Confession and Clarity

Sometimes, I don't hit my own mark.

When I hit the “publish” button on yesterday’s post, I felt uneasy in my stomach. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what about the article made me uncertain, so I dismissed my feelings as a fear of what people might think.

In the last 24 hours, I’ve received enough feedback to help me understand why I was uneasy and how my intentions for the post were not met.

Some of you have expressed gratitude and are tracking with what I wrote. For that, I am grateful.

Others of you have sent me more resources I need to read to understand Christian political engagement better. Maybe so.

Some of you have expressed confusion over the point that I was trying to make. You’ve asked if I am dismissing the importance of Christian political engagement or if I think politics is never on the side of the poor.

Others of you have been quite angry, accusing me of trying to cover for Christian Nationalism and so on. I’ve been accused of hypocrisy and not following my own advice. You’ve asked if I think that those who seek to defeat Christian Nationalism have outright abandoned charity.

When I moved from my personal website to Substack, I saw this platform as an opportunity to better engage with a reading audience. I hope this brief post addresses some of your feedback and clarifies my intentions for yesterday’s article.

I want to begin with an apology. I am sorry for being unclear in my words, enough that it may have left you confused or even angry. I see now that my unease over the post came from a subconscious sense that the article was unclear and had more bite than I intended it to. I never intend to be unnecessarily provocative, and I want to be as clear as possible in my writing. I will try to do better in the future.

I think the best way to clarify my intent for yesterday’s article is to share some of my own journey with you.

Like the rest of you, 2016-2020 were tough years for me. I was pastoring a church in the D.C. area, where national news concerning Trump, politics, and COVID-19 was our local news. The fear and anxiety in our city were amplified by our proximity to these events, and every church I knew of was struggling with how to faithfully lead its congregation in difficult times.

During this time, I was growing convinced of my calling as both a Christian and a pastor to address racism, social injustice, and political idolatry. These were subjects I was unfamiliar with, so I committed myself to reading and learning as much as I could.

And so I read. A lot.

I intensely studied Civil Rights history through the eyes of Baldwin, Malcolm X, Dr. King, and Taylor Branch. I learned about systemic racism and injustice through Ibram Kendi, Isabel Wilkerson, and Richard Rothstein. I studied the works of Critical Race Theorists with another pastor so we could better understand what we were being accused of.

I committed myself to synthesize these works through a Christian perspective with the help of Jemar Tisby, Duke Kwon and Greg Thompson Jr., Michael Emerson and Christian Smith, Brenda Salter McNeil, Robert Chao Romero, and many others.

I preached on these subjects and wrote regularly about them on my website. I led book studies on Zoom and in my backyard. Through a providential series of events, I was even invited onto Oprah’s platform to discuss racism from a Christian perspective with Ibram Kendi. It went so well that I was invited back a second time to converse with Isabel Wilkerson.

I faced pushback—a lot of it. I lost relationships. I lost sleep. But I endured it because I believed that I was doing the right thing for the gospel, the church, and the cause of mercy and justice in our world.

In many ways, I was. But I was still missing so much.

In 2021, our family moved from the suburbs of D.C. to an urban neighborhood in Indianapolis to pursue the work of church planting. We had been affirmed in the call to church planting in general and in the work of cross-cultural ministry specifically. Our denomination’s church planting assessment center could see I was passionate about these subjects from my preaching and teaching. I also scored relatively high on the IDI (Intercultural Development Inventory) assessment as someone who could easily respond and adapt to cultural differences. This diverse group of long-time planters and leaders told me I would not be happy and satisfied in ministry unless I flourished in a cross-cultural ministry.

I was confident with their blessing, my experience, and my deep sense of conviction. I thought I was ready to go. I thought I knew and understood racism and injustice on a deep level. I thought I was prepared to lead others in the work of barrier-transcending cross-cultural ministry.

Then, our family moved into the urban neighborhood, and for the first time, I lived next to all kinds of people I had never lived next to before. Systemic injustice was no longer a textbook subject but a daily reality next door. Many of my neighbors are different from me in almost every way.

And then, as if out of nowhere, I began to realize how many sinful prejudices were emerging from my heart. I had all these great ideas about justice and reconciliation, but my heart was still hard. I found my neighbors difficult to love, and I was ashamed of it.

I realized how little my grand ideas had changed my life. My relationship with money had not changed, and my relationships had not changed—I only spent time with people I was comfortable with. I was still full of excuses for remaining distant from the poor, and I couldn’t spend time in places where I was in the minority.

I had grand ideas about justice, but I still hated my neighbor.

It turns out that books, knowledge, and preaching series cannot change hearts. Only Jesus can do that in relationships with others over time. I may have had all the right ideas, but my heart was still wrong. I spoke boldly about justice, but I had not become a more just person.

As I wrestled with my shame and guilt, the Lord began a deep and beautiful work in my heart. I learned that to address injustice, I first had to become a more just person. I couldn’t just point fingers anymore. I learned that my deep prejudices needed to be exposed and healed first if I wanted to lead others in loving across boundaries.

I have yet to arrive. Loving others who are different from me is still a daily challenge. It is often painful. But I am thankful that the Lord did not allow me to stay in a place of knowledge and ideas, but has actually began to transform the sinful places of my heart that were yet hidden from me until we moved into the city.

If I could spare others from the shame and guilt I’ve experienced in this journey, I would. If my failures could teach even one person to be more introspective and dependent on Jesus for inner renewal, then it is worth exposing my sins and prejudices.

I wrote yesterday’s article because I have observed many people confronting Christian Nationalism going down a similar path. I’m not against books and book clubs. Books are great. I know one of the authors I mentioned in the article. His book is excellent. Please read it.

I’m not against civic engagement. Christians should be active in civic arena - I am Kuyperian after all. I do think Christian Nationalism is dangerous, and maybe you’re called to address it.

But please don’t make the same mistakes I have. It is entirely possible to gather knowledge about injustice and to challenge others in their errors without ever becoming a more just and merciful person ourselves. Our reaction to systemic sin can be so swift that we never pause to consider our complicity. New ideas might be so exciting that we don’t take the time for our hearts to catch up with our heads.

Owning up to our sinful prejudices and injustices isn’t easy. It’s the most painful thing I’ve ever had to do.

But Jesus is a good and tender friend who has been with me all the way. He has sent words of comfort and assurance when I've felt guilt and shame. When I don’t want to go deeper, he holds my hand and takes me one step forward.

If my heart has to be broken repeatedly to follow Jesus, so be it. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jesus answered them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. ³² I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.” (Luke 5:31-32)