When the police in Ferguson, MO, released the name of the officer who shot Michael Brown last week, they also released surveillance camera footage of Brown in a convenience store, purportedly shoplifting. Whether Brown was guilty of the charges suggested by the video, no one believes shoplifting should be punishable by death.

So why release the video? Because shoplifting, it seems, was the more serious offense of which Brown may have been guilty. What he was actually stopped for was jaywalking.

Having lived in urban America now for 14 years, I know that jaywalking is a way of life. Sure I look both ways, but sometimes it’s easier to cross the street before you get to a corner. I’ve never been shot—or even stopped—for jaywalking. The difference between me and Michael Brown, of course, is the color of our skin.

As I’ve read about the protests in Ferguson, it’s clear that white people don’t understand why there is so much anger, even to the point of violence. Part of the reason we have a hard time understanding is because of our privilege as white people. Even if we get “harassed” by the cops, we know this isn’t the way things are “supposed” to work.  

My wife (who is white) reminded me of a time shortly after we moved to Philly when she was carrying our one-year old baby on her hip to the produce store. She was approached by an undercover cop and asked to leave the shop for questioning. He suspected she was dealing drugs because she had gone into a neighbor’s house to visit before going to the store to get some food. My wife let him have it, being in complete disbelief that she would be pulled over and questioned for such an offense, especially while carrying our child.

Reflecting back, she realized her anger was not because her dignity was being attacked, but because it should have been clear to the police that she was “not the type” to be selling drugs (which leads to the question, who are the type?). When he stated he was only doing his job, she yelled back at him that he was doing it with the WRONG PERSON! She then walked home angry, as he had no other questions. She got away with talking back to the cop without any consequences… a privilege of being white.

What would have happened if my wife were black? Would she have gotten off so easily? What if a black man were in that same situation? What if my wife had a history of being followed around, harassed, and looked down on as a second-class citizen? What if, in that moment, she hadn’t wanted to comply with the officer because she knew she’d done nothing wrong and felt once again she was being dehumanized.

What if she’d protested and the officer had shot and killed her?

The charge against her would be an RDO—“resisting, delaying, or obstructing an officer.” On the books, it’s a much more serious charge than jaywalking.

I do not believe violence is the answer to injustice, but neither am I shocked that so many turn to it when someone they love is senselessly murdered. If power and dignity are stripped from people again and again, what do we expect?

I learned an important word and concept from those who have struggled for peaceful justice in Africa. “Ubuntu” is commonly used by people in Africa to reflect their strong value for community. Martin Luther King Jr. reflected this concept well when he said, “I cannot be all that I need to be, until you are all that you need to be. And you cannot be all that you need to be, until I am all that I need to be.”

Unless white America embraces this notion of Ubuntu, I’m afraid that we will continue to inch towards a violent revolution. Until we begin to realize that our sons are being harassed and killed on the streets, we will sit by wondering why so many African Americans are so angry. Ubuntu calls us to reject the power dynamics that create “us and them” categories. Ubuntu calls us to respect and learn from all people realizing we are in need of “the other” as they are in need of “us.”

Ubuntu means that we should all look out for folks crossing the street, and everyone of us should be outraged when a young man is shot dead for jaywalking.

In short, John 3:16 states that if we believe in Jesus we will have eternal life!  Is belief enough?  What does it mean to believe?  James 2:19 informs us that even the demons believe.  We sell ourselves short if we restrict Christianity to simply having the right beliefs and yet our lifestyles are really no different from anyone else in the world.  I’m challenged by some of Jesus’ last words before he died, “I tell you the truth, anyone who believes in me will do the same works I have done, and even greater works, because I am going to be with the Father.  You can ask for anything in my name, and I will do it, so that the Son can bring glory to the Father.  Yes, ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it” (John 14:12-14).

In Philadelphia, violence is on the rise, particularly amongst the youth.  We are averaging about a murder a day so far this year and that doesn’t take into account the multitudes of others suffering from gunshot wounds that have escaped death’s door… this time.  We are in need of these greater works Jesus was talking about!  We need a real move of God, possibly even some miracles, in the face of the rising madness.  I want to look at a couple of the works of Jesus and encourage us all to ask ourselves if these same works are a part of our lives.

Prayer

In Mark 9 we read about a demon possessed kid.  This kid seemed to be straight out of the Poltergeist movie… foaming of the mouth, violent convulsions, grinding of the teeth.  When the kid’s dad took him to Jesus’ disciples, things only seemed to get worse.  Then Jesus walked on the scene.  He rebuked the evil spirit, commanding it to leave the boy.  The evil spirit screamed, threw the kid to the ground and then left.  Jesus assured the crowd that he was not dead and helped the boy up, giving him back to his dad.  The disciples were perplexed and asked why they were not able to cast the demon out.  Jesus told them that this kind only comes out by prayer (some versions add fasting) (Mark 9:29).

I find it interesting that Jesus never prayed (or fasted) in this passage.  Rather than praying, he was “prayed up.”  Jesus weaved prayer into the fabric of his lifestyle.  It was in the secret places that he was empowered to do the work of the Kingdom of God among the broken and marginalized of society.  I think too often we treat prayer like our ATM machine.  We type in what we want, to get what we want.  Prayer is more than that.  Prayer is about creating intimacy with God and being empowered to live a life of love and holy rebellion in a world full of demons called violence, racism, materialism, greed, individualism, addiction, poverty, etc.  It seems that prayer has become one of the more difficult works of Jesus to practice in our society.  We are too busy, too distracted…if we are not on our favorite social media we are surfing the web or listening to music on our iPods.  In and of themselves these things may not be bad, but do they consume us?  Do they distract us?  In this world we cannot afford to simply pray, we must be “prayed up.”  I believe just as this was the foundational work to all of the other works of Jesus, so the same should be true for us.

Miracles

I grew up in a tradition that did not talk a lot about miracles.  As far as I was concerned it was something of the past, something Jesus did.  To be honest I didn’t always understand Jesus’ miracles and why he did the things he did.  Take the blind guy who was healed for instance… Jesus spit on the ground, made mud with his saliva, and then put it on the man’s eyes.  He then told him to wash in the Pool to be healed (John 9).  Now put yourself in the blind man’s shoes.  You’ve been blind your whole life and now you hear about some holy man healing people… even healing the blind.  There he is right in front of you, you cannot see him but you certainly hear his every word.  Suddenly there is silence… then out of nowhere the Holy One seems to be conjuring up a Holy Hawker.  Then you hear him spit… you ask yourself what is that rubbing sound?  Then I can hear the blind man say, “Oh, no he didn’t!  Did he just rub spit in my eyes?”  Finally Jesus speaks, telling you to go wash yourself in the Pool.  I can imagine the blind man was already a step ahead of Jesus and was already trying to find someone to take him to the nearby Pool to wash!

Jesus was always doing things out of the ordinary.  But is it true we are to do the same works of Jesus… even greater?  Does this mean we can raise people from the dead after 5 days or simply spit on someone and they will be healed, no mud required?  I think one of the reasons we do not see more miracles in our society, is the direct result of not needing them.  Why pray for our daily bread when the fridge is full?

Jesus told us that if we ask him for anything in his name, he would do it!  This is important.  When talking about miracles it is easy to get wrapped up in the power of it all.  Doing things in Jesus’ name is all about doing things for his sake, as opposed to our own selfish motivation.  One time I went and saw a famous evangelist that was known for doing miracles.  I was skeptical as I walked into the sold-out arena.  It didn’t take long for folks to start coming up claiming they were healed.  He even blew towards the mass choir that was assembled and they all fell to their seats.  You could hear the ooos and ahhs, I simply wondered if he had forgotten to brush his teeth.  Finally a girl I had come with that had been bound to a wheelchair her whole life wanted to go and be prayed for.  She went up front and I waited with as much faith as I could muster to see what would happen.  In about 20 minutes she came back… still in her wheelchair.  She told me that when she went to ask for prayer they told her that she could only come up if she had already been healed?!  They wouldn’t even take the time to pray for her!

Honestly I would not have had a problem with the whole “healing circus” if they would have prayed for her and she would not have been healed.  We live in a broken world.  Think about it… every person Jesus raised from the dead, eventually died.  Those who were healed of a disease eventually died of another disease.  All those people he fed in the wilderness got hungry again in about 5-6 hours.  I think what is significant about the miracles of Jesus was not so much the power behind them as much as it was the love behind the miracles.  This is truly the greater work… the love behind the miracle!  There are more of us than the one person of Jesus Christ, therefore in his name we can do more acts of love and truly bring about a love revolution or revival depending on your tradition.

In this society we are in need of miracles.  As violence mounts, addictions increase and broken relationships are everywhere to be found, the works of Jesus are needed.  In our own society we have the blind, possessed and hungry and the power of love that healed them in Jesus’ day is as available in our day.  May we decrease so that Jesus will increase and may we be empowered to do the works of Jesus in our society.  Jesus is crazy about us, all of us… may we live into that reality.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the Academic Director for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak, contact him at: lahrtribe@gmail.com.

Over the past six years, I have worked with an organization called Mission Year.  Mission Year provides an opportunity for folks to live and serve in intentional communities in urban settings throughout the United States.  Typically six people between the ages of 18-29, share a house and spend their year working into the fabric of that neighborhood, learning, loving, and serving.

Mission Year is a training ground for people desiring to live in community.  Having visited several intentional communities, it seems that not everyone is “ready for community.”  What I mean by this is that some folks come to these established communities having never wrestled with some of the issues they will face living in community and often these same folks become overwhelmed and do not last long.  I have seen success and failures of community along the way.  Many folks seem to have a romantic view of community.  I believe it was Bonhoeffer who said, “It is our ideas of community that destroy community, but it is our love of people that builds genuine community.”  When I first started working with Mission Year six years ago the primary reasons people participated was to serve, to live in the city, and to learn about justice.  However, it wouldn’t take long before they would realize that one of the greatest lessons learned throughout the year was living in community.  Six years later, many folks now state “living in community” as one of their primary reasons for coming. Community is beautiful… community is hard… and community takes on many different forms.

Everybody brings two things to community… a gift and some crap!  One thing I love about Mission Year is that we walk people through the reality of community.  Community should be a place where one’s gift is nourished but it is also a place where one’s inadequacies (crap) are exposed.  I guess you could say that living in community is like standing in the mirror naked… it all hangs out.  Thus community becomes the context in which self-reflection and growth occur.  Community is more than shared space.  Take a college dorm for instance, though several folks share a common area it does not necessarily make them an intentional community.  In this setting folks can masquerade what is really going on in the inside and they do not need to get to know others at a deeper level.  Mission Year creates an environment for folks to embrace their weaknesses… to learn from them and to grow as a person.

Mission Year also likes to talk about “intentional” community.  We say “intentional” because community doesn’t “just happen, ” rather it take’s intentional effort, work, and grace to truly be community.  One of the strengths of Mission Year is our City Directors.  In each city we have a seasoned staff to help walk the participants throughout the year.  The City Director helps folks navigate the tough times and are there to celebrate the good times.   Once the participants begin their year, the romance of community quickly dies, but for those who trust the process of Mission Year, a training ground for a living community is birthed.

The beauty is that we do not create cookie cutter Christians or communities.  Rather, folks receive “tools” for living differently, and once they leave Mission Year they translate their experiences in vastly different ways and use those tools in many different contexts.  Some participants stay in the city and it becomes their new home, for others they move back to their hometown.  Some of our alum return to school, while others find jobs.  There are also several others that either join existing intentional communities or start their own.  The only real common thread with our alumni is that they are living differently.  People implement the values of Mission Year in a wide variety of ways.  Even the manner in which they are living community looks different….some will move into a house with several other people, some will begin to live intentional lives with others in their neighborhood, and some realize that  their immediate family is their community and  they begin to seek to live as loving neighbors with their families.

Mission Year may not be for everyone, but it is for some.  If you would like more information on Mission Year feel free to contact us here or apply here.  If you are an intentional community and would like to send some of your new folks this way for a year of training please let us know at the link above.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the Academic Director for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak, contact him at: lahrtribe@gmail.com.

Short-term mission trips were a vital part of my early development as a follower of Jesus.  I can’t say I ever brought about great sweeping changes to a society during those trips, but I did learn a lot about myself and God as I put myself in cross-cultural situations.  Rather than expound on the plus and minus’ of short-term missions, I want to talk about this “reverse mission.”  I call it “reverse” because so often short-term mission trips consist of white suburban folks going to the city to serve; whereas in this situation we brought a group of city youth (African American and Puerto Rican) to small town America (made up of 98% white folks) to serve.  We joined several different local youth groups from the area in the annual Operation Backyard.  For a full week, the youth groups came together to hear a speaker at night and to serve in the community during the day.

I found the preparation for this “reverse mission” to be very interesting.  Over the years, I had worked with countless white suburban groups as they prepared for a week-long mission trip in the city. There is often a lot of stereotyping that goes on.  Many people think and fear the worst about the city; but really people fear what is unknown to them.   I found the same to be true with my youth group.  This was the first time some of the youth left the city, for others it was the first time they really left their neighborhood.  When they discovered that the small town they were going to was 98% white, they expressed some of the same fears I had heard from groups coming from the burbs.  Instead of “am I going to get shot or mugged, ” I heard “Am I going to be lynched and called names.”

For several years now I have been doing research and have written on the racial history of the town I grew up in.  Though I love this town and overall the people are good, it does not have a very good reputation of hospitality for people of color.  Nonetheless, my guys ended up having a great time!  They loved the people they met (especially the girls from the gymnastics team… sorry just keeping it real J ).  Their experience seemed to show a different story than the marred reputation of the town, that is, until an incident they experienced near the end of our time there.

We were instructed to go into one of the neighborhoods and let the kids go door to door asking for canned goods to be given to a local organization to be handed out.  Traditionally all the youth groups participating in Operation Backyard split up into groups to reach every subdivision, neighborhood, etc. to collect the canned goods.  About 10 minutes after my kids got out of the van in our assigned subdivision, a man came up and asked me what we were doing.  I told him about Operation Backyard and what we were instructed to do.  I even offered the contact info of the organizers.  He told me that we had to leave immediately!  I asked why.  He said he was the “neighborhood security” and that we just had to leave.  As politely as I could, I told him no.  A few minutes later the police approached me.  I explained what we were doing and luckily he was familiar with it.   The officer was nice enough to let us roam free collecting the cans.  When I called the organizer of the event about the incident, he was shocked and could not believe this had happened.  This had never occurred in the history of Operation Backyard!  He himself labeled it as racism and apologized.  This event did not throw a dark cloud over the mission trip for my guys though.  In fact they loved their time there so much that they want to come back!  They realized that in every city, and in every neighborhood, there are plenty of ignorant people.

The small town I grew up in is a great place.  But it is not entirely a safe place to be if you are a person of color.  Not necessarily unsafe in the sense that someone will physically harm you, as much as the subtle racism that is expressed through ignorant comments, stares, etc., which do feast upon one’s soul.  This was manifested recently in a powerful blog posted on the internet by a black resident of this small town.  In the blog, the author described how his daughter had been crying because she no longer liked the color of her skin since it was different from everyone else’s in her class.  He went on to share the struggles he experiences as people “stare at him and his family like they were a bunch of sideshow freaks.”

There are several people from the town I grew up in that aren’t real thrilled with me as I bring these issues to light.  I hear repetitively that I am creating stereotypes and painting the town in a bad light.  I hear that I am being too general in my statements and that I make it seem like the KKK are walking around seeking to drive out all people of color.  I also hear that “this is not the only place that this kind of thing happens!”  I do my best to not make general statements, but to make ones based on real life facts such as the blog mentioned above.  “This does not only happen in our small town”… what does that mean?  Ok since it happens in other towns we should ignore it?  No!  There are people who are not fully accepted in the small town I grew up in, and I believe it is not because people are inherently mean or actively racist, but because people have ignored the issue of racism for too long.  Instead of being moved by anger when someone says his family is suffering, we get angry and defensive when someone suggests something should be done about it.   The majority of the population of any small town may be nice and not have a bone of bigotry in them, but is this enough?  I would argue that this is not enough if it is coupled with silence.

I am thankful for this “reverse mission.”  I am grateful that my guys were able to love on folks and be loved.  To bring about racial justice we must have a deeper understanding of how the “other” lives.  Even though an incident happened, many stereotypes were destroyed and friendships established.  My hope is that the town I grew up in (as well as the countless small towns throughout the United States) would be a safe place for my Philly guys to actually move to if they ever choose to marry one of the girls from the gymnastics team and settle down.  In reality, it is much easier to show hospitality to someone who is just “passing through.”  The real challenge is to take things to another level by making it a place where folks can move to, be interwoven into the fabric of the community, and be appreciated for the diversity they bring.

**What White People Can Do about Racism” is a collection of thoughts by Chris Lahr. Through this blog series he hopes to touch on lessons learned from his journey of living in a small predominantly white town in Indiana to living in a city (Philadelphia) where white people are currently the minority. Check out the first post in this series here.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the Academic Director for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak, contact him at: lahrtribe@gmail.com.

A couple days after they had been praying for the housing, they received an e-mail from someone asking them to re-send their last e-newsletter.  Come to find out he remembered reading that they needed something huge for the older boys and he started naming them one by one.  He didn’t believe our friend when she told him that an email asking for such a request was never sent……he checked with everyone who knew our friend, asking them if they had gotten the mass e-mail ‘asking for funds’….they told him that as far as they knew, no such email was sent….. he still didn’t believe them…..finally he recognized (after trying to figure out the mystery for over a month) that it was a GOD thing  (I wonder if he happened to see what God’s email was?)……. he ended up sending them $15, 000 which was the exact amount they needed to build the boys house–he didn’t know the amount they needed to complete the project).

The Bible is full of miracles.  India is full of miracles.  I began to wonder if the reason we do not see many miracle’s in America is because we don’t need them.  There is no need for us to worry about tomorrow when our fridges and closets are full, but there is also the temptation that we do not need prayer.  I had a lot of time for self-reflection and reading in India and realized that we are simply too busy!  I had the chance to read; Mother Teresa Come By the Light: The Private Writings of the Saint of Calcutta. I’ve been quoting and reading Mother Teresa for years and have never read anything quite like it.  The book is a collection of her confessions written out to her spiritual director.  The short of the story is that she felt very intimate with Jesus, that is, until she embraced the Call to follow Him among the poor; as well as made a Vow to never say no to anything He asked.  Almost immediately she experienced a dark night of the soul that lasted the remainder of her life.  She longed for a deeper presence of Jesus in her life, and yet there were times she questioned His existence.  Her spiritual director came to the conclusion that it was God’s means of having her identify with the poor, even in their darkness.

I remember being in Calcutta and seeing the sign, “I Thirst” in just about every building we went into that was run by the Missionaries of Charity (started by Mother Teresa).  It wasn’t until reading this book that I realized the significance of this sign.  “I Thirst” represents the suffering of Jesus on the cross just as he was experiencing his own dark night of the soul.  Even in the midst of the darkness and in the busyness of her day, Mother Teresa took time each day to sit at the feet of Jesus, to pray, to worship, to be silent and listen.  In light of all of this I realized that my life was too busy.  I did not even have time to thirst.  Though I loved Jesus a lot, I was so busy serving Him that I did not take the time to sit with Him, and to develop a more intimate relationship with Him.  I need to slow down and thirst.  Thirst for intimacy, thirst to listen, thirst for worship, prayer and justice and most importantly thirst for Jesus.

I was in college when I first experienced the power of worship.  A group of guys used to get together to pray every week and often we would pop in a worship tape (didn’t have cd’s in the olden days).  I remember during one gathering, a couple of us started praying for the guys in the only Fraternity on our small Christian campus.  As a result, two of the guys decided they would join the Fraternity while the others would keep them in prayer and accountable during “Hell Week” (the infamous initiation week).  The guys had a blast doing harmless pranks around the campus and they were quickly accepted into the group.  On the initiation night our friends were asked why they wanted to join the Fraternity.  Now you have to picture this scene… The Frat boys were mostly made up of athletes on scholarship who were more interested in partying than they were about following Jesus.  Our friends simply stated that they came to the Fraternity to bring Jesus.  Everyone paused… they wondered if it was a joke… then realized it wasn’t …but laughed anyway.  They thought they were crazy, so they would fit right in.  They were accepted.  To make a long story short, nothing short of a revival occurred.  The Frat boys started giving their lives to Jesus, the parties turned to prayer meetings.  I remember on one occasion, we had been worshipping and the only frat boy left that had not given his life to Jesus was in attendance.  He came to the worship time to see what was going on with his brothers.  Before you knew it, he started crying, everyone gathered around him and prayed.  When they were done praying he looked surprised.  He then told us that he had full movement of his thumb.  He then went on to tell us that he broke his thumb several years ago and had not had full movement of it since.  That is… until that night!

I know one thing for sure.  We were not hoping for a miracle that night, we simply were seeking to know Jesus better, but in the midst of His presence, a miracle occurred.  Around this same time, we began hanging out on the streets of Philadelphia with homeless folks.  We began to meet Jesus not only on our knees but also on the streets among the homeless.  I will never forget the time of prayer I had with my friends Scott Matney and Shane Claiborne just as I was getting ready to graduate college.  We prayed for revival.  We prayed specifically for a revival that would not be confined to Churches, but one that would take place on the streets.  We prayed for a Justice Revival of sort.  I guess you could say another miracle occurred.  Just a few months later I received a call of a mass student movement on campus to embrace homeless folks (later called the Y.A.C.H.T. Club whose story is detailed in Shane’s book Irresistible Revolution).

We have been in awe these past several years as the justice movement has expanded and folks are taking their faith to the streets.  You do not have to look far to see churches and intentional communities doing their best to love their neighbor.  But I have also noticed that life on the front-line is very busy and the work is never ending.  Now, more than ever, the movement must include not only time on the streets, but time on our knees.  This is not a call to become a prude, but to evaluate the things in your life that make you busy.  Do you have time to thirst for the reality of Jesus or is your idle time filled with Facebook, TV, or even doing good things?  If nothing else, I feel pretty good about the fact that 48 kids in a children’s home in India are praying for us all!  I am looking forward to the coming revival that will take place in the streets and on our knees.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the Academic Director for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak,  email Jen Casselberry.

While Lara and I were recuperating from the overwhelming events of the day I came across the story of the Rich Man in Lazarus in Luke 16: 19ff. In the story we read that the rich man lived in luxury and had seemingly everything he needed for a comfortable life. We also discovered in the story that just outside the rich man’s gate laid a beggar named Lazarus. As fate would have it, they both died…Lazarus got an angelic escort to heaven while the rich man woke up in hell. One of the first things I noticed in the story that seemed in stark contrast to the reality that I had experienced in the Home for the Dying…was that it was the rich man who died without the name, not the beggar! The following is an excerpt from my journal…

Today I saw a boy about the age of sixteen die. He was a poor boy brought in from the street. No one knew his name or why he was in the condition that he was in. I cannot help thinking of the boy and the life that he must have lived. It breaks my heart that the boy died without a name, or did he? In the story of the rich man and Lazarus, it is the poor beggar who is named, not the rich man. For the rich man, his riches and luxurious lifestyle made up his identity on earth. In the end the rich man woke up in hell, known only as the “rich man.” The poor beggar, on the other hand, was probably not known by very many people on earth, especially by the rich man, whose gate he sat at every day. In the end the rich man received a proper burial, but the poor man received a proper escort! The beggar was no longer known for his poverty, but was known personally as Lazarus. The well-known rich man was simply referred to by his riches (with which he had none left).

I wonder whose gate the boy used to sit in front of? Could it have been mine? How can I enjoy my riches, my daily showers, my more than sufficient food, my bed and clean clothes, when there are many Lazarus’ out there desiring to get the crumbs of my wealth? Matthew 7: 21-23 says, “Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord, ’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father, who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, ‘Lord, Lord, ’ did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles? Then I will tell them plainly, ‘I never knew you, away from me, you evil doers” (NIV).

Am I known? Am I known personally, by a name; or am I known generically by a title? To simply “do good deeds” to the poor is not enough! We must love them, and know them, because in our doing so we begin to know and be known by God. Matthew 25:40 says, “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers or sisters of mine, you did for me” (NIV). In Acts it was not only Cornelius’ prayer life, but his gifts to the poor that made him known by God (Acts 10:4). In this life we may cast out demons and do many miracles, but the only way we will enter the kingdom of heaven is by being known by God.

Mother Teresa taught that the poor are Jesus in his distressing disguise. As I thought about the story of the rich man and Lazarus I came to the conclusion that the rich man did not go to hell because he was rich…but because he did not care! 1 John 3:17 tells us that if someone has enough money and sees someone in need and is not moved by compassion, how can the love of God be in that person? The mere fact that the rich man lived life not moved by the poor at his front gate was a reflection of a deeper issue in his heart. From that moment on, my wife and I stated that we would forever live a life that asks, “Who is at our front gate?” If the poor are Jesus in his distressing disguise, then following Jesus is sort of like playing hide-and-go-seek, because there are many faces of poverty. We learned our first time in India that when we connect with those on the streets, we are in fact connecting with Jesus.

Now fast forward to December 2011, Lara and I have been married for 15 years and have three daughters (Alexa age 12, Moriah age 10, and India age 4). We now have the opportunity to spend a month in India at a children’s home that a friend of ours started. Since our first time in India, we have been working tirelessly serving folks in Philadelphia through Iglesia del Barrio, the Simple Way, Mission Year, Timoteo, and just trying to be good neighbors. We have loved our life in Philly and have had the joy of seeing Jesus in his many disguises throughout the years.  But to be honest, we were tired and needed a little refreshing.

One of the things that impressed me about the children’s home we stayed at was that the children and staff loved Jesus… they were crazy about Him. There are 48 children and youth who each have their own amazing story of their journey from poverty to this home of love. The thing that I loved most about the home was that they weaved worship into the fabric of their lives.

After a couple of nights of being there, we found ourselves around a campfire. Initially, to the delight of my pre-teen, they played some Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez and there was a lot of dancing and acting crazy as all kids around the world are prone to do. Then some worship music was put on. Some of the kids sat down, others walked around, but they all took the time to be at the feet of Jesus… they worshiped him. Just prior to our time of worship, the kids were challenged to pray for my family and not to be shy if God gave them a word for us. As the music played on, my mind began to flashback to the times I had in college where several buddies of mine would spend hours praying and singing in the little chapel there, worshiping God. As the music went on, I realized that since we moved to Philly I had spent so much time loving Jesus on the streets that I have neglected loving Him on my knees through worship. Eventually one of the young men living in the home came up to me and said he had an impression in his mind that he wanted to share with me that he felt was from the Lord. He said he saw an old tape player (stereo) that was dusty…and it was time to dust it off and put it to use. Immediately the cassette player that I had used to play worship music back in college came to my mind!

The motto we are adopting this year is “prayer is not preparation for the work… it is the work.” I look forward to continuing the life-long game of hide-and-seek on the streets…but I feel better equipped having spent some time on my knees seeking instructions first.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the Academic Director for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak,  email Jen Casselberry.

There are many responses to this question that a beggar sees as he sits with the hand extended hoping for your spare change… some casually walk to the other side of the street and act as if the beggar does not exist. Others come up on the beggar suddenly and do not have the time to cross to the other side of the street so they simply inform him that they do not have any “spare” change. Others approach the panhandler with a mission and begin preaching “the Good News” and letting him know what is needed to get his life straight now and in the life to come. Rare is the person who takes the time to get to know the person on the street, to listen to their story, to hear their struggle, to hear their wisdom.

When I was in college I traveled into Center City Philadelphia every Saturday to hang out with homeless folks. On our limited college budgets we would take down peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk. We took so many pb&j sandwiches down that the folks on the streets started referring to us as the peanut butter and jelly Christians (a denomination that I was very proud to be a part of). It was all fine until one of the guys we had met on the streets informed us that he did not like peanut butter and jelly, but would rather have ham-n-cheese. Hmmm, this sounded more like a job for a prosperity denomination to me, but I told him we would do our best to accommodate him the next week.

During those days we made some meaningful relationships. One of my dearest friends was Ricky. Though it was Ricky’s mental health issue that kept him on the streets, he was very bright and we would talk for hours about different topics ranging from life on the streets, the Bible, the Church, rich people, our bangin’ pb&j sandwiches, etc. One weekend we decided to bring Ricky to our campus. Not really sure how we pulled this off, but one thing is for sure, if you want to invite the homeless to stay over in your dorm for a weekend, don’t ask for permission. Ricky had a great visit, met some new friends, ate lots of food, but eventually had to go back to the streets. Taking Ricky back was really hard. It was in the middle of winter! No longer was he just some homeless dude on the streets, but he was my friend, Ricky.

A couple weeks later I talked a couple friends into going to Philadelphia to spend the night on the streets. We went with no pb&j’s to hand out, no food for ourselves, and no money. At first I thought we would be hitting the streets with nothing to give, but I quickly learned that we did have something to give… ourselves! I also learned that we had so much to receive from our brothers and sisters with no place to call home.

There is a danger inherent with those who serve. Those who serve with good motives are often still the ones in charge. They hold the power. Power is not bad in and of itself, but it can become dangerous when it is not used properly. Rather than taking the time to get to know someone and truly understanding their real felt needs, there is the temptation to give them what we think they need.

Paulo Freire in his book, , talks about false generosity (p.26 ff). He states that any attempt to soften the power of the oppressor in deference to the weakness of the oppressed almost always manifests itself in the form of false generosity. False generosity gives you a warm feeling inside as you hand out food to the homeless, but the deeper questions of why they are homeless is never explored. False generosity makes it ok to come into a poor community unannounced to pass out tracks, hand out candy, and preach the Word… never building meaningful relationships and opening yourself up to truly making a change for the sake of justice. Think about it… do prisons want crime to cease? Do homeless shelters really want homelessness to be a thing of the past? Prisons and homeless shelters are booming businesses that can only survive if these issues continue. Freire says that, “injustice is perpetuated so generosity can continue to be expressed.” He goes on to say that “True generosity consists precisely in fighting to destroy the causes which nurture false generosity” (p.27).

If we really want to be able to destroy the causes which nurture false generosity, we must be able to live in solidarity with those in need. Justice cannot be handed top down, but is created in the context of beloved community. In solidarity we are able to see the image of God in others, as well as see our own humanity. Those days on the streets of Philly as a college kid opened my eyes to what it means to be in solidarity by “being on the receiving end.” It was in these times that we discovered a deep faith in Jesus as we learned what it means to not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will worry about itself.

Over the past several years we have been running a weekend poverty simulation through Mission Year called PRoP (Pauper’s Rite of Passage). In many areas of the world, people practice Rites of Passage where a child goes through a series of events lead by the elders of the community and when the Rites is over they are viewed as a man or woman in that society. The Church is in a state of adolescence at best until she embraces God’s heart for the poor. PRoP was created to be a starting point in that direction.

PRoP takes place over a weekend. What makes PRoP unique is that there is no service involved! Instead, participants come to the city to learn from those living on the streets. A lot of PRoP is spent on the streets either panhandling for your next meal or sitting at the feet of homeless folks hearing their stories. Participants do not “pretend to be homeless, ” rather they tell folks they have been challenged to spend the day on the streets with no money and to learn from people. I am amazed every time we debrief their experience and they talk about their time panhandling. They are amazed at the stares they receive and the rejection they feel, and even the feeling of inhumanity. Often they also become overwhelmed at the kindness they experience when someone gives them something. Should you give money to beggars? Beg first then you will know how NOT to give to beggars. PRoP allows people to see other people’s humanity (as well as their own) at a deeper level. PRoP is not solidarity with the poor, but perhaps it is a stepping stone in the direction for some.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak, .

Over a decade ago I was taking a course, “Black History and Theology, ” at a seminary in Kentucky.  At one point the professor told us a story about a house “in the North” used during the slave days to hold runaway slaves and free blacks until they could be sold to Southern slave owners.  He located the house in Huntington, Indiana.  I was floored for two reasons.  First, the mere fact he mentioned Huntington, Indiana in class–the place of my childhood–was a bit shocking considering how small it is (population: 17, 000).  Second, I was taken aback that he was using my home town as an example of how racism still exists in the North.  He informed us that the “slave house” had been dedicated in the town (in a not so distant past) not to condemn the act of racism but rather to honor the owner of the house!  I knew exactly which house the professor was alluding to.  Three or four years later, I found a brochure for the “Dedication of the Lambdin P. Milligan Slave House, ” published in 1985.  The brochure shed more light than I initially wanted… the professor was right.  In 1985, my hometown dedicated the slave house in memory of Mr. Milligan, a Southern sympathizer during the Civil War who had been arrested for organizing an armed rebellion against the North.  He was tried by a military court, rather than a local court (which was later ruled illegal).  That’s where good ol’ Habeas Corpus comes in.

Milligan filed in Federal Court of Indiana a Writ of Habeas Corpus claiming illegal imprisonment.  Ex Parte Milligan was a famous decision that went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court after two Federal Judges in Indiana could not agree on the case.    The decision invalidated Milligan’s arrest and conviction, saying that military courts have no power over civilians as long as civil courts are functioning.  He was eventually set free because of the legality of the matter and the town of Huntington praised his return.  Over a hundred years later the town was still praising him, rather than challenging his racial stance.

A couple years ago I came across the book, Sundown Towns, by James Loewen.  Once again, Huntington was mentioned – indeed, seven or eight times.  Around this same time I learned that Huntington University was seeking to become more diverse in its student body.  As one step along this path, the University deemed it important that the town declare itself an “inclusive community.”  The “Inclusive Communities Partnership” is a program of the National League of Cities whose purpose is, “to motivate cities and towns to make a public commitment to building inclusive communities, ” among other things. It was interesting to see a dialogue emerge in the letters to the editor of the local newspaper, both for and against taking this step.

Reading Sundown Towns, in conjunction with hearing the tones of racism from several residents of Huntington in the modern day led me on the hunt to discover the deeper truths to the history of my town, a sundown town.  The initial step we took was gathering some students, faculty, and staff of Huntington University and talking about the need to find hard evidence that Huntington was in fact a sundown town.  Our desire was not to simply bring up the “bad ol’ days” but to admit to our racism and to seek ways to overcome it.  We decided that we would start the project as an independent study for three HU students as well as a faculty member, a couple of staff, and myself.

First we checked the census data from the start of Huntington to the present day, looking for the number of people of color in each decade.  We looked for any increase or decrease and made note of it as a decade to focus on when looking at the local newspapers.

The Huntington library holds every local newspaper on microfilm.  The newspaper card catalog contained the following useful categories: negro, colored, black, African-American, KKK, and Miami Indians.

As we looked through these articles we collected pieces of our story and began to identify several topics that seemed to summarize the racial story of Huntington.  Some of the themes included:

• stories of the Miami Indians, who were forced to leave the area as a result of a treaty;
• more about Lambdin Milligan and the group he was associated with;
• evidence of the underground railroad;
• a “Colored Campmeeting, ” where 700-800 African Americans gathered in Huntington at the fairgrounds in 1892.  We discovered that this was part of a social movement, a sort of early day civil rights movement where African Americans would call for equal rights.

We also found evidence in several articles that pointed to a culture of exclusion in Huntington that seemed to lay a foundation of it being a sundown town.  We’ve cataloged stories of 3 Arab women being denied overnight housing and after being refused an overnight stay in “the barns” and “wood sheds” they “grew quite boisterous, but finally departed.” (Huntington Herald 1 July, 1892).  In the Huntington Herald August 1, 1902 we found an article about an African American gentleman that was jailed after getting into a fight with a local white man.  Later that day the following note was fastening to the African American man’s house for his wife to read, “We as citizens give you just twelve hours to leave this town, and if this order is not obeyed a mob shall await you, and you will have to put up with what comes.  We mean business. (signed) Committee.”  Finally we found several articles about a petition signed by over 300 citizens of Huntington to have all African Americans driven out of town.  The Chicago Defender, an African American newspaper wrote the following about the petition,

Huntington, IND  — Mayor Charles McGraw received a petition signed by 328 white persons asking that “Huntington Negro population deportment.”  The population of this city is largely composed of foreigners.  The clamour for the dismissal of our people was said to have been started by the Germans and Austrians, who first objected to the men being employed by a local foundry to do war work.  The citizens have been so bitter in their denunciation of our people that trouble is feared.

August 25, 1919 Chicago Defender

We also ethnographically interviewed about a half dozen people, both whites and people of color, listening to their perspective of race and why Huntington is still so white. From these conversations emerged stories from the living memories of those we interviewed – complete with details that made them credible.  From the 1920s all the way till the 1970s some family members were respectable citizens by day but dawned the Ku Klux Klan hoods by night.  We were told by several eye witnesses that Huntington posted a sign on the edge of town warning black people to be out of town before sundown and that the sign was not taken down until about 1961.  Also, in the mid-1960s a house in the county was secretly burned to the ground during the night, after whites learned that a black family from Fort Wayne was attempting to purchase it.

In many ways I feel like we are just getting started on this journey.  One way we are looking to present our findings to townspeople is by creating a “Reality Tour.”  The tour will consist of ten spots throughout Huntington that would act as springboards for our findings and the different issues that have emerged as a result of our study.  The purpose of the tour would be to look at our history, the good and the ugly, and come to a place where we can admit the reality of our racism as well as point to hope for the better future.  We also hope that at some point we can also apologize for our actions and then seek out some concrete ways for living out reconciliation.  The possibilities for Huntington to model to other small predominantly white towns a new way of racial justice is great.  A Harmony Initiative has been formed to work with the churches and other local institutions to make sure they have racially just practices in place. Now would be the time to create a training program in the local high school to train youth in cross-cultural relations.  Also looking into the history of the African Americans and the Miami Indians who were driven from this land and not only offer apologies but explore other means of reparations if that is a possibility.

I feel that too often white folks want an easy answer, a concrete way to fix something.   Reconciliation does not call us to simply “fix something, ” but rather to join a journey, a long journey of grace, active listening, self-discovery, openness, mistakes, pain, and hope.   I believe Huntington stands at a crossroads of racial justice.  There are many people beginning to understand its past and are making active steps to write a new legacy of racial justice.

What White People Can Do about Racism” is a collection of thoughts by Chris Lahr. Through this blog series he hopes to touch on lessons learned from his journey of living in a small predominantly white town in Indiana to living in a city (Philadelphia) where white people are currently the minority. Check out the first post in this series here. Chris will be teaching the workshop, “What white people can do about racism” at the CCDA Conference in Indianapolis on October 13, and 15.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the Academic Director for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak,  email Jen Casselberry.

This would not be the last time I had a run in with the police.  A few years ago we had the small side window in the back of our car smashed by some local kids.  Nothing was stolen, and it was more of an inconvenience than anything. Because we had just paid to replace the side mirror from an all too common hit-and-run accident on our street, we decided to fix our window with duct tape!  I figured if it were good enough to cover my pocket calendar and butt-Bible (pocket Testament), then it would be fine to fix the window.

One evening, after “Youth Night” at our church, I took a couple youth home and I passed a police officer.  I saw him eye-ballin’ me but I didn’t think much about it.  He even drove up next to me… but, all seemed well, until I made the turn onto Frankford Ave.  Suddenly the lights go on and he pulls us over.  He asked about the duct tape window, and asked to see my license and registration.  Apparently he believed my story, and eventually let us go.

The next week was a little more dramatic.  Once again, I was taking the same two kids home, and I was even turning onto the same street.  This time I was very aware of my surroundings, taking mental notes of any police presence.  As I waited at the stoplight I saw a police car down the street to my left.  Should I go ahead and turn on red?  It was legal, but would the police take notice and try to stop me?  Ahhh, I’m being paranoid.  I turned.  I watched.  Yes!  The police officer is not moving, we made it!  Made what?  What is happening to me?  Is there any cause to fear the police when I know I have done nothing wrong?

Then it happened.  A bright light shone down on our car.  Initially I thought it was the second coming of Jesus and I asked the youth with me if they were ready to meet their Maker.  After a while went by, and I was unable to hear the Angel’s trumpets, I realized it was a police helicopter!  This is not an uncommon sight in our neighborhood but what was different about this particular situation was that as I drove down the street, the light kept following me!  Sure enough, there was a police car speeding down notorious Frankford Ave.  I thought they must be after the car in front of us, since they had pulled over so quickly.  Oh wait… those were undercover cops.  In fact there were two cars filled with undercover cops.  Before I knew it, several police cars and a helicopter had surrounded us.  We were busted!  Wait a minute… we didn’t do anything.  The police officer yelled at me to turn off the car.  He then asked me about the good ol’ duct tape.

I proceeded to tell the police officer that I work with youth at Iglesia del Barrio, etc.  They took my driver’s license and registration.  As we were waiting, the fifteen-year old sitting in the back asked one of the undercover police if he wanted one of his pretzels that he was eating.  He wasn’t being rude about it, or even trying to be that funny.  He was offering a pretzel.  The undercover cop said, “Do you think you’re funny?  How would you like me to smash your $%#@ face into the cement and kick in your teeth?  I think that would be funny.”  What?  Smash your face and kick in your teeth?  For what?  Offering a pretzel?  I sat there stunned…

The undercover cops quickly got back into their cars and off they went looking for their next victims.  The uniformed police gave me back my license and registration.  He said that he was sorry for the trouble.  I then said, “Excuse me officer.  I am not trying to be a jerk, but I really think it was wrong, the way the undercover cop handled this situation.”  I proceeded to tell him that I thought it was very rude how he had handled himself and that I thought it was a very racist act (the officer was white and the youth was Puerto Rican).  The officer then assured me that it didn’t matter if the kid was “blue, purple, or yellow, ” that what the undercover said was not even true, he was only putting on an act!  He informed me that because they do not usually meet nice people on the street, they have to put up the front that they are tough.  He then said I should get the window fixed because it was a red flag.

What does all of this mean?  Are all police bad actors?  Are my calendar and butt-Bible wrapped in gray duct tape also red flags?  In all seriousness the situation shook us up a bit, especially the young man sitting in the back.  First of all, they were not acting.  In that very neighborhood, as a congregation, we know personally, and have seen with our own eyes… police brutality.  We have seen people thrown to the cement and beaten up by the police… it sure didn’t look like they were acting!  I wonder what would have happened if I actually had stolen the car?  Would they have still been acting?  Or better yet, I wonder what would have happened in the same situation if I had been black?

The police officer told me that the gray duct tape was a red flag.  What are some other red flags police look for?  Skin color?  Certainly not!…We are all created equal and have the same rights…or do we?  Just a week after this event, the police stopped a friend of mine who happens to be African- American.  They said he looked like someone they were looking for.  His crime?  Walking around, minding his own business, and oh yeah….his skin is black.  He was detained for a few hours, asked too many questions, and he said that he felt like a side-show.  The police officer said that it was my friend’s fault because he was wearing a hoody (hooded sweatshirt), had his hands in his pockets (it was cold) and they thought he looked shady (suspicious).  Red flags.  I never really knew about them until that night.  You see, they are these things that police look for as signs of criminal activity.  Obviously red flags range from gray duct tape to hooded sweatshirts to someone warming their hands on a cold evening to having black and brown skin.

It is amazing how having a red flag can change the way you live.  If you have gray duct tape you drive a little more careful, and every cop you see makes you wonder if you will be pulled over again.  The good thing is that I can get rid of my red flag.  But what happens if you have a red flag that cannot be gotten rid of?  I cannot even fathom.

Looking back over the situation I can only guess if I handled the situation correctly.  Part of me wonders if I should have confronted the undercover immediately, rather than simply talking to the uniformed cop.  If he was only acting, I wonder how he would have re-acted to my displeasure of his comments?  Also I wonder what sort of things I view as red flags?  What are my stereotypes?  Why are they stereotypes?  What stereotypes have I been fed as a white, heterosexual male living in America?  I am beginning to think that a lot of people have a lot of red flags that allow them to maintain power over others.

What White People Can Do about Racism” is a collection of thoughts by Chris Lahr. Through this blog series he hopes to touch on lessons learned from his journey of living in a small predominantly white town in Indiana to living in a city (Philadelphia) where white people are currently the minority. Check out the first post in this series here. Chris will be teaching the workshop, “What white people can do about racism” at the CCDA Conference in Indianapolis on October 13, and 15.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the Academic Director for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak,  email Jen Casselberry.

Over the last few years as I have researched the history of my hometown’s racial past, several white people have asked me why I want to delve into things “that happened long ago” and that are “best forgotten.”  For some they think I am simply trying to stir up trouble.  I beg to differ.  A few years ago, I visited the Holocaust Museum in Germany, the Genocide Memorial in Rwanda and the Apartheid Museum in South Africa, all in one trip.  It was a heavy trip indeed, but as I reflected on my time at these places, I never got the feeling that these landmarks were somehow glorifying the past, rather they were elevating horrible events and showing humanity the evil we are capable of; and the displays all shouted “No More!”  Those who forget the past are bound to repeat it.

In the last article we looked at white amnesia, the disease rampant in our society that causes people to forget the past.  Not only have many white folks forgotten our nation’s racialized history…they have little desire to bring it up.  Saying things like, “I never owned any slaves, ” seems to get them off the hook.  It is much easier being silent about things, especially when it comes to talking about race issues in our country.  People have strong opinions and it is easy to get defensive.  Remaining silent and being nice is simply not enough.  MLK Jr. often talked about the interconnectedness of humanity.  He taught, “I cannot be all that I need to be unless you are all that you need to be; and you cannot be all that you need to be unless I am all that I  need to be.”  All of humanity is made for community and silence does not build a healthy community.

In the last blog, we talked about the need to move from (white) guilt to action.  Some practical suggestions for folks desiring to move forward in their walk towards racial justice includes: actively participating in the struggles of people of color (protests, living among), building mutual relationships, taking interest in different cultures: languages, food, music.  At this stage on the journey of reconciliation a person may commit to being anti-racist in personal and public life, begin sharing feelings around race with other white people, identifying structures that perpetuate inequality and take action, and instead of hating self… directing their anger against injustice and attitudes that lead to oppression and inequality.

This move from guilt to action really began for me during a class I took at the Alternative Seminary in Philly called, Christianity, Colonialism, and Deconstructing White Supremacy. The class was made up of about 50% white folks and 50% African American folks.  The first few weeks we looked deeply at some of the history of racism in America.  To be honest, some of the classes were really hard to take as we discussed the material…One of the things that really stuck out to me was when the professor asked if we had had enough of the history.  All of the white students said “yes” and almost all of the African-American students said “no.”  One lady then spoke out and said she actually enjoyed seeing the discomfort the white students were feeling and that she thought they were finally beginning to understand some of her reality.  It was in this class that I realized the importance of understanding my own racial history.

It was also around this time that another experience occurred.  Shortly after our new team members for Mission Year arrived in Philadelphia, we had to make a trip to the main UPS building to pick up some packages for one of the new arrivals.  As is typical, we waited in a long slow-moving line.  The sign on the front desk said that the proper I.D. was required.  I showed the attendee my driver’s license and they proceeded to the warehouse in hunt for our packages.  While we waited to the side, the next person in line (a young white man) handed his I.D. to the employee and stated that he was in the process of getting a new I.D. with his new address on it.  The worker shrugged her shoulders and went on the hunt for his package.

Soon after our packages arrived, the third person in line (an African America man) showed his I.D. to a worker.  The worker stated to the African-American gentleman that she could not get his package because the address on his I.D. did not match the address on the package!  Initially I did not know what was going because I was glued to the coverage of the Katrina tragedy on the TV behind the desk.  But as soon as the customer started showing a little anger, everyone took notice.  In the midst of taking our packages to the van, things got heated between the customer and the worker; security was called.  It should be noted that the African-American man was able to describe exactly what was in the package (by the way, I had no idea what was in my packages), yet they still said that he would have to go home and get other proof of identification (which meant he would have to take public transportation to the other side of Philadelphia to get it).

It wasn’t until I began to reflect on the situation that I realized what had happened… The white man behind me and I had no problem getting our packages even though our addresses did not match the address on the box!!  Yet the African-American gentleman was forced to take public transportation back across town to find another form of I.D.  There I was walking along in la la land, oblivious to the struggles of another human being.  Did I stop and say something?  Did I offer the man a ride across town?  No, but I did get my packages.  So what can brown do for you, as the UPS slogan states?  Well if you have white skin and the wrong I.D. they will be very accommodating, but if your skin is brown you better have the proper I.D. or you will need to take an extra trip across town.  Looking back at this situation I see that I failed through my silence.  I have played the scenario in my mind many times over since then and I can only hope that next time, I will move beyond silence to action.  So what, if I’m a nice person or “I’m not the one who denied the man his package, ” I was silent and I benefitted from a system of advantage based on race.  If we want to see real change in our society, the silence of the good people must stop!

What White People Can Do about Racism” is a collection of thoughts by Chris Lahr. Through this blog series he hopes to touch on lessons learned from his journey of living in a small predominantly white town in Indiana to living in a city (Philadelphia) where white people are currently the minority. Check out the first post in this series here. Chris will be teaching the workshop, “What white people can do about racism” at the CCDA Conference in Indianapolis on October 13, and 15.

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Chris Lahr is a Recruiter and the Academic Director for Mission Year. He is also a part of the Simple Way in Philadelphia. He is a writer and a speaker. For information about having Chris speak,  email Jen Casselberry.