I couldn’t tell you how many people of color have died at the hands of police brutality. Not because it's too many to keep track of (although that is true) but because I haven't wanted to know.

Leaning into racial conversations is hard work. Talking about race is hard work. You very much have the potential to be wrong. So why am I writing this? Why am I sharing my thoughts with you?

Because I'm at a loss, and the only thing I know to do is write and pray that God will reveal Himself in my words.

After I read the recent headlines, I stopped and thought about what was happening. I didn't justify one action or the other. I sat there and thought about the people involved. The cop. George. They were both people. Flawed people. Broken people. And one died at the hands of another.

I will not go into details. I will not post links. I will not share photos.

But can I be brutally and embarrassingly honest and share that my heart didn't hurt when I initially read the headlines? Instead, my gut reaction was to think “not another police brutality story.”

Please stay with me here. If you thought the same thing. If your initial reaction was to feel sorry for the cop caught up in this mess, keep reading.

As soon as that thought appeared, I felt convicted. Why was I sadder for the cop than the man that lost his life? Did the cop's life matter more than George's? Does one life matter more than another?

I will preach no until I am blue in the face, but am I living as if I believe that all lives were created equally? Based on my gut reaction, no.

Photo by Josh Hild on Unsplash — Photo by Josh Hild on Unsplash

Not Another Police Brutality

I have stayed away from these conversations for far too long. I have refused to read articles or watch videos because truth be told, I haven't been affected. I have family and friends of color, but have I worried about them? Nope.

Ignorance truly is bliss. Or maybe I should say privilege truly is bliss?

Ignorance was and is my defense mechanism. I don't want to believe there is a problem. I don't want to think that there can be an issue in America. I don't want to think that someone I know can be hurt.

And yet, just because I refuse to believe doesn't make it any less true. Just because it hasn't impacted me doesn't make it any less real.

So what changed?

I allowed myself to sit in the unknown. I allowed myself to question WHY. Why did I feel for one man over another? Why was my initial reaction, “not another police brutality”? Why did my heart not break for George like it has for the immigrants that are dying at our borders?

I don't know why. But I asked God to reveal why.

My only solution was to pray. God, help me mourn for all of your sons and daughters. Help me to weep with those that weep. Convict me and show me my prejudices. Lord, forgive me.

If you find yourself apathetic to the situation. If you find that your heart is not hurting with our brothers and sisters of color. If you can only focus on the idea that if only people followed the law, then maybe they wouldn't have died, then I implore you to stop and pray.

Pray, God opens your eyes to your faults.

Pray He open your heart to care for minorities.

Pray that he shows you the privilege you were born with, because it's there, regardless if you see it or not.

Pray that your hands that are willing to do the hard work.

Pray that your words are used to encourage and uplift and display His glory.

Pray for change.

Pray.

Because friend, this is not just another police brutality. People are dying, unjustly, and that is not okay.