Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world
Red and yellow
Black and white
They are precious in His sight.
Jesus loves the little children
Of the world.Jesus died for all the children
All the children of the world
Red and yellow
Black and white
They are precious in His sight.
Jesus died for all the children
Of the world.Jesus rose for all the children
All the children of the world
Red and yellow
Black and white
They are precious in His sight.
Jesus rose for all the children
Of the world.
It seems like only yesterday that I was singing this song in Sunday school, hand-in-hand with all the other kids in my class. We sang the song, we believed the words, we were united under the grace and love of God. Our innocence gave us no room to think differently, no room to judge someone because of the color of their skin, and no room to think myself any higher or lower than someone of a different ethnicity. We were just all God’s children, made precious in his sight — until one day the world said we weren’t.
I feel like growing up in Southern California made me a little ignorant to the realities of racism and bigotry that fuels the yearning for racial supremacy — well, really ignorant. I had friends who were black, Mexican, Asian, Indian, Native American, and yes, Caucasian. I didn’t know any different. The melting pot that was my Californian suburb kept me pretty sheltered from the hatred that was still going on in the world. I figured racism was a just thing of the past, something you study in History class, and only see in movies or really rural towns in the South. I didn’t actually believe there were people in this world who were outspoken racists. That just seemed silly. If anything, I figured the small amount of them who existed kept their beliefs hidden behind closed doors and at secret meetings.
It wasn’t until I moved to Memphis, Tennessee that all my assumptions about racism changed. The KKK just so happened to be hosting a rally the same day I got into town, and at that very moment, racism wasn’t just an idea or foreign happening anymore; it was taking place right in my own backyard. I couldn’t believe it. It was eye-opening. I felt the pit of my stomach turn. I was blindsided by the fact that not everyone had parents like mine, [ones] who taught me to never judge someone by the color of their skin or where they’re from, but to instead love all people the same way Christ loved The Church; without partiality (Romans 2:11). Why? Because like I had learned when I was younger, we were all God’s children and made precious in his sight.
Little did I know this wasn’t out of the norm for the south, let alone our entire country if I were to open my eyes a bit. If I’m transparent, I think the concept of racism was something I didn’t want to believe, so I purposely shut myself out from seeing it even if it was in plain sight. I was scared to admit that there were people in this world who would hate others because of their skin color. I was afraid to admit that our country hadn’t fully moved on from the dreadful past of enslaving African-Americans for personal gain.
My experience of living in Memphis, Tennessee changed my life completely, and I no longer wanted to hide from the reality of racial discrimination but instead leaning into it, wanting to learn more about its origin, and how I could help be a voice towards finding reconciliation. The only problem was I didn’t know where to start. I was a bit scared. I didn’t know what I was allowed to say or not allowed to say, or whether or not my voice would be taken seriously if anything was said at all. All I knew was this: Jesus stood against injustice, and it was time for me to man up and do the same, regardless of whether I was taken seriously. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what Jesus would have done. We’re called to love our neighbor as ourselves (Mark 12:31).
