Thoughts from the Road

Thoughts From the Road

Do you know what transforms someone from an observer to an ally? Relationship.

My family and I are in Washington, D.C. as I write this; sightseeing on our way to a family wedding. About 36 hours ago, as events continued to unfold in Ferguson, we were visiting the MLK Memorial.

  

After that, our final stop of the night was the Lincoln Memorial where we followed our tour guide’s instructions to find the inscription where Dr. King stood as he delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech.

It had been a long day of listening. Listening to tour guides, mostly.

So we sat on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial as night was falling across the National Mall.

There, on the steps, only feet away from where Dr. King spoke years ago, my 9-year-old daughter and I had the deepest conversation we have ever had. Now, she is only 9, so the conversation didn’t last long; but it felt like a glimmer of the beautiful woman she is becoming.

With her eyes watering, she looked out over the Mall at the Washington monument in the distance, and said; “Dad, this is amazing. So many important things happened here. I can’t believe I get to be here. I can’t believe this is where Martin Luther King, Jr said all those things. Can you imagine this whole place full of people?"

For a brief moment, it felt like I was talking to someone who was older than 9. So I tried to dive in to the momentarily-deep waters.

Like all kids her age, she has learned a few things about Dr. King in school. She knows he was a pastor, but I thought I would try to make the connection clear.

“Do you know why we go to church?” She seemed puzzled by the question.

“Because you are a pastor?” she said with a smile.

“Do you know why I am a pastor?” Another puzzled look.

“I am a pastor because I believe God cares for all people, and our faith gives us the courage to stand up and challenge things when they seem wrong.”

The light bulb went on. I saw it.

“Martin Luther King, Jr. was a pastor…” she said.

“Right. And do you know why he quoted the Bible so much? Because it is there that we learn that God frees slaves and cares for those who are on the outside.”

I saw her take this in as she looked out over the Mall. Just two weeks ago, she attended a Vacation Bible School program at our church that was focused on the Exodus story. So I made my final point. “That’s why the Exodus story was a favorite of those fighting for racial equality. It was a new version of that old story.”

She didn’t say any more. She just leaned in and snuggled into my arm as we both looked out over the place that had seen so many important moments.

As I looked out, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of conflict. I had read the news reports about Ferguson, and while I was so pleased that my daughter had made the connections she had made…I knew that miles from us, that old, old battle raged on. Yet here we sat, safe from it.

Information is powerful, no doubt. History lessons are a first step. I had those history lessons as a child. I was so fascinated by the differences between people that I majored in Sociology in college, specifically focusing on gender and racial differences. My mind and my bookshelves are full of dusty information. I could expound on the Invisible Knapsack of privilege I carry effortlessly as a white male. But do you know what first began to change my heart, and continues to do so when I allow it? Relationship.

Think about the times in your life when your position on something has changed. Often, it is because you knew someone personally affected by it.

When you know someone affected by an issue, it changes that issue for you. It is no longer at an arm’s length, to be debated by the intellectuals. It’s personal. You aren’t just talking about “those people,” you are talking about my brother, my sister, my cousin, or my close friend…and when that happens, change is given a chance.

Observers become allies when it’s personal.

But here’s the real point: when it’s personal, we listen.

When it’s not personal, we become defensive and turn the conversation so it is about us. There are millions of examples of this in Facebook comments and blog posts – where a person in a position of privilege becomes defensive and turns the conversation so it is about them and how they are suffering or wronged by the situation. How do I know this? Because I’ve done it. And I bet many of you have too.

But when it is someone I love, I am much more likely to just listen to their pain…not to explain it away, or make it about me. Just listen.  

This is my hope for my daughter…not that she majors in Sociology and learns about the toxic effects of privilege (though that would help her), but that she loves someone who is different from her and then just listens to them and their pain. That exchange changes hearts, and plans, and lives. It has changed mine, and I hope it continues to do so.

I certainly have nothing unique to contribute to the conversation swirling around Michael Brown’s death. I simply call on others like me – others who are both geographically and experientially distant from it – to listen. Listen to the pain of the family, and the community as though they were your family, and your community.

Don’t waste energy attempting to twist the autopsy reports to fit the version of the story that makes you most comfortable. Instead, imagine how you would feel if he was your brother.

Don’t dehumanize Mr. Brown based on assumptions of criminal behavior, as though his death would then be justified somehow. Instead, imagine how you would feel if he was your brother.

Don’t be distracted by the reports of looting or let those reports further harden your biases or hearts. Instead, imagine how you would feel if he was your brother.

My prayer for my daughter, and myself, and all of us is simple: may God grant us the courage and openness to listen to each other, and may God use what we hear to transform us from observers to allies.