Who we tag in our Facebook notes is indicative of who we allow to be in the intricate parts of our lives.

9 07 2010


Who we tag in our Facebook notes is indicative of who we allow to be in the intricate parts of our lives.

They are the ones who matter to us.

It’s true.

“In this note” on the right-hand column tells a story. It signals who we trust.

Facebook, a tool so vital to our ministries as social beings, can also be a tool of social commentary.

Our little world is reflected in our need to express ourselves, in our note. And our world is a little too small for God. Those in our notes are the people who we let in our thoughts, our jokes, our musings, our passion and pain. They are those close to us and our dreams. They’re kind of a big deal. They’re kind of like us.

Which sometimes disappoints the Gospel.

We love to share our thoughts with our own.

We don’t expand our circle of friendships and close confidants but allow them to remain black and white. Literally.

My black friends write notes to their black family, friends and acquaintances. My white friends write notes to their white family, friends, and acquaintances. We’re rarely intentional about being with people unlike us. We’re not even aware that Facebook names a dangerous trend of homogeneity.

But the Gospel that Jesus walked was not just Jewish. It was Jewish-Gentile, Gentile-Jewish. Jesus’ Gospel looked for people out of the ordinary to be with and share deep secrets of the Kingdom with. Jesus’ Gospel sought out people who did not belong with Him, with them, with God and introduced them into the family. Jesus’ Gospel quite easily accepted new blood. It did not do coffee with new blood and forget about them until they showed up in front of it.

We forget each other until we stumble upon each other once again.

We remember that black, white, Asian, Indian, and every other people exist when chance allows us to meet. We don’t plan to meet. We don’t search desperately for our meeting so that we can redeem each other by being together outside of chance.

Chance determines our being together. But chance isn’t our Gospel.

To those whose notes are mixed, amen.

To those whose notes are not, there is something being communicated about the Gospel lifestyle we are called out to live. We’re failing but there’s hope for reversal. All we must do is take the Gospel to heart and in turn perhaps our hearts will soften, open and expand…like a flower blooming in Spring.

Or a Facebook note list.


High School Poetry

8 07 2010

I wrote this poem my senior year of high school. It’s ironic. I think I turned this into a publication during college. These questions and feelings stuck with me then and are still with me now. The stuff I was struggling with then has never left me. Now I’m more aware of it. Now it’s gotten more complicated. Now I can read stuff like this, shake my head about how crazy it is that I was tune with myself, and journey on.

Blacker than I was in the Summer


As the sun penetrates the dark skin on me

I’m wandering what the light nation will see.

They probably see the sun indulging me

And my skin changing like the leaves on an autumn tree.

They see my skin getting darker, getting closer to the place

Where I’m as dark as my ancestors in skin and in face.

They see the black kid, who probably has bad parents,

The thug, the ignorant, materialistic; it’s apparent

That to them the darker I am, the more I don’t know

The deeper I’m not, the more I don’t flow

The fine places in the future, they know I won’t go.

The decent qualities in me, they know I won’t show.


The dark nation says they see all that other stuff,

To put it plainly, they see me as not being black enough.

They think I “live too good” like my past wasn’t rough.

They hear me speak, automatically I sound too white,

Just because I’m really focused, my future’s too “bright.”

They say, “You’re turning too white, look your skin’s getting light.”


Oh so that’s what it’s about,

My skin’s too light for you, so I need to go out.

Speak blacker, think blacker go soak up the sun.

You think if I go out in the real world that will really be done?

Do you truly think if I experience what you’ve been through

I’ll be blacker, not whiter, not myself, but like you?


As the sun penetrates the dark skin on me,

I’m wondering what the light nation would see.

And as the dark nation says what they want me to be,

I’m asking the whole nation, can I just be me?




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