Hard and Necessary Work by Kristen Drumgoole
I find Black History Month to be a catch-22. On the one hand, I welcome the opportunity to study and celebrate Black history (a history rich with resilience, accomplishment, and overcoming adversity and injustice). On the other hand, it serves as a reminder that Black history (an integral part of America’s story) is starkly absent from the narrative of American history (at least for the other eleen months of the year).
Nonetheless, I try to find ways to learn and listen during the month of February. One of the ways I am observing Black History Month this year is by reading Jemar Tisby’s The Color of Compromise with my community group. The book’s byline reads thus: “The truth about the American church’s complicity in racism.”
The church’s complicity in racism. Yikes. I like to think of the church as a place of reconciliation, healing, and wholeness, rather than a place of strife, discord, and prejudice. Yet I have real and firsthand experience that shows me the former is very capable of coexisting with the latter, and I’m guessing you have too.
Tisby suggests that in order to move past our racist history, we must first acknowledge and feel the weight of grief that comes with it. He rightly notes, “All too often, Christians name a few individuals who stood against the racism of their day and claim them as heroes. They fail to recognize how rarely believers made public and persistent commitments to racial equality against the culture of their churches and denominations. Jumping ahead to the victories means skipping the hard but necessary work of examining what went wrong with race and the church. That can lead to simplistic understandings of the past and superficial solutions to racial issues in the present” (p. 20).
As I write this, I can’t help but think about another February event that is important in the life of the church: on February 26, we enter into the season of Lent. An outward manifestation of an inward preparation for the death and resurrection of Jesus. In Lent, we open ourselves up to the weight of repentance and grief — for our own sinfulness, and for the suffering that Jesus endured out of his profound love for us. Easter is my favorite holiday (Emmitt will tell you; my Easter enthusiasm is next-level) — the joy of it completely overwhelms me. But I never understood or experienced the fullness of it until I learned to observe Lent. In opening myself up to brokenness about my own shortcomings and the pain I have caused others, as well as grief for the state of our broken world, I acutely feel my need for Jesus and the good news of the resurrection.
Lent and Easter run parallel to Tisby’s assertion that “[j]umping ahead to the victories means skipping the hard but necessary work of examining what went wrong with race and the church.” We willingly lean into that hard and necessary work as we take up our Lenten practices, in exchange for the joy of Easter. How might we also lean into the hard and necessary work of racial reconciliation, both individually and collectively? As Tisby suggests, perhaps the first step is being willing to simply look. To acknowledge the wounds sustained by the Black community (and other communities of color) at the hands of white Christians who claimed, as we do, to love Christ and others. Tisby’s book is a great place to start, but not the only place; there are many books, films, podcasts, and other media out there (I’d be happy to recommend a few if you need) to get you started. Let’s be willing to do the hard and necessary work and walk alongside one another as we do so.