Lord, it’s a side of my experience that I absolutely loathe: the twist of racism that exists in my heart. I was raised with it: the snide vocabulary, the separateness, the conviction that my group was the real America – and that those other kids were somehow less. Less good, less legitimate, less American, even of less value to you.
Please forgive me. I fight those thoughts with all of my spiritual being, but it’s still easy for a careless remark to slip out, revealing the unholy corners of my relentlessly prideful soul. Help me not to resent or caricature the faults that other members of the human race exhibit; I have mine as well. Help me to repudiate instead of trading in the currency of stereotypes. Help me to delete offensive e-mails instead of passing them on to my like-minded friends. Help me to have the courage to confront the original sender of hateful ideas and mean-spirited online humor.
Father, please give me a sense of our human family, so equally in need of your grace, so equally human and flawed and yet precious. I surrender my racism to you, now and every day. Please give me a new and converted start.
David B. Smith Books 