128. The Conversation

It has been another week of racially charged violence in the states. A black motorist shot and killed by police responding to another call, that came across his car which had broken down. A protester shot point blank in the head with a rubber bullet. There were more, but I think you get the idea. And I am thankful that I am in Canada. Comfortable, cozy Vancouver where racism seems to have abated.

          Sure, we had residential schools, as late as the mid-nineties, and the Komagata Maru incident. But we were the land of freedom, the end of the line for the underground railway. And now Vancouver is an ethnically diverse city - which makes for great dining. I attend a predominantly Chinese church, and do so because of the teaching from the pulpit, the group of people, not as an expression of my new found openness to ethnic diversity.

          I think it came as a surprise to my friend and pastor that I at one time had been explicitly racist. I never burned a cross or such, but I was pretty selective in who came into my life. Sure, I tolerated different cultures, but they could stay more than a few steps away - which is why I find the concept of tolerance so sinister. One tolerates that which is objectionable; human beings should not be subjected to being tolerated. But that was a life time ago, and through healing and love and acceptance I am less racist than what I once was. The question, as I have heard it put, is not am I racist, but how am I racist? You can feel free to ask yourself that question too.

          Like I said, I like the comfort that this racial violence happening elsewhere affords me. There seems to be no urgency in addressing the remnants of hatred. After all, I am no longer the problem. Or am I?

The tolerance I give these days are to those who are racist. It is not just us white folk that engage in it. I tolerate it by not wanting to rock the boat, by letting comments, and attitudes pass because I do not want to really confront the issue.

          For to confront racist ideology, and I am writing about my racism, I know that I would have to question my involvement in church and in fact all of Christianity; and I am not sure I am quite there yet. I fear that once again I would distance myself from the organized religion, the institution, of Christ. The question that lays in wait, is am I willing to support an institution that is explicitly racist by keeping involved in it. I refer to the larger body of believers. Is it really for our own comfort that we join to worship and be Christ’s presence here on earth, with our own kind? Is that comfort based on not having the discomfort of having to deal with a group who is different from us?

I don’t know.

My own little church I see as being a seed. Pastor Dan has gently broached the subject of race on a few occasions. It is odd to see a Chinese person address racism in a group of people that my people would send into tunnels with dynamite because it was too dangerous for white people. Yet, in conversation with some of those within my congregation I see the same ignorance.

          So, by attending church, do I support an institution that discriminates? Or is my presence there the start of a shift? I know that within my little congregation that I have called bullshit on a few occasions. I imagine there will be more. Do I really serve as an example and thus do good?

          It is little comfort that my God had little tolerance for bullshit. What I want in church is a refuge from the world I am in everyday. I am seeking a gentle yoke. I fear the yoke that is being offered is another cross.  And yes, in case you are wondering, at least in my opinion, the larger body of the church is quite racist.  In fact, in popular Christianity I see one of the last refuges for racism. 

          This blog is not the seeking of answers.  I know that there are no easy answers.  In the conversation with my friend and pastor this week we discussed when, not if, and how the conversation of race needs to happen.  When it does, I will be a willing participant.  I also hope that the conversation leads to more development of our church and its role in the world around us, and the nature of our worship. 

127. A Lesson

A curious thing has happened. I am grateful that it has come to my attention. The lesson to be learned is important enough that I want to share it. As well. I am narcissistic enough to share it; one needs to be a bit of a narcissist in order to blog.

            Most of you know that what I do, I believe is missional. It is a combination between my passion and what I think is a legitimate calling by God. As those I work with take on those people that other agencies avoid, it helps with that sense of sacredness.  Thus, I believe that this is the Lord's work that me and my cohorts do. And in doing so, we have become successful.

            The success is beyond what I thought it would be. And that success has come despite the efforts of those that have opposed us. It has come in spite of the gossip that precedes us. This success has come from a number of different factors: the dedication of those who work with me, those who have seen the value in what we do, and the experience, skills and wisdom that I bring to bear on how the organization is run.

            In no small way our success also lies with God. I believe that I get to do what I do because she has decided that we need to do what we do. It is a responsibility, honour, and privilege that at times can be dizzying.

            It has been over the last few months that there has been a significant shift. We have crossed the financial threshold into being a medium sized agency, and are poised to be a large agency. It seems to be that there is a begrudging respect for who we are as a group. We are known for the compassionate care, our ethics, and our dedication to those we support. And what confuses all of us, is the sense that we have a truly unique approach to our work. We don’t see what we do as being special in anyway, we do see it as unique. 

And then the curious thing happened.

The curious thing that happened is that the business slowly shifted so that it has become the most important thing in my life. It has usurped a number of priorities. My faith. My marriage. My cycling. It is easy enough to do. Our success seems tentative. It still feels that we are one clusterfuck away from failure. It is not unreasonable, given the people we work with, to expect that one of the characters we support might die, and we might come under scrutiny once again. It also might be, that feeling on edge has become habitual. This business is fickle; today’s hero can become tomorrow’s villain in a heartbeat. Especially when we work in a field that is quick to find fault.

I have also seen, first hand, the unraveling of four other agencies. Three of those agencies no longer exist, the other one still exists, but nowhere near what it once was.

The other aspect, the secret that I do not share is that I feel like a fraud. That somehow I have managed to deceive people as our agency has grown. It is that 'lemonade stand' approach - that I am just an overgrown kid who has gotten way out of control, that lies behind this awkward sensation.

In the past few weeks, if not longer, things have changed. As I write this, I realize that I have been practicing what I call 'wish craft’. Us Christians do it all the time. If I recite the magic words enough, or do the good deeds often enough, then God will give me what I want. It is an attempt to barter with God. It is seen in the old testament when sacrifices are made in order to get the favour of God.

            However, it is toxic religion, as it seeks to impose my will on the world around me. The practice is also based on a lack of trust. And in my case, it took the focus off of what had made us successful in the first place.

            This shift in my focus, will not last forever. I have done this work enough to know that there is an ebb and flow to growth. We are about to impose an ebb. We are closing our doors for winter to consolidate our growth. We are also germinating the seeds of new projects and new services. Maybe, as we pause life will get back to some balance. That is if you think hundred-mile bike rides are balanced.

           

The situation reminds me of a John Cougar Mellencamp lyric – “I know there is a balance I see it when I swing past.”

The lesson?  I realize this is where so many have gone wrong, when the calling overshadows all else. It matters more who I am, and how I do life, than what I am doing.

Anyway, thank you for reading this, it has allowed a sense of sanity to return. At least for the time being.