wrestling inspired faith

……and that’s understating it.

Today (Friday) started out as a typical day. I woke up, took my pup Winnie out to take care of her morning “business,” had a cup of coffee, took Winnie out for her walk, and ate breakfast. I decided to get a start on my day and headed to the swimming pool located in one of the fitness centers here in the city. That’s when things got “interesting.”

It was busy in the pool, and like most indoor pools, there’s this unspoken etiquette where people share lane space so that we’re not swimming on top of each other. This pool doesn’t use the floating lane markers you typically see. We’re all swimming in our carved out, mutually agreed upon parts of the pool. It was pretty uneventful until I made my turn at the end of the pool, and an older man is walking towards me in the water, angry, yelling at me in Slovak. I don’t understand what he’s saying, but it’s clear he’s telling me to get out of the pool. He keeps pointing at me. I notice a few other older people in the pool are now scowling at me and wading as far away from me as possible.

I motion with my hands to where I’m swimming. That doesn’t satisfy him. It’s clear I’m violating some protocol unknown to me. Yet, based on where he’s telling me to swim (or not swim?) it seems there are others in the pool doing the exact thing he’s mad at me about. There’s something about the tone of his anger, his piercing look that unsettles me. Then it dawns on me.

It’s because I’m Asian.

Everyone else in the pool is Slovak (or at least white). I yell back at him, in English he probably doesn’t understand, to go back to swimming and mind his own business. I continue my swim. I do notice, however, he’s swimming all over the place – intruding upon other’s swimming space. It’s annoying others as well. But, after this, I notice the stares – I’m not welcome here.

My swim concluded, so I changed and went to the grocery store to pick up a few things. At the self-checkout, I notice that the customer service person stops looking at his phone and comes my way. He does this several times; he never offers to help, never says anything to me. I get that strange feeling again, and when our eyes meet, I see it. A look of suspicion. It’s a look reserved for me, because everyone else in the self-checkout – who are also Slovak – aren’t getting his “undivided” attention.

Racism and discrimination based on race aren’t anything new. It’s happened to me before, and I will also admit that on the spectrum of harm, there are others who experience far worse and far more racist behavior towards them than I have in my life. Here’s the thing – and this is entirely my own opinion – racism is just a part of life, tragic as it is to say that. It hasn’t been solved throughout history, and I don’t see it being solved or eliminated in my lifetime. That said, I, like so many other people of color, have found ways to exhibit our own resilience regardless of that fact of reality.

All this said, I turn my reflection to the church, my own denomination in particular. So much of the narrative is to “combat,” “eliminate,” or “dismantle” racism. I suppose it’s a grand and noble undertaking, but I know too well the human heart’s capacity to let fear and anger towards those of difference races lead to discrimination, oppression, and violence. It’s a noble undertaking….but it’s an unrealistic one.

I guess what I’m saying, and again this is my opinion, is that in light of encountering racism this morning and the likelihood I will again, I don’t need church to go on a crusade to eliminate it. I don’t need church people to get indignant on my behalf and go into their own feelings of rage towards circumstances and people beyond our control. What I need is a community where I can be safe and where my racial identity is celebrated. I need a community of people who are willing to bear the burden of mornings like this morning with me, a reflection of the Jesus I have full faith that he bears them with me. When the moment calls for it, I need a community of faith that will intervene and stand for what is right when they see racism happening to me and other people of color.

Here’s the thing: racism is a tragic, but an unavoidable part of life. I need the church to be honest about that, and I need the church to be a place of care that restores my strength, so I can get back to living.