For months, community members and grassroots organizers had been protesting the genocide occurring in Gaza and the complicit role played by the U.S government in it. They employed various tactics, ranging from galvanizing elected officials and staging street protests to attending presidential events to maintain pressure on President Biden to listen to the demands of the people. 

However, it seemed that their voices were being disregarded by the President and large swaths of congress. It was then that the strategy of mobilizing community members to vote ‘Uncommitted’ was initiated. 

History teaches us that the strategic tactic of voting ‘Uncommitted’ was utilized previously in 2008 when former President Barack Obama was initially excluded from the ballot in Michigan during the democratic presidential primary. His supporters voted Uncommitted as a form of protest, with 40% of voters in Michigan casting their ballots in this manner, many of whom were Black and young voters. Numerous African American leaders, many who were also leaders of faith communities, encouraged community members to vote Uncommitted as a protest gesture. 

The cries of the people would not be stifled, and Obama would go on to win Michigan in November by a margin unheard of since Lyndon B Johnson ran for office. History teaches us that when we fight, we win; it might take time, energy, sacrifices and consistency but when we fight, we, the collective people, win. 

Throughout history, Christian protest and voting have served as disciplined avenues for expressing both lament and prophetic imagination. Grieving over the current reality while actively praying with our feet for a resurrected one. Echoing the call from God in Micah 6:8 to embrace faithful love, do justice, and walk humbly. This passage compels us to ask, What does faithful love look like in the face of militarism? When more than 30,000 people have died and U.S tax dollars are sacrificing the innocent on the altar of militarism and settler-colonialism.

Christian protest and collective voting power emerge as potent manifestations of faith, love, and hope, reminding us that our neighbor is us. Compelling us to remember that what happens to one person in the world, happens to all of us. Many of us are engulfed in grief due to our government’s emphasis on funding militarism and violence in Gaza. While at the same time many of us are advocating for a ceasefire, the release of all hostages, and an end to settler-colonialism in Gaza. It is in this liminal space that Christian protest embodies the proclamation that the principalities of militarism will not have the final word, that we believe that love can and will win.

Once again, we are confronted by the evils of militarism, settler-colonialism, and capitalism intertwined like a nightmarish orchestra playing a piece all too familiar in our bones and country’s history. These systems thrive on fear and silence, nourished by complicity and a commitment to the status quo, persisting as the current reality unfortunately under the guise of it being ” too complicated”.

Throughout history, moments of crisis have often catalyzed the prophetic Christian imagination in protest and solidarity. In the 60’s when many faith leaders and civil rights activists fought for civil rights and expanded voting rights, we saw the mobilization of the faith community in action, the voices of those most impacted by the evils of the time leading followers of Jesus and the wider country into contending for their beloved neighbor. Again, in the 70’s when many faith leaders—famously including Dr. King—were opposed to the ongoing investments in militarism and the ongoing war in Vietnam.

Protest beckons us, intimately connected to one another, to unite in personal and collective grief, remembering one another in everyday political acts of solidarity.

It is a communal prayer through action, propelling us to advance collectively while providing mutual support in shared sorrow. This movement guides us away from a scarcity mindset, leading us towards the abundance found in collective solidarity and mutuality.

The Uncommitted movement at the ballot box is a forceful and intentional rejection of the trinity of evils: militarism, racism, and poverty. It is an act of prophetic imagination that shifts us from scarcity to solidarity, from fear to embrace, and from complicity to action. It invites us as followers of Jesus to respond to Jesus’ call in Luke 4, to participate in our collective liberation and the freeing of those held captive by militarism’s chains.

This movement is an invitation for the American church to embrace solidarity with our Palestinian siblings, as well as with those impacted by war around the world. It is an opportunity for the American church to reject militarism and the ways that it manifests in our common collective body both domestically and internationally.

We are being invited to turn our swords into plowshares and begin co-creating a new world, a world where militarism breathes its last breath, and our infants safely can breathe their first. 

Co-creating a world where the sacred ordinary of life and love, safety and security can be experienced by all rather than a privileged few. We are the leaders of faith that we have been waiting for, the people of faith who will pray with their feet in a prophetic response to the principalities of militarism, capitalism and settler-colonialism actively harming our fellow beloveds. 

The world is watching, and the question remains: How will we, as the American church, respond in this moment?

“Pick a color,” she said. “Write down your color.” I was at a writers’ workshop in Minnesota, and this was our prompt. I wrote down “pink.” No one else will pick that color, I thought to myself. Then we were told our assignment: head outdoors and look for the color we had chosen. 

I couldn’t find anything pink. It was cloudy, with no streaks of a pinkish sunset brushing the sky. I spotted peach-colored raspberries ripening on the vine. Spiky lavender thistle blooms swayed high above the grasses. I detected tiny maroon slivers of crushed stones in the concrete road. Otherwise, I was surrounded by swaths of green grass and leafing trees in shades of emerald, jade, lime, pistachio, sage, and artichoke. No pink anywhere. 

Should I change my color? No one would know. 

No, I’ll be honest and stick with pink. 

Then I remembered a science lesson. The color we see with the naked eye is the hue that is not absorbed by the object; what we see is the color reflected back to us. Green leaves and grasses absorb every color in the spectrum except green, so what I see bouncing back to my eyes is green. That meant pink really was everywhere, even if my human eyes could not see it. 

Similarly, when I see your face, I see dimly. I can’t see your past, but if I’m paying attention, I might detect bits of joy flashing when your eyes light up. I can’t see your thoughts—though sometimes your emotions give themselves away. Sometimes, we only reflect back to others what we want them to see. Sometimes we think what we can see with our human eyes is all there is. Sometimes all others see is “different,” when there are really rich tones of melanin and shades of brown reflecting back, with all of their accompanying tones, tints, stories, and songs. 

Colorblindness 

In an attempt not to sound racist and separate themselves from obviously racist individuals, some folks will say, “I’m colorblind.” But the truth is we are not colorblind. Babies and children actually notice race at young ages—some studies indicate as early as three months. By nine months, babies use race to categorize faces, and by age three, children associate some races with negative traits.

I’ve heard the idea that America is colorblind: America elected a Black president, and therefore, we’ve overcome our obstacles. Electing a Black president is something many did not believe would occur in their lifetime, so does that now mean we’ve achieved racial equity?  Electing a Black president did not change the fact that Black Americans are incarcerated at five times the rate of white Americans. Electing a Black president did not radically alter the tragic number of police brutality cases against Black people. Likewise, just because we have neighbors in a racially mixed marriage, or a couple at our church adopted Black or Brown children, or we did so ourselves, does not mean that we’ve achieved ethnic and racial harmony. Proximity does not erase structural inequality. 

We can see color, and the idea of colorblindness actually cloaks the real issues of living in a racialized society and the systems perpetuating it. Colorblindness doesn’t work toward injustice. It may be well-intentioned, but colorblindness actually causes harm. “Colorblindness has a kind of homogenizing effect on communities: it suggests unity through uniformity instead of belonging in spite of difference,” according to David P. Leong, author of Race and Place. Instead, we are “color-blessed,” as Dr. Derwin Gray, pastor, author, and former NFL player, says.

***

In the science lesson I discussed where the only color visible is the one not absorbed by an object, we learn that the physics behind color itself is a multidimensional story. If color is a wavelength of light, then white is actually not a color on the visible light spectrum. When we see white, we are seeing all the colors bouncing off the object and hitting our eyes. 

For objects that appear black to our eyes, we are seeing the color black because all the colors are absorbed by the object; nothing is reflected back for us to see. That’s why darkness looks black: there is nothing for us to look at. 

It is curious that humans chose these two “non-colors” to describe color in each other. The physics behind the colors themselves is representative of what has taken place in our world, and how people of color from the African continent became referred to as “Black,” as if they were seen as nonexistent, nonentities. Colonizers and slave handlers erased their humanity by treating them as slaves and subjugating them. That is how many have chosen to “see” Black folks: not worthy, less-than, dehumanized. Additionally, the racial divide is often defined by this Black-white binary, yet there is so much more to be known, so many colors in-between. 

*** 

El Roi 

Imagine having a name that meant “Foreign Thing.” Unthinkable, right? Yet, that is the approximate translation of Hagar, the name of Sarah’s handmaiden. Sarah was married to Abraham, but in the story, Sarah gave Hagar to Abraham because Sarah and Abraham had no children. Hagar then gave birth to Ishmael. But Hagar’s name, which isn’t really a name, means something like “foreign thing.” And this is exactly how she was treated. Not as a person with autonomy, but as a slave, an object to be used at will. When Hagar was forced out of Abraham’s household, God met her in the desert, told her to return to the household, and declared that her son should be named Ishmael, which means “God hears” (Gen 16:11). Hagar responds by naming God El Roi, which means “the God Who Sees.” The “Foreign Thing” was seen, heard, and known. 

Though we may walk through life unknown by society at-large or in majority white spaces, we are known by the Creator. Being known necessitates a curiosity beyond stereotypes and toward specifics. Being known means we are known completely and loved by a Creator who sees the good, the bad, and the ugly and loves us anyway. 

Indeed, we have a God who sees us and knows us. We are not foreign things but beloved people, those who belong. We are seen, heard, known, loved, and embraced. And if culture at-large doesn’t see us or know us for who we are, we can be certain that God does and will not stay silent forever. We are not isolated or forgotten; we are seen, and as we negotiate belonging and assimilation, we are integrated into the story of humanity, and a story of love and belonging crafted by a God who sees. 

So, What Are You? 

God knows your name 

Your past, present, future 

You are seen, remembered, known 

In the land you are looking for 

You belong both/and 

There is no either/or 

You are known 

And loved as-is 

You are not out here 

Making it all alone 

Adapted from Beyond Ethnic Loneliness by Prasanta Verma. ©2024 by Prasanta Verma Anumolu. Used by permission of InterVarsity Press. www.ivpress.com. 

The disturbing origins of this custom Bible and the campaign to stop its proliferation.

During Holy Week, Donald Trump posted a video promoting sales for the “God Bless the USA” Bible.

The name is borrowed from a 1984 song of the same name by country singer, Lee Greenwood.

Trump’s shameless peddling of God’s word for profit garnered intense backlash and commentary online, but the saga of the “God Bless the USA” Bible goes back further than the former president’s ad.

Three years ago, I was part of a group of Christian authors who successfully lobbied our publisher Zondervan, a division of Harper Collins publishing, to refrain from entering into an agreement to print the “God Bless the USA” Bible.

HarperCollins Christian Publishing division, which includes Zondervan Publishing, owns the licensing rights to the New International Version (NIV) translation—the most popular modern English translation of the Bible.

The company, Elite Source Pro, petitioned Zondervan for a quote but never entered into an agreement. Nevertheless, marketing for the “God Bless the USA” Bible advertised it as the NIV translation.

Hugh Kirkpatrick heads up Elite Source Pro and spearheaded the effort to produce the “God Bless the USA” Bible.

In an article at Religion Unplugged, where this story first broke in May 2021, Kirkpatrick explained the origins of this custom edition of the Bible.

The idea began brewing in fall 2020 when Kirkpatrick and friends in the entertainment industry heard homeschool parents complain that public schools were not teaching American history anymore— not having students read and understand the U.S. Constitution and Bill of Rights.

“We noticed the divide in the public where some people started seeing pro-American images like the flag, the bald eagle, the statue of liberty as weaponized tools of the Republican party, and we didn’t understand that,” Kirkpatrick said.

Then in the height of Black Lives Matter protests, activists began tearing down or destroying statues and monuments they connected to racial injustice.

“In past civilizations, libraries have been burned. Documents torn down. We started seeing statutes coming down and we started seeing history for good or bad trying to be erased,” Kirkpatrick said. “That’s when we started thinking, okay how far does this erasing of history go? Love it or hate it, it’s history. But how far does it go…? Part of having these statues … is so that we don’t repeat those same mistakes.”

A custom Bible inspired by reactionary sentiment opposing Black Lives Matter protests is concerning on its own.

Kirkpatrick apparently failed to understand why Black people and many others would want to remove public homages to slaveholders and the violent rebellion they led against the United States.

Nor did Kirkpatrick manage to spot the irony of printing a Bible that honors the United States while defending statues of Confederate leaders who attacked the Union.

Once the news that Zondervan was in talks to print this Bible came out, several Christian authors who had published with them approached me about publicly opposing the deal.

All of my books, so far, have been published through Zondervan, including my forthcoming book The Spirit of Justice: Stories of Faith, Race, and Resistance.

I was eager to join in the protest.

The effort to stop the deal included an online petition that said,

Zondervan/HarperCollins has a been a great blessing to Christian publishing for many years. But a forthcoming volume damages this fine record. To commemorate the 20th anniversary of 9/11 Zondervan has licensed releasing the “God Bless the USA” Bible that will include the U.S. Constitution, Bill of Rights, Declaration of Independence and pledge of allegiance, in addition to the lyrics for the song of the same name by country singer Lee Greenwood., “God Bless the USA.” This is a toxic mix that will exacerbate the challenges to American evangelicalism, adding fuel to the Christian nationalism and anti-Muslim sentiments found in many segments of the evangelical church.

The campaign to stop Zondervan from printing the “God Bless the USA” Bible also included a letter by Shane Claiborne of Red Letter Christians and several other Christian authors, including me, as co-signers of the statement.

The letter read,

This customized Bible is a reminder that the “Christian industry” must do better to stand against the heretical and deadly “Christian” nationalism that we saw on full display on Jan. 6.  It is like a spiritual virus, infecting our churches, homes and social institutions.  Just as we take intentional actions to stop the spread of COVID, like wearing masks and staying six feet apart, we must take concrete steps to stop the spread of this theological virus.

The letter continued with a theological and pastoral word about the Bible.

We don’t need to add anything to the Bible. We just need to live out what it already says.

And if we are to be good Christians, we may not always be the best Americans.  The beatitudes of Jesus where he blesses the poor, the meek, the merciful, the peacemakers – can feel very different from the “beatitudes” of America.  Our money may say in God we trust, but our economy often looks like the seven deadly sins.  For Christians, our loyalty is to Jesus.  That is who we pledge allegiance to.  As the old hymn goes – “My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness/ On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.”  Our hope is not in the donkey of the Democrats or the elephant of the GOP… or even in America.

Our hope is in the Lamb.  The light of the world is not America… it is Christ.

Our endeavors were successful, and Zondervan did not enter into an agreement to publish an NIV translation of the “God Bless the USA” Bible.

That’s when Kirkpatrick decided to pursue a King James Version (KJV) of the Bible because that translation does not require copyright permission in the US.

The fruit of Kirkpatrick’s effort is an official endorsement by Donald J. Trump and Lee Greenwood and the latest push to sell “God Bless the USA” Bibles at a cost of $59.99.

The purveyors of this custom Bible fail to see, refuse to see, or simply don’t care that the United States is not a church or God’s holy nation.

They continue to spew myths that the United States was founded as a Christian nation and that the government should favor one religion for special privileges above all others.

Including political documents in a Bible translation is as blatant a blend of religion and politics as it gets. It is a physical flouting of the separation of church and state.

The multi-year crusade to produce the “God Bless the USA” Bible demonstrates that white Christian nationalism is not going away, and its advocates have the will and the means to secure their desired ends.

As we hurtle closer to the 2024 presidential election—likely a rematch between Biden and Trump—Christians must loudly and consistently oppose any movement to make Christianity synonymous with the political power structure.

We must oppose the “God Bless the USA” Bible as white Christian nationalist propaganda because Jesus said, “I will build my church,” not “I will build this nation.”

Here are a few highlights from our event at The Riverside Church this past weekend, on the anniversary of Dr. King’s historic speech, “Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence.” We had 27 faith leaders read portions of King’s original speech, including his daughter, Rev. Dr. Bernice King. I’ll also highlight a few of King’s quotes from the speech below (along with who read them) … but you really should watch the recording of the whole evening if you missed it. It was epic.

We kicked off the evening with a gathering of about 40 clergy and leaders from around the country, and spent some time reflecting together, listening to what the Spirit is doing among us, especially as we remember King’s words in 1967 and his assassination a year later.

Bishop Herbert Daughtry shared with his daughter Bishop Leah Daughtry. He was there in 1967 when Dr. King delivered the original sermon. He shared about how powerful it is to be together on the 55th anniversary. He also shared about how courageous and unpopular it was when King first delivered it.

Here’s the backdrop… One year ago, Red Letter Christians hosted a virtual reading of “Beyond Vietnam.” Afterwards we said, “What if we did it in person next year?”

Then we said, “What if we did it AT RIVERSIDE?”

Then we said, “What if Rev. Bernice King would join us?”

And here we are…

Because Dr. King names the many of the manifestations of violence calls us to comprehensively confront violence and the conditions that lead to violence, we made those connections throughout the night. The stations of the cross on the altar are painted by men on death row. It is also Lent, a powerful reminder that Jesus subverted all our systems of violence on the cross.

“We were taking the Black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem. And so, we have been repeatedly faced with the cruel irony of watching Negro and white boys on TV screens as they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools.”

–MLK read by Lisa Sharon Harper

“As I have walked among the desperate, rejected, and angry young men, I have told them that Molotov cocktails and rifles would not solve their problems. I have tried to offer them my deepest compassion while maintaining my conviction that social change comes most meaningfully through nonviolent action. But they ask — and rightly so — what about Vietnam? They ask if our own nation wasn’t using massive doses of violence to solve its problems, to bring about the changes it wanted. Their questions hit home, and I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today — my own government.”

–MLK read by Carlos Rodriguez The Happy Givers NPO

“We were agreeing with Langston Hughes, that black bard of Harlem, who had written earlier:

‘O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath —

America will be!'”

–MLK quoting Langston Hughes, read by Rev. Todd Yeary (RLC Board Chair)

“Could it be that they do not know that the good news was meant for all men — for Communist and capitalist, for their children and ours, for black and for white, for revolutionary and conservative? Have they forgotten that my ministry is in obedience to the One who loved his enemies so fully that he died for them?”

–MLK read by Cece Jones-Davis

“They must see Americans as strange liberators.”

–MLK read by Rev. Dr. Shakeema North

“I am convinced that if we are to get on the right side of the world revolution, we as a nation must undergo a radical revolution of values. We must rapidly begin…we must rapidly begin the shift from a thing-oriented society to a person-oriented society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights, are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, extreme materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered.”

— MLK read by Rev. Dr. Liz Theoharis

“On the one hand, we are called to play the Good Samaritan on life’s roadside, but that will be only an initial act. One day we must come to see that the whole Jericho Road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life’s highway. True compassion is more than flinging a coin to a beggar. It comes to see that an edifice which produces beggars needs restructuring.”

“A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching spiritual death.”

–MLK read by Rev. Sharon Risher

“These are revolutionary times. All over the globe men are revolting against old systems of exploitation and oppression, and out of the wounds of a frail world, new systems of justice and equality are being born. The shirtless and barefoot people of the land are rising up as never before. “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light.” …Our only hope today lies in our ability to recapture the revolutionary spirit and go out into a sometimes hostile world declaring eternal hostility to poverty, racism, and militarism.”

–MLK read by Jemar Tisby

“This call for a worldwide fellowship that lifts neighborly concern beyond one’s tribe, race, class, or nation is in reality a call for an all-embracing — embracing and unconditional love for all mankind.”

–MLK read by Phillip Joubert from Common Hymnal

“We can no longer afford to worship the god of hate or bow before the altar of retaliation. The oceans of history are made turbulent by the ever-rising tides of hate. And history is cluttered with the wreckage of nations and individuals that pursued this self-defeating path of hate.”

–MLK read by Stephen Green

“We still have a choice today: nonviolent coexistence or violent co-annihilation. If we do not act, we shall surely be dragged down the long, dark, and shameful corridors of time reserved for those who possess power without compassion, might without morality, and strength without sight.”

— MLK read by Leslie Callahan

“Now let us begin. Now let us rededicate ourselves to the long and bitter, but beautiful, struggle for a new world.

And if we will only make the right choice, we will be able to transform this pending cosmic elegy into a creative psalm of peace.

If we will make the right choice, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our world into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.

If we will but make the right choice, we will be able to speed up the day, all over America and all over the world, when justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

— MLK read by Rev. Bernice King

The last section was read by Rev. Bernice King, and we all said the final words together… “justice will roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

I knew the spoken words of King would be powerful, and they were. But what was also remarkable was feeling a fresh sense of worship, and hope, even revival stirring up among us. Some talented musicians led us in singing– Common Hymnal, Aaron Niequist, and Brian Courtney Wilson…a healthy reminder that this work does not rest on us alone…we are conspiring with God in this revolution of love.

As we challenge to the toxic versions of Christianity, we’ve got to also be ready for God to do a new thing among us. And as I looked out over this audience of faith leaders, bishops, pastors, organizers, elders, activists, authors, historians, and theologians last night I was filled with hope. I AM filled with hope.

We got this. Last night Rev. Bernice King closed us out with an invitation to come back to Jesus. She reminded us that her dad, and mom, were doing their best to reflect Jesus to the world.

We are up against some fierce principalities and powers – the triplet evils of racism, materialism, and militarism are as alive and well as they were 55 years ago. But the love of God is the strongest force in the world. Nothing is more powerful than God’s love.

It was a gift to team up with my brother Michael McBride and the spiritual force known as Rev. Traci Blackmon. There were dozens of groups that worked together to pull it off, including all the fine folks at the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft and at The King Center. Grateful for Rev. Livingston and The Riverside Church for hosting us.

Thanks be to God.

“I knew that I could never again raise my voice against the violence of the oppressed in the ghettos without having first spoken clearly to the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today.” Those are the words of Dr. King in 1967, in his historic speech “Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence,” delivered at Riverside Church in New York City.

This past weekend dozens of faith leaders gathered at Riverside, putting our voices together to read King’s words on this 55^th anniversary of the speech. The group that gathered at Riverside for the event — a collaborative effort, sponsored by Red Letter Christians, LIVEFREE, the United Church of Christ, the Black Church Action Fund and the Quincy Institute — included bishops, authors, pastors, activists from around the country and Dr. King’s daughter, the Rev. Dr. Bernice King. Also participating was Bishop Herbert Daughtry, who was present when King delivered the speech in 1967.

Over the course of the evening, we were reminded multiple times how controversial and how courageous the words were … and are. Many of King’s peers deserted him for taking a stand against the war. His board turned against him, except one board member, the Rev. Otis Moss II. In the speech itself, Dr. King mentions all those who question his judgment in speaking out against the war in Vietnam and connecting it to all the other issues of his day. He was increasingly unpopular, and it should not be missed that he was assassinated exactly one year after the Riverside address, to the day.

So what’s so controversial about it?

Well, for starters, Dr. King refers to America as “the greatest purveyor of violence in the world today.” He names America’s “triplets of evil” as racism, extreme materialism and militarism. He calls out the hypocrisy of telling young people “in the ghettoes” that violence will not solve their problems while condoning our government when it resorts to violence. He names the sad irony that we are sending Black kids to fight for liberties thousands of miles away that we haven’t even been able to guarantee them here at home. And yet, just as the speech is filled with hard-to-hear truth, it is also full of hope.

Many folks appreciate the sanitized King and would prefer the “I Have a Dream” speech. You don’t see many monuments with quotes from the Riverside sermon. Bishop Daughtry noted that he doesn’t think a single quote on the King memorial in D.C. comes from this iconic speech.

Before we write off King’s assessment of the U.S. as the greatest purveyor of violence in the world, dismissing it as extreme or exaggerated, consider this:

Of the 196 countries in the world, only nine of them have nuclear weapons. And 93% of the nuclear weapons of the world are owned by only two countries — the U.S. and Russia. We are the only country that has ever used them, and we did it twice in one week, killing hundreds of thousands of people in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We now have bombs 100 times more lethal than the Hiroshima bomb. And the U.S. arsenal has the capacity of over 100,000 Hiroshima bombs. We have the biggest stockpile, and we have the largest military budget in the history of the world. The Pentagon spends more in 3 seconds than the average American makes in a year, reminding us of King’s words at Riverside: We are approaching a spiritual death.

It is easy for us to be critical of Russia’s violence in Ukraine right now, and we should be. The Riverside speech, however, invites us to get the log out of our own country’s eye.

There are many who speak of “American exceptionalism” — and by that they are referring to America being a beacon for freedom and democracy, the last best hope on earth, God’s anointed messianic force for good. This is a notion King continually challenged with increasing passion all the way to his death. In fact, the sermon King was writing when he was killed, that he never got to preach, was entitled: “Why America Might Go to Hell.”

It’s not hard to see why King’s words were hard to hear and why he was opposed by so many, even by former friends and board members.

But truth sets us free. There is another version of American exceptionalism. We are exceptional in our embrace of violence. Using violence to try to get rid of violence. Among all the world’s nations, we are one of only a handful of countries that continues to practice capital punishment. When it comes to the number of executions, we are always in the top 10, and often in the top five.

SIGN: RED LETTER CHRISTIAN PLEDGE 

America is exceptional in our infatuation with guns. With only 5% of the world’s population, we own nearly half of the world’s civilian-owned guns. There are five times more gun dealers in the U.S. than McDonald’s restaurants. We produce about 9.5 million guns a year, 26,000 guns a day, one gun every three seconds. We have an exceptional problem when it comes to violence. Just as there are companies making millions of dollars off gun sales, we also have corporations like Lockheed Martin that are profiting from war. Over 150 countries have had arms contracts with U.S. companies. After 9/11, the U.S. went to war with Afghanistan and Iraq, even though 15 of the 19 hijackers were from Saudi Arabia. And Saudi Arabia is still our biggest buyer of weapons, using them to destroy so many lives in Yemen. Dr. King saw all of these connections in his own time, and that is why he had to “break the silence.”

“Live by the sword, die by the sword” — those are the words of Jesus, Dr. King’s inspiration and savior, and we have proved those words to be true again and again and again.

That is the real American exceptionalism — we are exceptional in our addiction to violence.

In addition to this month being the anniversary of the Riverside speech and of King’s death, it is also the anniversary of the most ambitious and horrific bombings in history. In 2003, the U.S. and coalition forces launched the “shock and awe” bombing campaign, dropping more than 900 bombs a day on Iraq, killing thousands upon thousands of people. More recently, in 2016, when Barack Obama was president, we dropped 26,000 bombs, an average of three bombs per hour.

Our military spending is not a partisan issue. Obama raised Bush’s military budget. Trump raised Obama’s budget. Biden raised Trump’s budget. What would King say to that? Probably exactly what he said in 1967: “A nation that continues year after year to spend more money on military defense than on programs of social uplift is approaching a spiritual death.”

We have work to do to continue to “break the silence.” As our world is increasingly plagued by violence — not just in Ukraine but also in the streets of America — we must continue King’s legacy of nonviolence. We, too, must keep breaking the silence.

This piece first appeared at Religious News Services.

August 2024 will mark two years since my daughter, Michelle was released from prison. Even though we have both been through so much these past thirteen years of her incarceration, in some ways, her life is just beginning.

On April 9, 2009, my daughter was sentenced to life in prison for a murder she didn’t commit. No mother should go through what I have, and no daughter should endure what she has. It wasn’t just that day when I heard the judge sentence my daughter to life that my heart broke. It was the thousand others filled with millions of agonizing moments of unrest, terror, panic and defeat I experienced as I worked tirelessly to get my daughter justice and to make sure that she would have a life once she got out.

When a person is released from prison, they are walking into a new existence. One that, ironically, may be harder than the one they left behind bars. Why? Our legal system wants to keep people chained to their past.

It shouldn’t be this way.

According to the National Reentry Center, there are “40,000 state and federal legal and regulatory restrictions that limit or prohibit people convicted of a crime or adjudicated for a delinquent act from accessing employment, business and occupational licensing, housing, voting, education, and other rights, benefits, and opportunities.” That’s forty thousand ways to hear ‘no’, when you’re looking for just one ‘yes.’ It is hard enough to have the mental energy to go to the bank to open a checking account, without having to face barriers, prejudices, stigmas and actual regulatory restrictions every step of the way. From getting a job, to renting an apartment to buying groceries or simply voting, people need help.

April is Second Chance month. I was forced to take this call; many of us can do so on our own – and should. We have to understand that once someone completes their sentence, they deserve a second chance at living – to make money, get an education, and participate in our democracy. People want to rebuild their lives. They want to be a part of society and do something that is meaningful. They do not want to feel like they are still behind bars with little to no chance at flourishing.

Michelle earned her degree; she graduated from Life University. She began studying while still incarcerated. She probably could have done this on her own, but my daughter had me by her side encouraging her to keep going. She had help.

With my daughter’s release, I’m working to get my own life back together. I’m constantly asking God, “What was all this for? What does it mean? Where do I go?” As I put the puzzle pieces together, I see the big picture: helping others.

There are still hundreds of ‘Michelle’s’ behind bars. I never forget about those ladies that are still in there. I didn’t want to say, “Goodbye, see you later” just because my daughter was free.  Now, I advocate for them. I give them a branch of humanity upon which to grab hold. I continue to fight for their second chance. I believe we all can.

I knew I wasn’t going to let my daughter down. I also knew I couldn’t help her on my own. I leaned on my belief in God. Faith was key. I truly couldn’t be here without it or without prayer – that was the utmost importance. I also turned to community. It wasn’t easy. There is a lot of shame, embarrassment and fear that rise up when you have to share this type of reality with others. There can be a lot of judgement, but United Women in Faith  helped me emotionally and encouraged me to offer my testimony. Once I put it out there that I needed help, it started rolling in. When others learned about Michelle’s education costs, they donated $2,000 toward her books. With my prison ministry, I made an ask for suitcases. We received 80. That wouldn’t have happened without United Women in Faith. Believe me, having a group of people on your side gives you discipline and spiritual friendship. When things get tough, people will stand by you. United Women in Faith helped get me connected to the National Council for Incarcerated and Formerly Incarcerated Women and Girls, build my skills and share my story. I eventually became an advocate at the Georgia State Capitol for the conviction integrity unit which ultimately helped with Michelle’s release. I’m a leader in United Women in Faith, a board member of Georgians for Alternatives to the Death Penalty, and a part of End Mass Incarceration Georgia. There are many organizations to turn to for help. The National Institute of Corrections offers a list here of Justice Involved Women Programs. You may also check locally.

Participating in Second Chance month can feel overwhelming or even unnecessary if you haven’t been affected by the carceral system as I have. However, there are two things I’ve identified in my work that help women (and others) after release. The number one thing is finding some place to stay. If women have this, it is a good start, and they don’t have it as hard. The other is to show value in a person. I show these women that they have worth; that they are wonderful human beings. For example, I write to them – even if there is no response – because you never know what impact you have on their lives. Helping someone have a second chance doesn’t have to be a family matter, as it was for me and Michelle; rather, it can be you letting someone else know they matter, and that life is waiting for them.

 – Cynthia Morrison Holland is a mother, advocate and member of United Women in Faith

LINKS in order of use:

1. https://nationalreentryresourcecenter.org/multimedia/re-introduction-national-inventory-collateral-consequences-conviction-niccc-and-clean
2. https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2023/03/31/a-proclamation-on-second-chance-month-2023/
3. https://uwfaith.org/
4. https://info.nicic.gov/jiwp/womens-programs-all?page=3

What has the North American church gotten itself into? Known more for infighting, schisms and splits, the focus has largely been on doctrinal beliefs and buildings. But what about the church as the very real body of Christ, as baptized believers?

There are 215 somebodies buried in shallow graves behind a Jackson, Mississippi jail and nearly 30,000 Palestinian somebodies in mass graves or rotting under buildings, a number that far exceeds even the Old Testament exchange rate of “an eye for an eye” in response to Hamas’ attack on October 7th. There were 1,243 somebodies killed by police in 2023, which was the deadliest year for police- involved homicides in over a decade. 

Does it trouble our conscience that asylum-seeking somebodies are used in political stunts, that indigenous women and girl’s bodies are missing and murdered? That LGBTQIA bodies are not safe, that bodies racialized as black are not free, that Jewish bodies are being physically assaulted? That 1 in 3 Asian and Pacific Islander bodies face racial abuse? 

Where are the ripple effects of our shared baptism, this womb water for the born again? Why don’t we rise from it screaming our heads off that we belong to each other, that we are members of one another? Where is the proof that we are “new creatures in Christ” as Paul expressed to the members at Corinth and the evidence that we are connected to each other (Second Corinthians 5:17)?

How did we “wade in the water” of baptism without it troubling us that the North American church is still segregated? Why don’t we feel compelled to explain why we racialize Jesus’ gospel? 

How long are you going to keep those idolatrous paintings in your homes and sanctuaries? It’s just a question. You don’t have to answer it but just as a reminder, it breaks the second commandment.

Why don’t we quote the Apostle Paul at least three times a day to keep racism away from our neighbor and our prejudices at bay: “For not all flesh is the same, but there is one kind for humans, another for animals, another for birds, and another for fish” (First Corinthians 15:31)? Yes, there is only one kind of skin for humans—no matter what race tries to slip or stuff under it.

For some, my inquiries are just asking for trouble. But isn’t that the point? 

Jesus was always getting into trouble, under the Pharisees’ surveillance, dodging stones, getting run out of town and was even nearly thrown off a cliff. Some would say, “He was asking for it.” 

To be sure, the call is to “to find a way to get in trouble. Good trouble, necessary trouble” like the late Congressman John Lewis said—not with committees or councils but in community for the sake of shared belovedness. 

“Good trouble” is a necessary distinction. And since it is not clearly marked in places of privilege, some of us must “find a way to get in trouble.” It will require that we get in the way, that we put our bodies, our livelihoods, our names on the line, that we call it like Jesus sees it instead of looking away. 

This clarification regarding “good trouble” is so important for Christians because the image of goodness is so often blonde haired and blue-eyed. Goodness is often color-coded, racialized, embodied and located in planned and gated communities, which are in good neighborhoods with good schools. 

Goodness is viewed as “white” and located solely in socially colored white bodies. I, for one, believe that the church should faithfully question that designation since we’re all God’s children and God has no favorites (Romans 2:11).

W.E. B. DuBois calls it “the religion of whiteness” and writes in 1920 from his book Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil in a chapter titled “The Souls of White Folk”:

“This assumption that of all the hues of God, whiteness alone is inherently and obviously better than brownness or tan leads to curious acts; even the sweeter souls of the dominant world as they discourse with me on weather, weal and woe are continually playing above their actual words an obligato of tune and tone saying:

‘My poor unwhite thing! Weep not nor rage.   know, too well, that the curse of God lies heavy on you. Why? That is not for me to say, but be brave! Do your work in your lowly sphere, praying the good Lord that into heaven above, where all is love, you may, one day, be born—white!’

I do not laugh. I am quite straight- faced as I ask soberly: ‘But what on earth is whiteness that one should so desire it?’ 

Then always, somehow, some way, silently but clearly, I am given to understand that whiteness is the ownership of all the earth forever and ever, Amen!”

Whiteness is about possession then, about conquest, colonialism, and sovereignty. Because white is not a country but a color and a useful one in a color-coded capitalist pyramid scheme. 

Professor Cheryl Harris calls whiteness “property.” But the social perks, privileges and prejudices packed in this box should’ve been ruined during our baptism.

Baptized believers should get out of the water asking themselves, “What have I gotten myself into?” Because the water should trouble our allegiances, alliances, and ascribed attributes. And if not, then I have a few questions.

For years, Bible scholars have danced around the matter by saying slavery in Rome was far different from slavery in the first few centuries of American history. No doubt their observations carry a measure of merit. Often, Roman slaves were more educated than their owners and were people of great means prior to their captivity. Many were professionals of great service to their owners. What’s more, they were not enslaved because of the color of their skin. So, yes, there exist significant differences between the Roman and American approaches to slavery. But aren’t we just splitting hairs? At its core, both systems’ commitment to slavery was based on its very definition—the owning of people. 

While I was born much too late to be the legal property of a person in America, I have been the recipient of racism. When a classmate called me a racial epithet in my first year of college, I was devastated. No, it wasn’t my first time being called such language. But the wound was especially painful because it happened at a Bible college where everyone claimed to be followers of Jesus. His words that noonday hour on campus sent me into an emotional tailspin. I felt the waters of bitterness and hate toward him and all White people rise within me. 

Around this time my father visited me, and unaware of the incident, he asked me about my future plans. I told him I’d much rather drive trucks than be around White people. My words jarred him, and me. As these “feathers” left my mouth, I knew I was in sin and needed to begin the long road back to Colossae. It would take me a considerable amount of time to take my first steps back, but I finally mustered up the courage to write a letter to the person who had hurt me, asking him to forgive me for my sin of unforgiveness. I don’t say these things to guilt White people or to make myself look like some hero. Hardly. But the main reason for my delay in leaving the Rome of my unforgiveness is that the flesh and the Spirit within me were embroiled in a very long back and forth. The flesh articulated more than its fair share of justifications as to why I owed no attempts at reconciliation. 

Today, being counted among the oppressed is equivalent to receiving a congressional Medal of Honor. Because of this, many choose to wear oppression as an ornament and use it as an excuse to not forgive. Unforgiveness is an act of theft whereby we refuse to acknowledge the humanity of those who wronged us because we do not look the beast in the eye. While there are certain acts of cruelty and injustice that close the door to reconciliation, we must take the first steps out of Rome nonetheless by offering forgiveness, without which reconciliation is never possible. 

There will always be very good reasons as to why you should not be reconciled to certain people. Justifications abound as to why you should never sit at the table of friendship with your ex-spouse whose act of betrayal took your breath away. And why you should not make amends with the father who abandoned you. 

The older I get, the more difficult friendship seems to be. I’m running out of energy to come back for yet another round of sit downs, truth encounters, and “come to Jesus” moments to do the inescapable work of friendship. Much has been made of the dissipation of sexual vitality as we age, but we don’t really talk about the relational vitality needed as our emotional bandwidth recedes. Sometimes I wish there was a pill for this as well. There goes Frank, popping off at the mouth again. Let me take this friendship pill so I can get the energy needed to have yet another chat. Oh, Cheryl disregarded my feelings? Hold on, let me go to the medicine cabinet. In the absence of these pills, it’s easy to shrug my shoulders and sigh to myself, “I just don’t have the time to do this anymore.” 

But remember, most relational breakdowns have more than one offender. I’m not the only one who would love to have a friendship pill. When both parties have the truth encounter, they are bound to bring two very different perspectives on what led to the downfall of their relationship. The dad who neglected his responsibilities at home could gently push back and say there was a lot more at play, like the demise of his relationship with the child’s mother. But the problem is, children well into adulthood do not see their father’s departure as merely leaving their mom but as leaving them. Then there are all the justifications surrounding the gap between what was done and what was intended. When confronted, the offender reaches for their version of “charge it to my head and not my heart,” which is far from helpful. Or the offender suspects they have wounded the other—but because they have not been confronted, they shrug as if to say it wasn’t that big of a deal, and the friendship slowly dies. And of course, there’s always the offender’s pride lurking beneath the surface. Even if they do see the wrong they committed, the apology just won’t roll off their tongue but gets caught in traffic somewhere around their esophagus. 

I’ve laughed and cried over the years when I think of the sovereign irony of God at play in my own life. To think of the number of books I’ve written, conferences I’ve spoken at, and lives I’ve shaped in the area of ethnic unity and racial reconciliation is indeed laughable, considering at one point I was so embittered with racial trauma I would rather drive a truck than work with a certain race of people. My “ascendency” up my own ladder began in my little bedroom, where I put down my excuses, picked up a pen, and asked forgiveness from the one who had wounded me. That decision to leave Rome has brought me to the Colossae of my destiny. 

The work of repentance and reconciliation is not so much about the relationship, as important as that is, but something far more. When we refuse to remain enslaved to our justifications and instead decide to leave Rome to go back and make things right, we are marching down not just the road of change but the road of destiny. We are headed to the place where God wants to transform us from slaves to brothers to bishops. 

Adapted from Enduring Friendship by Bryan Loritts. ©2024 by Bryan Loritts. Used by permission of InterVarsity Press. www.ivpress.com. 

When I reached the side alley of the building, I noticed a car backed in beside an emergency exit door. The car had no license plate. The terrorist attacks weighing heavily on my mind, I was afraid someone may have been hiding in the store. In order to make sure that my night crew was safe, I called the police.

Three to four minutes after calling 911, three or four police cars abruptly surrounded my car. I had no clue what was going on. The drivers were shining their high beams into my car, and the light completely blinded me. I did not know who was there, how many of them were surrounding me, or whether they had guns drawn on me. I froze. Then I cried. I didn’t want to die.

Eventually, they yelled through a megaphone to roll my window down and place my hands outside the vehicle. My car didn’t have automatic windows, so rolling the window down meant dropping my hands below their line of sight. I couldn’t see them, what they were doing, or how close they were to me. I assumed they had their guns drawn, so I stayed frozen. Then I cried more. I didn’t dare move a muscle. My fear for my own life told me that as soon as I reached down, they would kill me. So here I was in an alley on the side of a store preparing to meet my Maker because I was certain I was about to be shot.

After what seemed like an eternity, one lone officer approached my car. He must have told his fellow officers to turn off their lights, then he tapped on my window and told me that I was going to be okay, and he kindly asked me again to roll down the window. I was terrified, and he knew it, and he saved me and the other officers from reacting in a way that could have ended my life. I was thankful that he didn’t let fear control him or the situation. He did not know me. He did not know that I was the person who made the initial call.

As I reflect on the encounter, two factors played a significant role in the way I reacted: I am Black, and I am autistic. What I wish I had known back then is that many people who are neurodivergent process information differently than those who are neurotypical. Neurodivergence usually includes autism, ADHD, and other neurological differences. One way that neurodivergent brains operate differently has to do with executive functioning, or how the brain absorbs information, organizes it, and acts on the information in a manner that is safe and effective. In intense and high-stress situations, executive functioning can become challenging, if not impossible.

I don’t tell this story very often because for so many people these are not unusual occurrences. They happen regularly. I am grateful that those officers spared my life when all the ingredients for a fatal shooting of an unarmed, young Black male were present. I have lived to talk about it, but so many others have not.

In August 2019, police in Aurora, Colorado, approached twenty-three-year-old Elijah McClain after they had received a 911 call reporting a “suspicious person” walking down the road in a ski mask and behaving strangely. When officers confronted McClain, he repeatedly asked the officers to let go of him and announced that he was going home. Elijah was a young, Black, autistic man.

Those who have sensory-processing challenges, which are common in autistic individuals, are often averse to touch, especially when they do not initiate contact. The body camera transcripts of the event record McClain repeatedly asking the officers to let him go, pleading with them, “Please respect the boundaries that I am speaking.” We can also hear McClain explaining his plan to go home. Another common characteristic of autism is difficulty switching from one activity to the next without a thorough transition or additional time to adjust to the new expectations. The random police officers approaching McClain for an unknown and undisclosed reason most likely interfered with his internalized plan of simply going home.

Finally, we hear Elijah stating, “I’m just different, that’s all. I’m just different.” Many believe this was Elijah’s way of trying to explain his autistic behavior and neurology to officers who deemed his behavior strange and, eventually, dangerous.

Officers at the scene eventually restrained McClain, who weighed only 143 pounds, using a choke hold. When paramedics arrived, an injection of ketamine was administered to calm him down. Because of the strength with which he resisted the officers, they wrongly suspected McClain was on drugs at the time of their encounter. Ketamine is a powerful sedative, and the paramedics administered Elijah a dose that was nearly twice the amount recommended for an individual his size. Shortly thereafter, Elijah stopped breathing. They then took him to the hospital, where he would die three days later.

Elijah McClain had no weapon. His family later reported that Elijah suffered from anemia, which made him cold, so it was not uncommon for him to wear a ski mask in order to keep warm. The investigation found that the Aurora police had no legal basis to stop, frisk, or restrain Elijah. Essentially, Elijah died because of implicit racial and ableist biases.

Implicit racial bias strongly shapes the treatment of people of color in the US judicial system. According to the New York Civil Liberties Union, the NYPD, from 2002 to 2011, conducted stop and frisk procedures on millions of citizens, about 90 percent of those being Black and Hispanic people. Eighty-eight percent of those minorities who the police profiled and stopped had no weapons or contraband. Often, what leads to such practices is the perception that Black and Brown bodies and the behaviors they display are inherently more aggressive—and therefore more dangerous.

There are several research studies that have found that compared to White people, Black people are far more often subject to automatic and subconscious negative stereotypes and prejudice. These thoughts usually extend beyond just negative attitudes; Black and Brown bodies are associated with violence, threatening behavior, and crime. Black men are also more likely to be misremembered for carrying a weapon because of this bias.

Let’s be honest: The stories I am sharing with you are not unusual. There’s nothing new about the statistics that prove racial bias is a reality in our country. There’s nothing new about Black authors, scholars, activists, and clergy speaking up about these issues. What is new, and what I am aiming to bring to this ongoing discussion, is that racial bias in America is not simply an issue of race. It is not simply an issue of skin preference. It is not just an issue of a lack of diversity. Race-based slavery and the enduring racial bias and discrimination it created are about disability discrimination as well. Our issues with racism are in fact issues of ableism— and American Christianity has played a significant role in influencing ableism in our present cultural context.

Content taken from How Ableism Fuels Racism by Lamar Hardwick, ©2024. Used by permission of Brazos Press.

“Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction,
    happy is the one who repays you
    according to what you have done to us.
Happy is the one who seizes your infants
    and dashes them against the rocks.”

After the initial feelings of intense discomfort and repulsion at such a notion, we seek to find some rationality for this passage being included. Seemingly in such a matter-of-fact manner. And so unlike the “Happy are the peacemakers” Beatitudes that we’ve grown accustomed to. Searching commentary upon commentary to convince ourselves that surely God is not endorsing such an option for our rage and revenge against another group – and especially infants for goodness and God’s sake!

Matthew Poole’s commentary mentions the idea of this representing “just retaliation.” In Barnes’ Notes, Albert Barnes and James Murphy write,

“In regard to this passage, we are not necessarily to suppose that the author of the psalm approved of this, or desired it, or prayed for it. He looked forward to the fulfillment of a prediction; he saw that a just and terrible judgment would certainly come upon Babylon.

Marc Zvi Brettler, Professor of Judaic Studies at Duke University, shares that similar language can be found in Isaiah 13:16, 2 Kings 8:2, Hosea 14:1, and Nahum 3:10. However, he goes on to assert, “Heaven help us all if we ignore the savageness of this text, and instead discuss it only as historical-critical philologists, in a dispassionate manner.”

I would agree with the word “savageness.” I understand its meaning is ascribed to both people and behavior. It is used to remove humanity from those assigned the name savage or merely as three – fifths human. Savageness is also condoned by those who declare inhuman status on anyone. Sometimes collaterally to everyone. This includes infants and babies.

It’s 2024. The hope is that no one is taking their cues from the savageness of this text!

Because we remember the beautiful Indigenous children of God and the devastating legacy of calculated genocide that dashed their infants against the rocks.

We remember the beautiful African children of God and the horrors of the transatlantic slave trade that dashed their infants against the rocks.

We remember the beautiful Japanese children of God and the terror of the atomic bomb that dashed their infants against the rocks.

We remember the beautiful Jewish children of God and the hellishness of the Holocaust that dashed their infants against the rocks.

We remember the beautiful African American children of God and the sheer terror of KKK lynching and bombings that dashed their infants against the rocks.

We remember the beautiful Cambodian children of God and the horrific Killing Fields that dashed their infants against the rocks.

We remember the beautiful South African children of God and the apartheid system that dashed their infants against the rocks.

We remember the beautiful Congolese children of God under King Leopold’s brutal reign and the horrors now that dashed their infants against the rocks.

We remember the beautiful Bosnian children of God and the systematic ethnic cleansing that dashed their infants against the rocks.

What all these atrocities have in common is that at some point misinformation and propaganda about the humanity of a certain community of children of God, nurtured rage and hatred. People became comfortable with collateral damage. They felt justified to see collateral damage as a viable and justifiable option.

Today we hear the cries of the beautiful Ukrainian children of God fighting for their existence with war all around that is dashing their infants against the rocks.

This past Christmas, we heard the sermon, When We Justify the Bombing of Children by Palestinian Christian Pastor Munther Isaac. Asking the world to hear the cries of the beautiful Palestinian children of God. Fighting for their existence with war all around. Literally, dashing their infants against the rock as he declared that Christ could be found this year not in a manger, but in the rubble.

Despite the inclusion of such a horrific passage of unyielding brutality, other Psalms like 127, declare “Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift?” Psalm 139 reminds us that all humanity is fearfully and wonderfully made. Being made in the image of God, found in Genesis, looks more revolutionary and remarkable when mirrored by the way Jesus taught on a mountainside surrounded by rocks. Instead of “happiness” being linked to the savageness of dashing infants against them, in the Beatitudes, He spoke of happiness being correlated to those who are merciful, pure in heart and peacemakers. Peacemaking is what children of God do. War is not the answer, is what we were supposed to remember. Remember?

There are accusations of being “anti” this group or that one. We hear aggressive demands to demonstrate where you stand in every conflict. Many, who are now canceled for refusing to stand passively among the rubble, find themselves in between a rock and a hard place. Because they dared to desire peace and justice instead of more war. They are compelled to actively live out their peacemaking child of God status. Unhappy to continue witnessing devastating horror and terror that dashes any human being created in the image of God, against the rocks.