Who Is My Neighbor?

I grew up in a small Southern town, the kind of place where the population was overwhelmingly white and deeply conservative. This wasn’t always the case—once, it was a Democratic stronghold. But like many Southern towns, the political landscape shifted in the 80s and 90s when the Republican Party won over the evangelical vote. Issues of morality, such as abortion and the sanctity of marriage, began to take precedence over economic concerns.

The people I grew up with were mostly poor whites who prided themselves on self-reliance. Accepting a handout would have been an insult to their dignity. They worked hard and firmly believed in earning everything they had. That mindset shaped me deeply. Even during the few months in my career when I found myself unemployed, I couldn’t bring myself to file for unemployment. Their influence had left a deep imprint on me.

While that attitude of hard work and independence is certainly admirable, I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t apply universally. I was fortunate to find another job relatively quickly, but was it just because of my skills and work ethic? I’d like to think so, but the reality is I can’t ignore the fact that being a white male played a role in my success.

For most of my life, I would never have admitted this. I believed that everyone operated on a level playing field. My views on racial and gender inequality were purely theoretical, unchallenged by any real-world experiences. That all changed when I started working at a local mission, where I saw a different reality unfold before my eyes.

On my first day at the mission, I was scheduled to shadow another counselor as he taught a class. I arrived early, but he was late. I noticed blue police lights flashing outside the building and saw that he had been pulled over right in front of the mission’s campus. When he finally came in, I asked if everything was okay. He replied, “Yeah, he was just checking me out.” 

Confused, I asked, “Were you speeding? Did you run a stop sign? Did you swerve?” He answered no to all of those questions. He had simply been driving while black in a rough part of town. That concept was completely foreign to me. But what was even more shocking was that he acted as if it were normal—as if this was something he had learned to expect.

That incident stayed with me, but the most impactful experience came a few weeks later when I accompanied two different men to court. The first was a young white man who had stolen multiple items from a department store. He was a habitual offender, with thefts spanning several stores. I expected him to receive a harsh sentence. Instead, the judge ordered him to six months in our recovery program. 

The second man, a black man, was standing before the same judge. He had no criminal history and had stolen a single item. Given his clean record and the comparatively minor offense, I was certain he’d get a lighter sentence. To my surprise, the judge sentenced him to six months in jail. The only difference between these two men was their race.

That day forced me to confront a reality I had been blind to for far too long. I could no longer claim that everyone was playing on equal ground. I saw firsthand the injustice baked into our system, where race could determine one’s fate in ways that had nothing to do with right or wrong. 

There were many more moments like this during my time at the mission—moments that reshaped my understanding of racial discrimination and the biases within our legal system. These experiences caused me to question not just the world around me but the role of the church within it. 

If we, as Christians, want to truly reflect the love and justice of Christ, we need to take a long, hard look at how we view and treat the marginalized. Scripture teaches us to “seek justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.” We cannot accomplish this if we remain blind to the inequalities in our society. For the church to change society the way the early church did, we must be willing to address these uncomfortable truths head-on.

It’s a humbling journey, but one that’s necessary if we hope to live out the gospel in a way that truly transforms the world around us.