Cry for Justice

For the past year, God has been bringing the concept of "Justice" before me again and again, in many different ways and from many different sources. It's like a school teacher telling a child, 'Now pay attention, you're going to need this one.' I have no idea where it's going, but it keeps coming up. Much of those thoughts seemed to coalesce in a sermon series delivered by our pastor, Crawford Loritz, over the winter.

Take, for instance, his talk on racial justice. It was a tricky talk to give, as he happens to be an african american pastor of a (mostly) white church, and he admitted he did not want to come across as "scolding us". He wisely presented it in the form of a dialogue, between himself and an associate pastor, Monty Watson. I think the highlight of that talk came when Monty asked Crawford, "So, what is it that african americans want of white people? Do we owe an apology, or what?" There was a slight pause, as you realized that this was probably the crux of the dialogue, than Crawford gave a great answer (and I am paraphrasing here, based on memory)."No," he said, "it's not that anyone owes anyone else an apology. After all, most of the offenses done against african americans were committed long ago by people long since dead. But what many of us in the african american community want is a realistic understanding of the weight of the sin, of those offenses in the past. Many white people talk about the good old days with a pollyannaish view that everything was great in the past, as they are only aware of what white people experienced. For african-americans, the experience was quite different."
That comment struck me that morning, as I could definitely relate to it. The early part of the century was indeed a pretty good time...if you were white. I was reminded of that again this morning, listening to a personal essay given on NPR. The speaker was Mary Ellen Noone, and her story was recorded as part of StoryCorps Griot, an initiative that collects the recollections of black Americans.
In her story, we see a glimpse of the other side of life, where the absence of basic humanity in the ill treatment of others cries out for justice. And in seeing that, we can better understand some of the scars that still remain.
You can read her story on NPR by clicking here. To listen to it, just click on the "Listen Now" button. It is hard to hear, but it is important.

Spring is coming!

My favorite time of year by far - Spring, the promise of new life. I took this picture one year ago, on March 22. I can't wait to see all those flowers in bloom again.

Hey, after having a few kids, a guy is free to appreciate flowers without having his manhood questioned. ;-)