We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” —The Declaration of Independence
Despite the nobility of the sentiment, it is a tragic and uncomfortable fact that the history of our beloved country is written over with stories of how some people have not been treated as equitably as others, and the “unalienable rights” endowed to all of God’s image-bearers have been withheld from those deemed unworthy of them. “It was such a long time ago,” we say. “What are we supposed to do about it now?” We asked two of our friends, Leon Brown (the black pastor of Crown and Joy Presbyterian Church in South Richmond, Virginia) and Eric Chappell (the white associate pastor of New Life Presbyterian Church in Escondido, California) to discuss the significance of racial diversity in the American church, why it’s important, and how brothers and sisters of all races should work together toward genuine unity in diversity.
EC: Leon, tell me how you became a Christian and how you were introduced to Reformed theology.
LB: In Reformed and Presbyterian circles, my story is a bit unusual. I was raised in a single-parent home, surrounded by drugs and gang violence, and was only later introduced to Christ and his church. While I was stationed about five hours south of London, a navy hospital corpsman invited me to his church. There, I was saved. About six years later, I was introduced to Reformed theology. I was on the beach in San Diego, street-preaching and passing out tracts, when a Christian, whom I had never met, challenged my theology. That caused me to question what I believed and why I believed it. After a time of further study, my wife and I embraced the doctrines of grace and began attending a church that believed likewise. What was immediately recognizable about our new church and other Reformed churches we attended was that they were ethnically homogeneous. What about you?
EC: I am born and bred Presbyterian/Reformed. My parents had me baptized as an infant. I was catechized, raised, and discipled in Reformation theology; grew up in largely suburban, middle-class, conservative churches; and am a product of small, Christian schools in the Reformed tradition. Pretty much the exact opposite of your experience! I professed faith in high school, but it wasn’t actually until college that I felt I really began to understand grace. It was largely through the ministry of the local church, several influential professors, and the White Horse Inn that I began to see more of the fullness of the gospel.
For most of my life, I have been surrounded by a predominantly religious, social, and ethnic homogeneous tribe. It’s interesting that I’m only just beginning to understand the effect that has had on my way of looking at life and faith. The way I grew up felt normal at the time, but I’ve been awakened to the fact that this is not normal and, quite frankly, it was easy.
Leon, you mentioned that the demographics of Reformed denominations stood out to you. Did you feel like you stood out at the Reformed churches you attended? What was that experience like for you and your family?
LB: If you take a perfectly white sheet and, using a black marker, place a dot the size of a penny on it, it stands out. We notice what is different. In many ways, that’s terrific; in some ways, it’s burdensome. I recall visiting an Orthodox Presbyterian Church in Southern California. Since my family arrived early, we sat down near the front of the worship auditorium. After a short time, people began trickling into the room to prepare for the service. One man approached us and introduced himself. He then walked me over to another black person in the congregation. (The black person was African.) Oddly, the man who initially introduced himself to me immediately walked away after he connected me with the African man. That day, there were two black dots on the white sheet. Apparently the man recognized this and wanted to make sure we met. Introductions like that happened on more than one occasion.
Eric, have you ever done something like that? In light of my experience, how would you teach your people to respond differently?
EC: Until recently, the churches where I worshipped were pretty solidly racially homogenous. It wasn’t until seminary that I began to see this as strange. Even then, I incorrectly thought that merely preaching the gospel would naturally make a church racially and socially inclusive. Several years ago, I was able to serve a church plant in Milan, Italy. I’m neither Italian, nor do I speak Italian. The church literally embraced me with open arms, and it was the first time I experienced being a cultural minority. I loved the intentionality of those brothers and sisters: they asked me questions, worked through language barriers, spoke my language, opened their homes and dinner table to me, and became my friends.
For me, helping homogenous churches lovingly respond to our neighbors who are different necessarily involves a robust theology of the incarnation. Jesus, who was the ultimate Other, crossed a cosmic and ontological boundary to know us, embrace us, love us. If Jesus did that cosmically difficult work for me, how can I not move toward my neighbors and family in Christ who are not from my tribe? Loving means knowing my joys, my hurts, my questions, my issues. I’ve found that as people—who are different from me racially, socioeconomically, and ecclesiastically—invite me into their lives, my view of the world and the God who made it is enlarged. Ultimately, it’s not about me; it’s about the costly call of following Jesus in moving toward the other.
Leon, how do you think church leaders can best equip and disciple Christians to think about race, racial justice, and racial reconciliation?
LB: As you can imagine, that’s a question that requires a multilayered response. Is “race” a category we should use? Is it a biblical term? Although I believe “race” is a biblical category, we’ve distorted its meaning. My answer will be overly simplistic, but I believe it may be helpful.
When thinking about race, racial justice, and racial reconciliation, we must start with the gospel. The gospel is the great leveler. It demonstrates that regardless of race, class, political affiliation, and gender, we all have a problem—both spiritual and physical—and we need a Savior and Lord who can address that problem. Further, in the gospel (i.e., the good news that God is for his people), we have been given tools that address the aforementioned issues. In Christ, there should no longer be hostility between image-bearers. The violence that exists between people groups was crucified at Calvary, and we are newly reconciled one to another as a result (Eph. 2:11–18). And now, by the Holy Spirit, we live in light of that good news by loving our neighbor as ourselves (Matt. 22:39; Gal. 5:14). This love does not cause us to eliminate our distinctions (Acts 6:1–7; Rev. 7:9). Rather, it allows us to operate in the midst of those differences.
Interestingly, some people believe the solution to race and racial reconciliation is to jettison the idea of race, but terminating the category won’t get rid of the problem. If we operated under that notion with gospel distinctives, then we would no longer have good news. Within the gospel itself, there are distinctions we must maintain. The Father wasn’t sent; the Son was. We must learn to embrace the beauty of differences instead of running from them.
What about racial justice? Well, it seems that loving our neighbor as ourselves, in light of the good news, would help us move toward a fuller expression of equality both inside and outside the church. As you explore this further, surround yourself with people who are unlike you. As conversations about race, justice, and reconciliation emerge, be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger (James 1:19). Enter the dialogue in humility, recognizing you have more to learn than you think.
What about church leaders? They should continually encourage their people to love. This will require us to engage everyone in our communities. It should also press us beyond the walls of our neighborhoods. In doing so, we will encounter people who are dissimilar to us. Develop a relationship with them; invite them into your home. At some point, these topics will arise.
Lastly, I suggest we attend conferences we might not otherwise attend. I imagine those reading this article are familiar with conferences hosted by Ligonier Ministries and White Horse Inn. Try a conference such as Frequency in Philadelphia, Legacy in Chicago, or similar venues where the majority of those in attendance are minorities who embrace the Canons of Dort and the five solas. There, you will learn more about the fullness of God’s love and how his law and gospel direct our love.
Eric, tell me about some of the difficulties you, as a white male, have as you consider the topics of race and injustice. Are you considered odd by your friends? Does anyone suggest you should just get over it? Why do you believe preaching the gospel isn’t good enough?
EC: As I mentioned, I’m significantly late to this conversation. It just was not a part of the communities I was raised in. An interesting observation for me is that I normally run in circles that tend to reinforce my cultural and ethnic predispositions rather than challenge them. It wasn’t until I had relationships with people not like me, read more broadly (fiction and nonfiction), and listened to preaching outside my tribe that I began to see how I largely assumed that my way of living, thinking, and feeling was the correct way or the only acceptable way.
I feel odd about bringing up race. I can’t prove it, but I get the sense that because I bring up issues of race, I’m labeled and ignored. The funny thing is that I know people have a lot of opinions, ideas, and feelings about race. We live in a racialized society—you cannot not have convictions about race. But I do feel that many of my white friends simply choose to ignore the broader cultural conversation because they don’t think it’s worth having.
Right out of seminary, I believed that if preachers merely preached the gospel, then all the nations would be drawn into the local church. Today, I think that’s a bit naive. I know this is a sensitive issue, but I really do believe the church needs to be intentional about what it’s doing and why, when it comes to race. Jesus didn’t have to go through Samaria (John 4), but he did—crossing the ethnic, gender, and moral boundary. As Christians and as the church of Jesus, we’re called to be just as intentional.
Leon, as an ethnic minority in a white majority Presbyterian denomination, what particular challenges or blind spots do you see? Is there anything about Reformed theology in particular or changes taking place that make you hopeful for a more multiracial church and witness?
LB: I think we all have blind spots. That’s one of the blessings of being around people who are unlike us. They sometimes perceive and process events differently and can help us see our circumstances more clearly.
As a Reformed pastor in a predominantly white denomination, the blind spots I perceive venture beyond the ethos of Lord’s Day worship. Often, when we speak of a diverse church, we think of having people in our congregation whose skin hue differs. That is, we desire a multicolored church, but we don’t often want a multicultural church. This costs us. It sometimes requires changing the music, allowing people to be demonstrative in service, examining the homogeneity of the leadership, and a host of other things. We should not stop there.
One of the larger blind spots that goes unmentioned is exegesis. While teaching at a church retreat on politics, race, and the gospel, I asked the people how many African-American friendships they maintained. I was careful to distinguish between Facebook friends, acquaintances, and employment relationships. After they revealed that they did not have many, I asked them what they were missing by not having those relationships. The answers largely amounted to missing out on diverse cultures. I then asked them to read a certain Bible passage and interpret it.
Once they had done so, I provided my interpretation, which was quite different. Those in attendance asked how I managed that interpretation, which they determined was accurate. I responded by saying that throughout the Scriptures, the people of God were sometimes oppressed and often minorities. Those who have lived in those circumstances bring a level of understanding to the Bible that others in dominant positions won’t. It’s like asking a male to describe childbirth. He can only say so much. Women who have experienced it can say so much more and explain it with a conviction that men cannot. Similarly, oppressed minorities can exegete biblical passages in a way that those who have never experienced oppression and being in the minority can’t.
I am hopeful about change in Reformed and Presbyterian settings. My hope is that the Holy Spirit changes hearts. You’re a great example! I believe we must first be open to the conversation and be willing to pray that God helps us through it. We should also consider the words of the Lord’s Prayer. As you know, we ask for God’s will to be done on earth as it is in heaven. What’s heaven like?
After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” (Rev. 7:9–10)
This is why I have hope.
Eric, what are some things that make you feel uncomfortable when African Americans and other minorities talk about race?
EC: Two things come to mind. The first is that it’s difficult to identify with conversations surrounding race. I don’t ever consciously think about my ethnicity or race. So when friends and neighbors talk about race, the conversation itself is uncomfortable because it’s not part of my lived experience. It’s like what you said about childbirth: I can read about the experience, and maybe intellectually get it, but there’s a certain barrier in my understanding that’s difficult, maybe even impossible, to overcome. For me, that’s one reason why it’s important to talk with people of color and to read books such as Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin or, more recently, Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates.
The second is my individualist American zeal to fix problems. Early on, I found I was trying to think of solutions to the problems of race: start a Bible study to address it, join a protest, post about it on Facebook. I kept feeling uncomfortable because I felt like I wasn’t doing enough, or doing the right things. It was essentially the uncomfortableness that the law brings—guilt. For me, part of the sanctification process in thinking about race is that I don’t need to jump to solutions and fixes immediately. I also don’t need to respond out of guilt (white or otherwise). Rather, I need to see how the gospel changes all my patterns of thinking and feeling. Often, I think the Holy Spirit first needs to spend a great deal of time renewing our minds on issues like race. It’s only after the Spirit reforms our thinking, beliefs, and attitudes to the word of Christ that I think we can even begin to respond mercifully, justly, and humbly.
Leon, as I’m trying to disciple people in this area of the Christian life, I often find that part of the difficulty is the complexity of this issue and the many competing voices across the spectrum. What counsel would you give people as they seek to wade through all the opinions, statistics, and conflicting blog posts? How do we do this wisely?
LB: Interestingly, textual criticism may be helpful. As scholars study biblical manuscripts, they make choices regarding which variant is most likely linked to the original autographs. At times, the more difficult reading is preferred. That may seem counterintuitive and have no application for conversations regarding race, justice, and the gospel, but it does. When discussing so-called controversial topics, we often select those in the echo chamber of our present disposition. There may be times, however, when we need to consider the more difficult conclusion. Take up a study of that position and bathe what you read in prayer. After reflecting on it, compare how that position is different from your own. What similarities does it have? Then, gather with Christians who are ethnically, culturally, and socioeconomically different from you to study the topic. Be sure that within the group there are people whom you love and trust, yet who maintain a position different from yours. The collective study of the Bible will help sharpen your conclusions.
