A Banner of Love

By Robbie Faulk

Comfort is dangerous.

That feels weird to type, but it’s the truth. There’s something to be said about being uncomfortable and how it builds your character. For me, I know what being comfortable can do and how being uncomfortable can ultimately change a person for good.

2020 has been a drag for us all. We have all dealt with uncomfortable circumstances throughout this global pandemic, but there have been other issues that have arisen and added more fuel to the fire. It’s made social media an even rougher environment than usual, and even our real world hasn’t been devoid of this volatile atmosphere.

There’s social, political, and racial division running rampant; that’s no different than usual. But these days the separation seems to just get bigger and bigger. As a sports journalist, I usually try to stay away from it all – especially when it comes to the blues and the reds of our great nation. It seems that politics bring out the worst in people, but we’re seeing plenty of bad stuff coming from the build-up of racial tension in recent months.

I am in no way using this space to talk at or down to anyone reading this. I’m a sinner, saved by grace. Every year, I share about my journey back to Christ with our high school seniors, so they can certainly attest to that. But that’s not what this is about. This story is about my journey through my own privilege; one that I wasn’t acutely aware of until I learned from those different than me. 25 years ago, before all of the recent murders of George Floyd by a police officer and the ensuing protests and riots nationwide that occurred, I was just a young boy living in Winston county.

My father is a Baptist preacher, my mother a school teacher at Choctaw Central High School.  Both of my parents were inclusive and taught me about love and grace for all people. I didn’t grow up in a household being taught that people of color were inferior to our family, but I didn’t understand or care to understand that my life experience was very different from theirs. I wouldn’t come close to understanding that for many years.

I went to a private school from first grade until graduation. I do not resent the fact I went to a private school or deter anyone from private schools. I got a great education, had incredible administrators teach me important life lessons, and was able to freely worship and talk about God routinely. It was where my parents felt gave me the best education and I’m forever grateful for their sacrifice to send me to a great school.

However, there were only two African American students in my school the entire 12 years I went there. One was a girl in my class who had been raised by a white family. The other was a teenager who had transferred in from Louisville and left a year later because of the racism he experienced. I witnessed how he was treated by other students on a few occasions and even condoned it as a young junior high student.

When I was in high school, we took a trip to Shiloh’s Civil War battlefield. I was always fascinated with history and had fallen in love with the park in Vicksburg, so I was especially excited for this trip. At Shiloh, I picked up a confederate flag as a souvenir. At this point, the state of Mississippi had already held its initial vote to keep the state flag with the Confederate emblem. Had I been old enough to vote at the time, I would have voted to keep the flag.

To me, that flag didn’t represent slavery or the oppression of African American people. It was a nice piece of nostalgia, but it was completely harmless. Around that same time, we had an incredibly kind and gracious African American woman who cleaned our house. I never realized back then how much it hurt her to see that flag every time she cleaned my room. It wouldn’t be until several years later that I understood what that flag meant to a lot of people of color, people who experienced life in Mississippi a lot differently than I did, and it was at that point that I knew it was time to listen.

College was the most important time of my life. I left for East Central Community College shortly after one of the biggest life-changing experiences in my life involving a car wreck, a night in jail, and more. The diversity at ECCC was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I went from a class of mostly Caucasian students to a campus where I was now in the minority. It was a culture shock, but over time I began to learn more and more about people that were different than me. Getting outside of the comfort zone I had grown up in was exactly what needed to happen.

I learned to appreciate other people’s preferences and cultural differences. I stayed in the Word and I learned that the diversity in this world is just how God intended it. Heaven isn’t going to be filled with just the people in our church or friends from our church; it’s going to be a mixture of every tribe, every tongue, and every nation worldwide all with the purpose of worshipping our God, who is seated on the throne for eternity.

Since college, I have worked for the last seven years as a journalist who covers local sports. I’ve been able to be around kids from all walks of life and especially African American student athletes. There’s a special place in my heart for every kid that I’ve had the pleasure of writing about.

All of this adds up to why, with the latest historic flag debate, and ultimate change that I felt like it was something I should support. That Confederate flag I once ignorantly hung in my room as a teenager meant something completely different to a person of color. It represented hate and the oppression that their ancestors endured and the symptoms of that oppression African Americans still deal with.

So back to being uncomfortable.

Our state has a dark past of racism. From lynchings on town squares and in backwoods, from the Civil Rights era to today, there has been much progress made, as slow as it may seem. But there’s still so much to do and hearts that should be changed. We cannot be opposed to the equality of those of color and also proclaim that Jesus Christ is our Lord.

It begins and ends with Him. He wasn’t white. He came from a people group who had endured slavery and oppression and have been persecuted for their race – millions murdered because of it. Many times the Bible tells us of instances where Jesus was often ministering to those who were outcasts in his society.

I’ve heard the arguments by those on social media about the state flag with that Confederate emblem representing heritage. And I’ve heard that changing a flag isn’t going to stop racism. But we have to be better in how we think and we act and we have to be better in what we teach our children. We’re not eliminating history, but we are moving ahead.

It doesn’t mean that we have to be shamed for the color of our own skin for sins we never committed, but a change in the flag means that we can all be proud of what is hoisted on our flag poles. Recognizing the sins of the past and working to move away from it is something that we all should be able to get behind as Christians. We should fully support our state being united under a new flag, one that even proudly proclaims “In God We Trust”.

“Loving our brothers and sisters isn’t relegated to those that are the same color or social status as us.”

It applies to all. First Baptist has been an incredible example to our community about what that means. Whether it be traveling to other countries or cities as missionaries, or ministering right here in Starkville, we have been the city on a hill that shines a bright light for Christ during this incredibly dark time.

My hope is that we all lock arms and continue to show Christ’s love. Our society has conditioned us to believe that this is political. It’s not a political stance, it’s our duty as followers of Christ to love the Lord our God and love people.

There’s one constant throughout all of this uncertainty worldwide and it’s the One who has been the same yesterday, today, and forever. I’m tired of choosing between political sides, black and white, rich and poor, the law and the people.

I’m choosing to love.