Every Son Is My Son

My head was pounding this afternoon. Learning a new work process can have that effect sometimes. So, I stepped away for a few minutes, put on my headphones, and took a walk around the block. I was listening to a TS10 from a few weeks ago, one that carried a mood of numbness, or maybe even despair. As I turned the corner, listening to these somber sounds, I was struck with a bit or irony.

My head was pounding, but it wasn’t due only to learning this new skill at work. No, my mind was troubled by something far more painful. This morning, I read about the senseless and shameful murder of a 15-year-old boy named Jordan Edwards. A black boy… just like my black boy. Shot by a police officer as the boy sat in the back seat of a car. Shot in the head with a rifle. A smart, athletic, sweet kid… snuffed out like a candle. No reason. No rationale.

My head was pounding… as I thought of the irony of me walking around the block with my hoodie and headphones on. Wondering… if my skin was black, would I be deemed suspicious by my white neighbors, by the police? Thinking about Trayvon Martin wearing his hoodie when he was targeted, armed with a bag of Skittles. And then thinking about the fact that I am (white) privileged enough to not have to worry about that.

My head was pounding as I thought about young Jordan’s family… when I thought about his grieving parents. Their beautiful and brilliant child was destroyed. I considered Nicholas Wolterstorff’s sorrowful Lament for a Son, in which the author lays his heart bare as he grieves the loss of his own son. I thought about my own precious Joshua. That he is not only precious, but he is also black. I thought about the fact that it could have been Joshua Hudgins named in that article instead of Jordan Edwards.

My heart was then pounding.

I am angry. I am grieved. If this was just some isolated event, it would still be sad, but maybe it wouldn’t have ravaged my soul this way. But it’s not an isolated incident. The list of such tragic, horrific stories seems to never end. Parents needlessly grieved. Children needlessly slaughtered. But it’s not just about racially-charged murder. Just this last weekend, a dear friend’s son was subjected to an ignorant, racist slur: “Run back to your slave master.” When my Joshua was three years old, a kid at the playground told him that he doesn’t like “brown people.” Racism is everywhere. It is pervasive.

I can’t say for certain that Jordan Edwards’ murder was racially motivated. But seeing this event in the context of the racism I constantly see around me and the long, never ending list of unarmed, unthreatening black people who have been shot by police over the years, it’s hard to imagine race didn’t have something to do with this.

I want to offer solutions right now. I want to offer hope. But, I feel devoid of solutions and low on hope. I have plenty of sorrow and a fair amount of rage. But more than anything, I am determined to grieve with Jordan’s family and friends. And, I am determined to fight. I will pray like I have never prayed. I will confront the dark heart of racism when I see its ugly head surface. And I will ask God to show me what remnants of racism still live in my fickle heart.

And now my heart is pounding again, because I know there will be another Jordan Edwards, innocently snuffed out like a candle. I pray my son is not the next son to be slaughtered. #everysonismyson

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s