I watched a restrained man begging for help and unable to breathe as men who were sworn to help knelt on his neck and stood by doing nothing. Then he died.
This is the latest tragedy in a line too long to count. I have been asking again and again. Father, what is my part? How do I help? How do I not hurt? What would you have me do?
I was born in the deep south and was raised to see and respect all people. I was also born into a privilege that has shielded me from more than I know and blinds me to even more. Father, show me.
I want to respond like Jesus. I want to be angry and not sin like Jesus. I want to love like Jesus. Father, what is my part?
We have to keep asking and then obey. If we want to help bring the change, we have to ask, and then we do something. Father, what is my part?
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