Her Story Too

I could see it in her eyes.  The disappointment.  She didn’t say a word, but I knew what she was feeling and thinking.

Adoption is coming soon. In the midst of all the preparations, our soon to be adopted children were asked by their case manager what they wanted on their adoption day cake.  Our biological daughter, who has been on this journey the entire time, desperately wanted to be asked as well.

She wanted to have a voice in the celebration and the cake decoration decision.  She wanted to be a part of the story, a part of the day.

She is 9 and as much as she gets it, she still struggles at times.

Later that evening, I pulled her to the side and I asked her how she was feeling.  She simply stated, “I want to be able to share the story too.”  It makes sense.  We often hear people talk about how the foster children are having their story rewritten with adoption.  While that may be true, we cannot forget that biological children are also having their stories rewritten. 

She was four or five when she began encouraging her mother and me to become foster parents.  To be a “mom and dad for kids who needed it.”  My career had led to her being around the foster care world her entire life.  To her, taking in kids was the natural thing to do.  At her young age and in her innocence she didn’t fully comprehend all the things she might or might not be giving up.  She just knew we had to do it.  Over the past 3 years we have seen her share her home, her stuff, her parents, her friends, her grandparents, her holidays, her extra-curricular activities, and almost every faucet of her life with four other little people who needed it.  She has never blinked.  She has been a champ through it all.

So much so, that I think we, at times, have forgotten how much her life is different.  This has become our normal. But, in our desire to heal the wounds of those we have brought into our home, we can never forget the sacrifice she made to take this journey. 

I think that is why she wanted to be included in the cake decision.  Because, this isn’t just about the children gaining a family, it is also about a 9 year old giving her family.

She is brave.  She is kind. She is pure.  She is love.  And, she reminded me tonight that this is her story too.

It was a reminder I needed more than she’ll ever know.

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One Sunday. Really?

In a few weeks, individuals throughout the global church will focus on something near to the Father’s heart, the orphan. For this, I’m very thankful.

But, I’m also saddened and heartbroken. You see. I cannot begin to wrap my mind around why the orphan is only worth one Sunday in churches worldwide. I have a hard time understanding why the church chooses not to preach about our role and responsibility to the orphan on an ongoing basis. Is the orphan not our problem, our responsibility, or our call? Has scripture misled us all these years? Was God not serious when he clearly told us what ‘pure and true religion’ was and is in James 1:27?

I have been attending church for all of my life. During that time, I’ve heard three messages on our responsibility to the orphan. Yes, 3, that’s it! The first was in 2008 when I stood before the congregation I served in Waco, Texas, and preached about God’s heart for the orphan. Prior to that point I had never sat in a local church and heard a message regarding the church, the orphan, and our role to serve as followers of Christ. How ironic it is that we like to celebrate our own adoption into God’s family, but rarely do we call people to reciprocate that same love, commitment and sacrifice to be a family for someone else.

Do you know why that is? I don’t. But, I tend to think it is because we don’t like messy, life changing mandates to be placed on our lives. We like clean, simple, concise calls that only stretch us so far and guess what?? Often times, church leadership is not immune from that same desire. After all, if they call their people to serve in that capacity, what does that mean for them? Will God call them to do the same? So, we avoid preaching things that might get extremely messy. Instead we preach on the simple; the things we can control, manipulate, or quantify.

It is sad. The church was never intended to be God’s pep rally; we were intended to be His hands, His feet, and His body. Instead, somewhere along the way we convinced ourselves that salvation is all about our experience with God and not other’s experiencing God through us. And when it’s about us, it is easy to forget them; the orphan, the fatherless, and the lonely. When we are busy fitting God into our lives, it is easy to forget that He wants our lives to be all about Him.

The work of the orphan is messy. The orphan forces us to stare directly into the brokenness of our world with all of its sin, selfishness, heartache, disease, poverty, addiction, homelessness, neglect, abuse, generational cycles, failure, and struggles. And none of these fit very neatly into our calendars on our iPhones, or our Sunday morning ‘experiences’. So, we avoid it. But, we shouldn’t.

Underneath all that brokenness is God in action. He is the God of the orphan, of you and of me. He is the God of adoption and sonship. He is the God who defends the fatherless and sets the lonely in families and He is the God who calls all of us to follow Him on this journey. He never promised it wouldn’t be messy and heartbreaking, but He did promise the redemption story would be worth the ride.

On November 2nd, I’ll applaud those churches remembering the orphan and at the same time my heart will be heavy wondering, what if? What if the church really rose up and heard God’s heart? How could we change this world, but more importantly, how could we change the life of that one orphan in Africa, that one foster child in America, that one child abandoned, or that one teenager ‘aging out’ of the foster care system? How could we live out our adoption and act like adopted children who have love to give, resources to pour out, and a life ready to be interrupted? How could we join God in doing what He is already doing, loving the orphan?

Join me. Say a prayer and ask God to rise up the Church on behalf of orphans worldwide. And, then ask God to move you and I to join Him, our Father, in this cause, a cause that is near to His heart.

3 Simple Steps to Get Involved Today:

Educate: Connect with local groups who serve foster children, learn about the needs they have from the smallest to largest. Connect with a family who has fostered or adopted. Spend time understanding their heart, the process, and their needs. Connect with organizations that serve orphans on a global scale. Listen to their needs. Basically, spend time becoming familiar with the orphan on a local and global scale.

Pray: Ask God what it is He would have you to do. Not everyone is called to foster and/or adopt a child, but we are all called to do something. Ask and then listen.

Engage: Whatever it is you feel He is calling you to do, do it! If we wait around for someone else to do it, who is to say it will ever get done. The orphan needs me and you to obey and do whatever it is God is calling us to do. Education and prayer will only go so far without action. Get involved and do something.

P.S. I’m a big fan of Orphan Sunday, http://www.orphansunday.org and the Christian Alliance for Orphans. I hope you will be too.

#DisconnectToConnect

Do you like social media? I do.

I love to post pictures of my children, share insight into my passions, and like my friend’s status. I feel inclined to retweet a great blog post or article. I dutifully share quotes and statistics that call others attention to the needs of humanity and the brokenness in our world.

I like to look at my friends pictures, utilize the networking platforms within social media, and randomly creep on people’s profile pages (true confession).

I enjoy watching videos, checking my newsfeed, following the retweeted ‘tweet’ back to the original source, taking the latest challenge and sharing with others ways they can be involved.

But, what if I like social media so much, that all I ever do is like, share, and retweet? Will anything be different? Will I have done my part to create change?

The geniuses behind the social media movement would presumably say, yes.  On some levels, I would agree.  Social media has given me a platform to educate and encourage others about foster care and adoption.  It has given the non-profit organization I work for a way through which we can tell our story, call people to action and solicit donations.  I see the value in social media.

And yet, I am afraid.  I’m afraid my generation, my peers, my friends, and even I may be using social media as the easy way out, even unintentionally.

We sit at home, in our office, along the pews at church, or at a coffee shop, click a button, type a post, write a blog, and believe we have changed the world.

Boom. World change. Easy.

Or is it??

It is not as easy to physically go into our communities and find those who need our “hands and feet” to bring them good news and help. It is not as convenient to step out of our lives, disconnect from the created reality of social media and step into the messiness of those around us.  Maybe they don’t need another like or share.  Maybe instead they need a friend, a voice, resources, a listening ear, a ride, a jacket, a meal, our talents or even our homes.

If we are not careful, we will just become a generation of social media activists.  The poor will still be poor, the sick will still be sick, the hungry will still be hungry, the lonely will still be lonely, but our laptops will be warm while our coffee cups are full.  Generation fail. 

What if our newsfeeds currently full of bathroom selfies, beach selfies, gym selfies, church selfies, bed selfies, dog selfies, and  food selfies suddenly became saturated with selfies of widows, orphans, the elderly, the homeless, our neighbors and the downtrodden. Or, what if, selfies really weren’t needed anymore because our desire to be liked had been passed over by a desire to serve, love, comfort, and bring hope to others, all the while fulfilling needs within ourselves that we subconsciously had buried beneath one more post, picture, like, share and retweet.

I like social media, I really do. But, if I’m honest, social media can become a crutch through which I cover up my obligation to help others by just giving them a quick click.

So here you go, take this challenge, disconnect to connect.  You can like it, share it, retweet it, hashtag it or hide it, but in the end, please disconnect for a bit, go out into your community and use your life for real change, real purpose, and real connection.

Boom. World change.  It’s just that easy.  The world is waiting for you.

#worldchangebeginswithyou

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”   – Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 

It only takes a ‘yes’…

It had been a busy week and I was very ready for the weekend.  In fact, it was 4:30 on a Friday afternoon and things were beginning to wrap up nicely so I could go home.  That is when the phone call came in.  The call from the state asking if the emergency shelter our organization ran had room for 4 children.  I looked at the schedule for the weekend and quickly realized we would be out of compliance on 3 shifts and we had no one to fill those gaps.  Well almost no one, there was me.  Knowing I was the only option, I put the worker on hold and this is what came next. (brutal honesty)

Me: Jesus, what should I do?  I’ve worked all week and I’m ready for the weekend!!!!

Jesus: (not audibly, but very profoundly) Are we really having this conversation about your weekend being disrupted?  These children have had their whole lives disrupted.  You know what to do.

Me:  Crap! I’m not asking you anything else Jesus!!

I picked up the phone and told the worker we would accept the children into our shelter.  I then called my wife and asked her to go pick up pizza’s for the children in the shelter, because I had just taken these new children and I was headed to the shelter to keep it in compliance until 11:00 PM. My wife’s mom happened to be in town, so Staci ran and picked up pizza’s and even brought ingredients for making cookies.  She served beside me that night and was there when the children arrived at our shelter. 

Fast forward two months.  We now had our foster care license and we were preparing to take children into our own home.  Our plan of keeping sibling groups of 2-3 together had now become a plan to keep a sibling group of 4 together.  Can you guess which 4??

Yep, the 4 I almost didn’t take, because we didn’t have the staff and I didn’t want my weekend to be inconvenienced by working.  But, instead I said ‘yes’ and now 21 months later those 4 incredibly awesome and precious children still live in our home and are a big part of our family.  We have no idea what the future holds, but we are thankful we said ‘yes’, even though my selfishness clearly wanted to say ‘no!!!’. 

What will your ‘yes’ be?  Your ‘yes’ might just be what the world is needing today. 

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Chosen

Adoption can be messy. Adoption can be hard. Adoption can be difficult.

During the journey of adoption, especially the adoption of older children, I believe there are times when families wrestle and struggle with several questions.

Questions such as;

What if this child never calls me mom or dad?

What if this child never accepts being adopted by us?

What if this child never chooses me?

We like to be chosen and affirmed, right? We enjoy walking in relationships where the feelings are reciprocated. As parents we are not immune from these feelings. So, when we take in a child who brings with them vivid memories of their family and their past with hopes to return home, it is easy to get sideswiped with such questions and fears.

As current foster parents our personal story is not at a place or point of adoption, but looking forward we have found ourselves asking these same questions outwardly and inwardly. Our human side wonders about the ‘what if’s’ of the future, uncertain how our story will play out. Our selfishness is concerned that children in our home may never choose or accept us as their mom and dad. In our vulnerability we wonder will we ever be enough to heal all the heartache, pain, and trauma caused not only by the temporary separation, but by the long term termination of the parental rights, if in fact that were ever to occur.

As I wrestled with these questions this past weekend God whispered these truths deep into my soul, “I chose you, with no guarantee you would ever choose me back. I loved you, with no guarantee you would ever love me back. I pursued you, with no guarantee you would ever pursue me back. I gave my life for you, with no guarantee you would ever give your life for me.” And, then it made sense again. This journey is not about us, but about God and the children that have been placed in our home. This journey is not about whether or not a child chooses us, but it is about our decision to choose them. This journey is not about whether a child calls us mom and dad or Mr. Keith and Mrs. Staci, but about our decision to call that child our own.

Sometimes we need to be reminded again and again that we have been chosen before we ever start believing it. Scripture reminds us of God’s choice, “You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit–fruit that will last–and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you.” John 15:16.

God has chosen my wife and me to love these children in our home. He has called us to go and bear fruit that will last. We are able to choose the children placed in our home, because we have been chosen by our God.

It should never be about whether or not a child chooses us as their parents. After all, God has always chosen us, without any guarantee of whether or not we would reciprocate that choice.

If we get to a place of adoption in our journey, will the children in our home at that time choose us? Who knows? But, what we do know is that we will choose them, like God has chosen us and with that we can move forward and love freely, even if we remain Mr. Keith and Mrs. Staci for the rest of our lives.

Just One Sunday, Really??

In a few weeks, individuals throughout the global church will focus on something near to the Father’s heart, the orphan.  For this, I’m very thankful.

But, I’m also saddened and heartbroken.  You see. I cannot begin to wrap my mind around why the orphan is only worth one Sunday in churches worldwide.  I have a hard time understanding why the church chooses not to preach about our role and responsibility to the orphan on an ongoing basis.  Is the orphan not our problem, our responsibility, or our call?  Has scripture misled us all these years?  Was God not serious when he clearly told us what ‘pure and true religion’ was and is in James 1:27?

I have been attending church for all of my life.  During that time, I’ve heard three messages on our responsibility to the orphan.  Yes, 3, that’s it! The first was in 2008 when I stood before the congregation I served in Waco, Texas, and preached about God’s heart for the orphan. Prior to that point I had never sat in a local church and heard a message regarding the church, the orphan, and our role to serve as followers of Christ.  How ironic it is that we like to celebrate our own adoption into God’s family, but rarely do we call people to reciprocate that same love, commitment and sacrifice to be a family for someone else

Do you know why that is?  I don’t.  But, I tend to think it is because we don’t like messy, life changing mandates to be placed on our lives.  We like clean, simple, concise calls that only stretch us so far and guess what??  Often times, church leadership is not immune from that same desire.  After all, if they call their people to serve in that capacity, what does that mean for them?  Will God call them to do the same?  So, we avoid preaching things that might get extremely messy.   Instead we preach on the simple; the things we can control, manipulate, or quantify.

It is sad.  The church was never intended to be God’s pep rally; we were intended to be His hands, His feet, and His body.  Instead, somewhere along the way we convinced ourselves that salvation is all about our experience with God and not other’s experiencing God through us.   And when it’s about us, it is easy to forget them; the orphan, the fatherless, and the lonely.  When we are busy fitting God into our lives, it is easy to forget that He wants our lives to be all about Him.

The work of the orphan is messy.  The orphan forces us to stare directly into the brokenness of our world with all of its sin, selfishness, heartache, disease, poverty, addiction, homelessness, neglect, abuse, generational cycles, failure, and struggles.  And none of these fit very neatly into our calendars on our iPhones, or our Sunday morning ‘experiences’.   So, we avoid it.  But, we shouldn’t.

Underneath all that brokenness is God in action.  He is the God of the orphan, of you and of me.  He is the God of adoption and sonship.  He is the God who defends the fatherless and sets the lonely in families and He is the God who calls all of us to follow Him on this journey.  He never promised it wouldn’t be messy and heartbreaking, but He did promise the redemption story would be worth the ride.

On November 2nd, I’ll applaud those churches remembering the orphan and at the same time my heart will be heavy wondering, what if?  What if the church really rose up and heard God’s heart?  How could we change this world, but more importantly, how could we change the life of that one orphan in Africa, that one foster child in America, that one child abandoned, or that one teenager ‘aging out’ of the foster care system?  How could we live out our adoption and act like adopted children who have love to give, resources to pour out, and a life ready to be interrupted?  How could we join God in doing what He is already doing, loving the orphan?

Join me. Say a prayer and ask God to rise up the Church on behalf of orphans worldwide.  And, then ask God to move you and I to join Him, our Father, in this cause, a cause that is near to His heart.

 

3 Simple Steps to Get Involved Today:

Educate:  Connect with local groups who serve foster children, learn about the needs they have from the smallest to largest.  Connect with a family who has fostered or adopted.  Spend time understanding their heart, the process, and their needs.  Connect with organizations that serve orphans on a global scale.  Listen to their needs.  Basically, spend time becoming familiar with the orphan on a local and global scale.

Pray:  Ask God what it is He would have you to do.  Not everyone is called to foster and/or adopt a child, but we are all called to do something.  Ask and then listen.

Engage:  Whatever it is you feel He is calling you to do, do it!  If we wait around for someone else to do it, who is to say it will ever get done.  The orphan needs me and you to obey and do whatever it is God is calling us to do.   Education and prayer will only go so far without action.  Get involved and do something.

P.S. I’m a big fan of Orphan Sunday, http://www.orphansunday.org and the Christian Alliance for Orphans. I hope you will be too.

Dear Church: Racism is OUR Problem

Dear Church,

I love you. You have helped raise me, you have taken care of me, and you have shown me immeasurable amounts of grace and mercy. You have taken me in with all my scars. Scars formed by failures past and present. Scars formed from sins small and large. For this I will forever be thankful. You are the Bride of Christ. This makes you beautiful. You are His hands and Feet, this makes you powerful. And, yet, as the Bride you are not perfect. In fact, your scars are also evident. The brokenness of your heart and walls is on show for all to see. People love chipping away at your cracks, mocking your Groom and mocking you, his Bride. But, I still think you are special.

That is why I want to talk to you. You, the Church. I need you to know something. I need you to hear the heart of the Groom. His heart is one of diversity, and yet, Church we often fall short of the Groom’s heart.

It is not your fault. You didn’t create the shades, but you did allow the shades to divide in your name.

In fact, it is not within your walls that I learned of such evil. I learned it from those in the community who claimed to be a part of you and from those who claimed not to be a part of you. That both agreed, often made it very confusing for me. Aren’t we supposed to be different?

I still remember my grandpa using the word. You know the word, n****r. He said it during his normal conversation while talking about the recent signings of the Dallas Cowboys. I sat there as I heard him say, “Well, they signed a bunch of n****rs.” I’ll never forget that moment. I won’t. I was confused. My closest friends were all African American. I was blessed to be raised around a very diverse, accepting clan of Army Brats. We were not white, black, brown, or tan. We were simply, children. Children, who loved and accepted one another regardless of the color of our skin.

Church, do you remember when I was in the 8th grade in San Angelo, Texas? Do you remember that day at lunch when I was sitting with all my friends (all African American’s) and one of them asked me why I never sat with the white kids? You remember me being confused and angry, right? Why would I sit with the white kids? Why did it even matter? Those were my friends and I sat with my friends. But, that day, I began to feel some of the racial divides of our country.

And, then I would hear that word again. It was in the ninth grade, my family and I had just moved to Yukon, Oklahoma. One morning, while in the locker room, a teammate mentioned, “n****rs.” Once again, I sat there stunned, speechless, and unsure of what I was really hearing. It hurt. It hurt deep. In fact, I wondered, why in the heck was I living in such a place like this?

And yet, nothing would hurt as deep as my college years. It was post 9/11. My roommate, my brother, my friend is of East Indian heritage; somehow this would classify him as an ‘Arab’. As if, being of Arab descent was bad? Every day he would mention things that were yelled at or spoken to him on campus in those following weeks. I would get so angry. You remember don’t you Church? I had quite a temper back then. I would fight anyone, anywhere, anytime. And so, I was mad. That set up that fateful night during an intramural basketball game when an opponent asked him if his ‘camel was parked outside.’ You remember that don’t you Church? That was not my finest night, but I had to fight, I had to defend, I had to stand up. All around me I didn’t see a single member of your body getting angry. That was the only night in my life that I threatened to kill someone. In fact, I’m ashamed to say I threatened to kill the guy’s whole family. I remember the anger, the rage, my body shaking and being held back by others. In that moment, I would have done it Church. I would have murdered everyone who dared speak racism against my brother. I’m not proud of that moment Church. It is a moment that the Groom covered with His grace. For that I’m thankful. But, I’m also not ashamed for being angry and reacting. Why would no one else stand up?

And yet, in the days, weeks and months to follow it has only continued to spiral. I’ve heard it since then. All the stereotypes of supposed ‘Arab’ people. They are ‘towel heads’, they ‘own 7-11’s’, and they are all ‘extremists’. Church I know this breaks your heart. Especially, since your Groom, of Jewish heritage, most likely had a darker, more defined complexion than that of the Caucasian Jesus I grew up looking at. I bet you hated having that picture on your wall, didn’t you?

It still hasn’t stopped. Church, it is your body I have seen rallying against the ‘Mexicans’ who are here illegally. I know you don’t mean too, but your name is all over it, because we, your body, love to do things with a sprinkle of the Groom on top. And, yet, ‘those people’ are part of YOU! They are members of your body, they are also the Groom’s Bride. Why, why can’t we see that? Church, why do we promote racism in the name of being an American, being a Republican or being a Democrat?

Church, is your heart breaking yet? Mine is. It hasn’t stopped. You are aware of the recent trial that took place and the racist undertones that have accompanied it. The President spoke some strong truths yesterday. Did you hear it Church? Did you hear him express the reality of profiling and stereotyping that he, as a bi-racial African American man, has faced throughout his life? I know it’s true, because I’ve seen it. I know it’s true, because as much as I’ve touted my diversity and openness I too have made judgments based on conceived ideas about certain populations. I’m guilty. I’ve laughed at jokes that only enhanced racist stereotypes. I’m guilty. I’ve made blanket statements about people based on their race in my mind, even if I never spoke it out verbally. I’m guilty. I’ve stood quietly by while listening to others spew brokenness without standing and rebuking it every time. I’m guilty. Those moments have not been my finest moments Church. Admitting these failures hurts. It hurts deep, because all my life I’ve said I’m not that person. But, it is also freeing. Don’t you see Church, when we admit it, own it, and bring it to light, then the light will cast out all darkness, evil, and ugliness. Church, it is okay to admit we’ve failed. In fact, it is more than okay. It is beautiful.

I’ve heard friends, co-workers, church members and family members say things that don’t make you proud. I’ve seen them post things on Facebook or forward an email with a racist undertone. And, you know what hurts? I didn’t always respond Church. I didn’t. I wish I had. But, Church, I failed you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I have not been who you need me to be. I’m sorry I have not been who the Groom needs His Bride to be.

Church, why am I talking to you? I’m talking to you, because your body operates like this. Racism, prejudice, and bias are real inside your walls. I know you know. You see it every single Sunday. Caucasians worship within your walls with other Caucasians, African Americans worship within your walls with other African Americans, Hispanics worship within your walls with other Hispanics, Asians worship within your walls with other Asians and on and on and on. You see Church, I understand, it is not just a Caucasian problem, African American problem, Hispanic problem, or an Asian problem. I understand the problem is not centered around one tone of skin, or one society, or one culture. Within each race there is racism, prejudice and bias toward others. Church, within your walls, no matter the color, racism still runs its course like a virus. Why Church?

Why are we like this? Why Church? Why are we okay with racism and at times even try to ignore it? As if, it will just go away? Or, act as if it really “is not that big of a deal”. Our silence on the issue only further perpetuates and condones it. The words not spoken speak volumes. Why are we so quick to praise the Groom with our lips and hearts, but decimate His beautiful creation with those same lips and those same hearts?

Why am I talking to you Church? I’m talking to you, because you can change this. You can call all people to the table and hold everyone accountable. You alone can blend the shades and spread the message. You can call racism what it is, sin. And, as we know Church, sin will always separate us from the Groom. The Groom covers our sin, but we have to address it and then we have to confess it. We have to own our sin; we have to be accountable for our sin. You know this Church. You know the Groom stands by wanting to take His Bride by His side. But, she is ugly. She is racist. She is prejudice. She is bias. She is broken. Church, you can fix this.

I still believe in you Church. You are beautiful. You are the Bride. But, Church, racism is OUR problem.

Please Church, please let the Groom restore you to the beautiful blend of shades you were meant to be.

Sincerely,

A guy who loves the Church & loves the diversity with which it can be..

“I am not what I ought to be.
I am not what I hope to be.
But I am not what I once used to be
and by the grace of God I am what I am.”

~ John Newton (1725-1807), former slave trader turned minister and abolitionist; author of the hymn, Amazing Grace

*These are my thoughts and honest reflections about the issue. Some terms in this post are not politically correct, and it was meant to be that way, to highlight the racist under tones in our society. Some things may offend you. If they do, ask yourself, why? Why are you offended? Full disclosure, I’m a 33 yr old white guy trying to be more like Christ, but often falling short of who He wants/needs me to be. I struggle daily with my own temptations, sins, struggles. I have not experienced extreme racism or prejudice directed at me, so I don’t claim to be a victim or even to fully understand. But, I do believe the conversation needs to be had. And, what better place than the Church? The very place that was intended from day one to be full of diversity. We’ve dropped the ball, we’ve been silent, and we’ve perpetuated evil in places evil should never have a foothold.