Sermons in the What do we do now? Series

Good morning, Grace. This has been quite the two weeks. We're supposed to, this morning, be in the middle of a series in the book of Acts called Still the Church. But in light of everything that's happened in our country, the elders and I universally and quickly agreed that we could not just continue on in the book of Acts like nothing was going on outside these walls. And as I've watched the protests and the demonstrations and the rioting and the looting and all the back and forth and been consumed in the news and social media and everything happening and all the voices being heard and all the things being said, I just became deeply convicted that we needed to stop and talk about this as a church. I became deeply convicted that I needed to prayerfully consider and address this as your pastor. And so I've talked a lot this week. Called people, I've sat in people's homes, I've met people, I've watched interviews, I've listened to discussions, I've read books, I've consumed podcasts, I wake up thinking about this issue of racial inequality and tension and injustice in our country. I go to sleep thinking about it. I scour the internet. It has consumed me, like many of you, for these past few weeks. And all of it, I think, has pressed on the church, has pressed us into this one singular question of what do we do now? What do we do? In light of everything we've seen, in light of what we're witnessing, in light of these demonstrations that feel different. We've seen protests before. We've seen rioting and looting even before, but these feel different. And I think it impresses upon the church the necessity to answer this question, what do we do now? What do we do as individuals? What do we do as a church? And for Grace, pointedly, what do we do as a predominantly white church in the face of the reality of the last two weeks? So as I've thought about how to answer that question, I thought it would probably be most helpful to start in this place of agreement. Every reasonable person that I know agrees that George Floyd was murdered by that police officer. I don't know any reasonable person, I haven't even actually talked with anybody, who would argue that what happened to George Floyd was justified and deserved, that what happened to him was anything short of murder. I don't know anybody arguing that. Conversely, I don't know anybody arguing for the morality and the rightness and the justification of protests that devolve into looting and rioting. I've not heard anyone make a good nuanced argument that people of color deserve the right to just charge into stores and white people deserve the right to just charge into stores and loot and take what they want and get violent. I've not heard anybody arguing from the morality of protests that devolve into looting and rioting. No one's supporting those. No one's saying that they're okay, and no one's excusing them away. So I don't think that it's worth our time this morning to further condemn the officer that murdered George Floyd or to decry the morality of looting and rioting. We all agree on those things. I think the more interesting question that we need to be asking, that I want to be asking as a member of the white community, is what is the message coming out of the protests and the demonstration? What is it that the black community would have us hear as a result of these protests? What are they using their voice to say? And if we listen closely, what should we be hearing? I've actually started thinking of the demonstrations and even the looting and the rioting in this light, kind of like this. Many of you are married. And if you're married, you know what it is to have a little spat with your spouse. You know what it is to have a little mundane day-to-day disagreement. And if you're not married, think about your relationship with a parent or with a sibling or with a close friend or with a child. We've all been in these discussions where there's a little disagreement, there's a little spat, there's kind of a flare-up, but then all of the sudden our spouse goes maximum angry. Whatever maximum angry looks like for your spouse, whether that's just like quiet, cutting comments, whether it's just getting silent and retreating, if it's throwing things, if it's yelling, whatever it is, we've been in these situations where all of the sudden at the drop of a hat, for reasons we don't all the way understand, our spouse is maximum angry with us. And we know that their reaction, that what happened that day in that instance does not warrant their reaction. If we are an unwise spouse, if we're bad at this, we will react to that overreaction. We'll point at him or we'll point at her, and we'll say, I don't deserve that. You shouldn't be saying that. What happened doesn't warrant your reaction. This isn't fair. You shouldn't do that. And we'll condemn the overreaction. And we'll heighten the argument. But what wise spouses do, what wise people do, is acknowledge. Yeah, that's an overreaction. But clearly, that's not a reaction just to what's happening in this moment. Clearly, there are things that have been simmering under the surface. There is a series of frustrations and disappointments that have led to this moment, that have caused this person to boil and bubble over in this way. So rather than reacting to the overreaction, let me be interested and listen and see what I can learn about the series of events that have built up in this person's heart to lead them to this place. Wise people want to understand what led to this response in the first place. And I think the best thing that I can do, the best thing that we can do in the face of these protests and demonstrations is to ask the question, wait, wait, wait, what is it that led to this moment? What are all the simmering frustrations and disappointments that you've experienced, that the black community has experienced that have led to this moment of demonstrations for the past two weeks? The most important question we can be asking, I think, is what is it the black community is trying to say? What are they trying to communicate? And as I think through that question, my belief is that the loudest message coming out of these protests is simply, will you listen to us now? Will you hear us now? Will you give us a voice now? I think what the black community is telling us is that, hey, racial injustice still exists. Racial inequality still exists. Racial oppression is still a very real thing in the United States of America, and we bear the brunt of it every day. It is still a thing that is happening. And I would be the first to tell you, I would be the first to argue that this country has made tremendous strides in racial equality and justice since 1968. We have come an incredibly far way in just a generation. But what these protests tell us is that we still have strides to make. We still have a ways to go. We're still not there yet. The black community is telling us we still experience injustice and oppression. And if you are a child of God, if you would call God your Father and Jesus your Savior, if you would call yourself a Christian, then when there is a group of people in your community that is telling you, hey, we feel like we exist in injustice, we feel like we are being treated unfairly, we feel like we are oppressed, that ought to perk up your ears. When there is a community of people saying, raising their hand and saying, hey, we feel oppressed. We feel like there's systemic injustice in our country. That perks up the ears of God. That breaks the very heart of God. And it ought to break our heart too, particularly as God's children, particularly as God's church. When there's a group of people in our community crying out that they feel oppressed, that life feels unfair, that it is unjust, as God's children, we ought to perk up our ears and listen intently and wonder at why and allow our hearts to be broken at that reality because that reality breaks the heart of God. Justice and correcting oppression are very near to the heart of God. I know this is true because the Bible says it over and over again. I know this is true because of passages like Isaiah chapter 1. Isaiah chapter 1, verses 10 through 18. If you have a Bible, you can turn there. That's one of my favorite passages in the whole Bible. I know I say that about a lot of passages. I really mean it for this one. I love Isaiah chapter one, 10 through 18. Those eight verses, those are the gospel. It's a beautiful passage. But I've never thought of it in the light that I'm about to explain it in until this week. If you look at that passage in verses 10 through 15, God is blasting Israel. Israel, those are his children, those are his people. They would have considered themselves the church or saved back in that time. And God is blasting them for going through the motions of their faith without really living it out. And he's saying things to them like, your solemn assemblies, listen to this, my soul hates. He says, when you pray to me, I will turn my back to this. I'm not there. I'm not listening. When you perform your sacrifices, I don't care about them. I don't want them. All the religious duties that you're doing, I'm not interested in those. And then in verse 16, after he blasts them, after he says, quit going through the motions, I'm not interested. In verse 16, it's almost as if he's saying, you want to know what I'm interested in? You want to know what's important to me? You want to know how I want my people to be defined? If you want to do the right thing, do you know what you need to do? This is what he says, verse 16. After blasting them, he ends 15 with the phrase, your hands are full of blood. 16, he says this, wash yourselves, make yourselves clean, remove the evil of your deeds from before my eyes, cease to do evil, learn to do good. So he says, listen, repent of all the things that I've just accused you of. Admit that you've been going to the motion. Stop doing that. Admit that you're living out this heartless faith and seek to do right. And if you want to do right, here's what you need to do. Learn to do good. Seek justice. Correct oppression. Bring justice to the fatherless. Plead the widow's cause. God says, you want to know what's near and dear to my heart? You want to know how I want my people to be known and what I want them to be marked for and what I want to be important to them? You want to please me? You want to make me happy? You want to know what God wants from me? Seek justice. Correct oppression. There's a community of people in our nation crying out that they are experiencing injustice and oppression and God's people should listen to that brokenheartedly and want to help. It's not just in Isaiah. In Micah, chapter 6, verse 8, a famous passage. Micah similarly ends a long diatribe of the ways that God's children have failed, And he says, if you want to do good, here's what we need to do. He says, he has shown you, oh man, what is good and what the Lord requires of you, but to seek justice and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Three things God wants from his people. Just distill it all down to whatever God would request. And what he leads with is seek justice. In the Psalms, we are told that we need to be a voice for the voiceless. It's the idea that when our voice is the loudest in the room, we ought to use it to help those with the weakest voice. Justice and the correction of oppression is near and dear to the heart of God. That's why I am firmly convinced that what is happening in our country right now is not a political issue. It's not political at all. And honestly, if you think it's political, you don't understand it. It's not political. It's a right and wrong issue. It's a gospel issue. Caring about this isn't about activism. It's about caring deeply about a manifestation of the gospel and the culture in which we live. What's happening breaks God's heart and it ought to break ours. It is our job as his people to diligently and fervently and generously correct oppression and to seek justice. This is a church issue. This is a gospel issue. This is a morality issue. So we have to talk about it. And even as I say that, even as I say that, there are those who I know and love who are good Bible-believing people, good moral folks, who would simply say, Nate, man, I agree with you that we need to care deeply about justice, and we need to care deeply about people not being oppressed. But I got to tell you, I just don't think that there is systemic oppression happening in our country. I just don't think that there is systemic injustice and racial inequality occurring in our country. I've heard statements like that even this week, and they're not statements from people who are racist or who mean ill will. They're just earnest, honest observations and thoughts from folks. But I would tell you if that's something that you might think, that first of all, that's something that I've thought too. But when you repeat that to black people, as I have this week, they went. I sat in someone's home and I said, hey, you know, there's some folks who would say that they just no longer see systemic oppression or injustice in our society. What would you say to them? They winced at me. It hurt them. And it wasn't a wincing of anger. They weren't mad. They didn't want to correct. It was a wincing of surprise and of disappointment and of hurt. That some people right around them don't even see what to them is so very evident. And if we don't believe that oppression is a thing, there's plenty of stories, there's plenty of examples of it continuing to happen in our country even to this day. As I spoke with people and listened and watched, I saw a lot of conversations happening between white people and black people. I was involved in some of those conversations. And in every one of those conversations, whether I'm watching them or involved in them or listening to them, the question would always come up, how have you experienced racism in your life? What are some instances where you've encountered, the white person's asking the black person, what are some instances where you've encountered racism in your life? And all of the black people had answers. They all responded with stories, sometimes multiple stories. Do you realize the power of that reality? Do you realize how condemning that truth is? That every black person you could go up to and find, even on the street, and just grab them and say, hey, I'm curious, how have you experienced racism in your life? When have you encountered racism in your day-to-day life? In the years that you've lived, what are the stories about your encounters of racism? Do you realize that they all have answers? You realize they can answer that question? That not a single one of them went, gosh, you know, I don't know that I have. You know how different that is from the white experience? I've never experienced a racial moment in my life. I've never been the victim of racism. I've never even asked my white friends, hey, when have you experienced racism in your life? Because we don't. Far and away, the vast majority of us don't even experience it. Do you realize the chasm and experiences there when they all have answers for it and we don't have any? One man shared his story, successful black businessman, went to a good college in the South, got involved in corporate America. He shared that in his office place, he often felt discriminated against. He shared some of that was probably imagined and some of it was probably very real. But what he knew is that the last thing in the world he could do is bring it up. The last thing in the world he could do is be honest about it or complain about it because you don't want to play that card and get that label. So he just kept his mouth shut. And after years of keeping his mouth shut, he gets promoted to their office in Manhattan. He moves his family up there. They find a great suburb in Connecticut where they decide to buy a home. They're walking through their neighborhood on the very first day that they're moving in. He's got his wife and his daughter in the stroller, and a car rides by them, and a white guy leans out the window and calls him the N-word and tells him that he's not welcome in his neighborhood and he needs to go home. In progressive Connecticut, a few years ago. It's still happening. I talked to somebody on the phone this week that confirmed an article that my wife, Jen, had read this week. She read an article. It wasn't an article. It was a post on Facebook that kind of went viral by a black man who just said, hey, listen, just so y'all know my experience, he loves to go on walks every day in his neighborhood. Kind of refreshes him like a lot of us like to go on walks. But he said, I'm very aware of the fact that I can't go on a walk without my wife or my daughter with me. I can't just walk through a neighborhood as a lone black man because I've gotten the cops called on me too many times because I'm seen as a threat in his own neighborhood. That story was confirmed this week when I was talking to somebody on the phone who said that they just bought a new house and they're about to move into this neighborhood. And he shared with me that his wife sat him down and said, honey, I know that you like to go on walks, but before you do that, for the first month or two that we live in this neighborhood, me and you and our kids need to go on a walk every day so that the neighbors can get used to seeing your face so that when you are out there by yourself, they don't think you're a threat and they don't call the police on you. I just moved into Falls River in April. I go on walks all the time. Never a single time, not once have I thought, gosh, I hope my neighbors don't see me as a threat. I hope they don't see my whiteness as a threat and call the police on me and I have to explain myself to them. I haven't once even considered that. It blew my mind that they still have to care about that. I was talking to another person who is very successful, who has degrees from colleges that I can't even imagine going to. He has brothers and they're all successful. And I asked him, growing up in a black home, clearly you would point to your parents as the reason for your success and your brother's success. But what was it about the way that they parented you that made you successful? And he told me that his parents always told them that they have to hold themselves to a higher standard than anybody else around them, that they have a smaller margin for error in their life than anybody else around them, that they're going to have to work harder than the other people around them if they want to achieve the same things. And they were incredibly hard on their boys for their sake because they knew that the margin for error for their children was slimmer than the margin of error of a house full of people who look like me. Then I started hearing about the conversations that black parents have to have with their children when they start to drive. They have to tell them that they're black and what their blackness means and how they should be sensitive to carry themselves. They have to walk them through protocols. If you get pulled over, do these things. Do not do these things. And they have to do this for the safety of their children. When I got my keys, my dad just handed me the keys. And he said, don't speed. And if you do speed and you get pulled over, just say yes, sir, to the officer. Be nice to him. That was it. There was no conversations about my whiteness. There was no, I've never thought to have a conversation with Lily, my daughter, about her whiteness. It's different, you guys. It's two different Americas. It's two different experiences. This points to an injustice and an oppression that still exists. This points to the reality that Martin Luther King's dream has not yet been realized. And if we want to see it come to fruition, that even though we've made great strides, we still have more to take. If the stories aren't enough, if those are anecdotal, I could point to evidence. I could point to statistics. I could point to how poverty skews greater in the African-American community. I could point to schools and how they lower in quality in African-American communities. I could point to a loss of the father figure in black homes. I could point to joblessness in the black community that's greater than that in the white community. Statistic after statistic that would lend itself to this understanding that the playing field is not level in our country. And yet even as I say that, even as I share those stories and those statistics that we all know, there are those of us who would say, yeah, but there's other factors, Nate. This is not easy. This is nuanced. There's other things going on there. There are those of us who would look at those statistics or look at those anecdotes and point to systemic issues within the black community and say, they need to get those taken care of too. They have some things that maybe they need to think about a little bit differently that they should correct as well. And I would tell you honestly, that I agree with you. This is not a one-sided issue. No conflict, no disagreement, no misunderstanding, no matter how great, is 100% one side's fault and 0% another side's fault. We all have things that we can own within the discussion. But even though I would agree that both the white community and the black community have a ways to go to achieve racial equality. I've begun to think of it like this. You know, when I was growing up, if there was somebody at school mistreating me, somebody in my life doing something that wasn't fair, treating me in a way that I didn't deserve. If I were to complain to my dad, hey, so-and-so's treating me like this, it's not fair, I don't like it, I don't appreciate it, he would say to me, son, when they act that way towards you, I want you to be gracious. I want you to be kind. I want you to forgive them. I do not want you to respond to them on the level that they are acting towards you. And I would get upset and I would say, but dad, that's not fair. They're doing this and they're doing that and they treat me in this way and I want to get back at them and I want to do this. And my dad would say, son, you're a rector and I'm not worried about them. They're not my children. You're my son. And this is how rectors act. I'm not worried about that house. I'm worried about my house. I'm not in control of that house. I'm not a voice in that house. I don't have authority in that house. I have authority in this house. And so I'm gonna worry about my house. And as long as you're a part of my house, then this is how you're going to behave. So in the issue of racial inequality and injustice, I've adopted the posture that I'm not going to think about that house. I'm not going to think about what other people need to do. Frankly, candidly, I'm not gonna think about what the black community needs to do. I'm gonna think about my house. I'm gonna think about my responsibilities. What are the mindsets and mistakes that I've made over my 39 years that I need to repent of and correct? What do I need to do? I'm not going to worry about that house. I'm going to worry about my house. Other voices will speak up in that house. They're responsible for that. That's not my responsibility. I'm worried about me. I'm worried about grace. And grace is a predominantly white church, so I'm worried about our house. What do we do? And it's because of that mindset and just focusing on myself and what I should do that I've come to really think about my role, however small it is, in racial reconciliation to really parallel the story of the Good Samaritan. A month or two ago, we were going through a series called Storyteller, looking at the stories that Jesus told to make a moral point. And one of the stories that we covered, one of the parables was the parable of the Good Samaritan. So we know this story, right? There's a man, he's on the road to Jericho, he's going from Jerusalem to Jericho. He gets injured. A priest and a Levite that we would expect to know how to do the right thing see him injured, see him dying, and they just cross over him and continue on with their day. Then a Samaritan shows up, the one that you wouldn't understand to be the moral exemplar in this story. He shows up. He sees the injured man. He kneels down. He tends to his wounds. He picks him up. He puts him on his donkey. He takes him to a hotel. He swipes his credit card, and he tells the innkeeper, whatever this person needs, you charge it to my account. That's the story of the Good Samaritan. And the point of that story, Jesus tells us, is that we're supposed to love our neighbor like the Good Samaritan, loved the injured man. And I think the current situation relates to that parable in that the black community is depicted by the injured man on the road who is crying out and saying that they are hurting, that they are in pain, that they are experiencing injustice. And every time I've heard one of those stories in my life, the first one I remember was Rodney King in the 90s. And every time it bubbles up again and every time the black community cries out and says, hey, it's still not fair. Hey, Martin Luther King's dream is still not realized. Hey, pay attention to us, please. Listen, every time that happens and every time I see the suffering of the black community, I always take the role of the priest and the Levite. And I look at them and I see them hurting and I continue on with my way. Because I think, I'm so sorry that you're there. I'm so sorry that you're hurting. I hate that this has happened to you. But I didn't do it. It's not my fault you're there. I don't hate you. I'm not racist. I don't hate people who look like you. I would never do this to you. As a matter of fact, I hate the people who did that to you. But I didn't do it. Not my fault. I'm not going to feel bad about that. And I move on. And then sometimes in my moving on to justify walking past this suffering brother, I'll begin to wonder, what could that victim have done to have prevented getting robbed like that on the road to Jericho? How late was he out? Who could he have brought with him? When he started to get robbed, did he mouth off? Did he resist? How is he to blame for what's going on? And usually, if I'm being honest about myself, those questions are asked out of a motivation to quell my own guilt. And I should confess to you that I'm, this is not figurative for me that I've played the role of the priest and the Levite. I'm a very flawed messenger for this sermon. I'm not good at this. I don't have black friends. In fact, all the arguments that some of you may have made to refute the things that I'm saying, I can promise you I've made those to my friends. So please, in my words and in my voice, don't hear condemnation, hear confession. I've been the priest and the Levite, and I'm ashamed of it. And God calls me to be the Samaritan. The Samaritan, even though it wasn't his fault, knelt down and he bound up the wounds of this person who had previously hated him. We presume that the victim was a Jew. There is racial tension between the Samaritans and the Jews. And the Samaritan ears to be perked up with what I think perks up God's ears as he encourages us, admonishes us to seek justice and correct oppression. I want to be one of those agents. And I am acknowledging and admitting, not just to myself, but publicly, hopefully, so that some of us can make the same admission that I have been the priest and the Levite stepping over the black community because I felt like it didn't have anything to do with me. I felt like because I'm not racist, because I didn't do that, it's not my fault. It's not my problem. But now I'm convicted that God himself told me to love others as the Samaritan loves others. To be a neighbor to everyone. To care about everyone's suffering and hurting. And I have been moved in the last two weeks and my heart has been broken that I want to be a part of the striding forward. I want to be a part of the healing of the racial divide. I want to help my hurting brothers and sisters. And hopefully you do too. And some of you, to your everlasting credit, you've been way ahead of me on this. I hope there's room at the party for some more. If you want to help, if we want to do more, if we want to help heal the divide, what can we do? And that's really the million-dollar question. As I've had conversations with people this week, really, people to varying degrees will say, yeah, we agree with that sentiment. We agree with that. We're with you. We want to do something. What do we do? That's the big question. So as I've wrestled with that this week, I've come up with three things that I think we can all proactively do. For those of us who want to be a part of the healing, I think we can proactively do these things. The first one is that I think that we should diversify our life. Diversify our lives. Make some black friends. I was on a call with a pastor, Albert Williams, from Dothan, Alabama, this week. And we were talking about all of these things, and I was telling him all the things I wanted to share with my church, and he said, Brother Nate, let me ask you a question. And I so love his boldness in this question. He said, let me ask you a question. You ever have black folks over to your house for dinner? And I said, well, you know, Albert, we just moved into a new house in April and it's been in quarantine. So I really haven't had much of a chance. And he laughed. He said, come on, Nate, you know what I'm asking you? No, I haven't. I haven't. And he got on to me. He told me the truth. And he didn't use these words, but he basically said, man, you don't have a leg to stand on then. You don't have any right to preach this. You're not even doing it. How are you going to go tell your people what they need to do and you're not even doing it yourself? And he's right. I'm a flawed messenger. But I'm going to diversify my life. I'm reaching out to other black pastors, not to build bridges between churches, but to build friendships between men. And I want people of color to be regular visitors in our home. I want Lily to grow up around that. And honestly, I think that this could bring about maybe a more profound change than anything else to just diversify our lives, normalize it for our children, learn empathy as we hear their stories and what they're walking through. And if I'm just being candid with you, at the risk of offending some people, there are very few people that I know who think that oppression doesn't exist who also have black friends. It just changes your viewpoint. So I think we need to diversify our lives. The second thing I would encourage us to do is to adopt a posture of listening. Adopt a posture of listening. I was talking to another person this week who agreed with me on everything and said, yeah, there needs to be a discussion. We need to talk. There needs to be some back and forth. But both sides of the party, both the white community and the black community, have some baggage to own. And there needs to be some give and take at this table. One side can't just take all the blame. And I said, yeah, you're right, but why don't we just listen for a minute? Why don't we just give? How about instead of yeah, but, instead of arguing with the statistics, instead of finding nuanced ways for that to not all the way be true, how about instead of searching for the one exception or the one article that makes us feel right about ourselves, how about we just listen to the voices and the messages coming out of the black community? We don't say anything. We don't argue. And some of the things, I'll be honest, some of the things I've seen coming out this week have just been completely illogical and nonsensical. But we don't have to respond to those. Just sweep those aside. Let's listen for the deeper messages. Let's be receptive to what our black brothers and sisters are saying. And then the third thing I would encourage us all to do is to develop a muscle for empathy. Develop that empathy muscle that you have in your heart. Learn what it's like to be a black person in the United States. Read some books. I thought about having books to recommend to you, but the truth of that is that we have all had books recommended to us. It's not hard to find them. Read a book that opens your eyes. Listen to a podcast. Seek out interviews. Listen to the voices. Seek to be empathetic and to understand. And even as I say those things, what can we do? We can do those three things. Even as I say those, there may be some of you that hear that and think, come on, Nate, like those are wispy, kind of mamby-pamby, like what real things can we do? Those feel insufficient to me. I would say to you that, respectfully, if you're doing all three of those things, if your life is diverse, if you're listening to the voices coming out of the black community, if you're developing that muscle of empathy intentionally in your life, and you still find those three steps to be inadequate, then please please let's talk and find some more adequate steps. But honestly, if you're not doing all three of those or none of those at all right now, how about we just do those and then talk about if they're empty? How about we just take those steps and then assess if they're insufficient and inadequate? Let's do the work first and then find out if what we're doing is working. I would finish by saying this. There are those of you, I believe, who will hear this sermon this morning and get fired up. You'll be excited, feel refreshed. You'll wanna be a part of the solution. You'll be happy we talked about this. Let that fire burn in a sustainable way. In a few weeks, the energy of the protest will be done. COVID will be back in the news cycle and our culture will have moved on to something else. And if we allow our fervor and our conviction to pursue racial equality and justice to fade along with the cultures, then we're gonna be right back here again. So let's let the fire burn in a sustainable way. Let's stick with it and let's mean it and let's make meaningful, lasting changes in our lives. There are others of you who may be offended by different things that I've said or disappointed in the way that I've handled this. And I understand that, I really do. This is a difficult issue. It's a nuanced topic. It stirs up emotions that we don't even understand how they got there. And it's not right of me to experience a conviction and then expect everyone else to be okay with that conviction being impressed upon them. So I would simply ask you, if I've offended you or upset you, to have some grace and some patience with me. And I would invite any one of you in response to this message or what's been happening to email me and let's start a dialogue. My email is at the bottom of the screen. It's nate at graceralee.org. Reach out to me and let me know and let's continue this discussion. I think it can only be helpful. But I know that for me, I want to be the good Samaritan. For grace, I want us to be a part of the healing. I want us to take seriously what grieves the heart of God. Would you pray with me as we pray for our city and our community and our country and our role and what God would have us do to bring about a very necessary healing? Father, you continue to be good. We know that you love us. We know that you love minorities and majorities with equanimity. We know that your heart is that we would love one another. God, give us the strength and the desire and the vision and the grace to overcome these differences in our race that are beautiful differences. Give us the strength to embrace one another. Bring people who don't look like us into our lives that we might befriend and understand them. Help each of us do what we believe is our part to heal this divide. God, I pray that you would work on our hearts. I pray that you'd speak to us even now. I pray that we would be moved by what moves you. And God, I pray for an America that's the same for everyone. Somewhere there's a four and a half year old girl running around that is in a black family. She's the same age as my daughter. God, can they be adults in the same country? Can they raise their children in a place that is void of oppression and injustice? Would you help us be a part of that reality? In Jesus' name we ask these things. Amen.