No one understands oppression like the oppressed.
If you ever had to fight for your rights,
Assert your humanity,
Declare your right to exist,
You should have sympathy and empathy for others who do the same.
As a Black man, I know what it is like to be marginalized.
Categorized.
Mislabeled.
Dismissed.
Discarded.
I know what it is to be targeted.
My pain minimalized.
My discomfort rationalized.
I am also a Christian.
And a pastor.
To many, that also means:
Condemner.
Accuser.
Wall builder.
Judge, jury, and a verbal and relational executioner.
When people discover that you are a Christian pastor,
There are built-in assumptions,
Preconceived notions,
About how I think,
How I vote,
And my opinions.
To the LGBTQIA+ community, I’m expected to say:
Love the sinner, hate the sin.
I can’t control other Christians,
What they say,
And how they feel.
But what I can do.
Is love.
Love other people like Christ loves me.
While not completely understanding,
Pain I will never feel,
Discomfort alien to me,
Hatred not directed at me.
I choose not to participate in someone’s suffering,
Because I understand and remember my suffering.
I choose to love people.
Period.
The people hardest for me to love,
Most difficult to understand,
Hardest to tolerate,
Are those who want to tell others how to live their lives.
It’s hard to love bigots,
I’m supposed to love them too.
But I won’t agree.
I won’t ally myself.
I won’t match their hate.
As surely as I do.
One day, they will hate me too.