We all have a thing.
I have one.  Maybe two.  Don’t you?
You know… the thing that stops you in your tracks, makes your stomach hurt, and causes you all kinds of angst to convince yourself not to completely launch on the person who did (or didn’t do) this or that?  Yea, that.  
Abortion.
Child abuse.
International Adoption.
Cruelty to animals.
Politics.
Ethical adoptions.
Gun control.
Gun rights.
HIV advocacy.
Healthcare.
Diversity.
Theology (of all sorts).
Orphan care.
Women in ministry.
Homelessness.
Poverty.
Inner-city crisis.
The list is endless.
Those things that make your blood boil, your heart sing, and your passions ignite.  We all have them and they are all different!  {Isn’t it so absolutely awesome that God gave us all such unique passions?}  Ahhh diversity in the Body….
For me?  My number one “thing” is easy:  racism.  And everything that comes with it.  Racism that says, “I’m better than you simply because of the color of my (or your) skin.”  It says, “I deserve more; I earn more; I'm entitled to more; indeed, I am more.”  Racism says it's okay if we oppress "you" because, well, you're different than some {ill-defined} majority.  I despise racism of all types in all shapes and of all varieties.  Bleh.  Lord, continue to search my heart and purge me of all racist attitudes.
This issue hits close to home and even closer to my heart.  My brothers are black and were raised with our, ehm, then-decidedly white family in the ‘70’s, God bless ‘em.  My three babies also have beautiful brown skin, and I'm blessed with four nieces/nephews who share their gorgeousness.  In fact, my sister holds the only four white grandbabies in the family!
I often hear, it being 2014, that racism is a thing of the past.  Oh, if that were only the truth!  We don't encounter it much here in our highly integrated, three-blocks-from-Chicago's-west-side neighborhood.  And I'm thankful for that.  But it still exists.
A news article about racism recently went "viral" on FaceBook.  In it, the reporter discussed segregated proms that {apparently} still take place in some parts of this country.  As I read the article, I felt that familiar wave of nausea overcome me.  The worst part, in my estimation, was that the parents of the high schoolers were the ones perpetuating this awful tradition -- even paying out of their own pockets funds to ensure that a "white only" prom would take place at their school.  I had to resist the temptation to go on a rage-filled rant on social media or anywhere else someone might listen.
And yet.....
And.yet.
There is grace.  Even in this.  Grace.
I had this {difficult} realization recently while I was in a conversation with my sister.  Our passions -- my passions -- can be so all-consuming that we {ehm, I} forget that in Christ, in this, even in this, there is grace.  Were it not the case, what would this mean for me?
Gossip?  Yep.  {Slowly raises hand} I can be prone to gossip.  It's ugly and the holy spirit regularly brings me to my knees about it. I am a sinner SAVED by grace who is bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus. My sins are covered, for all time. And when I slip (which happens a lot), I am no less saved.  But I do feel that still, small voice whispering to me again that Christ wants more for me.  There is more.   More like Christ.
So when my conversation with Lisa turned to our recent experiences of racist behavior, I was overcome by a wave of emotion for the people exemplifying these attitudes.  I felt grace.  Someone how in that moment, despite the passion burning within me, the holy spirit whispered to me that this is me too.  That I too am imperfect, saved by a mighty God who is holy, holy, holy.  Holy, holy, holy!
It's not as if my passion about this issue was resolved in that moment.  No way.  A fire still burns in me and I commit to gracefully confronting racism wherever I encounter it.  It was more that in the moment, I realized that Jesus died for all of us.  All of us.  And somehow that very personal realization -- in that moment -- allowed me to find words for people that I otherwise didn't think I had.  I could speak with love and I could -- if I chose to allow the Holy Spirit to work in me -- be grace.
I hope I never forget the way I felt during my conversation with Lisa this week because it applies to so many things in my life.  I can be a little (or tall) fire ball of passion, energy and emotion.  I can go from zero to sixty in about 2.3 seconds.  Seriously.  But just like the Holy Spirit whispering to me to slow down and see people, He is now reminding me, at my core, that grace is the order of the day.  Grace.

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