In the evangelical circles where I spent all of my childhood and much of my adult years, we have a term called "functional atheism" - by this we meant people that SAID they believed in God, used all the right words, had all the doctrines and theologies down pat, but in their day-to-day lives and decisions, they did not acknowledge God in the process, did not make their decisions or form their lifestyles based on His truth. Their actual walking around lives did not look much different from your average nice-guy athiest. And there are a lot of those around, sitting in our churches, sometimes even in our favorite chair.
What I'm sensing in our American culture - what I've seen in myself and continue daily to root out - is a "functional racist" - someone who declares they are not a racist (and they truly believe this to be the case). They do not use racial slurs, they have that Black friend, maybe even one or two Black folks in their mostly white church, they do not tell bigoted jokes, they feel a degree of sadness when seeing videos of overt racism or police brutality or movies about past racism. But ... in their day-to-day lives and decisions, their lifestyles, they change nothing, learn nothing, do nothing, that will effect actual change in the lives of people being harmed by systems built upon racism. This person IS a "functional racist."
I've been on a journey the last several years of unearthing what is in my own heart as regards racism. There have been some seriously difficult things I've had to face within myself, things that if I want to truly change, I've had to be willing to see. Here are a few:
- Am I am unwilling to sacrifice my money, comfort, status, time or energy to stand alongside those that have been oppressed, or to be a part of insuring injustice is pushed back against...
- Am I am unwilling to invest in educating myself in areas I may possibly be ignorant or to listen to the voices of those with different lived experiences, with different cultural or theological perspectives...
- Yet, in spite of that, my perspective and understanding remain the sole measuring line for right and wrong, normal and abnormal, acceptable and unacceptable...
- Do I consistently judge the many by the actions of a few when looking at those asking to be heard, but refuse to judge the actions of oppressors when looking at systems that are oppressing...
- Do I SAY I believe all people are created equal, but I am "functionally" comfortable with some people being treated better in medicine, in education, in justice systems, in housing, in employment, while others are consistently harmed...
If those things are in me, if I'm unwilling to see them and begin to allow God space to root them out, then what I SAY means literally nothing.
If those things are in me, and to the degree that they are, I am a "functional racist."
This is hard for me to write. It is hard for me to say - that term, "functional racist." It is hard because at times it. is. me. And I do not, under any circumstances, want to be called, or BE, a racist. I hate it. I hate every part of what it means to be racist.
Here is a hard truth: It is possible to hate racism (as I understand it), to hate what it means, what is stands for and yet, at the same time, to functionally uphold its tenets with my actions (or more likely, inaction).
Accepting this, facing this truth, to NOT be racist (to be ANTI-racist), requires embracing discomfort. It will, it IS uncomfortable to face parts of us that we formerly did not recognize as harmful. We do not like being wrong - do not like realizing we've been deceived in important areas. It is painful to sit in and process - to give space for allowing ourselves to be corrected. And I use the word "process" intentionally - because this is not just a sudden epiphany and all is suddenly well. This work comes in waves, in layers, new realizations of wrong belief or wrong thinking, new information that changes a perspective, new friendships that widen understanding. It takes deeper levels of vulnerability, as I allow others to point out blind spots.
But to walk in the way of Jesus calls us to take up our cross - to be willing to give up our own comfort for the good of others, for the uplifting of others - to see the Kingdom of God as not just future, but very much as here and now and the Body of Christ in all it's fullness.
If my theology allows me to be comfortable, to continue living my life in relative ease, while others are in misery just out of my sight - I have not yet fully embraced the theology of the Kingdom of Jesus.
