This is a hard post to write. I don’t like to write “in the moment” very often. I seem to put my thoughts together better when I give myself a little space. 

But, my God, this week. Father in Heaven, have mercy on us. All of us. I don’t want this week to pass without adding my voice. The last two weeks of lectionary readings—the first two since I started doing this again!—are about nothing but the union that Jesus wanted for us with each other. I’m writing this on Sunday, Pentecost, and it isn’t lost on me that the action of the Holy Spirit was for everyone. Every single person. 

Spirit, equally translated Breath in both Greek and Hebrew. Remembering the very Breath of God on the disciples on Pentecost, and thinking about a man who lost his life when he had no breath in him.

George Floyd died because four police officers couldn’t see him as a person. A fellow creation of God. I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like to be a police officer, confronted with the worst of humanity on a regular basis. I do know that, whatever you are doing, the moment you can’t see someone else as an actual person is the moment you need to stop doing your job. 

I can imagine that the police force is a tough place to be. It’s an amazing occupation for people who take the safety of their community seriously. It’s also a place for bullies. I can think of a million reasons that it’s hard to call out the bullies. Maybe they have some power. Maybe their actions are hard to prove, and so they slide. And the next time it’s a little worse, and a little worse. Maybe that’s why Derek Chauven had eighteen prior complaints about him. Maybe they were a little too hard to prove. “Everyone” knew, but no one acted. Because the rules were in place, or because friendships would be broken, or because calling someone out costs something.

There are bullies in the rest of the world, too, and too many of us unwilling to pay the price to speak up. Honestly, my eyes have been really opened this week. I have found someone on Instagram to be helpful, and you might want to follow him, too.

Carlos Whittaker is a Christian speaker and writer who has the most delightful Instagram account. He urges white people to USE their privilege. Don’t deny it—it’s real. Don’t be ashamed or try to discount it. Just use it to help other people up. He says a lot more than that, and he says it really beautifully, so just go follow him on Instagram, @loswhit.

I’m still thoughtfully, prayerfully considering how to move forward, when it’s okay to speak, when I really should be listening. I’d love to know how you are doing this week, this long, tired week. Breathe on us, Breath of God.

Edited to add:

Yesterday when I wrote this, there had been a couple of nights of riots. Last night the rioting seemed to grow in some cities, although thankfully not in Atlanta. I condemn those in the strongest possible way. Mobs never, ever build things. They only destroy, and they destroy everything in their path. This is not way to change the world.

I still mourn the death of George Floyd. I truly believe there are structural problems with the way the police are formed that makes it incredibly difficult to remove bad actors. I believe that black men in particular bear a burden of suspicion that no one should have.

But these riots are wrong. They are wrong. Until a riot isn’t the knee-jerk response to a problem then the actual problem will never, ever be addressed. This will take smart, thoughtful, calm people who can come together. Mobs do not allow that.

So buildings and livelihoods will get destroyed, the National Guard will come in, order will be restored, and nothing will change. I feel so pessimistic this morning.