In all the cacophony of the last few weeks, with so many people pushing back against #blacklivesmatter for a variety of reasons, even certain “Christian” groups, it was overwhelming to me and exhausting to know how to respond in my own heart. It seems there can be no changing anyone’s mind, even though it’s harder to prove a negative than a positive, there seem to continue to be people who are invested in proving that racism isn’t a widespread problem, despite avalanches of eyewitness and historic proof to the contrary.
Then a book hit me. This often happens: volumes I’ve read and tucked away into my subconscious fly out of my internal bookshelves at my head at seemingly weird times, and I have to dig to get to why my brain is making that connection.
This connection involved a pessimistic, pragmatic Marshwiggle. These creatures were notorious for keeping to themselves, not being political, just staying in their bubbles and expecting the worst. One of these creatures goes on such an epic quest that in the most dramatic monologue of the entire book, he challenges an entire realm, even while retaining his pessimistic and sometimes irritatingly prosaic tone.
It brought me to tears when I went back and read the entire quote that my brain had reminded me about.
While trapped in the Underlands in C. S. Lewis’ book, The Silver Chair, part of the Chronicles of Narnia, the evil queen who rules there uses her own brand of logic and some chemical witchcraft to convince the heroes that the home of the Prince they are trying to save, the great lion Aslan who sent them there, and even the sun itself, are myths that they made up in their heads. She cites their own recent experience (no sun shines in the caves of Underland, she’s never heard of a lion, they must be thinking of a cat and imagining a bigger one, the idea of any realm beyond her own is laughable, where is it? They can’t see it, it must not exist… even though by this point we know she’s witnessed all of these things) and tries to lull them with a lullaby of lies, while making them so tired they don’t have the strength to argue. Puddleglum keeps his wits about him and stamps on her enchanted fire and makes this triumphant, glorious statement that even if all she claims is true, and they’ve made up Narnia and the sun and Aslan:
“…in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnia as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia…”
There is no downside to desiring justice. The question of systemic racism existing or not, or whether the argument is being exploited by one political camp or another, does not change the fact that police should not be using excessive force. That schools should be equally funded no matter where someone lives. That the prison system is flawed. That the symptoms of crime and violence and poverty are just the result of a problem in the system.
There is no political stance in showing compassion. Basic humanity demands equality. Denial of systemic racism doesn’t excuse you from dealing with the inequalities around you, regardless of what you think the cause is. Especially for those of us who claim to be followers of Christ, we do not get to pick and choose who we show compassion and help to, and numerous times in the Bible we are commanded to show specific love and practical help to those on the outskirts that have no options and no advocates. Those who cry out for relief should be more worthy of our attention than those who from a place of comfort refuse to entertain even the possibility of a problem. Fear and pride and complacence say “I refuse to even explore the possibility that there is a problem, I refuse to investigate or listen at all. I am comfortable. I am lukewarm.”
Continue to listen.
Continue to learn.
Don’t just search for voices that will let you be comfortable and affirm your illusion of any innocence.
If we reject discomfort we run the very real risk of being the lukewarm Christians that Revelations warns against.
Be willing to face possibilities of being part of a bigger problem. Wrestle with it.
Sit with those who mourn. Listen to the reasons behind the rage, don’t just condemn emotion expressed badly.
Pray for wisdom and discernment, and don’t just throw everyone who disagrees with you under the umbrella of “persecution”. Paul warns not to play the victim if our own actions have brought us under scrutiny, that not all opposition is because we claim Jesus, some will be because we act selfishly and call it righteousness.
Revival means repentance first. If we are truly believers, we understand that there will constantly be ways we will discover we are wrong, that God will bring to our hearts at the right time, and we need to rely on him to give us the strength to humbly admit wrong, and turn the other way, so we are free to love others in truth.
Freedom will not be found in grasping to keep control and acting out of our fear.
“The truth will set you free…” “…but not until it’s finished with you”
– John 8:31 & David Foster Wallace