Inspired by Amos 5
I’m in church, I’m sitting in the back.
I’m taking time to soak in all of my surroundings.
This isn’t new, this is familiar. So far so good.
We sing, we pray… we are worshipping.
But something is off, the sounds we sing echo back
What is going on? Why are we not being heard?
What is God doing? How could He oppress us?
I’m in church, I’m sweating in the back.
I feel the condemnation, I feel the hypocrisy.
A sea of white shouts words of praise to God.
Few blotches of light brown appear like moles on a body.
Unnecessary… pointless, arbitrary, we pay them no attention.
I’m in church, I’m weeping.
I know why God is cuffing His ears.
We have not heard the cries of the hurting.
What are we doing? How could we oppress them?
The church has become silent. Loud hymns fill the building…
But all I hear is silence. All God hears is silence. All the world hears is silence.
Why are we silent? What are we doing?
Let the justice flow. Let the gongs be hushed.
Listen closely. They are yelling, they are pleading.
– KW
Urbanite Musings 
I hear you.
Now, the county where I live is 98.82% white. If having a “sea of white” church service is bad, what are we supposed to do? Racial busing?
If someone from a black-majority neighborhood was invited to move to the rural midwest here, how would they feel about the offer?
If a white person like me was invited to move to a majority-black neighborhood like East St Louis, I would be wondering if the “hood code” you wrote about would be accepting of violence towards me.
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Good morning Karlin, I’m glad you shared your thoughts. This isn’t a post that I’ve written with the same intentions as previous posts. It is a poem of feeling. I’ll gladly admit that there are deeper dynamics here than just diversifying the church. I could write more about those things but right now isn’t the time. I’m specifically speaking of the importance of evaluating what is found in Amos 5. Yes, when I look at our church I see a sea of white. That matters to me, but not near as much as justice, not near as much as the church doing it’s part.
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You are gracious. I will meditate further on your post.
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I have had similar experiences in church. I have cried loudly in the church nursery. The praise seems empty when all around I see the wounded, the vulnerable, and the innocent being stepped on, discarded, and left to die by the very people who profess to know Jesus.
God has given me opportunities to share and bless abuse survivors in the Anabaptist church, but it’s only been recently that I’ve seen how prejudiced I am towards people of color. Seeing the similarities between racial injustice and sexual abuse has absolutely stunned me. I am so sorry for the all the ways we’ve pushed away the pain of our minority brothers and sisters. It’s not right. Oh Jesus, let justice run down! May we choose to weep and listen instead of try to “fix” this by deflecting from the problem. May Your Light expose our darkness and our racial prejudices, so that we can be more like You are. ❤️
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I hear the feeling, Keeshon.
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thank you for sharing your heart Keeshon. May we listen and hear. Yes, Jesus let justice run down and fill this earth. Miss seeing you!
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This… is raw and heart wrenching. May God bring repentance and may we sit, grieve, and listen. Thank you so much for sharing. 💔
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Keeshon, your post moves me deeply.
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Thank you so much for writing and sharing this, Keeshon. Uncle Dave
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These are powerful words, and they provoke much thought. Thank you for your perspective, and your patience as we seek to understand better what it means.
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