it in the name of Jesus. You can blog. You can march. You can sign petitions. You can affirm Campaign Zero. You can call your congressman. And when people get it right, let them know. In our very city I am watching first-hand as motivated (and woke) police officers are trying to bridge gaps and bring reform. Encourage them. Take it from someone who takes a hit every time I step out to use my voice: the negative voices are 10-to-1.

Repeat after us.

joakim

#TerenceCrutcher

1. Too many hashtags.

2. I keep hearing warnings not to overreact when another black men gets killed. It reminds me of the people of Israel responding to the cries of the prophets of old.

3. I’m not sure if we realize how toxic our silence is. When it comes to justice, the lack of a consistent, united, and culturally audible voice from the church is beyond troubling. Lift your voice.

4. Stop blaming the wrong people. I’ve watched abuse victims come into my office to bring to light the agonizing darkness of their family experience. And I have been horrified to watch families circle the wagons, turn the table, and blame the victim. Why are you trying to divide the family, they demand. Things are getting better, they argue. But the abused are not the problem. And insisting that people get over the abuse of the past in light of some level of improvement is absurd. Stop blaming the media for reporting it. Stop blaming Youtube for posting it. Stop blaming the onlookers for recording it.

5. There’s something potent about this word repent. But it’s impossible to repent of sin we won’t acknowledge. It’s impossible to repent of a transgression that we will not see. Systemically, historically, consistently this racial sin has been allowed to operate and devastate and multiply into subsequent generations. Like water to a fish, it’s the current in which we swim. That means, unless you intentionally fight it, you’re under its sway. It’s the air (pollution) we breathe. Which is why extremely sincere people could pass a lie detector test defending their lack of prejudice, and size up a guy calling him a big, bad dude. Racists don’t believe they are racists. Implicit bias really is as deadly as overt racism, because it operates undetected. And unconfessed.

6. We change by amazing grace. When I had no defense because of My sin, Jesus acted on my behalf from the tree of condemnation. He made my problem His problem, and worked His transforming miracle of mercy by His bloodied body. In my anger I am so tempted to try to shame people into a change that only happens by grace. I must cry out for justice, but I must do it while loving mercy and walking humbly.

7. “If My people called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and heal their land.” (2 Chronicles 7:14)

Here’s a prayer: God, we confess our bias, our indifference, our slowness to turn from our racial sin. Change me. End racism. Stop the violence. Let justice roll. In the name of Jesus.