Seeing Blind Spots

For a little over a year now, I feel like the scales have gradually been falling away from my eyes, revealing particular injustices around me. Not that I've had any illusions that the world is fair, or that injustice happens on the grand scale, but that I'd failed to see its systematic presence in my own little sphere, in my community.

I grew up with certain narratives that explained how the world works. I initially thought adolescence was the classic stage for testing those narratives to determine their truth. But instead, I found adolescence was only the beginning of figuring out who I am. Adulthood seems to be the actual, lifelong stage for figuring out this crazy, complicated world.

Evidenced by the fact that I'm still overturning my own preconceptions in my late 30's - and now realize it won't be the last time I have to change my mind about something important, trading my assumptions for the truth (part of what the church calls "sanctification").

I think of these moments as tectonic shifts, mental earthquakes, because at first I resist the change. God has to present the same "new" idea to me from many angles and sources until I finally dive in to research it more fully (usually a 6-9 month process that requires an open mind and primary sources from each perspective -- not one source telling me what all the others say). When eventually the evidence tilts overwhelmingly in one direction...and I've had time to process it...I'll start to make the mental leap. It is scary and exciting, and followed by after-shocks as I discover all the ripple effects of the new-to-me landscape. Over time (years), this new aspect of my worldview settles in, even as it continues to be refined and incorporated. Ultimately, it is always liberating, because I land on far safer/stronger ground than I began (John 8:32).

This process seems particularly important for those of us who grew up as an American protestant in the late 20th century. Folks like James Dobson, John MacArthur, and the Christian Coalition appeared to assemble a long list of beliefs about the world that constituted what it meant to be a true Christian. Compared to the creeds of past generations which could be stated in a few lines (the Nicene Creed or Apostles Creed - even the Westminster Confession is relatively short), this list was extensive, including support for the death penalty, opposition to gun control, support for states' rights, criticism of welfare, glorification of the American dream, anti-affirmative action, disbelief in global warming, and enumerating exactly how the world began (ala Ken Ham) and will end (Left Behind). It was the Republican party platform of the 1980s-1990s plus some.

Which is not to say they were wrong about everything - just that they were certain about far too much. Where the Bible offers so much room for mystery and paradox and disagreement, this worldview I absorbed was black. and. white. I arrived at college honestly trying to find a democrat who was a Christian so I could figure out how those two identities could possibly fit together (which to be clear, seems absurd to me now).  

In hindsight, it is not surprising that this certainty about everything (modernism) gave birth to a generation that was uncertain about everything (post-modernism). Once you discover that one plank in your platform is not the whole truth, you wind up doubting all the planks.

And that brings us back to my own little walk of faith and all its earthquakes. Adulthood has been a process of testing plank after plank against special and general revelation (again, sanctification), confirming some, discarding others. I've alluded to a few of them briefly on this blog, from confirming the logic of Christianity to realizing the world is not getting worse to embracing the scientific community and confirming again and again that the Bible is trustworthy...

...To this year, discovering the pride and injustice in my own heart. This latest journey began when I read Americanah by Chimamanda Adichie over a year ago. Adichie's winsome novel was like a trojan horse, attacking my latent preconceptions unawares. Her two main characters are an educated Nigerian woman and man who immigrate to the US and UK (respectively) and then return to Nigeria. These international transitions allow us to "experience" (vicariously) how race, ethnicity, and culture impact the main characters and how their views of both countries shift over time. Their experiences were eye-opening for me. They brought to light errors in "conventional wisdom" that I hadn't really examined, but which have since been pummeled by many articles like this one, statistics, this podcast, a friend's perspective, and most recently the discussion around Ferguson, MO, including:

Commentary on #Ferguson by Ben Watson

Why Ferguson Must Lead to Change

#Ferguson: A Gospel Issue
When Whites Just Don't Get It

How could I have thought that racism had been overcome? Or that the struggles facing modern African Americans were not the result of centuries of the worst kind of oppression and abuse? How did I not see the evil of stereotypes -- or the evil of the pride that takes credit for privilege?

It seems so obvious to me now that I have not earned the benefit of the doubt when I interact with strangers so much as I have been given it by my lucky demographics. I haven't earned my financial security so much as I was graced with a generous environment that cultivated that security. The list goes on - probably even further than I have yet discovered.

And that, really, is the point. Being willing to discover. To re-examine assumptions, to consider other viewpoints, to change my mind. Because the only thing scarier than replacing old assumptions with the truth is never examining the old assumptions at all.