Shannon S. McKee

musings and moments

A Beautiful Brokenness

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A month or so ago, some of our Redemption Chapel women got away for a weekend. We spent our time together talking about what it would mean for us to become servants to the people around us – to voluntarily lay aside our own perspectives, political persuasions, backgrounds, privilege, and rights in order to serve and love and listen for the sake of the Gospel. We got into the nitty gritty of life and talked about how much of this will be lived out in embracing God’s diverse creation – His beautiful design of a human race that is ethnically varied.

Of course, the hard work of racial reconciliation and unity starts with awareness – understanding and embracing our brokenness. It’s the first step toward healing the divide that permeates our culture and even Christ’s church.

We talked about offering that brokenness back to God and asking Him to turn it into something new and even more beautiful. Kintsugi is the the image that helped us wrap our heads around this idea – it is a Japanese technique for repairing broken pottery with seams of gold. This idea is that the gold joints makes the final work even more beautiful than when the piece was first created.

In her book, Beyond Colorblind, Sarah Shin explains it this way: Each of us is made in the image of God – with our ethnic identities and backgrounds in tact like beautiful pieces of pottery. But sin – in the form of cultural idolatries, ethnic division, shame, racism, pride, and selfishness – causes damage and brokenness. Left unattended these cracks can deepen into bitterness, despair, etc. The result is a shattered, unusable vessel.

But, there is hope!

Jesus is like the gold. He enters our stories with healing, redemption, and reconciliation. You see, Kintsugi doesn’t deny the brokenness of the pottery – it uses it to tell a new story. Jesus picks up our individual pieces, putting them back together to tell a better story. Our scars become transformed by Jesus’ scars.

At Redemption Chapel, we want to tell a new story. We want to let God take our broken pieces and create a new, more stunning piece of art. One where He shines through to a hurting world. In the process, we realize that we might have to confront some downright ugly stuff in our own hearts. That we might have to change how we view ourselves and others. We know it won’t be easy but we’re pretty sure it will be worth it. Because we have the scene in Revelation 5 around God’s throne to show us how the grand story ends:

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands,  and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”

Stunning.

And, in my humble opinion, even more beautiful for having been broken.

A New Wrinkle in Racial Unity: Learning Andrew Peterson’s Humility

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Last week on Facebook, I shared a beautiful song by Andrew Peterson called Is He Worthy? It’s such a breathtaking piece and a moving declaration of worship to the only One who is truly worthy. It is based around Revelation 5 where people from every tribe, tongue, and people will gather around the throne of God in worship. Sadly, the video – which I didn’t watch –  is full of white faces. Not faces of other tribes and tongues. In a song about a passage that assumes the fullness of the diverse Body of Christ. A huge, hurtful miss.

Honestly, if I had watched it, I’m not sure I would have caught the miss. I’m ashamed to say it, but it’s true. So whitewashed is my perspective. It’s been haunting me… the wondering. Would I have even noticed the irony?

In the days that have followed, I have seen the controversy heating up a bit.

Today, Peterson issued an apology on his blog. A sincere, heartfelt apology from a brother in Christ whom I deeply respect. Among other things, he said this…

“So, as a white American singer/songwriter whose only hope is Jesus, I’m asking forgiveness of the friends and listeners to whom this video brought any measure of grief. I’m also asking the good people who have come to my defense to refrain from using social media to do so. Be silent long enough to really listen. And then, if the Spirit leads, engage with love and patience and humility.

As I said, the only way to learn something is to screw up. What was only a small voice in my head a few weeks ago will, I assure you, be a loud, clear voice of wisdom in the future. I’m sure I’m going to make a mountain of mistakes in the days to come, but, Lord willing, this won’t be one of them.”

I am so impressed with his apology. We can learn a few things from Peterson’s mistake. If we do, God can bring beauty from ashes… as He is so faithful to do over and over again.

  1. My white friends… we need to continue to put ourselves in the shoes of our friends of color. When we post, when we speak, when we plan, and when we act. We must pause and ask ourselves, “How will this hit my dear, darker-skinned friends?” We must continue to push ourselves to go there so that these sorts of misses happen less and less. I must lay aside my right to say whatever flashes through my mind or view things exclusively through my white lens. Instead, I need to pause to think about how it will be received. If I call myself a disciple of Christ, I must continue to push myself in this way. Much of Christian history and artwork makes it seem like Christianity had its origins with white folk. It didn’t. More like dark brown and olive-skinned folk. It is hurtful to our brothers and sisters of color when we continue to perpetuate this error. We need to stop making excuses and just embrace this lesson with humility. If you’re unsure, another option before you speak or post or act is to ask a friend of color. If you can’t think of a POC to ask… well, that’s probably a good place to start.
  2. The error having been made, Peterson’s apology is beautiful in every way. If we all apologized this way… wow, the impact would be profound. Peterson makes no excuses or whitesplaining for his error. He does acknowledge that he didn’t intend to hurt and gives some context. But he quickly moves on to share what he did wrong. He shares with us that he wept when he realized his awful oversight. He lamented over his mistake and the damage it was causing. He also asks for forgiveness. Boldly without excuse. And then he instructs people to stop defending him on social media where wounds are usually deepened and rarely healed. (Such wisdom, that!) He also asks us to listen to the voices of those who are rightly upset – to embrace their hurt with humility and openness. Lastly, he learns from his error and sincerely intends, by God’s grace, to never make this kind of mistake again.

This, friends, is the way of Jesus. This underscores why HE is worthy. Peterson points us to Him. I think in some ways this makes the song even more beautiful. The point of the passage is that all of heaven and earth were looking for someone worthy to break the seal and bring healing to the world’s brokenness. Racial brokenness being chief among the obvious cracks in our culture. Our mistakes highlight our need for One who is worthy. That is the Gospel. It’s on display – both in the words to the song and in the video’s obvious racial miss.

Peterson ends his post this way:

“After all, I’m not worthy of praise or glory. Only Jesus is, and it is to his strong hands that I entrust myself and my faltering work. Do I feel the world is broken? I do. Do I feel the shadows deepen? I do. And I truly believe that all the darkness—even my own—won’t stop the light from getting through. I do.”

Shine on, Gospel light. Shine on.

___________________________________

Here’s the song. Because it really is breathtaking. If you watch the video, just imagine that more than half of those white faces are replaced by faces of color. And imagine that right after this song, there’s a another song with a whole different kind of style and beat and cultural feel to it. And, then we’ll be getting a little closer to Revelation beauty. I can’t wait… 

Always Growing: Books on Racial Reconciliation

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A few months ago, I wrote a post about my journey in better understanding race – I’m a work in progress and I still have far to go in hearing and understanding the space that my friends of color live day-in and day-out. But my heart continues to beat for a Church that truly “gets” reconciliation and reflects what we will experience around the throne of God one day. A Church that is more beautiful exactly BECAUSE of its diversity not in SPITE of it.

In a talk that I gave at a recent retreat with the beautiful Redemption Chapel women, I talked about ways we can respond to the call for racial reconciliation. One intentional way that we can pursue reconciliation is by becoming more educated and exposing ourselves to voices that can mentor us in these truths. I mentioned several books that I’ve found helpful in seeking to develop my own understanding. I list them below along with some other books that come highly recommended by other leaders I trust and are on my way-too-long “to read” list. I’ve put asterisks next to the books I’ve already read.

Christian Living/Theology:

Historical/Biographical:

I’m a bit of a book junkie so I realize that a long list might feel overwhelming. If I were to choose just one for you to start with, it would be Sarah Shin’s Beyond Colorblind.

If you’re not much of a reader but still want to grow in this area of discipleship to Christ, I’ll follow-up later this week with a few other resources that are shorter articles or media-driven resources.

I pray that, as we pursue growth in understanding and in our relationships, God might increase our capacity to take risks in genuinely loving others and healing the painful scars that currently divide us.

A Peek Into My Journey With Race

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My first experiences with racial diversity went right over my head. I think the best word to describe it is naïve. Or maybe oblivious? Bear with me for a sec while I explain with a little bit of my story:

One of my closest elementary school friends was black. It never occurred to me at that age that there was anything unusual about our friendship – I loved Venita and her family. The thing that initially drew us together was our shared faith. I had just started learning about Jesus (along with my parents who were new Christians). She had been raised in a Christian home. So, we bonded over books and Jesus. Her family took me to Pioneer Girls every Wednesday night and I ate it up. We eventually grew apart because she was brilliant and skipped a grade. For me, that was a harder gap to bridge than the color of her skin! In my naiveté, it never occurred to me that her “blackness” might mean that she experienced life differently than I did. I never considered what it might be like for them to be one of the only black families in our entire elementary school.

My other experiences were similar – my Mom’s best friend was a Philippine woman who had married a white man. I thought it was cool that Dorothy could make unique-to-me foods, that she could pull off that black, thick line of eyeliner on her eyelid, and that she had some interesting artwork in her living room. That was it. Her racial history intrigued me but I just never really thought much about it beyond that. Except that my Dad called her our “little yellow friend” – a reference to Cato in the Pink Panther movies. Before you freak out on me, please note that it was an endearing, loving reference in the comfort of a close friendship – Dorothy wasn’t offended by it because of the context. So, it never occurred to me that it would be offensive in another context. Or that some people would say it with disgust toward people of Asian descent.

By God’s grace, I grew up in an environment without any of the undertones of racial superiority. My parents always had people of color in their lives – even though we lived in a very rural area that was predominantly white. My Mom talked openly with me about some of the atrocities of things like the holocaust or the Japanese internment camps in the US during WW2. Our small church had two bi-racial couples. Whenever I heard about other races at that church, it was always in a positive context with a nod to God’s love for ALL people. My earliest days as a Christian were always infused with the idea that every kind of people would be represented in heaven, worshipping our good God. This was the context in which I grew up.

Enter Billie – A Pivotal Moment

And, then, there was Billie. Billie hung around the garage where my Dad worked on his high performance funny car. Sometimes he was part of the pit crew and traveled with us to races. I have vivid memories of him teasing me as I pushed the broom around the garage. He was just sort of a fixture around the shop and, as with my other encounters with racial diversity, his blackness never really meant anything to me one way or the other. I just never thought about it.

Until I reconnected with him as an adult. I had just moved back to the area where I grew up here in Northeast Ohio. He was still living here, working now as a janitor in the school system where my kids attended. We were chatting and just catching up a bit when his mood changed from jovial to serious. His eyes moistened as he recounted a memory he had of my Dad. Evidently, they had been traveling together in the 70s in the South – funny car in tow as they headed to a drag race to compete. Weary from their long day of travel, they went to check into a hotel. No problem, right? Wrong. My Dad was welcome to stay the night in the hotel… but Billie was not. According to Billie, my Dad refused the room too. He wouldn’t have Billie sleeping in the truck while he had a bed. Clearly, it was a deeply impacting event for Billie.

That story had a huge impact on me too. Not because of my Dad’s action (though I do remember breathing a huge sigh of gratitude and awe at God’s goodness in giving me parents of such conviction and example – I’ve learned so much from them!). But, something else shifted in me in that moment. It hit me like a ton of bricks. My Dad wasn’t the hero of that story. My proclivity to view everything through my white eyes, was tempted to make him such. The truth is, Billie is the main character of that story. BAM!

Like a vending machine about to spit out something yummy, the coins were dropping for me in that moment. Things started to click in a way they never had before. My old friend Billie had experienced life through a lens that was very different than my lens. He had lived through things I never had to deal with. I’d never been turned away from a hotel because of my skin color. I have no idea what that feels like. What other prejudices and slights had he been dealing with his whole life that I was oblivious to?

It’s not that I hadn’t had people of color in my life all along the way. I’d had black friends over the years. I’d even done ministry with a small group of black students at Bowling Green State University in the late 1990s. Jua, Lohn, and Audrea were precious to me. I’d mentored students of color over the years. I have always delighted in other cultures and have enjoyed living in university towns for most of my adult life because they tend to be more ethnically diverse than other suburban towns.

But, this moment with Billie was pivotal for me. My eyes were open to a whole new reality that, unbeknownst to me, had been there all along. As part of the majority culture, I just hadn’t noticed it. No one has ever followed me through a store. Or locked their car doors because I happened to be walking by with my friends. I’ve never gotten stuck on the hiring committee because the dean says it needs a black person – as if my presence meets a quota instead of being valued as a real contributor. I’ve never had anyone look at me with suspicion for walking through the neighborhood where my house is located. I’ve never had someone eye me with disgust at a traffic light because they question whether or not I deserve to have a car that is nicer than theirs.

The Journey Continues

That conversation with Billie was 10 to 15 years ago. Since then, God has had me on the hot seat, continuing to push me. Another coin dropped when someone yelled the N-word out the window at a friend as the two of us walked downtown Kent. Another coin dropped when my son was profiled with his black friends in a store. Another when I realized that some of my Christian black friends viewed the same current events through different eyes than I had always assumed. Another when I talked to a friend whose husband had reached a sort of glass ceiling in his job – not because of his talent but because of his color – today in the North! Another when I read The Warmth of Other Suns and books like it. Another when Rick and I started going deeper in our friendship with Pastor Bryndon and his wife Yvonne, looking for ways for our churches to truly partner.

Here’s the place I’m coming to: It’s one thing to not look down on someone because of their color or ethnicity. That’s where I had been for most of my life. I was comfortable there and even sort of proud of my background – truly, I remain very thankful for that background.

But God has been pushing me further because it’s another thing to try to actually empathize and understand what someone else lives day in and day out. To be aware of the slights going on all around me. Not to pity them or have a white savior complex like I need to be the hero of their story. But to just enter into it with them. To have conversations. To be a voice for bridging the misunderstandings. To look at history with different eyes – to be proud of my country’s heritage in many ways but honest about the many ugly things both in our history and in our modern psyche. To apologize when I need to but not be consumed with unhelpful, white guilt. This is the hard work of building on that initial foundation. And I’m still very much a work in progress. I hope I always will be. (Maybe not quite so clumsy with it… )

For better or for worse, this is my journey. This is where God has me right now and I know He’ll keep upending the junk in my life so that I see it. He’ll push me forward, out of my comfort zone and into His perfect will. Because He’s good like that.

And He knows I’m a better woman for the friends of other colors and cultures who are in my life.