On December 1, 1955 Rosa Parks refused to move out of her bus seat to make room for a white passenger in segregated Montgomery, Alabama. So much has changed since then. So much hasn’t.
In many ways it feels like we are in the early stages of a second civil rights movement in the U.S. This seems to me to be a part of the larger experience that I’ve written about recently as we live in a transition to a Fourth Great Awakening. I celebrate all the good things that happened as a result of the courage and sacrifices of Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Jr., and their contemporaries. And I applaud and am attempting to stand in solidarity with the new wave of courageous, peaceful, persistent insistence that has arisen in more recent days in movements like “Black Lives Matter.” We must not stop until the work is complete even though seeing it through will require that we live with a season of turmoil – perhaps chaos.
One of the core values of my life is the value of unity. I’ve worked on that in a variety of ways For almost two decades I’ve worked in Houston to foster healing across the racial divide that is present in our culture and in the church. I’ve spent countless hours drinking coffee, visiting worship services, and inviting people from other cultures to our home to break bread.
I learned something from a friend along the way. Sometimes it’s the things that I say that get me in trouble. But, sometimes it is the things that don’t get said that hold us back.
An unintentional offense
I think it was 1999. I was a part of a team of pastors who had scheduled two back-to-back days of prayer and invited the pastors of the city to attend. It was one of the most multicultural events that I had participated in up to that point.
On the afternoon of the first day, I was the facilitator for the meeting. As the day came to an end, I made some announcements and gave some direction to the group. I then led a closing prayer.
When I opened my eyes from the prayer, I could see Alberto on the far side of the room. I noticed him because he was marching – there’s no other way to describe it – toward the platform where I was standing. He wove his way through the disassembling crowd and it became increasingly clear that he was headed to me.
When he got within speaking distance, it was clear by the look on his face that he was upset. This especially caught my attention because Alberto was a gentle giant. He was generally quiet and always loving. To see him like this startled me. Before he said a word, he had my full attention.
With unusual intensity, he said, “You just did something that offended every Hispanic pastor in the room.”
I was completely baffled – by Alberto’s behavior, by what I heard as an accusation, and by what on earth I had said that was offensive. I felt highly defensive and wanted to lash out at him, but somehow I had the grace to listen – barely.
“I’m sorry Alberto. Please tell me what I did. I did not mean to be offensive.”
My apology took a little of the energy out of his voice. With the volume on his anger turned down just a bit, he sternly explained to me what I had done.
I said, “Alberto, I am so sorry. I had no idea that what I said would be offensive. Please forgive me.”
From sadness to gratitude
That night as I was driving home, I had a mix of emotions. I was still coming down from the adrenaline rush that came on when I felt accused by my friend. I was sad that I had offended friends, brothers and sisters, who I loved. I was wondering how I would make that offense right the next day when we gathered for our second day of prayer.
And, there was a small sense of gratitude that grew over time. What if Alberto had not told me? What would have been in the space of our meeting the next day with so many men and women who had been offended by me? What if I never knew and the offense showed up in the personal relationships I had with various ones in the room.
Over time I became deeply grateful for a friend who would speak the truth in love to me. He helped me see what I couldn’t see. He helped me know what I didn’t know. Sometimes it’s what you say that gets in the way. Sometimes it what you don’t say.
I became deeply grateful for a friend who would speak the truth in love to me Click To TweetSince those days nearly two decades ago, I’ve come to value authenticity – not unbridled say whatever you want whenever you want kind of speech – but truth tellers who can speak their truth in love.
Alberto’s courage that day as he spoke the truth to me in the context of a loving relationship that had been built over several years, changed my life. I wonder if in place of all the rants and the polarizing debates, the church could lead the way in building long term relationships with those we consider “other,” and in that context learn to speak the truth and to hear the truth . . . in love.