“Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that.” —Martin Luther King

There are very few words that can be spoken by me before I will be written off as ignorant. People may say that I’m blinded by my own whiteness and that I could not possibly have anything of value to add to the conversation. Before you stop reading, before you assume that my words will be plastered with supremacy, hear me out. We don’t listen to each other and that’s certainly part of the problem.

Jesus told us that there is no distinction between "races." There is one race: the human race. If we're honest, there's a racist inside each one of us. One some of us fight to keep at bay, others not so much. I'm the last person who wants to admit that I've judged a group of people unfairly. I am so burdened by the wicked tendencies of my own heart. We know we have a problem; so why is it so difficult to remedy? How do we stop?

Let me preface this by saying some of my commentaries may be offensive to you. But let me also say my goal is not to bury, demean, undermine, harshly or unfairly critique the #blacklivesmatter movement. I will stand up for what is right. I will fight with and for my black brothers and sisters for equal protection, equal opportunity, and equal liberty. Unfortunately, no matter what I say, no matter how lovingly I try to convey it, I’m a racist. Some, no matter how much I love my black brothers and sisters, will always believe that. I’m marked by my skin color, my upbringing, my background. I ask for grace as I lay my heart open, with genuine concern for the well-being of our communities and the lives of the American people.

The food service industry isn’t an easy place to be. Rough days are common for servers. Last week, I was standing with several of my co-workers making small talk. A female server in the section next to me groaned and cursed. I turned to her and asked what she was upset about. Exasperated, she turned and said, “I told them not to sit black people in my section. They’re such bad tippers.” My jaw hit the floor. I couldn't believe that she would say something like that aloud, given what had been going on the previous week. A male coworker joined in, “Yeah, black people are really rude.” My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. The statements weren’t the cause of my shock. l was gawking because both of my coworkers are black. Black people who didn’t want to serve other black people because they are “bad tippers” and “rude.” I quickly disputed their claims. “Actually,” I replied. “I had a black gentleman tip me 25% percent the other night. My “white” tables only tipped me 10%.”

I tried to wrap my mind around it. The fact that they’d generalized and made assumptions about people of their own skin color confounded me. I began to think, what would they have thought if those words had come from my mouth? Of course, if a white woman had made those statements, they would have meant something different. I wrestled with this concept all night long.

In the past year or two, I’ve talked with my black friends and coworkers. I asked questions, curious to see what they differed with me on. To my surprise, the bag was so mixed it made my head spin. I was confused. Why weren’t black people more united on theses issues? Why was there such a wide divide in opinion on police brutality, the use of deadly force, who and what was causing the oppression, and policy change? Why did some black people agree with me on some issues while others were vehemently opposed, and sometimes even disgusted with my position?

Of course, social media was a source of confusion as well. I had black friends who defended statements that I made, and I had black friends that disputed them. I followed links and comments on various videos. I noticed a common thread. Our views aren’t merely shaped by our culture and heritage, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this out. Our views are shaped by our parents and our experiences. Let me explain further.

On several occasions, I witnessed some of the dialogue between a parent and child. Among the most shocking of these experiences was a mother explaining racism to her sons. She told the young boys that white people would lie and cheat and steal from them. To my chagrin, most of these children I was coming into contact with were being told that white people would only hurt them. It wrecked me as I held babies, and I explained the gospel to three-year-olds, and as I saw the young children grow angrier as they got older. These precious children that I had so grown to love were being taught to mistrust me.

They were being taught; they were being shaped by experiences that their parents had. There was so much bitterness. The adults had terrible experiences with cops, store owners, white women, white men, etc. Their experiences guided their assumptions about my intentions.

Again, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not throwing the #alllivesmatter nonsense at you. I’m not critiquing the movement. I’m merely stating that prejudice is a two-way street. A two-way street that we are all choosing to walk down, arguing back and forth about who is or isn't right and failing to listen. Many white people are ignoring their privilege, burying the problem and making it about themselves. We aren’t talking about black on black crime here, we aren’t talking about black on white crime. We are talking about installed, pervasive, institutional racism. It has to stop.

We have one more massive issue to address. I can critique my own race, black people can talk about themselves, and black people can talk about white supremacy and critique the behaviors of Caucasian Americans and even call their intentions into question. As soon as I mention Alton Sterling, as soon as I say “Maybe, just maybe the cops were justified,” I’m a racist. I am immediately an enemy of justice.

Let me assure you, I and countless others are merely on the side of truth. I happen to think that the Sterling shooting may have been justified. I have an entirely different opinion about the Castile case; I believe that shooting was unjustified. I look at the evidence we have now, I examine the validity of the claims, and I stand on the side of justice. I can’t be conclusive about either case; I can’t create my own narrative. I wasn’t there. But please, don’t condemn me for having an opinion. Don’t assume that I think that black lives don’t matter because I don’t believe that every white man that shoots a black man deserves to rot in jail. This conversation begins with honesty and ends with a willingness to let our assumptions go.

We have to stop assuming things about each other. My black co-workers and friends stated that black people don't tip. Sometimes this is true, sometimes it isn't. Does that change the level of service I provide? Does that mean I don't treat them with the utmost respect? For so many of my coworkers, it does. We are all contributing to a massive, out of control fire.

Jesus is the only one who can help us love in spite of ourselves

Jesus is the only way we can change the way we see each other

Jesus is the only one who can show us how incredibly valuable lives are to Him

I am not against you

My opinion about an investigation doesn’t invalidate that I am for you

White people are racist

Black people are racist

Hispanic people are racist

I’m a racist

So are you

Forgive me

Forgive me for failing to listen

Forgive me for not understanding

Allow me to listen

Help me to understand

I will stand with you

I love you

I love your powerful voices

I love the beautiful nature of your skin

I love you, so let me

I can be misunderstood, just like you

Give me grace

You don’t have to be bitter

Let go

Examine your heart

And I will examine mine

Eradicate your hate

I will eradicate mine

Jesus, create clean and pure hearts in us

Let us move forward together

Let us refuse to let our differences divide us

But let our humanness unite us

Hate breeds hate

Darkness breed death

Love breeds life