I flinched at their forgiveness
When I first heard they forgave him, I flinched. Why should they have to do that? So quickly?
My visceral response gave way to self-examination. Maybe, like the Amish families who lost their children to a shooter a few years ago, these families are better Christians than I am, with a deeper faith, a less questioning theology, a more profound relationship with God.
I came this.close. to writing something about it. Then I started reading blog posts and essays like this one by my friend Denise Anderson at her blog, andthis one by Candice Benbow at Ebony, and this one, a great conversation at The Toast. They provided a different, and needed, perspective on what it means to be Christian when you are part of a minority and oppressed culture. If you only read one, read this one by Kiese Laymon about talking to his grandmother, at The Guardian. Then come back.
