Precious Predilections

Tag: Collaboration

  • My Messy Beginning

    My Messy Beginning

    Friend, Joy Becker, finishes this blog series sheer bravery.  Her willingness to express where she is on this messy journey of privilege and racial reconciliation is authentic.  I’ve been honored to collaborate and share the perspectives of Mika, Amy and Joy during the past four weeks.  Perspectives unlike my own.  I’ve grown.  I pray that you read this last post with great expectation. Expecting God to speak to you.  I believe He will. With courage, obey whatever He speaks.

    I prefer when my writing culminates into a complete thought, when stories and anecdotes sit with me long enough to reach a finish line. I tend not to hit that Publish button until I’ve drawn a conclusion, tidied things up, and feel a sense of a closure.

    Today is different.

    There is no sense of closure because I’m just beginning this journey. I have so many conclusions spinning in my head I hardly know what to do next. I’m in the midst of so much learning and thinking and questioning; it is terrifying and thrilling. There are days I’d like to rewind the clock to before I wrestled with privilege and injustice. I’d like to unread and unlearn information that has left me wondering how me – this affluent, white, stay-at-home mom in the suburbs of Cincinnati – can possibly be part of reconciliation. Other days I want to shake myself because I spent so many years missing it, looking right past it.

    In the spring of 2016, I began reading the book Seven. Oh, to this day, there are times I wish I could unread it. God knocked the wind out of me within the pages of that book, awakening me to the intensity and responsibility of the privilege I was born into.

    Up until that day, I had thought very little of privilege and what it looked like in my life. I suppose when privilege is your norm, it is easy to miss.  

    But soon I saw it everywhere.

    I saw privilege when I opened my fridge, stared at shelves full of food, and ordered pizza because I didn’t feel like eating anything we had.

    I saw privilege when I put my contacts in each morning because I’ve had resources to correct my failing eyes for nearly 30 years.

    I saw privilege when I handed in my letter of resignation, voluntarily leaving my job to stay home with my children.

    I saw privilege when I was pulled over for a missing headlight and never considered a police officer might treat me unfairly.

    I saw privilege when I freely disagreed with colleagues and never thought twice that my race would be the backdrop for how others interpreted my words.

    I saw privilege when our president was elected because as much as I hate how he speaks of the oppressed, I knew my day to day life would not be much different.

    God put a fire in my gut the week I read that book, a restless stirring I haven’t been able to shake. I can’t stop reading and talking and asking questions. I can’t unlearn that I am in the top 1% of wealthiest people in the world, practically drowning in resources. I can’t pretend educational opportunities are the same for all children. I can’t ignore the hundreds of thousands of refugees who are desperately trying to come to America, and yet live such isolated lives once they are here. I can’t unsee the hate-filled eyes in those videos of Charlottesville.

    This is my messy beginning, my shuffling along, fighting my way through the weeds, with my hands outstretched, asking God, “What now? What can you do with the hesitant offering of a woman prone to wander, resist, and cling to privilege? Can you dig it out by its ugly roots? Can you keep forgiving me? Can you make reconciliation my heart’s cry rather than an item on my to-do list?”

    *****

    During the past year, I have looped through a cycle of emotions regarding the abundant advantages in my life.

    I am ignorant.

    I am overwhelmed.

    I am disgusted.

    I am paralyzed.

    I am afraid.

    I am humbled, forgiven, and obedient.

    Repeat.

    Those first five stages are fruitless at best; sinful if I’m honest, and I need to deal with them as such. I need to call out the sin in my life.

    I am ignorant. That is sin. Ignorance is choosing foolishness. It is looking away from truth and ignoring the mind God gave me for learning and questioning and engaging. Ignorance is choosing oblivion to global and national crises, excusing myself because it’s too sad, it’s too hard.

    I am overwhelmed. That is sin. I am looking to my own ability to solve injustice rather than following the lead of Him who came to change the world through servanthood. I am sinking into defeat, rather than clinging to a God of victory. Nothing is impossible for Him, and to be overwhelmed is to disregard the power of the Holy Spirit who is alive and active in me.

    I am disgusted. That is sin. The Lord needed to bring me to a place of disgust, a harsh realization of my abundant privilege. But to stay in that place of guilt, apologizing for all I have, is to forget the One who gave it to me. He did not accidentally place me in this life at this time in history, and He is not interested in my apologies for living in America, for being white, for being educated, or for succeeding in a career.

    I am paralyzed. That is sin. The reality of injustice is so thick and so heavy, I get lost in it. And then I do nothing. I stay in my neighborhood and in my home, with my conveniences and luxuries. I hang out with people who look like me and think like me. We talk about how thankful we are Jesus came to do all that messy work, but disengage ourselves from real action. Pretty soon, doing nothing in my norm.

    I am afraid. This is sin. Fear will lie to me every time, coaxing me to believe injustice is too much for my God. Fear tells me I will fail if I seek reconciliation. Fear tells me I will say the wrong thing and do the wrong thing. Fear tells me I will put myself in danger and be in over my head. Fear tells me I will upset people and annoy my friends. But God did not give me a spirit of fear, and to believe otherwise is sin.

    I am humbled, forgiven, and obedient. Confronting my own selfishness is miserable, but once each of those daggers have been humbly laid down, I can claim Christ’s forgiveness and move on to obedience.  

    The Bible tells me to feel the pain of others. Be wrecked by injustice. Be burdened. The Bible tells me to pray, and not just on the days after horrific events like Charlottesville, but to get on my knees every day, crying out for the broken and forgotten, repenting from my sins and the sins of this nation. The Bible says to be faithful in prayer, be persistent, keep bugging God to shake my soul and not look away from oppressive systems that have handed me a life of advantage.

    This doesn’t have to be an either/or approach. I can carry on with my daily life and remember the marginalized around me. I can write on my blog about eating dessert in the bathroom, and I can write about racial reconciliation. I can take my children to our community pool where they see dozens of children who look just like them, and I can take them to a church where they are the racial minority. My husband and I can celebrate special occasions at overpriced restaurants, and we can volunteer with the Cincinnati Refugee Resettle Program. I can go to the gym to teach Zumba classes, and I can learn to correctly pronounce the names of the colored women in my class, not just the white students. I can talk with my girlfriends about curtains and crockpot dinners and playdates, and we can talk about teaching our children to stand up for others. I can read Real Simple magazine and I can read about how to love my friends of color well. I can pray with my children for God to heal their owies, and I can pray with my children for God to awaken their eyes and hearts to those who need love.

    This isn’t a checklist. It isn’t more to add to my plate. It isn’t one or the other. It is awareness. It is courage. It is a transformation of my heart to move past the years I spent desiring peace and wishing well to those on the sidelines.

    Jesus spent His life on the bottom rung of the ladder. He surrounded himself with the powerless, the outcasts, the bottom dwellers, the marginalized. By his own choosing, He never made it up past that bottom rung. But I was born on the top rung; I was born into a life so far from Jesus. White. American. Middle class. Educated. Excess everything. It is a life so many long for, but it is a life that has proven to be my greatest hindrance in knowing the true Jesus. It is so far from the Savior who said He was “close to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18) and that “the highborn are but a lie” (Psalm 62:9). There is such a distance from me and the man who constantly cared for the widows, the orphans, the poor, and the needy. It is so much harder to “seek justice and encouraged the oppressed” (Isaiah 1:17) from up on this top rung.

    It’s ironic how you can read something a dozen times and always hope someone else is taking it to heart. How did I miss it?

    In every corner of the Bible, God is screaming, begging, pleading, urging me to love mercy and justice, to care for the last and least. If I’m going to believe the Bible is the Word of God, then it seems God is obsessed with social justice, and He asking me to stay engaged and join Him.

    This is my messy beginning.

    *****

    A note from Mika, Amy, Precious, and Joy:

    It has been a joy to share our hearts with you over the past month. The four of us have each been challenged, convicted, and inspired. We have each prayed earnestly for our readers, and for ourselves asking God to shake some souls and spur on conversations that would bring Him glory. We would love to end this series by praying for our nation, together pleading with God to heal and restore.

    Oh Jesus,

    We come before You with our mess. We acknowledge our sin and repent from it. We need You to do your thing. We need your power to bring change because we know we are powerless without You.

    I pray, God, that You would heal our nation and bring us to racial reconciliation. I pray that our hearts and minds would be changed and that change would lead to action. May our hearts break for the damage white supremacy has caused in our nation – that we would see it for the sin it is, and commit to not being complicit in it. I pray we would move outside our comfort zones, invite people into our homes that don’t look like us, and build relationships in an effort to reconcile.

    I pray America would become comfortable with being uncomfortable and no longer shy away from our horrid past. I pray we would know that racial reconciliation is not simply a good option; it’s important to You. May our hearts remain pliable for You to mold and change; performing open heart surgery if necessary to make us into a people that not only embodies the ethos of reconciliation, but the life style. May our days be less comfortable and more courageous.  May our love for You, Jesus, cause us to actively love our neighbors well.

    I pray we would lay down our privilege to serve and to see. I pray we would open our hands and our eyes. We are in need of Your grace and Your grit to do and hear hard things. Lead us, Jesus. Please do exceedingly above what we ask.

    Amen.

    Chains fall

    Fear bow

    Here, now

    Jesus, you change everything

    Lives healed

    Hope found

    Here, now

    Jesus, you change everything

    Lyrics from Holy Ground

    About the Author

    Joy

    Joy Becker is a wife and mama living in Cincinnati, Ohio. She recently resigned from a twelve-year career as a literacy coach and first grade teacher to become a full time stay-at-home-mom with her two young darlings. She is a lover of new notebooks, October, and goat cheese, and a hater of traffic, scary movies, and overcooked asparagus. You can peek even further into her love for Jesus, food, motherhood, and friendship over at 44 & Oxford.

  • How Do I Handle My White Privilege?

    How Do I Handle My White Privilege?

    In this blog, Amy Seiffert shares her authentic perspective on privilege in a vulnerable way.  Amy and I are participating in a collaborative blog series  with other women where we will share our perspective on privilege and racial reconciliation.  Our collective prayer is that as you journey with us your heart will be open to what God wants to reveal to you.

    “Life’s most persistent and urgent question is: ‘What are you doing for others?  — Martin Luther King Jr.

    My name is Amy and I have white privilege. I was born into a white, middle class, educated family. I got a college degree and married a white male who also has his degree and is now a small business owner. We have three kids and reside in a predominately white neighborhood in a college town.

    I deeply miss the diverse relationships I had in high school; we had various cultures, religions, and race in my friend circle. Korean, Black, Indian, Arabic, Mexican, White, Jewish, Hindu, Christian. I miss recognizing and celebrating diverse friendships, having the weeds of prejudice pulled from my white privilege perspective, and raising my children with a colorful and beautiful view of the world.

    I miss the daily academic environment where the table is set to have hard conversations. We had many respectful and robust discussions about our distinct heritages. We not only talked, we were in each others’ homes. I loved the food, the practices, the clothing, and the family life of my friends who were very different from me.  My family now continues to cultivate relationships with other races that are around us, but we would love to – we need to –  cultivate more. The richness of other races in our lives grows such beauty, humility, understanding, joy, and hope. Our soul-soil is in a great deficit when we close it off to any kind of vital diversity.

    Privilege, according to the oxford dictionary, is: “a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group of people.” Privilege can feel as obvious as our skin color and as subtle as our literacy. Even right now, if you are reading this blog, your literacy gives you advantage. I absolutely amen “education is a right, not a privilege” – but we can agree, for those who can read, there is an absolute upper hand.

    And today, as I come together with four different kinds of women, writing four diverse kinds of blog posts about privilege, race, ethnicity, reconciliation, fears, hopes and dreams – we also have one common denominator:

    Jesus.

    I sit humbled and thankful that King Jesus is King of a colorful Kingdom. His rule and reign is one where every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that He is Lord when it’s all said and done. “Every” being the game-changer. We will not be segmented under His rule, we will come under one allegiance, and we will all bow down on the same, level ground next to the cross.

    “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!” And all the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God… — Revelation 7:9-11

    King Jesus had stunning leadership regarding privilege. He was enthroned in glory, fully God, crowned in all comfort. And He laid it all down. He put down His rights, His throne, His everything. Nothing was taken with Him when He took up human skin and moved into the neighborhood. Paul explains this beautifully:

    “Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion. — Philippians 2:5-8 MSG

    It is tempting to forget that this is GOD who lived this way. Setting the pace for the good life, He set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave. He took up a towel, got down on His knees, and washed grimy feet. He served his heart out, to the point of death.

    And so when it circles back to us, to me, I have a big question to answer: What do I specifically do with my white privilege? I often freeze just thinking about my advantages, I feel guilty about them, or I hide them because I don’t know how to handle them well. I want to weed out the prejudices in the garden of my heart and sow seeds of racial reconciliation; I feel sad and embarrassed when I find incongruities in my soul. Who can help us in handling our white privilege?

    Praise be to God! If we take our cues from the King, we will find the answer. We don’t have to struggle or hide or be perfect with our privilege. Like Jesus, we simply lay them down to serve.

    After some soul-searching, just one of the ways my entire family (kids included) can lay down our white privilege and serve the underprivileged is being a Licensed Foster Care Family. Before you object in your heart and think “that’s for saints” – please reconsider. Those who foster are not saints, they simply have a safe home. The requirement to foster is very basic: a safe environment.

    At different times this past year, we have laid down our routines, our comforts, our possessions, and had children in our home for short periods of time (we have done short-term Respite Care), giving a sweet child (we’ve housed hispanic, black and white children) a safe place to be in the middle of insanity. In the middle of abuse. In the middle of drugs.

    Do we lay aside our white privilege perfectly? Absolutely not. Do we try to by faith? Yes. Even if it’s the size of a peppercorn. This is the way King Jesus lived, always by faith. He came down by faith, He laid aside everything by faith, He died by faith – faith in the resurrection to come.

    I often have the famous phrase “With great privilege comes great responsibility,” running through my mind. And I can freeze. But, friend, if you also freeze – let’s unthaw together and simply serve. Let’s serve in as many ways as we can. Serve in little ways and great ways. Serve with our voices when we see injustice and serve with our actions when we see helplessness. Serve using our strength for the weak and leveraging our power for the vulnerable.

    What privilege do you have, and how can you use it to serve the underprivileged?

    May we be known by what we lay down, rather than by any privilege we hold high. 

     

    About the Author

    Amy

    Amy is a wife of 17 years and mom of 3, who never thought she would love raising her family in a small college town. She works at Brookside Church as the Director of Outward movement and has the privilege of occasionally preaching. Amy loves tennis, ice cream, and making beautiful things . In between diapers changes, laundry, and soccer practices, she writes, blogs, speaks, and is working on her book on motherhood.  She has been in a monthly book club for 17 years and cannot believe Oprah has not brought them on her show. Amy inspires, teaches and humbly relates to the mystery and messiness of life. She tells all at www.amyseiffert.com.

  • Perspectives on Privilege & Racial Reconciliation: A Collaborative Blog Series

    Perspectives on Privilege & Racial Reconciliation: A Collaborative Blog Series

    Mika's Blog Post Pic

    My friend Shamika KariKari, affectionately known as Mika, has gathered myself and two other women to collaborate on perspectives in privilege and racial reconciliation over the next four weeks. I’m stoked to collaborate with these women!  Mika starts us off  this week with her heart and perspective.  

    Heather and Holly were the first friends I made in school. It was back in 1990 when I was 5 years old and in kindergarten. They were also twins which made our friendship extra special for my twin sister and me. And they were white. I could not have anticipated that our afternoon kindergarten class at Becker Elementary would be the beginning of my ability to build genuine friendships across race.

     

    From a young age I noticed segregated spaces around me. I vividly remember my twin sister and I often being the only Black faces in a sea of white spaces. We had a way of making white people feel comfortable. Some of this rubbed off from our parents who were always open to white people, even when the gesture was not returned. We dated white boys, had white friends over for dinner and sleepovers and my parents were unfazed. Looking back, I see how my upbringing forced me to navigate white spaces with ease and confidence, but also at a cost. The cost of giving up some of me in order to be more palatable to white people was high. I didn’t have the language to articulate this then, but now I understand more deeply that tension.

     

    As an adult, I see the racial divide continues. Although I haven’t been called a nigger, I have experienced other racial slurs and microaggressions.  In recent years I have witnessed countless Black women & men killed by police officers for being Black. People like Sandra Bland, Rekia Boyd, Sam DuBose, Mike Brown, and the list goes on and on. Our Black skin continues to be reason enough to be feared.

     

    I’ve organized spaces to grieve these unjust deaths.
    I’ve participated in discussions to process these unjust deaths.
    I’ve protested these unjust deaths.
    And yet, I still have a desire to do more. I’ve felt God lay on my heart the role I should play in regards to racial reconciliation in the Christian community.

     

    I go to a church whose values are devotion, discipleship, and diversity.
    I have Christian friends of many races.
    And yet, the divide still feels great.
    Sometimes the weight of racial division in the U.S. feels so great I’m left paralyzed to do anything.
    And I think a lot of us can agree with that feeling.
    We think the problem is too big, so we do nothing.
    And although this is an easy place to land, I know God has called me to do more.
    To trust him to bring racial reconciliation to our community and for me to do my part in that.

     

    So I asked myself, what could I do in my sphere of influence? What could my contribution be? I love writing and love people; why not start there? And this is how this blog collaboration was born. Since I write in my blog, albeit infrequently, I know I have a diverse readership, which isn’t something I see often. Typically I see blogs that either speak to white women or women of color. I rarely find writing that intentionally has both in mind. I wanted to change that, so I decided to bring 3 of my friends along for the journey. Precious, Amy, & Joy are all insightful and engaging writers who love Jesus. They are women I admire, women I trust, and women whose lights shine brightly. These are the type of women everyone deserves to hear from. We each committed to write an essay focused around themes of racial reconciliation and privilege from our unique lived experiences. We also committed to share the other 3 posts on our respective blogs so our readers are exposed to multiple perspectives.

     

    A four week blog series isn’t going to end systemic racism or racial division; however, I know God has called me to do something, and I will obey. As well, I know God can and does use us to advance his kingdom even if I have no clue what the outcome of this collaboration will be.  God has only asked me to have a willing heart and trust him to do the rest. And that’s what I’m going to do – follow God’s prompting and trust that he will use 4 women to begin conversations around racial reconciliation because God’s heart is to see his people unified and reconciled.

     

    So as you journey with us, I pray your heart will be open to what God wants to reveal to you.
    I pray you would open your heart to each of our perspectives that were uniquely designed by God.
    I pray you are empowered to do something based on your role in racial reconciliation.
    I pray you would be quick to listen and slow to speak.

     

    How gracious of God to use someone as broken as me for his glory. How will he use you?

     

    About the Author

    O34816 Shamika KarikariMika Karikari is a proud Black woman who loves Jesus, baking, sports, and writing. She currently spends most of her time reading and writing for her PhD program in higher education administration. She lives in her beloved hometown, Cincinnati, Ohio, with her handsome husband. Mika’s writing can be found on her blog, I am Enough. It currently focuses on grief, social justice, poetry, and faith.

    Precious Jones is the proud daughter of parents who’ve known struggle.  The familial impact of poverty and struggle shape her writing.  She works in youth & education advocacy for those marginalized.  She’s a former Electrical Engineer who delights in creating through writing.  She is a proud southerner turned foodie who loves people more than she loves good food and a good read. She resides in Cincinnati, OH and candidly shares her predilections [bias, leaning, weakness & predisposition] on her blog, Precious Predilections.

     

    Joy Becker is a wife and mama living in Cincinnati, Ohio. She recently resigned from a twelve-year career as a literacy coach and first grade teacher to become a full time stay-at-home-mom with her two young darlings. She is a lover of new notebooks, October, and goat cheese, and a hater of traffic, scary movies, and overcooked asparagus. You can peek even further into her love for Jesus, food, motherhood, and friendship over at 44 & Oxford.

     

    Amy Seiffert is a wife of 17 years and mom of 3, who never thought she would love raising her family in a small college town. She works at Brookside Church as the Director of Outward movement and has the privilege of occasionally preaching. Amy loves tennis, ice cream, and making beautiful things . In between diapers changes, laundry, and soccer practices, she writes, blogs, speaks, and is working on her book on motherhood.  She has been in a monthly book club for 17 years and cannot believe Oprah has not brought them on her show. Amy inspires, teaches and humbly relates to the mystery and messiness of life. She tells all at www.amyseiffert.com