I’ll admit it: for much of my life the issue of race / civil rights was just a textbook page to me.
I wouldn’t have gotten into a heated debate about black skin vs. white skin, except to insist that people of all skin colors were made valuable by their Creator, as they were ALL made in His image.
But now I have a black son.
I can see my son’s face in place of those who have been murdered just for the color (the beautiful, dark, rich color) of their skin.
It’s not an academic issue anymore.
It’s a heart issue, and it’s tearing our country (and my mama heart) apart.
I can’t tell you how often strangers comment about how adorable Malachi is. It’s true – not only does he have big eyes, curly hair, and a killer dimple, but he has a sweet and hilarious personality, too. He’s so stinking cute. And for the most part, white people tend to love black babies.
So why is it that when Malachi gets bigger, manlier, more muscular…when he loses his little pot belly and gains a mustache…that he’ll suddenly become a “threat” to those who once called him “adorable?”
Why are black men scary to white people?
And what in the world can I do to prepare my son for the day that people treat him not as the star of the show like they do now, but as less human because of his skin color?
How can I explain that to a little boy who only knows that he’s dearly loved?
When he’s 8, or 10, or 12, I’ll have to tell him that some people hate him. Because he’s black.
I have never had to sit my biological (white) children down and give them a talk like that. Because in our everday existence, no one feels that way about them.
I’m so thankful that Jesus, in His amazing creativity, created skin colors of all shades. The variety is beautiful. His Creation is amazing. And I long for the day that everyone bows the knee to Him and acknowledges the beauty and wonder of it all.
He’s our hope.
Come quickly, Lord Jesus.