Racism Is Sin (and Reconciliation Is Still the Call)

Author’s Note
This reflection was originally written in August of 2017 in response to the events in Charlottesville. I have revisited it now, not because the conviction has changed, but because the call to reconciliation remains as urgent as ever.

Some of my dearest friends are a married couple I’ve walked alongside for years — friends who do not look like me, but who feel as close as family. Over time, our lives have become intertwined through shared meals, conversations, laughter, and faith. They are gifted, faithful, generous people, and my life is richer because they are in it.

In August of 2017, as news from Charlottesville filled the airwaves, I remember feeling the weight of it settle differently than it had before. I wasn’t processing headlines in the abstract. I was thinking about how hatred and violence land on people you love — how easily someone else’s ideology can turn your friends into targets simply because they look different than you do.

That was the moment I realized I could not remain silent.

Racism is sin.
Racism — in any form — is sin.

Racism in the name of Christianity is not merely inconsistent; it is an abomination. Scripture is unambiguous about the worth and shared origin of humanity. The Bible does not speak in terms of “race,” but of nations, tribes, tongues, and families. Humanity is presented not as competing categories, but as one people with a common beginning — created in God’s image, descended from one another.

When I say that “race has no God-given authority,” I am not denying the reality of different skin tones, cultures, or histories. I am saying that the moral authority we have assigned to those differences — the power to divide, rank, fear, or exclude — does not come from God. It comes from us.

Division entered the human story through sin, not creation. Fear, suspicion, and self-protection followed quickly. Over time, we learned to formalize those instincts, to give them language and structure, and to use them to justify domination and distance. The modern concept of race is one such construct — useful for control, devastating for communion.

God’s intention has always been unity. Not uniformity, but reconciliation. From the beginning, His work has been to bring fractured people back into right relationship — first with Himself, and then with one another. Scripture moves steadily in this direction: walls coming down, strangers becoming family, enemies being reconciled.

In Christ, we are not merely forgiven; we are entrusted. God reconciled us to Himself through Christ and then gave us the ministry of reconciliation. That ministry is not optional, and it is not abstract. It must take shape in real lives, real relationships, and real choices.

Standing idly by is not an option.

Reconciliation is not a slogan or a sentiment. It is slow, relational, and costly. It reshapes who we listen to, who we learn from, who we share life with. If our closest circles include only people who look like us, worship like us, think like us, and experience the world exactly as we do, then something in our discipleship has been left untouched.

Nearly a decade later, what grieves me most is how little seems to have changed. Racism has not disappeared; it has simply evolved. In many spaces, it has been replaced with identity-driven outrage that still depends on division to survive. There are voices — both black and white — that appear more interested in keeping us opposed to one another than in doing the long, humbling work of reconciliation.

That should trouble followers of Jesus.

The ministry of reconciliation does not thrive on accusation or tribalism. It does not assign virtue or guilt by group identity. It tells the truth about sin — personal, cultural, and systemic — without surrendering to hatred or self-righteousness. It refuses to let anger masquerade as righteousness or division pose as justice.

Reconciliation is harder than outrage. It is quieter. It costs more. It rarely earns applause. But it is the work Jesus entrusted to His people — that the world would recognize His love not by our arguments, but by how we love one another.

So I still say it plainly:

Racism is sin.
Passivity is not faithfulness.
Reconciliation is the calling.

I stand with Jesus.
I stand with my brothers and sisters of every tribe and tongue.
And I remain committed — however imperfectly — to the ministry of reconciliation.

Prayer

Lord Jesus,
You have reconciled us to the Father at great cost, and You have entrusted us with that same work in the world. Expose the places where fear, pride, or comfort still shape our relationships. Give us eyes to see our brothers and sisters as You see them, and courage to pursue reconciliation even when it costs us something. Make our lives living witnesses to Your love, so that the world may know You by how we love one another.
Amen.