In the first half of this year, the Chicago recorded over
250 murders (up 35% from 2011) mostly due to gang violence. The city recorded
more casualties than Iraq & Afghanistan combined during the same time span.
I never heard of the state of the city until the mass shootings in July at a
movie theater in Aurora, Colorado. Twelve people were killed and 58 injured. Black
commentators began to complain about the lack of coverage of the Chicago
violence. Shamefully, black-on-black crime has become a dog-bites man story.
Are
not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground
apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are
all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows (Matthew
10:29-30).
America stops in its tracks when the peace of white suburbia
gets disrupted, but somehow manages to get along well with persistent violence
in urban areas (as long as the victims are black). Let a white kid get shot and you will learn
their life plans, favorite flavor of ice cream, and every excruciating detail
of the event. Let a black kid get shot and you will see a brief story
describing the basic who, where, what and why without much further insight.
This reminds me of the day of the tragic shootings at
Columbine High in April 1999. I had just arrived to my favorite class in
seminary and was prepared for a stimulating discussion. A white classmate
entered the room and requested that the professor cancel class because of a
shooting had occurred at a school over a thousand miles away. I retorted without
thinking “people got shot everyday where I’m from and the world goes on. I am
not about to cry and miss a week of Kierkegaard for some people I don’t even
know.”
She stared at me in horror. How can one pursuing studies in professional
ministry be so cold? I had not realized how society had desensitized me myself.
Coming of age during the crack era of Washington, DC did not allow for much
grief. People were dropping like flies—and people you knew at that.
My high school principal was wont for ending the Monday morning
announcements with who got killed over the weekend and instruct us to proceed with
having a nice day. I didn’t know what a
grief counselor was until one showed up after someone I didn’t even know in my college
dorm got killed in a car accident.
This occurs in the same nation founded over 200 years ago with
a straight face on the principle “that all men are created equal, that they are
endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are
Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness” while African men and women were in
bondage as chattel. The diminished value of black life was further
institutionalized in the Constitution by counting them as only three-fifths of
a person for the sake of apportionment.
Laws are much easier to change than attitudes. Imagine how it must feel to grow up black in
America and nobody cares if the sanctity of your life is violated. This is
evident in the media obsession with details of every white woman who breaks a nail,
but outlets had to be shamed into reporting on Phylicia Barnes, the black teen
who went missing in Baltimore around Christmas 2011. Unfortunately, her remains
were found almost four months later. Imagine what a difference timely reporting
would have made.
God is no respecter of
persons (Acts 10:34). We must do likewise by valuing all human life
equally. No more crying over white losses, while turning a blind eye to those
of color. I hope to see prayer vigils for urban violence in suburbia. Let’s
work together to reduce the propensity toward violence everywhere. No need to
go abroad, there is more than enough work in our own mission fields.
How is a young person expected to treat as sacred that which
all messages around them say is worthless? If no one else cares about their
lives, God does. As long as God has people on the ground, there should be an
outpouring every time one of his children falls.
