“There’s a difference between us. You think the people of this land exist to provide you with position. I think your position exists to provide those people with freedom. And I go to see that they have it.” — William Wallace, Braveheart

There has been a lot written recently about white privilege. I am a white male from America—one of the most fortunate destinies apparently, for access to education, for opportunity, for a bright future in which I can build up an inheritance for my children and grandchildren. I have had to come to terms with the reality that I have unfairly benefited from a history of systemic social injustice that was built mostly by people who looked like me— my ancestors, who to varying degrees of culpability, exploited a system of scalability on the backs of negro slaves, and then locked those very blacks who built it all out of fair access to the job market, the housing market, medical care, and education. 

Isaiah 58 teaches us that the only kind of fasting God desires (and we can assume also the only kind of prayer) is the action of freeing and empowering the slave, the oppressed, the underprivileged. To “break the chains of oppression,” is the only thing that will make our light shine like the dawn. When we take up the cause of fighting injustice for the sake of another, it is then we are most in line with our god-image. 

We must gain a vision of much-to-gain, otherwise, we will be frozen by the near-sighted fear of too-much-to-lose. When we strengthen and equip more people to be creative contributing souls, our world will be filled with more color, more abundance, and more joy than we could ever dream of. The cost of not doing so will make the security we long for elusive and will gradually erode the very foundations of society. It was precisely by seeking our own privilege (white privilege at the expense of others) that got us here—a time fraught with uncertainty and insecurity. Because, when we forget that we are not islands unto ourselves but rather exist in a community—an integrated, interdependent collection of diverse people with diverse skills and abilities—we begin to estrange ourselves from the very community that is meant to provide us with a deep sense of belonging and significance. Jesus even warned us that it is possible to get everything we want individually and simultaneously lose our own soul. What would that gain?

So, what is white privilege? And how am I—a white man—supposed to feel about it? At times, I feel the deepest anxiety of white America: that we are being asked to give away all of our stuff and that our society is slowly capitulating to communism—that drab, uninspired, grey, concrete existence that demands equal meaninglessness, equal glum, equal lack, equal joylessness, and food lines that give bread and soup in exchange for our wild dreams of greatness, our achievement-driven risk-taking, and everything else we hold dear as Americans. But, when I’m in my right mind, I know that no one is asking for stuff to level the playing field. People and movements like Black Lives Matter are rather asking for our attention, our understanding, our empathy, and the ability to fair access to all of the promise of the American dream, equal justice under all of the systems and institutions this prosperous land, and to not be negatively labeled or judged based on the color of anyone’s skin. Can we not acknowledge that we own this shared history together? Can we not admit that our ancestors got it wrong, that they made mistakes, and that we are all reaping the bad fruit of unequal or incomplete justice? 

I—a white man—would like to address the white fear of admitting to and acknowledging those ancestral errors. Many whites subconsciously assume that if we addressed, studied, taught our children about our weaknesses and our failings, and tried to correct systemic unfairness, then we would be opening ourselves, and our families, up to accusation, guilt, and condemnation. Take it from me, a man who has studied repentance my entire adult life (though am by no means an expert!), that that fear is completely untrue. We ought not to be afraid of shame at the end of that road, because whenever we humbly share our weaknesses with others, it surprisingly engenders honor and respect and endears them to us. When we hope to maintain our own self-respect, we lose it. But if we surrender our innate instinct to protect it, only then do we truly have it. This is not easy at all—in fact, it can feel like dying. This elusive, seemingly contradictory, nature of respect was articulated best by Jesus. He said we must take up our cross in order to follow him, and that if we seek our lives, we will lose them, but if we lose our lives for his sake, we will find them. At the heart of these verses is the call to let go of protecting your own reputation—of carefully crafting your public persona, or, in today’s speak, maintaining control of your own personal brand. Take up your cross—risk appearing like a convicted felon, like a born criminal—and do the right thing anyway. Contrary to our animal instincts, this is the road—the road of risking public approval, rather than maneuvering and vying for it—that leads to glory. 

And this turns out to be the one thing we are worst at doing—laying aside our own judgments and our own perspective and submitting ourselves to take on another person’s views, to literally put ourselves in their shoes and see the reality they live in/with. So, whenever you hear someone claim that there is no racism in America, what they are really saying is, “I refuse to accept someone else’s perceived or experienced reality.” To claim someone else’s view doesn’t matter or is inferior to your own, is essentially akin to saying the life they have lived in their own skin (no matter the color) is invalid and therefore not valuable. This…skill—laying aside our own egocentric view of the universe to take on another person’s perspective—is the one thing we are all trying to learn…it is the one thing we all desperately need to learn...it is, in fact, the one lesson that all of life and scripture is trying to teach us. 

What about favor? What about inheritance? What about the reward of having a good name, and the opportunities that increase because of doing a good job, on time, with integrity? This kind of favor is something we should all work toward and hope for. But favor born in an artificial environment built on greed, unfair competition, and protectionism isn’t favor. That is privilege. Privilege is the negative, spoiled, counterfeit version of Favor. Privilege is favor that got put on the shelf and turned stale from disuse. It is the expectation of benefit solely based on position, power, or promise of influence. To put it simply, privilege is favor without courage. It is the opposite of 1 Corinthians 13 Love. Privilege seeks its own, protects itself, dishonors others, delights in evil, and does not rejoice with the truth. Privilege will win at any cost to maintain its own position or power, and do it precisely at the expense of others. For self. Against others. Favor, on the other hand, is the reward of position, power, or influence for the sake of others, at the expense of self, usually with a healthy dose of courage. This self-forsaking, outward, generous flow toward other people is the nature of true greatness. That kind of favor calls on more courage. And that favor is weighty and substantial and filled with unshakeable glory.

Let me ask you: has your favor turned into privilege? Are you using your favor, your position, your platform to bring blessing and help to others? Favor is given to us in trust, so that we will use it to do something good and to help those in need. Currently, there are minority peoples in America that need help from people in positions of favor. Who will you choose to be? William Wallace? Or the nobles of his day that quibbled over titles and personal power? Let us not forget that power and position exist to provide others with freedom. Let us go and make sure that they have it.