Letting (white people) go
Earlier this week, in a multi-ethnic social media group that I’m a part of, a pastor posted a question that will resonate with some of this newsletter’s readers. He’s given me permission to post a paraphrase of it here.
In a multi-ethnic context, can people who are not naturally gifted at making space for others, become competent in it? In our church there are a number of good, faithful white people who simply are not skilled at connecting with people of color (POC). In fact their presence deadens the vitality of POC. They’re on board theologically with our vision. They’re reading Ibrahim X Kendi, Robin DiAngelo, etc. They serve in the diverse neighborhood public schools, reach out to their diverse neighbors, etc. But they lack the chemistry.
As a pastor, I’m not sure how to faithfully lead here. In response to this learning we’ve created environments for POC only. These have been great and so effective that POC leaders are now ready to do ministry training that includes some white people. But the group I mentioned above is not invited–and in my estimation would be unhelpful for that process.
Does anyone share this experience? Any best practices?
If I’m reading this pastor’s experience and concern correctly, he’s asking about whether white people who lack the chemistry (competency, emotional intelligence, etc.) to participate in multi-ethnic community in ways that are helpful and healthy for POC can grow into this chemistry. Can white people who aren’t good at multi-ethnic community get better at it?
I like this question for a number of reasons. For one, it acknowledges something that we don’t often talk about in diverse communities which is that it’s possible for white people to know a whole lot about race and racism and still really struggle to live in genuine, authentic friendship with POC.
Last year I attended a day-long anti-racism training with a couple of leaders from our church. It was led by an older black woman and her younger white colleague. Both were very competent in the material they presented, but something felt a little off when the white woman spoke. Halfway through the training I texted my co-leaders (both who are black women) and asked, “Do you think she has any real friends of color?” “No,” was their response. She knew a lot: she was name-checking the relevant authors and her terminology was up-to-date. But there was also - in my experience - an emotional and relational distance from the people she was talking about.
Multi-ethnic churches can attract these sorts of white people. They are passionate about racial justice. They’re reading good stuff, following thought leaders on social media, going to challenging conferences and workshops yet, all the while, remaining relationally ensconced in whiteness. It’s as though knowledge is seen as a substitute for genuine relationships.
The other thing I appreciate about this pastor’s question is how it acknowledges the toll these sort of white people take on a community’s POC. Because they often see themselves as “woke,” their blind-spots are less easily admitted. They’re attracted to multi-ethnic churches not because they see their own deficiencies and need for growth, but because they want to be affiliated with others who “get it.” (I’d have some extra dollars if I had a nickel for every time a white person confided in me about another white person who “just doesn’t get it.”)
What these well-intentioned white people fail to see is how their self-identification as “with it” can be damaging to the POC in the community. It is a version of self-righteousness, as damaging as any other, and it keeps them from hearing critique and humbly learning how to, in the pastor’s words, make space for others.
(There’s a bit of an irony to situations like this. In many previous iterations of the multi-ethnic church movement, the emphasis was on individual relationships between white people and POC. The underlying assumption - a very white assumption - was that good relationships lead to racial reconciliation. These days, the focus has shifted emphatically away from relationships and toward material repair. This is right and necessary but what some white people can miss is that this work still requires authentic and trustworthy friendships.)
So, back to this pastor’s question, restated in my own words: Can self-righteous white people ever become safe and trustworthy members of a multi-ethnic community? For me, the answer is an definite yes. But - and you knew there’d be a but - it requires being emptied of that self-righteousness. It requires accepting that there is no such thing as a woke white person, only white people who are slowly waking up and who remain prone to slumber. It requires being able to receive criticism and the regular invitation to repentance and confession. It requires, in other words, humility.
And what, then, about those white people who’ve not yet come to an end of themselves? I think this pastor is incredibly wise to set aside places for POC to grow and lead away from the gaze of self-righteous whiteness. In my experience, these spaces are necessary in a multi-ethnic community that 1) has white people in the community and 2) actively centers the experiences of POC.
What else? I remember an older white man who had spent years assisting church planters of color describe one African American pastor of a multi-ethnic church. “He’s brilliant,” he told me about this pastor. “He never invites white people into positions of leadership.” What he was affirming was this pastor’s instinct that white people need to follow leaders of color and that leaders of color need to lead in a manner that does not succumb to the gaping needs of whiteness to be coddled and centered.
If that sounds like too much for most white people that’s because it is. And that’s why leaders of multi-ethnic churches need to be OK with letting white people go. Because, when these leaders actively center the lived experiences and perspectives of POC, white people, no matter how “with it” they imagine themselves to be, will get frustrated. That frustration holds the great potential to lead toward spiritual maturity, but it may also lead away from the community. And while we never want people to leave, for the good of the entire multi-ethnic community, we’ve got to be OK when some of the white ones do.
Danté Stewart wrote a typically beautiful article in Christianity Today about the enduring significance of black theology.
Our history cries out: cries of little babies torn from their homeland; of mothers and fathers jumping overboard to escape from hell; of bruised and abused bodies; of broken promises and policies; of beautiful children lifeless in the streets and over social media.
I have come to see that theological reflection often begins at the place of tears and pain. It is in this place that black people have had to struggle. It is here that we have had the audacity to survive, to sing. And we in America today can’t understand this song without understanding the brilliance of black theology. I wouldn’t be able to make it in this cruel world without it.
There were a few endorsements that came in for my book that surprised me. Why would this busy, important person take the time to read my book? That’s what I thought when Mark Labberton, the president of Fuller Theological Seminary expressed interest in this project a few months ago.
Rediscipling’ is the operative assertion and action at the heart of David Swanson’s powerful book about the white church. This means for him that exposing and dismantling racism in the church is not primarily a political task but a spiritual and theological one. It has to do with a deep reformation of Christian practice that reflects the just heart of God rather than hiding racial injustice within sometimes false language and practices of Christian faith. Swanson’s book and his example, interacting with key insights from James K. A. Smith, present a raw, compelling, and urgent call.
Thank you President Labberton!