Many Colors

You know, I've always struggled with the issue of race and identity.  Throughout my life, I've constantly been stuck in the middle between the white world and the black world.  White lifestyle, black family.  White friends, black best friends.  White education, black entertainment.  The worst is when it comes to church.  I love the white churches for their indepth teaching, but I have a deep connection that transcends time with black worship and expression.  And in the middle of my search for identity, I find myself stuck.  Almost not fitting in.  Anywhere.

Today, Roger Woodworth, a pastor from Pittsburgh, came to the Project to talk about this issue.  He challenged us to settle our differences, embrace them, and be intentional about including all races, backgrounds, and walks of life into the church and our fellowships.  Jesus was not exclusive.  Neither should we be.  A lot of this stuck with me for the rest of the night as I sat with Vladmir, our Russian next door neighbor.  He's a really cool guy that is fascinated with everything about our culture.  He especially is fascinated with me because he rarely gets to interact with black people here in America.  A few weeks ago, I begged him to tell me more about his culture because (as an International Studies major) I'm a world culture junkie.  So he promised that he would tell me more about his if I showed him more of black culture.  He was particularly fascinated with step, because he was just at an event where kids from Camden, NJ were stepping at a church event.

So I spent time explaining to Vlad the history of step culture in America.  This led to questions about why the crime rates and the death rates were much higher among blacks than they were among whites.  From there, I was able to tell Vlad the history of my people.  In a greater sense, this has given me a greater appreciation for my culture and my past, because a lot of my confusion about my identity came from me not remembering the past of blacks in general, particularly around the civil rights time.

He eventually popped the question of why I was different from most black women and why I talked different and why I acted different.  I was able to give my father's testimony on how my dad was one of the very slim 1-2% that actually left Camden, made something of his life, and did not let the system dictate to him his future.  Because of his decision to sacrifice his status quo and be all that he could be, I and all my siblings are reaping the benefits of his decision.

My life story is a picture of the biggest lesson God has been teaching me throughout my life.  Grace.  There was nothing I did, nothing I said, nothing I accomplished that made my situation and upbringing in life any better than anyone else's.  I was born like every other child: in pain, blood, sweat, tears, and nakedness, and yet, because of a guy that I did not know years before I entered this world, I was given more food, shelter, clothing, education, leisure, and love than most children in this world. What else have I to say for this?  I did not earn any bit of my upbringing.  But as a sinful child, I definitely believed that as a child, I was entitled to this upbringing.  I was privileged enough to know that my daddy loves me and would walk barefoot from Alabama and back to show how much he loves me, despite whatever I do.

With a testimony like this-with the knowledge that I have been born into undeserving grace because of one man's decision to live not for himself, but for his posterity-I can finally understand the hard question of why some are born into riches and why some are born into poverty; why some have good parents and some have bad parents; why some are black, and some are white, and some are Latino, and some are Asian, and some are just a product of the American melting pot (like me).  The reason why is because 1.) God is a creative God and He hates telling the same story twice, and 2.) He tries to fit in everyone's life some personal, tangible, creative way to show them His mercy and His grace, as well as our sinfulness and our brokenness.  From there, after we accept His grace as sufficient for everything we need and are, we are to tell our stories to the world.

Talking to Vlad was a great reminder for me that, like the Israelites, I am not special.  Just a girl who somehow landed in a very undeservingly favorable situation.  However, as that girl who had landed in that undeservingly favorable situation, the mantle rests on me to spread this message of grace.  As grace was shown to my father who was given the opportunity to escape the Camden of his heart and live successfully, who then gave me the grace to grow up in a beautiful and safe home without working for it, so I must extend this grace on to my posterity and the people around me.  To continue to share to people like Vlad and you who are reading this, and to celebrate the diverse and various stories of grace that God creates through people like you and me.