Midlife Creative

As I pause today to remember George Floyd and his family, I also pause to consider how his murder has changed me.

I didn’t grieve for Philando Castillo or the other innocent victims who were killed before him.

I didn’t grieve the treatment of slaves, and the killing of black bodies throughout history.

I didn’t know that thirty-eight Dakota men were hung from a gallows in Mankato, MN in 1862. Their deaths scarred generations of native people and cemented Minnesota as home to the largest mass execution in U.S. history.

I didn’t learn until recently about the mistreatment of indigenous children taken from their parents and forced to attend “assimilation schools” where they were instructed to abandon their way of life which was thought inferior to the ways of white people.

I didn’t know about Mary Turner, an 18 year old pregnant black woman who was tied upside down from a tree and burned to death for questioning her innocent husband’s death. Her unborn baby was cut from her body and trampled. Her story, as shocking as it is, is only one of thousands of stories of the torturing of black bodies in the U.S. Most of the white men who committed these crimes were let free and continue to be let free.

I didn’t grieve the unjust systems throughout our history that put people in categories and burned down black neighborhoods, including the Greenwood neighborhood of Tulsa, OK, where over 300 African Americans were murdered in 2 days. At the order of the Oklahoma government and National guard, more than 6,000 black citizens were arrested. Not one White person was arrested. The looting and rioting that happened following George Floyd’s death was built on generations upon generations of anger over the wrongs of the past.

I was blinded to my own racist thoughts and tendencies. I was lost in a sea of “nice white people”.

Until last summer. George Floyd’s death was a wake up call.

I am not the same. Nothing is the same.
I can no longer ignore the racism all around me. Some say we’ve come a long way, but for me, I’m just beginning.

Lament and repentance is the first step to change. Forgiveness and healing cannot begin until we all become more aware of the historical roots of the problem and acknowledge the harm caused. As I have begun to dig a little and learn about the black and indigenous history in this country that many like to white wash and cover up, doing nothing and saying nothing is no longer an option.

In Latasha Morrison’s book Be the Bridge – Pursuing God’s Heart for Racial Reconciliation, she writes, “Have you ever been afraid of someone just because of the color of his or her skin? If you have, whether you’re white, black, or brown, you have confession work to do”. I have realized that I fear what I do not know. And I believe what I have been told. I was told that the city is a dangerous place and that the most dangerous neighborhoods are filled with people who are not white. I believed this stereotype.

I am sorry for my silence. I will use my voice and privilege to bring about change along with the incredible generation of truth tellers and justice seekers that come behind me – my children. It often feels they are leading me as I try to catch up.

Black Lives Matter.
They always have, but now I’m finally seeing why.

Yesterday I went to Cross of Glory Lutheran Church in Brooklyn Center to volunteer, sorting and distributing food and supplies to those in crisis living in the neighborhood around the church. About 100 people were served in the 3 hours I was there. About 100 more were still in line when I left. They waited in the rain for their number to be called. Once they got into the church, they were given a shopping cart and allowed 1-2 items from each table. The tables included canned goods, boxed food, produce, toiletries, toilet paper, bottled water, and diapers.
The pastor explained to me that they were asked by CAPI (a food shelf across the street) to host the giveaway, after the death of Duante Wright. It was not something the church was looking for. The invitation to help came in a time of crisis. However, the church now sees the neighbors with needs are not going away.

A crisis helps us to become aware of a need that was there all along.

I was surprised when I asked on my Facebook friends for recommendations of organizations that were actively reaching the Brooklyn Center Community. I received word of over a dozen individuals or groups who were on the ground serving there. I know that is only a snapshot of what was actually happening.
The day I volunteered, the church and CAPI received donations from people driving over 30 minutes to bring their car loads food, diapers, toilet paper, and hygiene products. One woman owned a coffee shop in Mpls and collected donations from her customers. Another worked for a company that collected donations from their co-workers. A few of the donors were white haired, “nice Lutherans” who were so eager to deliver their contributions.
It was wonderful to see all the people, many from the suburbs, all of a sudden appearing ready to help, but it made me wonder – why now?

The crisis woke us up to a need that has always been there. The poor have always been among us.

I went home after my day of volunteering to my warm house, a hot meal, and my comfy couch. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the people standing in line in the rain, waiting for food and diapers.

When I say poor, I’m talking about those who are not sure if they will have a roof over their head tonight or food to eat for their next meal. I also speak of those who feel buried by the rubble of their past. Those who have been born as children of poverty and can’t get out of the cycle they are in. It is incredibly complicated. If it was easy, our world would have figured out a way to eliminate poverty by now.

I opened up the Bible on my phone and typed in the word “poor” in the search. Here are a few verses that jumped out at me.

Proverbs 21:13 NIV
13 Whoever shuts their ears to the cry of the poor will also cry out and not be answered.

Psalm 70:5 NIV
5 But as for me, I am poor and needy; come quickly to me, O God. You are my help and my deliverer; LORD, do not delay.

Psalm 82:3 NIV
3 Defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed

Proverbs 29:7 NIV
7 The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no such concern

Matthew 19:21 NIV
21 Jesus answered, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.

Luke 14:13 NIV
13 But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind

These are just a few of the verses in the Bible asking for a response in caring for the poor. There are over 160 more if you want to read them yourself.

If loving the poor is stressed so much in the Bible, why do most Christians that I know, myself included, put this into a side category of our lives? When I look for people who are already doing the work, I notice they rarely talk about it or ask for help. They are too busy working and are consumed by the needs in front of them.

Maybe you are one of those who are already giving sacrificially to serve the poor. I would love to hear from you what your greatest needs are.

I want to be moved to action daily, and not just in times of crisis. Poverty is not going away. I’m thankful for “wake up calls” that remind us not to ignore the needs around us.