Total Mileage: 7,499
Song of the Day: “What’s Going On” (Marvin Gaye)
Book of the Day: Reposition Yourself: Living Life without Limits (T.D. Jakes)
Wow, this write-up turned out to be a lot longer than I had expected. After a rainy, uneventful day of driving, I am now in Flagstaff, AZ, for two nights. (Seriously, I had no idea that the Southwest got this much rain. This makes like four days of thunderstorms in a row. Not that I’m complaining since I really enjoy watching thunderstorms, but I’m more than a little surprised to have this much rain in a desert area. Are we in El Nino again or something?) Assuming the rain stops, my plan is to wake up tomorrow morning, drive north to hit the Grand Canyon for a few hours and then come back here and write a little more on other subjects. I have to admit that I’m probably not as excited about the Grand Canyon as I should be. I mean, I’m not unexcited, but I almost feel like this is just something I’m checking off a list. It’s one of those sites that people just assume I’m going to see, and that’s why I’m going to see it. That’s not really a great reason to do something, but I hear it’s supposed to be worth it, so I’m doing it. After all, the big giant rocks of Yosemite impressed me, so maybe the big giant rocks of Arizona will be just as majestic. The only thing that could ruin the place for me would be a swarm of tourists, but I’m hoping that Sunday morning will be a bit of a low-traffic time. Fingers crossed.
Mixed Feelings
I’m not sure how I feel about T.D. Jakes. After listening to the rest of Reposition Yourself on the drive today, I have accumulated a pretty significant smattering of self-help and financial advice, but I can’t say that any spiritual bombshells have been dropped on my life. Sure, T.D. quotes isolated verses of Scripture from time to time, and he did offer a pretty lengthy analysis of the story of Zacchaeus, but this was definitely more of a motivational piece than anything else. I feel like he was speaking to me more in his capacity as an entrepreneur than an evangelist. Even that analysis of Zacchaeus left me a bit unfulfilled. Looking at the story, T.D.’s main takeaway message was that Zacchaeus ran ahead. He went quickly and boldly in the direction of the future so that he might encounter Jesus. Um . . . that’s great and all, but, as Mark Driscoll showed a few weeks ago and as countless other preachers have shown time and again, there’s a lot more to that story. Repentance. Reconciliation. Reparations. Humility. Prejudices. Grumbling. Judgment. There are so many themes that could have been addressed in the story of Zacchaeus, and I feel like “running ahead” isn’t exactly the first one I’d pick. In fact, I sort of think that it was unrestrained ambition that got Zacchaeus such a bad reputation in the first place, so “run ahead” definitely isn’t the message I take from this story. Maybe I’m getting nitpicky, but that sort of happens when listening to someone like T.D Jakes. One minute, I am completely on board with him, and the next, I’m saying, “Whoa there. That might be heresy.” One minute he’s got me thinking about changes I might ought to make in my own mindsets, and the next, I’m deciding that my relationship with God might be better if I ignored that tip. He gives good advice. He gives strange advice. He tells some very moving stories and gives impassioned pleas for justice, and then he talks about financial issues that seem like no-brainers. He speaks to my wallet, but I’m not totally sure if he speaks to my heart, and all this is complicated by the fact that he speaks very deeply and slowly and soothingly, meaning that he’s not the easiest person to listen to while driving. I never fully zoned out, but I might not have given my full attention every second either. Still, I feel like I got the idea, and while I’m trying not to form an opinion until I actually experience worship at the Potter’s House, there are definitely some issues I want to go ahead and address. In particular, there are two really tough issues that I have to confront when discussing T.D. Jakes, and both of them are incredibly sensitive topics:
(1) Money
As I rediscovered at Mars Hill, there’s something about discussing money matters in a church setting that just makes me squirm a bit, and while Mark Driscoll blurred that line a few weeks ago, T.D. Jakes is pretty much jumping rope with it. Reposition Yourself is very much a book about money-- building up savings, checking credit scores, managing budgets, etc. At the same time, T.D. says that he is not about prosperity gospel because he feels that our definitions of poverty and prosperity are too limited. A thatched hut, while barely considered livable in the United States, might be a luxury elsewhere. While money certainly brings stability into our lives, it is not a replacement for God and certainly not an indicator of favoritism by God. I’m in agreement with T.D. up to that point, and I’m glad that he doesn’t seem to view financial success as an indicator of God’s selective blessing, but at the same time, a lot of his “repositioning” seems very much about preparing yourself to make money, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I mean, money does keep roofs over our heads and over our churches, but I get a little uneasy when it starts to become such a central focus. Then again, if money is the number one cause of fights in relationships, then shouldn’t pastors be able to discuss it with their congregations? See why this is such a confusing issue?
Of course, T.D. is an individual very qualified to speak on matters of money. In Reposition Yourself, he talks about some of his financial woes in the past: playing hide-and-seek in the dark with his kids after having the power turned off, having to stand by and watch an automobile be repossessed, etc. In spite of those past hardships, he is now a successful businessman with multiple companies and a far-reaching ministry. He has been poor. He has been rich. He seems to appreciate the blessings that come from either state. I also like that he is very much against conspicuous consumption, and he talks about this particularly in regards to . . . actually, you know what? I really ought to go ahead and address the other thing since they’re sort of connected, but it’s going to take a while, and it’s a pretty thorny conversation . . .(2) Race
(Trying to Comprehend Black Struggles through the Lens of White Privilege/Guilt)
Let’s take a tour through the mind of the majority for a second.
Like all quasi-responsible white males, I live in pretty constant fear of inadvertently saying something that will get me mislabeled as a bigot. It keeps me up at night. It’s like there’s a recording on a loop in my brain:
“Could that comment be misinterpreted as racist?”
“Did I sound a little sexist there?”
“Was that remark demeaning to people of other faiths?”
“Am I a bad person for not totally sympathizing with this particular plight?”
“Was that comment not inclusive enough?”
Now, this isn’t entirely a bad thing since it inspires me to listen that much harder when members of oppressed minorities share their struggles, and it reminds me of my limitations in such dialogue. I realize that I can never fully identify with the hardships that women, immigrants, people of color, and people of different sexual orientations have faced for centuries at the hands of those in positions of power, but I still want to be open to dialogue on the subject. In fact, I think many people do, but there is definitely an underlying fear that prevents many in the majority from speaking up. We don’t want a well-intentioned comment or question to be unintentionally inflammatory, so silence is the route most conducive to self-preservation. Some might see this as cowardly, and some might see it as respectful. I see it as a bit of both. Of course, I sort of wondered if this was just my personal issue for a long time, but then, during a class discussion on race and the church this past year, one of my black classmates observed, “Why aren’t any of the white students talking?” It was actually in that moment that I finally figured out the answer: fear. Fear of being labeled as bigots. Fear of being shunned for our own lack of understanding. Fear of our ignorance being mistaken for apathy. Fear. Fear keeps us silent. So yeah, I will go ahead and be daring and lay my cards on the table: I am probably going to wind up being a little more generous to T.D. Jakes because he’s a black man who lived through the Civil Rights movement and has endured tremendous economic hardship, and I’m afraid that I’ll feel like a bigot if I really go after him. I disagree with him on a lot of points and feel really uneasy about some of the stuff in his book, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s speaking from a cultural perspective that I don’t understand, so I am going to be walking on eggshells with this stuff.
Of course, I’m also very much afraid of falling prey to the opposite problem: coopting someone else’s struggle as my own and deluding myself into thinking that I can feel his pain. Let me give a bit of background on why this is such a danger for me:
I grew up in Memphis, TN. Martin Luther King was shot there, and we have a park named for the founder of the KKK. We have some of the wealthiest predominantly-white neighborhoods and some of the poorest predominantly-black neighborhoods. We have extreme economic disparity and an endemic case of suburban white flight, with the county and city constantly debating which one is more of a leach on the other. Home bittersweet home. Growing up in Memphis, I did have a more immersion-style learning experience with the Civil Rights movement though, and I am incredibly grateful for that. The public elementary school that I attended was still about 80% white, but our curriculum featured entire units on MLK. Black History Month and Kwanzaa were both huge deals. Our faculty had both black and white teachers, so we were getting plenty of variety in the approaches we heard to issues of race. Interaction between black and white students was always encouraged but never coerced; for the most part, it just happened naturally. When I graduated from the 6th grade and transferred out to a private school on the edge of Germantown (a financially prosperous predominantly-white suburb just east of Memphis), I found myself missing that interracial dialogue a lot, and I actually resented quite a few of my more ignorant, privileged, white classmates. Actually, the private school was surprisingly racially integrated (possibly even more than the public elementary school), but there was still that attitude of privilege, and it just never felt like anyone there spoke from a background of oppression. Sure, we still talked about Civil Rights, and I even had an entire class on the atrocities of the eugenics movement, but it didn’t feel like anyone there had really lived that struggle and understood that suffering. The quality of my education was better, but it was also more removed and isolated. We never really found that open racial interplay in any of our classrooms except for one: band.
In band, I discovered my musical heritage. The city of Memphis might very well have the richest music history in the country. Blues, gospel, soul, R&B, rock and roll, rap-- this city has it all. What other city can claim Elvis Presley, Isaac Hayes, Johnny Cash, B.B. King, Otis Redding, and Three 6 Mafia? And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, too! We’ve got Beale Street. We’ve got Sun Studios. We’ve got Graceland. We’ve got Stax. Oh man, Stax! Stax Records is an anomaly, and studying that company will completely change one’s perception of the Civil Rights movement and of human nature in general. While its cousin up north (Motown) was a more streamlined and smooth organization with a predominantly-black lineup of artists, Stax was famous for its somewhat grungier and less clean-cut sound, but more importantly, Stax was also totally integrated. Black and white musicians and performers worked together to produce phenomenal soul music. In a turbulent time of protests and strikes and wrongful arrests, Stax was an oasis of racial harmony. At Stax, Martin Luther King’s dream had already been realized. Because it is the style of music that I most enjoy playing, and because it features so prominently in the history of my hometown, I consider Stax to be my heritage, and I also consider their interplay of black and white musicians to be the ideal for which we must still strive today in music, in the academy, and in life.
Of course, the danger here is that, because of my experience in learning about this company and playing this music, I could easily forget how sensitive an issue race really is and forget that my own skin color carries with it a certain privilege and a certain baggage. I could hide in the Stax legacy (to which I might not even really have a legitimate claim) and usurp the struggle of the musicians who worked there, and that wouldn’t really be right either. No, I’m stuck in a harsh reality when it comes to issues of race. In fact, when it comes to any issue of oppression, I consistently find myself in the same situation:
I am the majority.
I am the perceived oppressor.
I am a middle class, straight, white male
From the largest Protestant denomination
In the world’s most powerful country.
I have no ground on which to stand.
I have no struggle from which to draw experience.
I have no voice that needs to be heard.
I have no cause that needs to be championed.
I have no identity. I have no face.
I am The Man, I am The Machine, and I am The System.
How then am I supposed to make a difference?
How then am I supposed to participate in the discussions that must be had
To ensure a more just world for future generations?
At this stage, as our society bandages itself after the battles for its rights,
What can I really do except sit and listen to the war stories?
Maybe offer my silent, faceless figure to be the blank wall
On which plans for the new order can be graffitied?
I know how to be supportive,
But I’m not sure I know how to speak,
And that’s a problem.
It is with all of this baggage --made hesitant to mumble through my self-imposed gag of white guilt and privilege-- that I come to T.D. Jakes. As T.D. talked about the oppression endured by black Americans for generations, I wanted to be right there with him, but I knew that he was also speaking to a black culture of which I am but a spectator. T.D. talked about the mad dash to accumulate possessions in order to prove equality to white brothers and sisters, often resulting in extreme debt and the prolonging of economic disparity. He talked about the stress on acquiring money at the expense of acquiring education. He talked about ineffective and counterproductive black role models. He railed against the evils of needless, useless bling. He lamented that drug dealing is viewed as a fast-track up the ladder of success, while education and careful investing are treated with suspicion of being too costly, too time-consuming, and too white. He vented about the racial injustice of the criminal justice system. I found myself seeing his points and agreeing wholeheartedly about the destructive nature of many components of modern black culture, but I also remembered that, as a white man, it isn’t really my place to comment. I am an outsider looking in, and I have not endured this struggle myself, so I’m going to say this instead:
Until we reach a time when people are free to comment on the culture regardless of skin color, we need people like T.D. Jakes. T.D. reaches a very specific audience. He is a black self-help guru and financial expert who also happens to be the pastor of a megachurch. As uncomfortable as his combination of vocations makes me, T.D. uses his position to teach fiscal responsibility and speak to the mentalities behind the excesses encouraged in some areas of black culture. He can offer criticisms, critiques, and suggestions. He has an intimate understanding of the economic woes unique to black Americans that I can’t begin to grasp (let alone explain or repair). I’m not sure how I feel about a pastor doling out so much financial advice, particularly when I find its scriptural basis to be fairly dubious, but I also kind of think we need him.So yeah, I’m undecided about T.D. Jakes. I like some of his ideas. I dislike some of his other ideas. I feel like he serves a niche audience and has a perspective that I can’t fully comprehend due to my own limitations. I’m interested in dialogue on this subject, but again, there are still a lot of manmade cultural obstacles that need to be surmounted before these issues can be discussed on a truly equal footing. In the meantime, I’m all for fighting injustice, but I know that there are some issues where I still need to sit and listen and allow others to lead me to understanding.
Peace and Blessings,
Tom
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