“My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires” (James 1:19-20).
“Let’s just sit with that, shall we?” Wise words often heard from my therapist. Sitting with “that” meant pausing at a place of pain, angst, or discovery, sort of like when you see Selah in Scripture. It’s an intentional pause. In the music of the Psalms it is a directive for the singers to pause for an instrumental interlude.
Selah comes to mind as I think of having those courageous conversations where the speakers pause intentionally—not rushing to smooth over what’s been said with more words.
I’d like to thank my friend Debbie for initiating a courageous conversation. I met Debbie in a Bible study. She is my sister in the Lord. Debbie is white. She and another sister, who happens to be Asian, and I were catching up and talking about our summer plans during the COVID-19 pandemic. We shared about our families, kids, sheltering in place, having church services via Zoom, etc. And then Debbie waded out into deeper, unfamiliar waters stirred up by the death of George Floyd.
She began, “I know that I have white privilege but to be honest, I don’t even know what that is. California is such a melting pot—we live and work together, go to the same schools, worship together, etc. How have you experienced living here?” Selah.
Now, that could have been where walls went up, hearts hardened, teeth clenched, or all hell broke loose. Instead we paused, gathering our wits and words, and thought of the best way to share. Debbie desired an honest answer because in her admitted naivete she assumed our lives and daily experiences mirrored hers.
It never occurred to Debbie that someone who came to the United States for graduate studies, became a naturalized citizen, loves the Lord, her husband, and children is ever made to feel like a foreigner, despite the decades she’s lived here. Or that I’d ever been called the N-word, discreetly and indiscreetly followed by security through upscale stores, or had a little girl—little as in still sitting in the basket of a shopping cart—serenade me in the presence of her mother with, “N-word, black girl, jigaboo, monkey,” over and over again to the amusement of her smirking siblings.
The three of us shared our stories and shed tears. Joan, our Asian sister, said, “It is a hard conversation to have. But thank you for asking, listening, and grieving with the black community. Meredith, your story and those of our black brothers and sisters are heart-breaking. This is a time of mourning, praying, and taking action right where we are.” (To that I would also add repenting.) And Debbie, having heard more than she thought she would said, “Wow, there really aren’t words. I pride myself on living in a racially diverse state and I never thought about whether that means that everyone is treated the same. You have given me so much to think about and pray over today and I am so thankful for your openness and not making fun of me for being so naive.” Later that night Debbie texted me to share: “During nighttime prayers, my youngest prayed for George Floyd’s family tonight and asked that they not be ‘too sad’ and that they’d be able to ‘help others.’ I think there might be hope for our future after all…” Selah.
There was no conclusion to our conversation, but this was a courageous and bold beginning.