This post is a response to an exchange that happened at a conference in the US. It is raw and emotional. It is about race, and racism. It is about power, and it draws on academic responses to power and race.  It is personal, but I share it because I think we all have a lot to learn…your responses are welcome. But please be gentle.

To the Black man who asked, “Is it possible to trust a white Christian?”

While I was on a raised platform facing a room full of people,

My white face on display.

I would not cry in front of you, even though tears of shame and shock immediately pricked at my eyes.

I would not cry because I am a white woman, and I know that white women’s tears suck all the oxygen from the room – they take all the attention away from the question that no one wants to hear. If I cry, I make my pain central. If I cry, I detract from your pain, your community’s pain, which looms large. And I know that you are asking this question right now, in this moment, in this time and place, because you have been burned by white people. Your community has been burned by white people. And white people are burning down your country. It is a valid question.

But it is the first time in my life that I have had such a question directed at me – Oh I know it wasn’t personal, but it feels so personal. Because I know about complicity. I know that although I am an advocate for justice, I am just a broken human being who tries to be open and fair and graceful. I fail all the time. Just as my ancestors failed. I know that as a Christian, I willingly take responsibility for what the past offers the future…I take responsibility for the failures of my ancestors. And my own failures. But let me tell you why I want to cry. I cry because I am paying attention to the pain your community has endured. I cry because I feel helpless, even though I know I am immeasurably powerful. I cry because I am ashamed of the colour of my skin, even though I was born in it and had no say in the matter. I cry because the world is falling apart, and it seems we are lost in a tidal wave of white Christian nationalism, and no amount of shouting on my part will change that. I cry because you are confronting me, not personally of course. But how can I take it any other way when I cannot look you in the eye and tell you I am trustworthy. Because I am afraid, too. Because I feel powerless, too. Because I feel accused. Because I too am subject to impulses and false perceptions and a skewed view of history.

I will bear the weight of your question. Because I am curious about what will happen if I take your question seriously and allow it to open my heart. I am anxious to do the right thing, even though I know that any move I make will be wrong. I am hopeful that there is a way forward, a future in which we can sit down and you can decide for yourself whether I am worthy of trust. Or compassion.

If we cannot sit down together and try to answer this question, there is no hope for anything at all. I will bear the weight of your question in my body. And I will cry. Even as I try to hide my own tears so that they do not interrupt yours. I do not defend the tears of white women. I only hope that one day we will cry together, that our shared tears of lament will move the sleeping God to alertness. I am sorry for all the pain, all the centuries, all the wrong. Your question, however, will not silence me. I will keep speaking because I have something to prove. Even if my tears are an abomination – a betrayal of black experience – I am going to keep fighting for justice. Even though I get it wrong. Even though my words falter, and I can only see through my white eyes. If anything, your question inspires me to do better, to put away my tears and get to work.

Just so you know, every page of my work is tearstained, washed in deep sorrow and deep hope. Please may the powers of empire not be allowed to do what they wish – they will take those of us who follow Jesus and tear us apart from each other – they will divide and conquer, and we are left with animosity instead of engagement. I will bear the weight of your question because I want to be in relationship with you. I want truth to win. And I want a different future for my children.

So thank you, whether you are friend or foe, I am grateful.