The Eternal Wrestling of Justice and Mercy

You know what is hard (other than reading long, wordy blog posts)? Trying to understand the experience of ANYONE else. Seeing the world through another's lens. It's so easy to assume that everybody sees things, understands things, and processes things like I do. Except they don't. My life experiences, my circumstances, my religions background...these things all inform the way I see the world and shape the generalizations or prejudices with which I assess other people. Over the past few years, I have become painfully aware of the blind spots in my life. I have realized just how little I know about the harsh realities of other people's experience. This is especially true of my friends who have more melanin than me. (See, I don't even know any more what word to use to describe this demographic) 

Yesterday, the trial of Amber Guyger reached the sentencing phase. Found guilty of the murder of Botham Jean by a jury of her peers, Ms. Guyger appeared in court for one last time for her penalty to be declared. In that hearing, there was a moment for what is known as an "Impact Statement." Family members of victims are given the opportunity to address the perpetrators. It is often emotional, sometimes filled with all the things that have welled up in the hearts of victims' families, sometimes violent. But every now and then, there is some powerful, poignant moment that catches us all off-guard. That happened yesterday.
Brandt Jean, the murder victim's 18-year-old brother, spoke to his brother's killer. He said, "I love you just like anyone else and I'm not going to hope you rot and die," Brandt Jean told Guyger. "I personally want the best for you. I wasn't going to say this in front of my family, I don't even want you to go to jail. I want the best for you because I know that's exactly what Botham would want for you. Give your life to Christ. I think giving your life to Christ is the best thing Botham would want for you." And then he hugged her. If you've missed it, you can watch the video HERE.
The video of that moment was shared and viewed hundreds of thousands of times in just minutes. Many - myself among them - posted the video as a remarkable display of compassion and forgiveness. It looked so much like Jesus on the cross, or maybe Stephen during his stoning. It was a point of light in a dark, dark world. Yet, as with many stories, there was more to the story that my blindness caused me to miss.
Another video surfaced, but it did not get anywhere near the attention as the hug video. It was Allison Jean, Botham's mother. In it, she talked about the ongoing problems of racial injustice, of corruption in the Dallas Police Department. Mrs. Jean, along with several other individuals, talked about the disparity between a murder conviction and a 10-year prison sentence. Please do yourself a favor and listen to her heart HERE.
This conversation - one that deals with systemic racism in the very fabric of our national story - was lost in the noise generated by the hug. It is a much more uncomfortable story for me (perhaps for most white people). It gets personal, and forces me to deal with a reality other than my own. It requires me to listen carefully to others when I struggle to understand their perspective. It causes me to check my faith, and how I have listened to what God has said. I know nothing of how such forgiveness has been weaponized. I had never thought of was that whites had used that imagery in the past to suggest that black victims of injustice ought to just move on like nothing happened. As a white man, that perspective never occurred to me. I did not know that White Christians would dream of using this as a case law, suggesting that racism is gone since a black man whose brother was killed by a white police officer would choose to hug her and offer her forgiveness.  Until recently, I had never heard anyone speak about the presumption of white innocence in all matters related to racially-oriented crimes.  But reading and listening have shown me over the last few years that blacks in America have always (yes, even now) been abused, mistreated, and victimized by white privilege. Yes, it is a real thing. If you don’t believe it, you are not listening to your black friends. Ask hard, uncomfortable questions. Let the answers to those questions move you first to lament, and then to act. Don’t act out of guilt. Act out of the righteous pursuit of “liberty and justice for all.”
Truthfully I don’t find myself with a lot of answers, but still more questions. I told one friend this morning that it makes me feel like the guy in Mark 8 who was blind. He encountered Jesus and first went away only able to see what appeared to be walking trees.  Only after coming back to Jesus was his vision clear. There are things now that I see that I never believed existed. I can see the struggles of people I knew nothing about. Yet I know there are times I still struggle with blindness.
I am starting a new sermon series this Sunday based on Micah 6.8. In that well-known text, three things are found together that are a prescriptive response to the terrible state of society in Micah's day: seeking (doing) justice, loving mercy (lovingkindness), and humbly walking (living) with God. This could not come - for me - at a more appropriate time. You see, it was easy to celebrate the mercy I saw from Brandt Jean. I did not hesitate to share that video. But I was not so quick to share Allison's call for justice. I accepted the mercy as the demonstration of the Gospel. But I failed to see that Jesus' Gospel-shaped life was equally about justice for those to whom it had been denied. The Gospel was also just as present in Allison Jean’s heart-wrenching statement. I am wrestling with the implications of this, for me, for the church where I preach, for my community, and for my country. I don't know what to do, yet I know I must do something.  I keep listening and praying. I keep hoping. I keep seeking the Lord's will and pleading with him for the boldness to do it and proclaim it even when it is uncomfortable. Maybe especially when it is uncomfortable. I will keep seeking to not only find and enjoy mercy, but to seek justice and do justly. Please, join me on this journey.