Three days before George Floyd was murdered, I wrote an emotional entry in my journal titled “Why I Cried Today”. I detailed my day's painful experience with racism and my unexpectedly visceral response. Here’s an excerpt:
5/22/20 — Already on edge with being surrounded in close proximity by so many people, my irritation grew as the minutes ticked past my takeout order time. I was picking up dinner for the family from our favorite Indian restaurant, and worriedly found the place swarming with customers. After half an hour of waiting, I noticed two elderly white gentlemen point toward me and whisper to each other. Neither were wearing masks. Suddenly, one of them stepped up to within a foot of my face and in his most polite tone asked “Excuse me, where are you from?”
I told the man to back up, then gave a flustered reply “Uhm, Portland”.
“Oh? Nowhere else before?”
“Yeah…” wishing he could see the angered complexion underneath my mask.
“Oh okay, that’s good!”
I waited next to them for thirty more minutes while an internal battle raged within me. Should I go up to them again to ask “Why did you ask me that?” or “What the f**k?”. Was it worth trying to make them hear me through my mask from six feet away? Is this where I turn the other cheek? Why, oh why did I not come up with a smarter response in the moment?
It wasn’t until I got into my car and started driving home when all the emotions started to really hit. Anger, grief, disbelief, helplessness, guilt all rolled into one experience. I felt so angry and confused thinking about how someone could be so racist to judge my Asian face yet stupid enough to step right up to it. I screamed at myself for not doing my part to change the man’s perspective. Heaviest of all, I felt my trust in humankind shatter. When I finally got home and sat down to dinner with my family, tears started to roll down my face as I choked back uncontrollable sobs.
For Asian Americans, COVID-19 has transformed “Where are you from?” from a question of plausible curiosity into a targeted threat of belonging. My tears showed me how much I value trust, and the grief that comes when it is ripped away by insensitive ignorance. Back when I wrote this, I was searching for a lesson in it all, and reflected on how fear affects both the oppressor and the victim, inducing irrationality and hatred. But following George Floyd's murder, I have since realized God was really preparing my heart to see and feel a smidge of what the Black community has seen and felt for centuries. I am so grateful for this wake up call to engage with the injustice of systemic racism. Black Lives Matter. This is not just a social media hashtag, but the cry of God’s heart as He looks upon America. As I trust many of you relate, my heart has felt the weight of responsibility to respond with authenticity and sensitivity. Through thoughtful conversations with friends I trust and love, I’ve received so much helpful input as to what a wise response entails. Four personal items I've set before myself are to:
Thoroughly research (mission, strategies, budget sheet, etc) and intentionally donate to at least one organization that empowers Black youth.
Listen to their stories (books, podcasts, and wealth of resources).
Call out racism when I see it.
Examine my heart daily for its selfish desires.
For this blog post, I’d like to expand on the fourth item of self-examination, and why it is so crucial to reaching a true, lasting wake up call to authentic altruism. Using the recently popularized Biblical parable of the lost sheep, we can find a piercing lesson. In the account from the Gospel of Luke, Jesus tells the story of a shepherd tending one hundred sheep who, when one sheep wanders off, leaves the ninety-nine to rescue the one. This parable tells us a lot about God’s heart. It tells us of His great compassion and love, to seek and save the lost. The above cartoon recently caught my eye, connecting God’s heart to the cry for Black lives. I love this depiction of God’s heart. Importantly however, a deeper look into this parable reveals a parallel message about our own hearts.
When I really think about it, this parable doesn’t make sense. Biologically, sheep are some of the most clueless creatures alive, and without a shepherd, the ninety-nine would have been in just as much trouble as the one. Why would the shepherd leave the ninety-nine then? Herein lies the subtle message Jesus was conveying.
"Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance.” Luke 15:7
Scripture is clear that absolutely nobody is without fault (Rm 3:10), so it is impossible that anyone would “need no repentance”. Jesus was directing his message to people who think they are righteous and have no need to repent — in those days, the religious Pharisees. Jesus did not simply go to save the one sheep just because it was crying out for help, but because it was the only one who believed it needed help. The other ninety-nine (the majority) were hopelessly blinded by their own conceit and rejected the shepherd. As a loving father who pleads and begs for a wayward son to return home, the shepherd finally makes the agonizing decision to leave the ninety-nine.
This realization struck me to my core. While my heart rallied with #BlackLivesMatter, I wondered why it was just now waking up. How long have I been blinded by my own self-serving interests? The human condition can be summarized in one sentence: "They are the problem, not me.” I have to start with me. How often have I been content to stay in my own shoes rather than place myself in others'? Do I just wait for the next social cause to blow up in my face before I rally once more? Or, shall my life be a consistent, dedicated vessel against evil? But the world is overflowing with injustice and poverty — how do I responsibly choose the causes to commit my time and energy toward?
These are the questions that occupy my mind and scream for consistency over hypocrisy. And I still don’t have the answers. But I do believe this self-examination process is the beginning to a consistently selfless life, that actively fights against my blindness of “not needing repentance”. The search is painful, and my mind is still spinning, but I am a strong advocate of faking it until you make it. I must act in love until I feel the love. That’s in part why I resolved to thoroughly research at least one such organization to donate to with due diligence. Perhaps in the future, I will write more about my growing convictions on effective altruism and Christianity.
An additional exhortation to my fellow Christians: search the Scriptures with a broken, contrite heart. The sword of the Spirit is too often used to pierce others when its utmost purpose was to penetrate our own hearts. I invite God’s words to pierce me that I might grow into His likeness. One verse in my recent meditations has been Titus 2:14, where Paul reminds us of the fruits of Christ’s sacrifice — "Who gave himself for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works.” What stands out to me is that Jesus died not only to cleanse us of our wrongdoings, but to empower us into a peculiar people passionate to do good things — the latter of which I am slower to be convicted of.
It is each human's innate desire to share their story. And it is so, so important to have a healthy medium to do so. That’s why I share with you why I cried that day. Communal healing comes through sharing, and even more importantly, listening. Everyone believes in their own authenticity, but the real struggle comes with seeing others' stories as equally authentic, especially when they’re different from yours. It is with this realization that I will continue to cry each and every day in self-examination of my own relentlessly conceited, self-righteous heart.
"Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." Psalm 139:23-24
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