This is an uncomfortable feeling. I’m typically asked to contribute in writing my thoughts about a number of topics related to anti-racism, health, and wellness. I’ve built my whole career around being able to stand at the window of society and analyze the Gordian knots, the inextricable forces, and systems that interplay with one another that eventually produce or treat barriers to health. When reflecting on the Giant Triplets, coined by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, I was excited to dig into data and read a few journal articles– arming myself to freely ruminate on the moral failures of our society. I was planning to end my article with a powerful call to action, inspiring others towards racial, economic, and political equity at last. 

So I pulled up the Giant Triplets speech on YouTube. I’m sitting here now, listening to it for the third time in a row, and I cannot help but allow the giant tears to flow down my face. 

These are not the familiar tears of righteous anger, nor are they demonstrative tears to prove evidence of my own victimhood within this exploitative, racist, and violent society.

These are tears of personal alarm, of stinging guilt, and of repentance.

The more I listen to this audio, the more I realize God is not offering me a window from which to herald a word of justice. God is offering me a mirror from which I can see all the condemnable characteristics of this society right in my own reflection. 

The problem with hegemonies (like whiteness, power, and wealth) is that we are constantly celebrating the challenging of how they play out in society without being challenged to review our individual perpetuation. 

It is far easier to write a review of the United States as a hyper-militant agent in the world. It is harder to write about my own short-temperedness on the road, my own desire to be seen as a person with whom one should not “mess with, or else”, my own secret— that I take great comfort in the United States military might because I am afraid of what the world might do if we were not “strong”. 

So I pray:

God, as You convict us of the love of guided missiles, guide me to love my neighbor, seek peace, and confront the violence within me. Amen.

It is far easier to speak of the woes of capitalism while nestled deeply and comfortably within the middle class. But what truly is my position on the plight and liberation of low-income, resource-denied households? Theologically, I am abhorrently against the exploitation of people and the propagation of caste in this and every other society. But practically, I’ve joined the ranks of the oppressor. For Convenience, I still order from Amazon, despite the well-documented exploitation which occurs at its hands globally. For Cost, I still shop at fast fashion stores, despite increasing levels of labor abuse and environmental decay. And for Class– the insatiable need to achieve upward mobility, the need to say I achieved a “better life” than my ancestors’– I collect the symbols of freedom. I have forsaken my own style, language, and community to seem closer to the specter of success, to whiteness.  

So I pray:

Emmanuel, be with me and give me courage as I turn from the gods of convenience, cost, and class. And in You, let me find fellowship, community, and peace just enough. Amen.

It is far easier to speak on racism, especially given the enormous movements toward antiracism in the United States. It is much harder to admit my antiracism isn’t effective because it hasn’t been comprehensive enough. I must care as deeply for the plight of my Tigray and Somali people as I do my own. I must care for the plight of the Syrian, the plight of the poor White American in Alabama– yes, even if he votes differently than me or outright against me. What good is my antiracism if I ignore the demands of Hawai’ian people for my vacation’s sake? What good is my anti-racism if I am not committing to patronizing Black and Indigenous companies first? 

So I pray:

Redeemer, as You call me to be a champion of physical and moral health of our nation, save me from the internal decay with apathy, selective compassion, and easy answers. Give me a clean heart, a prophetic voice, and feet steady on the hope of

A world without war… because I will not choose violence.

A world without exploitation… because I will not exploit.

A world without racism… because I will advocate for people of all races.

Amen.