Daily Verse | 2 Chronicles 12:14
King Rehoboam did evil because he had not
set his heart on seeking the Lord.

Happy Monday my friends. I’ve only met one person I wanted to spend my whole life with.

It’s no secret that our country is being torn apart by Critical Race Theory, which posits that power is based on race, rather than personal character, skill or achievement. In today’s narrative, if you’re white, you’re inherently racist and therefore an oppressor; if you’re a person of color, and especially if you’re black, you’re a victim of a power imbalance that is the result of a rigged system.

This ideology has swept colleges, corporations and, unfortunately, even churches. Not all churches, not all corporations, not all colleges, but enough to further erode our culture. We’ve seen with blazing clarity this last year the effect it’s had through Burn Loot Murder and antifa’s destructive marauding through our cities. We’ve seen it with companies like Coca-Cola that tell us to “try to be less white.” And we see it with “woke” majority-white churches that abase themselves before black brethren for sins they didn’t commit against them and preach a gospel of social justice.

I realized recently that while I completely reject CRT and the nonsense it espouses, I’ve nonetheless been affected by it personally. And by that I mean that I have become hyper-aware of race. Because of the constant drumbeat of “white supremacy,” “white privilege,” “systemic” or “institutional” racism and how aggrieved blacks are portrayed in the media, I find myself second-guessing interactions I have with someone of another color—especially blacks.

Last week an Amazon delivery truck pulled into my driveway while I was outside doing some yard work. Since I was there, I walked over to the truck to take the parcel from the driver, figuring I could save him some time. As I approached the truck, I saw that the driver was a young black man.

Normally I’d walk up, say “Hi” and complete the transaction without giving it a second thought. But this time my brain started asking questions even though I hadn’t asked it to.

“Does he think I’m a racist?”

“I wonder if he resents delivering packages to white people in the suburbs?”

“I wonder if he’s angry at me?”

“Will wishing him a good evening once I’ve got the package be interpreted as I think I’m superior to him?”

“Does anything I say even matter to him?”

These questions all floated, unwelcome, through my mind as I walked over to the truck. Note that I couldn’t possibly answer any of them—they all depended on what he thought, and I couldn’t possibly know what he thought unless he told me.

In the end, I greeted him, he said “Hey,” he gave me my package, I thanked him and said, “Have a good one.” He wished me the same. No sign of contempt from him. Just a guy doing his job.

But the experience deeply bothered me. I have never been so conscious of race and have always treated everyone the same, no matter their skin color or national origin. I can’t claim to have done so perfectly but, frankly, I’d be surprised if anyone can. Motivated by my Christian faith, I keep in mind that I’ve never locked eyes with anyone who didn’t matter to God. As the old children’s song goes,

Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
They are precious in His sight,
Jesus loves the little children of the world.

I leaned on that knowledge and brushed the other thoughts away from my mind. But that’s evidence of the damage being done to our society. The few people I’ve shared that story with have immediately recognized themselves in it. CRT activists are causing whites to second-guess themselves, creating uncertainty. Uncertainty leads to division and demoralizes those who can’t sort it out.

Over the weekend I flew to Atlanta and stayed overnight in a hotel in Marietta, Georgia. I shared the elevator several times with black men and women. It never got wonky, it was always friendly and the only vibe I got was from a young black guy wearing a “Black Lives Matter” facemask. He didn’t say anything or acknowledge my presence even though we were the only two in the elevator.

But so what? Everyone else was friendly. I took some encouragement from that. Maybe most blacks are cool with whites; maybe they don’t buy what BLM is selling. Most whites I know are cool with blacks and are horrified to be thought of as racist.

Me, I’m going to keep going back to the scriptures. That’s my foundation. If I do what God calls me to do, then I’ve done what is right—even if those questions present themselves—and the grievance mongers can complain to Him if I don’t go along with the program.