Blatant

The other day, I was telling someone I respect that a semi-trucker was driving recklessly, and their response to me was, “Well, be careful around those, they probably don’t speak English.”

What in the world???

First of all, I had never, ever considered the ability to speak my language as an indicator of safe driving. But, I know the subtext of why they said it. It’s so much deeper and uglier than that.

I grow weary of being caught off guard by blatant prejudice in those I encounter. I grow sick of my internal turmoil, days after, wondering if I should have rebuked it more effectively. And the only effect I would be satisfied with, is a change of that person’s mind. Or rather, their heart.

Yet, I must stop myself from diving deep into the divide and rebuking their judgement in the way I would like (sharp words, shame, emotional lashing out). The dished out medicine only sickens my own heart, too.

As I consider how to deal with this unbelievable trend after 40+ years of living in this land, I’ve only come up with two appropriate postures in my every day life, especially when the words don’t come to me in the face of blatant remarks:

👉 my own activism in the broad sense.

And,

👉my constant prayer, in the heart-change sense (and it’s not I who can change a heart, so the prayer is a must, indeed).

So I continue to show kindness to the families of color that I work with and worship with. I continue to delight in the dialects and accents and cultural differences around me.

And I continue to pray—for life-giving words when conversation appalls, but mostly for the constant desires of my heart:

Lord have mercy on them,

and

Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.