By Wayne Morrison

As I opened the email from the editor reminding me of his invitation to write this devotional, I was caught immediately by his picture in the corner of the email.

See, Ray and I had discussed this topic just days earlier in his office. This topic, an issue I had been wrestling with, and sensing a conviction about, had prompted a transformation in my own perspective. Humanity tends to see things through the lens of our experience. Ray’s picture (see above), as he peers through the frame of his own fingers—a photographer’s picture-framing pose—reminded me of how narrow our perspective can get.

In the last few months, I was challenged by my son to sit up and take note of the real issues of prejudice in our communities. I was aware of all the issues in the news, but was not fully considering the stories behind the news bullets.

Tyler called me one day and asked, “Dad, what do you think of what’s happening at Andrews?” I had to admit I hadn’t heard, so he shared a link where I could watch a video from students appealing to the university for a cultural “change.” Within a few days, I watched the response of the administration and staff to the appeal, along with a special chapel featuring the president from Andrews, and both a forum hosted by the Lake Union president, Don Livesay, and a sermon by Dwight Nelson, pastor of Pioneer Memorial Church. (All links provided at the end of this article.) What I experienced as God continued to speak to my heart changed my perspective in a very significant way.

My initial response to the student appeal was not totally positive. I understood the atrocities of the past, but since I didn’t feel prejudice in my own heart, I assumed they were just that: of the past. From my limited view, through the lens of my experience, they were history. I didn’t think I had ever minimized the horrific ways people were treated, but I did believe we had moved beyond this type of racism.

As my eyes and heart were opened, I became painfully aware of the truth: people are experiencing very real, very wrong, bigotry today. People I know and love are experiencing extreme bias and intolerance every day. As I listened to stories, my anger and disappointment continued to grow. I asked myself, “How can people be so cruel?”

When I was finally able to watch Dwight’s sermon, God challenged me. I have lived a life of privilege. I may not be what the world defines as wealthy or successful, but I went to good schools, and it was never a question of whether or not I would go to school. My children have attended Christian schools, and whether they would go to college was never in question. When I apply for a job, I don’t have to worry that my appearance will make me a less desirable candidate. If I am pulled over by a police officer, I don’t experience fear—except that I will have to pay a major fine. I do not fear for my safety, or that I will be misjudged, misunderstood, or even mistreated, because of who I am or how I look.

I don’t even truly understand what that might feel like, as I have never suffered this kind of prejudice. But I heard God calling me to open my eyes, open my heart, and begin to do whatever I can do, right where I am with those in my sphere of influence. I heard Him asking me to make sure I am protecting others’ rights, always broadening the lens of my perspective.

Jesus shows us this over and over in Scripture. He reached beyond the bounds of cultural and historical prejudice to show love. He reached out to show the kind of love that knows no limit, that sees all people as equal, and gives full privileges to all.

In the fourth chapter of John, Jesus is sitting at the well.

(If you don’t know the story, read it!) He reaches across the barriers of society—prejudice, cultural bias, and spiritual discrimination. He asks for water, and we know His request was so much more than a man asking for a drink. He wanted to bring healing to a wounded woman, to mend her broken heart.

He crossed gender barriers in speaking to her. He, a Jew, approached a Samaritan, ignoring the prejudice of race and culture. Jesus touched her where He knew she hurt, where she was most exposed, because He didn’t see a Samaritan. She wasn’t just a woman, but a child of God in need of love, affirmation, and restoration.

Lord, help us to reach across the barriers of our society today, to see the wounded and broken, to become your hands and feet, and to bring healing to a world crippled by our limited view.

God, give us your lens!

–Wayne Morrison is pastor of the Brighton Seventh-day Adventist Church.  Email him at: [email protected]