Curated by It’s That Part™ — Originally published by Faith and Proverbs on .
June 17, 2015, is a significant day in the history of Charleston, South Carolina. It’s a day that should be etched in our nation’s memory, because it’s when a self-proclaimed white supremacist drove more than an hour to the “Holy City” to a Bible study at Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, commonly known as “Mother Emanuel,” where he murdered nine African American parishioners, including the pastor.
The perpetrator wanted to start a race war. Instead, survivors of the mass shooting offered forgiveness and a call to repentance before the watching world. In a shocking show of gospel grace, Anthony Thompson stood up at the killer’s bond hearing to offer forgiveness to the man who had murdered his wife, Myra. He pleaded for the killer to give his life to Christ. The response from Thompson and other survivors reverberated throughout the city and the nation.
The nine victims at Mother Emanuel weren’t martyred for their faith. They were murdered because of their race. Yet the gospel stopped the fight from escalating because the grieving families demonstrated the biblical truth that “the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:20).
The city responded dramatically. After the shooting, people crossed racial and political divides to pray together. Pastors called for racial reconciliation from pulpits in many Charleston churches. Congregations grieved together as they considered how to keep the venom of racism from poisoning the community.
Tragically, since then, much of that momentum has been lost in our city and our nation.
Remembering the Tragedy
I remember the shooting at Mother Emanuel well because I was working as a sports chaplain at The Citadel when it happened. Now I’m a pastor in the area.
I had high hopes in the days after the shooting. As an African American man charged with gospel ministry in a city haunted by the history of slavery and racism, I longed to see gospel-centered reconciliation of many people to God and to each other. I hoped to see tragedy and injustice lead to reconciliation across the ethnic and racial lines that often still divide our churches.
Ten years have passed. Our nation has witnessed three presidential elections and the COVID-19 pandemic. We’ve observed the death of George Floyd, the subsequent protests and riots, and the Black Lives Matter movement.
Sadly, cultural backlash has been aided by excesses and errors that accompanied some calls for racial justice. Even good-faith attempts at racial reconciliation have been maligned and abandoned. It’s safer to remain silent about the need for racial reconciliation for fear of being labeled “woke.”
It’s safer to remain silent about the need for racial reconciliation for fear of being labeled ‘woke.’
We haven’t escaped that trend in Charleston. For many, life continues with little memory of the shooting at Mother Emanuel. The surge of unity and cooperation in the wake of that tragedy subsided. Many have forgotten that powerful witness of gospel forgiveness. We didn’t hang on to our fervent desire to look for common ground for the sake of a greater unity of purpose in pursuit of a more perfect union. Instead, some have drifted into a suspicion and rage that turns neighbors into enemies.
I fear we’ve failed to learn the lesson that seemed so obvious immediately following the shooting: The church should lead the charge to break down racial barriers with the gospel. Even more so, my greater concern in our cultural moment is that the worldly seeds that bear the fruit of this suspicion and rage have found a place to flourish in some of our churches.
Struggling to Reconcile
We should never forget that racism is an issue of worship. Racism is idolatry that exalts the self, ethnicity, and culture. Though there are sociological aspects of racism and ethnocentrism, its core is theological. That’s why the church has a profound interest in addressing the sin of racism head-on.
Yet I’ve heard pastors lament that when they preach about racial reconciliation, they’re accused of being theologically liberal. This is despite an overwhelming pattern of faithful exposition and firm commitment to doctrinal orthodoxy. Some have seen their jobs threatened after addressing racism from the pulpit. Thus, it’s easier to offer platitudes and feel-good rhetoric about racial unity than expose the idols of the heart.
There are certainly worldly and unhelpful ways to talk about racial reconciliation. Yet racial unity in the church demonstrates the gospel’s power to overcome our cultural and individual idols. The degree to which we model ethnic unity validates the credibility of the gospel to our neighbors. That’s why the church can’t afford to ignore it or consign the topic to worldviews antithetical to the gospel. Racial unity grounded in the gospel is countercultural and resists the virtues of this age with the theological virtues communicated through faith, hope, and love.
Holding On to Hope
Last week, on my way home from the Southern Baptist Convention’s annual meeting, I stopped at the Mother Emanuel AME tribute room in the Charleston International Airport. I reflected on what happened that day and in the 10 years since. I thought about the state of our nation, the denomination I serve in, our churches, and our homes.
Racism is idolatry that exalts the self, ethnicity, and culture.
Over the last decade, the population boom in the Charleston area has brought in many people who have no idea what happened that day. Mother Emanuel has become a tourist attraction for its headline moment. Many of those tourists don’t know it’s still an active church with a pastor faithfully shepherding the congregation.
South Carolina remains one of two states without a specific hate crime law. A bill that bears the name of the murdered pastor, Clementa Pinckney (who was also a state senator), failed to pass at the end of this year’s session, remaining stuck in committee. Although the bill passed the house in 2021 and 2023, it failed in the senate both times.
It’s easy to become cynical in pursuing racial reconciliation, especially when it appears some of your biggest detractors are your brothers and sisters in Christ. It’s easy to lose hope because the work is spiritually, physically, and emotionally exhausting. It’s easy to give up and stay in our various ethnic enclaves. But to do so would be to lay aside the ministry that Christ has given all of us who call him our Lord.
In that room, I also reflected on the church I pastor and the beauty of our multiethnic and multigenerational congregation. I think about the brothers and sisters I labored with over the last 10 years to pursue God’s vision of his unified and beloved community in Charleston. Those reflections keep me from giving in to cynicism and despair. Ultimately, I’m grateful that, as I read Scripture, we see that Christ will make all things new and restore all that’s broken within creation. For these reasons, I continue this ministry and live in hope.
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Originally sourced via trusted media partner. https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/anniversary-emanuel-shooting/
