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A Call to the Church Body of Elim

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By Jason Comerford

Most of us don’t know what it’s like to live in constant fear.

To be sure, we have our moments and our challenges. Perhaps we are worried about our job and possible layoffs. How are we going to pay off that credit card? Or maybe we had a concerning physical exam with the doctor. These are legitimate trials.

But as we watch the protests unfolding in hundreds of cities across the world, it’s becoming clearer that our black brothers and sisters are experiencing our country in a way that white people generally aren’t.

This past year, I’ve been hearing many stories from black friends, both within the Church and without. Over and over, the same theme rises to the surface: helplessness in the face of abuse by authority.

It’s the humiliation of being asked, in your own neighborhood, if you belong there. The chill of anxiety that comes with a traffic stop, wondering if you’ll be just one more statistic. The dismay that comes from knowing that the first time you give your son “the talk,” the topic won’t be “the birds and the bees,” but instead, “how to respectfully respond to the police when they stop you on the street.” The sickening reality of recognizing which of your mixed-race children will “pass for white.”

These are not isolated stories. This is a daily reality for at least 40 million black men and women living in the United States. And recently the Elder Board has been wrestling with the recognition of this painful reality.

Recognizing Grief

Friends of Elim, one of the things we need to recognize is that central to these protests is the voice of grief. This is what it looks like when the struggle of multiple lifetimes of grief and oppression overflow with little hope for justice.

I’m saddened that our response in the American white Church has long been to critique the legitimacy of protesters and their methods, rather than to feel the incalculable grief and pain of our black brothers and sisters.

The Church in America has arrived at a moment of reckoning. Martin Luther King Jr., whom we love to uphold as a beloved civil rights leader, famously lamented that one of his biggest obstacles was not violent bigots such as the KKK, but silent white churches. I fear that this hasn’t changed much in the last 60 years.

Fortunately, even now, there’s still a way forward in all of this.

How Do We Respond?

We have a lot to discuss in the coming months and years. We need to take a hard look at systemic racism—the racism running deep within and shaping our society. It’s outside most of our daily experiences, and so it’s a blind spot for us. We’ll need to take a hard look at our own history at Elim and examine if we’ve played a role in it. If so, we’re going to have to call it sin and repent.

And then we must find a way to act.

The call to the Church is to be salt and light in our world, and we’ve taken up that call with issues such as human trafficking and abortion. We’ve not only preached against these things, but also taken up activist roles to put a stop to these evils. Along with preaching to the heart, wherein lies the ultimate root of these problems, we have sought to change laws, addressing systemic problems with systemic responses.

To fail to do likewise when it comes to the travesty of racism would be an obvious hypocrisy.  We cannot merely “preach the Gospel” at the problem and then fail to pursue actual justice. God has clearly told His people how he feels about religious pretense that fails to do any actual good.

So, here’s where this starts for us.

Education

The first step is education. This is not onlyseeking an understanding of the facts, important as that is, but also listening to the stories of our black brothers and sisters and willingly immersing ourselves in their perspective, entering into their pain. Before we can even begin to discuss heavy and important topics such as systemic racism and the proper response of the Church, we must learn how to listen and weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15).

Let me be clear: this is no small thing we’re being called to. The human heart wants to discount those who are different from us, to explain away their experiences in order to preserve our comfortable and unchallenged view of the world—especially when it involves the history of our own compromise and guilt in the American Church. To attempt to educate ourselves will be an act of spiritual warfare. We will be opposed.

Nevertheless, we must do this.

If we wish to serve our Lord Jesus Christ and be a light to the world around us, then we cannot ignore this calling; if we do, we’ll continue to watch as Christianity in this country slides into something utterly irrelevant to our society.

What’s Next for Elim?

I call upon Elim and its leadership to seek out black voices, read black books, and hear black stories. I’d like to see us hold after-church conversations discussing what we’ve learned, bringing in speakers as we think this through. We can seek recommendations for materials that can help with all this—books, podcasts, and more. We could really make this a part of the life of our church.

Long term, we could see Elim become so reflective of the unity and diversity of Christ that we begin to see a greater diversity in our membership and qualified leadership. The people of God are helped, not hurt, by different perspectives and views within the Body.

Elim: Let’s pray and think seriously about this. Education and understanding are merely a first step toward the more important goal of action. Not everything has to happen right now, but we risk rejecting our calling entirely by pushing off the call of justice to a more “convenient” time. Finding our next pastor is very important, but we do not get to put off the more weighty matters of the law until then.

I believe God has laid this at our feet during such a trying time not to make things harder, but because it is the right time for us to embrace it. Our God is a God who works justice and mercy, forgiveness and reconciliation, love and resurrection. These things really are possible in our world.

What a testimony to His greatness would it be to see such wonderful things worked in our day and in our country?

“With what shall I come before the LORD,
and bow myself before God on high?
Shall I come before him with burnt offerings,
with calves a year old? Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams,
with ten thousands of rivers of oil?
Shall I give my firstborn for my transgression,
the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?” He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the LORD require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?

                                                                                    Micah 6:6-8

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My Story Isn’t Over Yet

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By Dan Amos

A couple of weeks ago, I realized my children knew very little of my history before them. And when Fran and I told our stories of salvation at community group, she said we need to tell them to our sons. So, on Father’s Day, after one son gave thanks for the food, we dished up and headed outside to eat. I got to go first and got started eating before everyone else came out. I had a plan. I now had a captive audience and I declared executive privilege on Father’s Day. While they continued eating, I told my story.

It wasn’t the quick three minutes Pastor Steve suggested, because even the slower eaters were done before me. I started by telling about my parents. My mom was involved in an evangelical church when she was a teenager and accepted Jesus then. She then introduced her mother to Jesus, but I don’t know about how my grandfather became a Christian. I should have asked my grandma when she was telling me her story shortly before she died. 

My dad was raised in a Catholic family, but I didn’t get the impression it was meaningful. He lived with his dad, who I think owned a bar, and his aunt who raised him after his mother died when he was around 10. But I only knew him as a Christian growing up. By the time I was born, my parents were attending a Nazarene church in Southern California, where my dad was stationed. The only birth announcement I have is a clipping from the church bulletin that gives a couple of options for my name, neither of which ended up on the birth certificate.

I grew up knowing about Jesus and the need to submit my life to him. I can’t say when this happened, but I was probably seven or eight. I heard a lot about Hell and the reality of going there. I learned of God and creation, sin and redemption. This shaped the worldview through which I see things today. It also meant that I was and am aware of my sin and my constant failing, but when I confess my sin, God is forgiving, graceful, and merciful.

I have seen God work in my life through provision, assignments, and circumstances, but one of the most enduring and powerful ways was in providing me a partner for life in Fran. She is my constant support and gentle challenger to examine my choices and life.

I am thankful that I did not see prejudice from my parents. Until I was nine, we lived in Navy communities that were integrated, and my friends had a variety of skin colors. But even though we played together, I did not know their stories. I did not know their struggles or the racism that they had to deal with.

I am learning more about racism and my heart is broken over it. I want my world to change and it starts with listening to the real problem. We have had many discussions at work, and I hope they never stop. We are in a difficult time because passions are high, reactions vary, and criticism abounds. I pray that we conquer this sin and extend grace to each other through it all.

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Embracing Diversity: Are We Missing Out on God’s Blessing?

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By Larry Short

After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: “Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.” Revelation 7:9-10

As a conservative Christian, I’m often made nervous when I hear words such as inclusiveness and diversity bandied around. The devil is always in how you define your phrases.

But recently I’ve come to realize that we as Christians are missing out on a huge part of the blessing that God desires to bestow upon us if we are unwilling to embrace or even seek true diversity in our lives and within the Body of Christ.

Let me start with three experiences that have shaped me. The first happened about the time I started college at Biola, circa 1975. The youth pastor at our church was a young man named John I had a huge respect for, as he made an enormous impact in my life.

John invited me during one summer break to live with him in the parsonage of a small church in downtown Los Angeles where he was interning, in a suburb called Cudahy, which at the time was the most densely populated square mile on the planet. This church was indeed culturally unique. It was actually seven churches that met in a single small building, a different church each day of the week.

And each church was based in a different racial and cultural tradition: Hispanic, Black, Samoan, Chinese, Vietnamese, etc. The style of worship of each was correspondingly diverse.

One of my most powerful memories is of lying in bed at night and drifting off to sleep while listening to the singing next door, which was taking place in a manner I had never experienced growing up in my white conservative Baptist church. Not better, not worse, just different.

And I remember thinking, “This must be what Heaven is like!” Hearing God praised in different tongues, in different styles, with different types of artistry and music, while foreign to my inexperienced ears, still raised me up into the presence of God. Amazing.

My second awakening came when traveling for World Vision. I spent time in Romania, worshipping with Eastern Orthodox Christians; in Honduras, worshipping with Latin American charismatics; and in South Africa, worshipping with Anglicans. Previously, I hadn’t even been aware that these groups were what I would call Christians. But in each of those diverse experiences, I discovered that worshipping God in different ways brought new and previously unknown experiences and revelations. They weren’t better Christians or worse Christians than I was used to—they were simply brothers and sisters in Christ who opened my eyes to new ways to see God.

The third experience came in my last few years with World Vision. When I worked in Media Relations, I got to know a colleague named Cynthia whom I deeply respected for her love for Christ and others, her professionalism, and her commitment to service. Cynthia is Black and lives with her family, including two boys at the time in their late teens, in Washington, DC.

As we got to know each other, we began to share family experiences, joys and frustrations and fears. And I was stunned to learn that Cynthia’s greatest fears were very different from mine.

“I weep and pray every time my boys leave the house,” she confessed. “What if they were to be stopped by the police? I’ve taught them how to carefully and respectfully comply. But there are so many of their peers for whom these confrontations go desperately sideways. How can I protect my children?”

I had hopes, dreams, and fears for my own two white children. But I have never once shed tears of worry that they might be abused by the authority figures they depend on to keep them safe.

The events of these past few weeks have renewed in me a commitment to do what I began to do when I worked for World Vision: to listen! Do I truly understand (and do I want to understand) where the pain that we are seeing manifested in the culture around us is coming from? Am I willing to actively oppose the personal and systemic racism that is at its heart?

Revelation 7 tells us of a “great multitude” that we will be standing shoulder to shoulder with, before the throne of the Lamb. (No social distancing there, and no masks required!) We will be interspersed with every diverse nation, tribe, people, and language. And we will all be praising God together!

How are we preparing for that day NOW? Are we embracing the diversity that God has built into all of His wonderful creation, on this planet and beyond? God doesn’t make junk, and He doesn’t make things for no reason. He has created people very different from us and expects us to embrace those differences and figure out how we all fit together in this diverse organism we call the Body of Christ.

There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. Galatians 3:28

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