Just a day in the shoes of a color blind man

Should make it easy for you to see

That these diverse tones do more than color our bones

As a part of our anatomy

-DC Talk

Chapter Two

I walked through the doors of Heights of Love Christian Fellowship that Sunday. I was amazed at the friendly smiles the greeters welcomed me with. A big, tall black guy that would have had me turning on my heels if a grin hadn't transformed his face shook my hand and stuck a bulletin into it.

I whispered to Whitney as we walked into the sanctuary, "You have very friendly people in your church. It's like I've been going here for years the way they seem to invite me on in, even though they've never seen me before."

Whitney frowned. "Your church isn't like that?"

"I guess they're used to me there," I answered. "I've been going there since I was little, and it's not like I'm anything new to them. But here… I feel like… I don't know, like I matter more than I used to at my old church."

The second I walked in the doors to the sanctuary, I was amazed at the variety of people sitting in the pews. White people, black people, I could see some Oriental people, and there were many more. And the strangest thing about it all was that they were all mixed in together, chatting and laughing, sitting and listening to the pre-service music filtering through the speakers.

Never before had I seen so many shades of color. Olive skin tones, dark complexions, and ivory faces all made up some sort of abstract picture. And the one thing that got me more than anything else was that they all acted as if it were normal. I had never seen so many nationalities and skin colors all in one room, and mingling with each other! Before my eyes, a black person embraced a white person, dark clashing against black. They seemed to be good friends and they continued in animated conversation.

I turned to Whitney. She could see the amazement in my eyes and said quietly, "I know what you're feeling. A few years ago when I first set foot in this church, it hit me like that, too. I felt, like you said, that I mattered and belonged here, mostly because anywhere else I felt at odds with the people."

I had noticed that she was dark-skinned, but that hadn't changed the way I wanted to become her friend. It wasn't unusual for two people of different shades of skin to be friends, and nothing like that bothered me, but the scene I was witnessing now seemed like something God had made.

This was how God meant everything to be.

Whitney looked over at me with a smile on her face, as if I had just said something profound. Then I realized that I had. "Did I say that out loud?"

She nodded understandingly. "I feel the same way. It's as if God's smiling down on this little church. I can feel His hand in every ministry we have, and during every board meeting. Even though we're all different on the outside, I think God has taken away the awkwardness. It's amazing how everybody gets along here."

I remembered when I was young when Haley and I would get in huge fights about the littlest things. Eventually I got tired of squabbling over every tidbit that we didn't agree on, and I gave up having my own opinion, at least out loud or when I was around her. My most frequent question I had asked myself during those moments was: "Why can't we all just get along?" I would say the same thing over and over again, sometimes aloud, many times during my life. A lot of those times had been in history class, studying the world wars and revolutions, political catfights gone bad. Two boys fighting over a piece of candy, only each one of them armed with nuclear weapons. A dog attacking another over territory. They were all little things taken to extreme levels.

It was the same way with prejudice. And now, at this church, despite what the outside world would say, black and white people talked and hugged and got to know each other. They got along perfectly most of the time if not all. It was a revolution, if only people would sacrifice their opinions for a few minutes to listen. If only people would forget their selfishness for the sake of peace.

"I loved the music," I told Whitney as we walked down to the basement together for fellowship time. "And the sermon was awesome."

The pastor had been addressing prejudice, just what I'd been thinking about the entire worship service. He spoke strongly and courageously, and I had to admire his passion against racism.

"Did you know that he was the one who started this church?" asked Whitney. When I shook my head, she carried on. "Well, he had to deal with a bunch of horrible stuff just to get it started. He was the one who raised all the funds for the rent of the town hall for the first few years until he could build a church. He put together a worship band and spread the news around town. When the town board—who by the way were all white people—discovered that the church would be working to defeat prejudice and to bring both whites and blacks together to worship, they almost weren't going to give Pastor Matthew the town hall to rent.

"Of course a few people on the board were rooting for us, but it still took a whole lot of convincing to get the town hall for the church. And once it all got off to a start, everything was rough even then. It was as if the whole world was working against our church and against racial diversity," Whitney shook her head. "That's the devil's doing right there. Matthew calls it spiritual warfare, and I think that describes what the church was going through then perfectly. Even after lots of people began to show up at our church, still a lot of those people in our community were against the message that our black and white gatherings sends."

I shook my head and walked over to the coffee counter. "I never really gave much thought to racial diversity. But it just amazes me to see all of this." I gestured to the fellowship area. My heart was about to explode with gratitude to the Lord for this, and I couldn't stop smiling.

Nobody knew what Christian fellowship was until they saw this church. I knew I sure hadn't.