“I realized that I was a racist, and I hope you will forgive me.”

 These words of confession came from one of the participants in my recent workshop called “Racism, xenophobia, and the gospel.   The workshop almost didn’t happen because I wondered how wise it was for me as a white guy from the north to talk about such a sensitive issue.  But at the urging of my students I decided to take the plunge.  I read and wrote and prepared power points and handouts, but the most powerful part of the day was hearing testimonials from two highly respected and beloved members of the Costa Rican Baptist family. 

Judith is an afro-Caribbean woman who was born in Panama.  She told us that her family came to Costa Rica looking for educational opportunities.  They did find opportunity, but also ran into a culture that often looks down on black people.  When other school children would see her and her sisters walking to school, they would pinch each other and say things like “that’s good luck for me,” treating Judith and her sisters like good luck charms, and saying things that put them on the level of animals.  On the school bus she was subject to ugly stares and refused a seat next to anyone not her “color”.  Judith shared how she had experienced discrimination in job interviews, and that when she did get hired as a teacher, was not given a classroom, but was instead sent to teach under a shade tree. Though most of these examples of prejudice had happened over forty years ago, Judith couldn’t share them without crying, and many of us couldn’t hear them without crying. It was through tears that the confession at the start of this story was uttered. And with tears Judith embraced her sister in Christ and forgave her.

Erik, a Nicaraguan by birth, also opened up to us about his pain.   Some of what he shared reminded me of the demeaning things some people say about Mexicans in the United States.  It’s common in Costa Rica to blame any number of problems on “those Nicas.”  He too was called names at school and constantly reminded that he was a foreigner, and somehow, supposedly, a lesser person. 

 But Erik also shared about how some people here welcomed him, embraced him, and saw his gifts for ministry.   Both he and Judith mentioned how their faith kept them going in spite of the pain of exclusion.  They both embrace their identity in Christ and feel sorry for people who think and act in racist ways.  After they shared with us, our executive minister Johnny Saborío laid hands on them and prayed, thanking God for their gifts, their stories, and their vulnerability.  It was holy moment.

 We studied racism and some of its historical and cultural roots.  We talked about fears and stereotypes and scapegoating. We talked about race and culture in the Bible and how the image of God and the Christ event give us our true identity and unity. Around the table that day sat Peruvians, Nicaraguans, Panamanians, North Americans, Cubans, and Costa Ricans.  But more than that, it was a kingdom table, unified by our common Savior. 

 Recently Nicaragua was declared land mine free.  Years of civil war had left thousands of deadly mines around the countryside. But with the persistent and brave efforts of removal teams the land is now safe.  Racial prejudices are like mines: dangerous and difficult to uncover and remove.  For me this event was a step toward uncovering and deactivating some destructive forces.  The Holy Spirit did some digging and some disarming.   

 I thank God for people like Erik and Judith, and for the privilege of sharing ministry with them.   Your gifts to the World Mission Offering allow us to be present around the table for these holy moments.

 Gracias,

 Gary

 p.s. Raul’s house update.  As I write, Mylinda and Judith are painting doors and doorframes while Johnny installs the ceramic floor provided by gifts from our friends at Woodbury Baptist in MN.  We hope to have pictures of the completed project very soon.