It occurred to me today that I have a tendency towards a particular sin. Not sure what to call it. Bigotry? Prejudice? Racism? Discrimination? I suppose that some who know we well might not consider this to be a shocking revelation. I know that I struggle with this at times. What I didn't necessarily know was that sometimes I am guilty of it and there's no struggle at all b/c I'm not really aware that it is happening.
The incident that has me pondering this is, when viewed through the eyes of a white man, perhaps quite innocent. I was asked by our choir director to sing the solo on a particular song that our choir has been rehearsing. The song is "Rain on Us" by Carol Cymbala of the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. Our choir of about 60 people is comprised of upwards of 90% whites (of which I am one). Our choir director himself happens to be black.
To get to the point, I decided that the song was too much of a stretch for me in terms of style. It is sung in a very soulful style, clearly in the vein of what I often hear called "Black Gospel." So, I proceeded to tell our choir director that I wasn't the right guy for this song. He was visibly disappointed b/c his options for a tenor solo like this one are limited. Feeling the need to defend my decision further, I elaborated on how long it would take me to learn it (weeks) and the fact that I am more of an imitator than a creative musician (in response to his suggestion that I revise the solo to make it more like my style). He didn't yet seem convinced (which may have been only my perception), so feeling like I needed to press it, I threw out a "I'm too white to sing this song" or something to that effect.
I've probably played the "I'm too white" card or variations of it dozens of times in my life in relation to sports or music or whatever. But today, upon reflection of last night's conversation, it feels different. I suppose I somehow consider this statement to be of a "compliment" to black singers. I can't do the things with my voice that many singers (irrespective of the color of their skin) can. I wouldn't even try to sing an opera song or a rap song or jazz or many types of music. I just don't think I could pull them off.
The key here isn't my decision to NOT sing this song, but the statement that flowed from my mouth. I even sort of whispered it (not sure why given that the only black person in proximity was the guy I was actually talking to). Perhaps it was just the idea saying it seemed quite not right. Alas, my brain did not recognize this until the words were past my lips.
Quite honestly, I'm not certain that I have done something wrong. I am inclined to think so, only b/c it seems to be staying with me today (which may very well be conviction of the Holy Spirit).
I suppose I have "good reason" in human terms to be bigoted. The worst offense I have ever experienced in my life -- one the most heinous I could think of -- came at the hands of a person of a different ethnicity. I will carry that around with me for the rest of my life, and many times, despite my best efforts to lay it on the altar over and over again, I look into the face of a random person from the same ethnicity and I associate him/her with that one person.
I digress. What I've been trying to get to in this post is that my seemingly innocent statement could very well not be received so innocently by someone who has had to endure racial bias over the course of his life. I haven't and won't ever have the occasion to walk a mile in his skin. And pointing out differences between us, even in a misguided attempt to be self-deprecating -- well, this doesn't work toward the goal of unifying and aligning myself with other believers.
I think it is almost a certainty that there are times to "celebrate differences" between ethnicities. I do think our culture plays these up too much oftentimes, and it is hard sometimes to know how to align celebrating differences with our society's phobia of pointing out differences. It is clear to me, though, when a statement as casual as "I'm too white" so easily flows from my lips, I need to heed the words of Proverbs 12:18 which says, "Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing."
Lord, grant me the sensitivity and discernment to let only fresh water come out of the spring of my mouth. Once I have met with my choir director and apologized for my insensitive and careless remark, I pray that I will be a little more in tune with the Holy Spirit in this regard. And a little bit more like Jesus.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Could there be a more righteous calling on this earth than being a dad? (forgive the gender slant here -- could insert "parent," but I have no clue about how to be a mom and it's MY blog!) Fatherhood -- wait, that sounds too stiff -- "Daddyhood" (i.e. being a dad) is about the greatest thing I could ever imagine doing in life.
I first became a dad in 2002 when I was already 38 years old -- very late in the game by most standards, but not from a lack of desire to fill the role. By the grace of God, though, I did most things in the right order, and that is how life played out for me. I think perhaps I was unusual in that I always wanted to have kids - perhaps lots of them. I wasn't going to be one of those guys that had to be persuaded to give up his freedom.
It's interesting to me to look back and attempt to discern how I came to be the kind of dad that I am. I have many friends who are dads and, quite frankly, very few of them approach the role the way that I do. It's not an analytical thing -- in fact, analyzing it might actually be beneficial to me, but I'd rather just wrestle or goof around with the munchers. It's just that there is rarely an event, activity that I would choose over spending time with my kids -- even mundane, getting-ready-for-bed or going-to-the-playground-for-the-third-time-this-week time.
For so long I felt that a great deal of my parenting perspective was in reaction to a vague notion that my own father didn't spend enough time with me and thus my life had been significantly affected by this slight. Revisionist history, perhaps, though I do seem to think that my father, the minister, did perhaps spend more time tending to his spiritual flock at the expense of his paternal one - at least by the time I, his fourth child, was in my adolescent years. I'm not even sure if this is true -- it feels true, but that may be just an easy explanation for why I tend to err on the other side of the equation. I rarely get involved with anything that will take me out of the home on weekday evenings or on weekends. If I have choir practice one night in a given week, I'm passing up the opp to play hoops on another night. And I LOVE playing hoops almost as much as I love singing.
Let me clarify that I don't carry any feelings of resentment or sadness over my childhood -- well, who of us truly knows what is lurking in our subconscious? I don't think that I do. I love my dad (and mom for that matter), and in many ways I want to be like them. And while I have related the above sentiment about my father not being around enough to a few people at various times, I have also stated that most everything good about me, I owe to my parents. I insert this disclaimer of sorts in part because it's likely that at some point, my folks will read this post, but also because it is true.
My dad taught me to love, respect and cherish my spouse. That chivalry will never die. To not argue in front of the kids. To provide a warm, loving and safe environment. The value of QUICK FORGIVENESS. Not to take myself so seriously. Affection. He may have also taught me that being a full-time minister includes incredible demands on family time -- which could very well be one of the main reasons I did not follow in his footsteps in that regard.
Now to the point I had wanted to make, but am only just now approaching. Being a daddy to me is rewarding, challenging and sometimes frightening. I think ultimately I think that I have the unique responsibility of pointing my children to Father God. I hear so often of people who have trouble viewing God as their Abba Father or Daddy because their perception of those words was so negatively affected by their relationship (or lack thereof) with their own earthly fathers. For all of my father's failings -- and there were many, just as there are with ME -- that does not seem to be an issue in my life. Those who know me would attest to the fact that I would never claim to have many things in life "figured out" (except for the guys in my fantasy football league - ha!). I'm pretty good at my job (export management for a defense contractor). I sing okay (was in a pretty good local Southern Gospel quartet for a decade and still sing any chance I get). But the thing I think I'm best at is being a dad.
Not sure what the criteria for "Dad of the Year" is or if I'd be in the running for it, but perhaps I'm okay at it because I love it so. I screw up a lot. I get mad, impatient, sarcastic. I'm not as consistent as I want to be. I sometimes use intimidation. I often say those words that every child swears they will never say when they are parents: "Because I said so!" I rush through bedtime prayers, miss opportunities to speak God into my children's lives, and let the urgency or routine of life squash true Father-Daughter/Son moments. But most times, I think I get it right or at least not completely wrong. What I have going for me is the amount of face time that I have with my kiddos. And that goes back to the whole "rarely choosing an activity that pulls me out of the home" concept.
There are surely many who could poke holes in my carefully crafted argument. Not taking time for self, cultivating male friendships, even perhaps limiting opportunities for independence in my children. Whatever. I'm not saying that I've arrived at this "Daddyhood" thing. Nor am I under the illusion that my kids will turn out perfect as a result (or that the kids of every guy who spends less time at home will all turn out to be emotionally-stunted or ax murderers). This is just what feels right for me, Kris the dad. My lap is accessible. I am (mostly) always available for my children - emotionally and physically (and whatever other ways escape me at the moment). As Jesus said in Matthew 19, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
It's my desire that my kids never ever feel hindered to "come unto me" for anything. Good, bad, unthinkable. And if I can in a small or significant way point the way to them having a real and enduring relationship with our heavenly father -- well, what better reward could there be?
I first became a dad in 2002 when I was already 38 years old -- very late in the game by most standards, but not from a lack of desire to fill the role. By the grace of God, though, I did most things in the right order, and that is how life played out for me. I think perhaps I was unusual in that I always wanted to have kids - perhaps lots of them. I wasn't going to be one of those guys that had to be persuaded to give up his freedom.
It's interesting to me to look back and attempt to discern how I came to be the kind of dad that I am. I have many friends who are dads and, quite frankly, very few of them approach the role the way that I do. It's not an analytical thing -- in fact, analyzing it might actually be beneficial to me, but I'd rather just wrestle or goof around with the munchers. It's just that there is rarely an event, activity that I would choose over spending time with my kids -- even mundane, getting-ready-for-bed or going-to-the-playground-for-the-third-time-this-week time.
For so long I felt that a great deal of my parenting perspective was in reaction to a vague notion that my own father didn't spend enough time with me and thus my life had been significantly affected by this slight. Revisionist history, perhaps, though I do seem to think that my father, the minister, did perhaps spend more time tending to his spiritual flock at the expense of his paternal one - at least by the time I, his fourth child, was in my adolescent years. I'm not even sure if this is true -- it feels true, but that may be just an easy explanation for why I tend to err on the other side of the equation. I rarely get involved with anything that will take me out of the home on weekday evenings or on weekends. If I have choir practice one night in a given week, I'm passing up the opp to play hoops on another night. And I LOVE playing hoops almost as much as I love singing.
Let me clarify that I don't carry any feelings of resentment or sadness over my childhood -- well, who of us truly knows what is lurking in our subconscious? I don't think that I do. I love my dad (and mom for that matter), and in many ways I want to be like them. And while I have related the above sentiment about my father not being around enough to a few people at various times, I have also stated that most everything good about me, I owe to my parents. I insert this disclaimer of sorts in part because it's likely that at some point, my folks will read this post, but also because it is true.
My dad taught me to love, respect and cherish my spouse. That chivalry will never die. To not argue in front of the kids. To provide a warm, loving and safe environment. The value of QUICK FORGIVENESS. Not to take myself so seriously. Affection. He may have also taught me that being a full-time minister includes incredible demands on family time -- which could very well be one of the main reasons I did not follow in his footsteps in that regard.
Now to the point I had wanted to make, but am only just now approaching. Being a daddy to me is rewarding, challenging and sometimes frightening. I think ultimately I think that I have the unique responsibility of pointing my children to Father God. I hear so often of people who have trouble viewing God as their Abba Father or Daddy because their perception of those words was so negatively affected by their relationship (or lack thereof) with their own earthly fathers. For all of my father's failings -- and there were many, just as there are with ME -- that does not seem to be an issue in my life. Those who know me would attest to the fact that I would never claim to have many things in life "figured out" (except for the guys in my fantasy football league - ha!). I'm pretty good at my job (export management for a defense contractor). I sing okay (was in a pretty good local Southern Gospel quartet for a decade and still sing any chance I get). But the thing I think I'm best at is being a dad.
Not sure what the criteria for "Dad of the Year" is or if I'd be in the running for it, but perhaps I'm okay at it because I love it so. I screw up a lot. I get mad, impatient, sarcastic. I'm not as consistent as I want to be. I sometimes use intimidation. I often say those words that every child swears they will never say when they are parents: "Because I said so!" I rush through bedtime prayers, miss opportunities to speak God into my children's lives, and let the urgency or routine of life squash true Father-Daughter/Son moments. But most times, I think I get it right or at least not completely wrong. What I have going for me is the amount of face time that I have with my kiddos. And that goes back to the whole "rarely choosing an activity that pulls me out of the home" concept.
There are surely many who could poke holes in my carefully crafted argument. Not taking time for self, cultivating male friendships, even perhaps limiting opportunities for independence in my children. Whatever. I'm not saying that I've arrived at this "Daddyhood" thing. Nor am I under the illusion that my kids will turn out perfect as a result (or that the kids of every guy who spends less time at home will all turn out to be emotionally-stunted or ax murderers). This is just what feels right for me, Kris the dad. My lap is accessible. I am (mostly) always available for my children - emotionally and physically (and whatever other ways escape me at the moment). As Jesus said in Matthew 19, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these."
It's my desire that my kids never ever feel hindered to "come unto me" for anything. Good, bad, unthinkable. And if I can in a small or significant way point the way to them having a real and enduring relationship with our heavenly father -- well, what better reward could there be?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
