Is there a solution to racial inequality?

If so, it is much more complex than, “They should just work harder.” There are structural factors at work. Things beyond the control of “them” (the minority in question).

Here’s a parable to illustrate the point:

Billy and Bobby were friends who lived next door to each other. One day, they visited Mr. Smith’s Store, where they saw a shiny blue bicycle in the front window with a $100 price tag hanging from its handlebar. They went inside and told Mr. Smith how much they both liked that bicycle. “Well, if you work hard and save your allowance, you might just be able to buy it yourself.”

They boys were excited, and both went home planning to save up money to buy that new bicycle. Billy lived with him Mom and Dad, and they helped him put together a plan to save up for the bicycle. His Dad told him, “If you work hard and do the dishes every night, Mom and I will give you $5 a week toward that new bicycle.” They made a special calendar to keep track of his progress, and every night after he did the dishes they would mark that day on the calendar with a big red “X”. They would remind him every night to do the dishes, and even on some nights when he was tired or sick, they would do them for him and still give him his $5 for that week.

Bobby, though, wasn’t so fortunate. He lived with his Mom, and had never known his father. He told his Mom he wanted to make an allowance so he could save up for that shiny new bicycle. His Mom was working two jobs, and wasn’t often home in the evening. But she told him that if, after making his dinner, he would do the dishes every night, she would give him $1 a week. Some nights, though, Bobby would forget, and his Mom wasn’t there to help him. If he didn’t do the dishes, he didn’t get his dollar that week. And other weeks, even if he did them every night, his Mom wouldn’t have a enough money to give him his allowance.

After awhile, Billy and Bobby both went back to Mr. Smith’s Store, and that shiny new bicycle was still there in the window.

“Hello boys,” Mr. Smith said with a smile when they came in. “How is your progress on saving up for that new bicycle?”

“I’ve already saved up $40!” said Billy proudly.

“Wow, that’s great,” said Mr. Smith. “You’re well on your way, and obviously working very hard.” Then he turned to Bobby, “And how is your savings coming along?” he asked.

Bobby was embarrassed. “I don’t have quite that much,” he answered, looking at the ground.

“Well, I’m sure you’re doing great. Go ahead and tell me how much you’ve saved,” said Mr. Smith.

“Well,” Bobby looked at his foot as he kicked at the floor. “I’ve only saved $6.”

Mr. Smith frowned. “Well, it looks like you should probably work harder and be more diligent, son. Even if you don’t get as much allowance, you’ll just have to work that much harder and longer if you really want that bicycle. But don’t worry, God helps those who help themselves.”

Billy went home motivated and excited. He did the dishes and kept making his allowance (though sometimes his parents still had to remind him). Bobby, though, was discouraged. He would forget to the do the dishes on more nights, and by the end of a few months, though Billy had saved the full $100, Bobby only had $15 in his piggy bank.

Billy’s Dad took him to Mr. Smith’s Store, and they bought the bicycle together.

“I wish your friend would work as hard as you do,” Mr. Smith said to Billy as they were walking the new bicycle out of the store. “If he would just be diligent and not give up, I’m sure he’d be in here in no time to buy another bicycle just like this one.”

For months, while Billy rode his new bicycle, Bobby worked and saved, sometimes forgetting, sometimes his Mom not having enough to pay him. After two years, he had saved $80. He had an idea. He thought that, maybe, Mr. Smith would let him pay $80 and work at his store to earn the rest.

Clutching at the money in his pocket, he walked to the store. On the way in, he noticed the price tag on the bicycle in Mr. Smith’s window said $120 instead of $100. He felt like crying. And when he got inside, he saw that Billy was there, sweeping for Mr. Smith.

Mr. Smith, seeing him come in and looking at Billy, said, “I hired Billy to help me around the store. If you learn to work as hard as him, maybe you’ll be able to buy that shiny new bicycle one day.”

Bobby wanted to cry, but didn’t. He turned around, walked out the door, and never went back.

The point of this story, I hope, is obvious.

(This parable was inspired by similar parables in the book Divided by Faith)

It was the beginning of a new millennium, and I was a loser.

I was in my second-year of putzing through community college, taking three classes here, a couple more there. My dad wanted to talk, because my life mirrored my haphazard and lazy efforts in school.

He didn’t tell me what to do, or rake me over the coals. He wasn’t angry. He was concerned. I don’t remember where we were when he spoke to me, but I can still hear his voice, kind yet serious and firm: “Danny, you have no passion. You need to find some passion.” He didn’t tell me to get ready to take over the family business. He told me that as long as I was following Jesus, he would support whatever I pursued. I just had to pursue something, and chase after it as hard as I could.

It was, at most, a ten-minute conversation, and it changed my life.

As he spoke to me, God’s Spirit impressed on me that the only thing worth pouring myself out for was God himself. For the next few months, I processed what this passion would look like in my life. I applied for a one-year Bible school on a small island in southwest British Colombia, Canada.

I came back from that year and began an extended internship at my home church, where I began to clearly discern God’s calling on me. During the internship, I finished my B.A. in English and Career Writing, knowing I wanted to go to seminary. I took a semester off to write a novel (which ended up as a mediocre short story that, no, I will not let you read). Then, packing up my Ford Focus, I drove 2500 miles to Louisville, Kentucky to attend Southern Seminary. At Southern, I met my wife, got a first-class theological education and was called to serve as the pastor of Pembroke Road Baptist Church in urban, multi-cultural, multi-ethnic South Florida.

That conversation with my Dad changed the entire trajectory of my life, and here are a few thoughts I have about it.

1. If you have godly parents, be humble enough to listen to them when you’re young and stupid.

They know more than you and God has gifted you with them and their wisdom. If they love you enough to speak into your life, love them enough to listen to them.

2. It you don’t have godly parents, pray for and seek out older, wise mentors who can love you enough to speak wisdom into your life.

They’re out there. Find them, and be humble enough to listen to them.

3. If you’re a parent or mentor, don’t force your kids or those under your leadership to be what you want them to be.

Focus on their character, not on whether or not they take over the family business.

4. Love someone enough to have a tough conversation with them.

It might just change their life. 

Don’t do what you love.

Don’t do what you’re passionate about. At least, not always.

It would have been hard for me to care less about the multi-ethnic church when I was in seminary. I wasn’t against it. I was just oblivious to it.

Then God clearly called me to an established Baptist church in a multi-ethnic community. A church that had already embraced multi-ethnicity, that already had ethnic minorities in leadership positions, and already knew more about my calling in many ways that I did.

I knew I was called to a church, to preach the Gospel and to lead boldly and patiently in love. I knew that by God’s grace I wanted (and still do want) to be here 40 years (I’m 10% the way there). I loved the diversity I experienced on my first Sunday gathering with the Pembroke Road community. But I didn’t know that in the process God would kindle in my heart such a passion for what that I believe is the future of the church in our age and the age to come: a church that is multi-ethnic, multi-generational, and multi-cultural (in the best sense of the word). A church that looks like the bride gathered around Jesus’ throne in heaven.

My passion followed my obedience. Here’s how.

Pray for Passion

It has not always been easy. There have been times when I have sinfully wished I could be in a place where it would be easy – where everything was familiar and similar to me. Those are maybe the biggest barriers to God’s calling in our lives – the familiar and the similar. Comfort and homogeneity are where we like to live, with things we’re used to and a mass of people we easily relate to.

That’s not where God called me, and so I prayed that God would kindle a passion for the fullness of his calling in my heart. I had done it before, in college. I was in the middle of a B.A. degree in English and Career Writing, but I couldn’t wait for seminary. I was half-baking my undergraduate education, because I wasn’t passionate about it. I wanted that to change. I wanted to finish that season well, so I prayed that God would give me a desire for the subject of my degree.

He answered then, and he has consistently answered such prayers since. I have prayed that God would give me a true passion for the reality of this calling. He has given it to me, and now I can’t ever go back. I’m enthralled with this Gospel-formed reality of a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-generational church.

But this isn’t really about me. It’s about you.

Where has God called you?

What does obedience and faithfulness look like for you?

Are you avoiding it because it isn’t familiar or similar?

Famous wisdom says, “Find what you love and do it.”

But that isn’t always true, is it? Maybe you should stop looking and praying for a calling to your passion. Instead, maybe you should be praying for a passion for your calling.

“They don’t care how much you know, until they know how much you care.”

Depending on how you file it, it’s an adage, a saying, or even a cliché. And to that adage-saying-cliché, I say, “True that,” times ten-thousand.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned in four years as a pastor is the importance of approaching people from below and beside rather than from above. Coming from above is approaching someone in a given situation as a problem to solve rather than as a person to serve. It’s descending like a self-appointed Moses from Sinai, with a “word” from God. (Often – usually – a good, theologically sound word.) Coming from above is bringing quick and pithy answers to complex and deep situations without knowing more than a couple of minutes of the story.

No wonder people don’t want to hear it.

We’re quick to speak, but slow to listen. We’re quick to solve, but slow to serve.

Coming from below and beside, however, is different. Instead of posturing like God’s answer machine, it’s relating to a real person as his friend – a friend willing to listen, love, and serve before giving advice. As James says, it’s being quick to hear, slow to speak (James 1:9).

I’m not saying we shouldn’t rebuke, reprove, or exhort. We will need to confront and challenge. But we must do so in grace and love, to a person we truly love and know.

That’s part of the key, I think. To love someone, you must know him, and to know him you must listen and relate to him.

Isn’t this what Jesus did?

He came down from above, and once he was here, he came from beside in compassionate healing and, literally, from below in humble serving. Washing feet. He also, when he spoke prophetically and bluntly, spoke with perfect knowledge and love. He never pasted a cliché on a person he didn’t know intimately. With the woman at the well, he knew her, he loved her – then he spoke to her. He came beside her as a person to serve, rather than a problem to solve.

Too often, I’ve done the opposite. I bet you have too.

So let’s decide to listen before we speak, and to serve before we solve.

Because, to paraphrase another adage-saying-cliché, you have two ears, two hands, and only one mouth. So listen and serve at least twice as much as you speak.