Introduction

When our discussion first started, we were both surprised at how well it went, and both of us are very grateful to God, and to one another, for this great blessing. We have also been grateful to the readers and commenters who participated in this discussion in the same spirit, praying with us, and laboring to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Eph. 4:3).

Agreements
We wanted to bring our discussion to some sort of formal close, and so this is it. As we understand it, our points of agreement are:

1. Mankind is one in Adam, which means we share a common humanity, and a common slavery to sin. We together believe that mankind cannot come together in a true unity until they do so in the second Adam, the only one who is capable of overcoming the sorts of things that divide us.

2. We both believe that racism is a grievous sin, and we believe that it is a sin that has the practical effect of undercutting the gospel. Jesus came to cast down the middle wall of partition, not only between Jew and Gentile, but also to cast down any other walls that exist between any other races, nationalities, tribes, or tongues. Worthy is the Lamb, for only He could do this. But even He had to do it with the price of His own blood (Rev. 7:9).

3. The logic of the gospel is jubilee logic. This means that the messianic promises all looked forward to the day when the liberation of the world from every form of slavery would begin, and the arrival of Christ was the inauguration of God’s kingdom. This liberation from slavery begins with liberating men from their slavery to sin, but it necessarily and inexorably includes all other forms of slavery as well—whether the forms of slavery as they existed in the ancient world, or the more recent forms in our country.

4. We agree that the letter of Philemon is saturated with the idea of koinonia fellowship, one that Paul and Philemon and Onesimus all shared, and that Paul uses this spiritual reality as the foundation of his argument, urging manumission for Onesimus.

But Differences Remain
In the areas where we continue to differ, those differences are significant, although some of them may well be differences of emphasis.

Thabiti continues to believe that:

1. The history of slavery—even the existence of American chattel slavery, especially among Christians—represents a far more egregious transgression of love, the gospel, and humanity than represented in Black & Tan, which attempts a dangerous revision without sufficient historical evidence. He believes privileging man-made constitutional arguments over the liberty and full flourishing of fellow human beings betrays the gospel, betrays the command to love our neighbor, and fails to consider the balance of all the relevant biblical texts. That combination of revising the record of slavery’s inhumanity and privileging only the prima facie reading of texts compatible with one’s position leads to gross misjudgment and siding with the oppressor against the oppressed in the case of American chattel slavery.

2. A defense of “state’s rights” or the South’s withdrawal from the Union is tantamount to a defense of American chattel slavery. The inevitable consequence, had the South won the War, would have been the perpetuation of race-based slavery and all its concomitant evils. There’s no way to credibly defend the South’s position without also providing means for the continuation of its sins and oppression of Black people. There’s no way to credibly defend the South as a “Christian nation” while tolerating its practice of race-based chattel slavery, even if we hold to an emancipative gradualism. Only an immediate end to slavery would have been consistent with the “jubilee logic” of the gospel and repentant of the “grievous sin” of racism upon which the practice was based.

3. We need an unembarrassed and stalwart acceptance of every jot and tittle of the Bible, including difficult texts that pierce and challenge our own favored positions and cherished histories. After all, the word of God is a piercing double-edged sword which heals by slashes and cuts. We need to embrace what Wilson calls the “angular texts.” But we need not do that in a way that makes us impervious to charges (i.e., racism, insensitivity, etc) that we ought to hear or forgetful of the fact that different “angular texts” challenge each side of a dispute. “Angular texts” and all, as servants of the Lord we must be gentle, not quarrelsome, and certain that what we’re defending is the truth of scripture rightly understood and not just our favored positions or our pride.

4. The Constitution of the United States was never a perfect document. Its guidance then (antebellum South) as well as now (battles against abortion) is insufficient and in need of modification from time to time. To assert that the Constitutional issues at the time of the Civil War are directly contributory to the Constitutional issues surrounding abortion is a massive logical mistake. Despite some parallels, it’s better to recognize that the document has and continues to fail us at various critical points in history—slavery, women’s rights, and now the protection of unborn life. The Liberty Bell has been cracked from the beginning, a crack put there by the hypocrisy of ringing for liberty while holding slaves. The fix is not to root our current discussion in debatable matters involving the country’s racial past, but to pursue “a more perfect union” by more fully applying and defending the high ideals and values the Constitution does embody. We don’t need to look back to go forward, especially if we’re looking back with a biased eye to a “history” that did not exist. We need to be faithful in our own day, and that means not sticking your finger in the eye of people who would and ought to be cobelligerents but showing genuine love “in word and deed” (1 John 3:18) as we work together on life-and-death matters of mutual concern.

Douglas continues to believe that:

1. The “angular” texts of Scripture must be handled and understood in a way does full justice to them on their face. I believe this is possible to do in the light of redemptive gradualism, but this in turn means that not every Christian slave owner was bound to the duty of immediate manumission. After all, how do we interpret the text that says that the Israelites could hold foreign slaves forever? We can’t just agree to face these texts in principle — we have to actually face them and say out loud what they mean. Are these some of the words that are profitable for instruction (2 Tim. 3:16)? Further, because in our present day, such commitment to all the texts of Scripture is sufficient to get any Christian tagged as a racist, any a priori commitment to avoid charges of racism at all costs will necessarily morph into a regrettable softness when it comes to the issues of biblical authority on the controversies of our own day — abortion and homosexuality chief among them.

2. We have allowed our indignation at sins committed one hundred and fifty years ago to hide our complicity in the atrocities of our own day. I believe that the constitutional implications of the War and the Reconstruction amendments paved the way (in the realm of constitutional interpretation) for Roe v. Wade, and has resulted in a far greater evil being perpetrated on blacks in the 21st century than slavery ever was in the 19th. While it is good to be correct about idols toppled long ago, it is far better to be right about the idols that are currently demanding the blood of innocents, including many millions of black innocents. Our obedience before God will be reckoned in how we dealt with the sins of our own era, not the sins of another. My central interest in all these historical issues has to do with how the legal principles that were laid down then are being understood and applied today.

3. I do understand the point that support for the South would have had the downstream effect of continuing the institution of slavery, at least for a time. While the point is easy to make from this distance, it imposes, I believe, an extra-biblical requirement, and furthermore, it is one that nobody practices in our current situations. I believe it is too simplistic and is unworkable. For an American soldier to go the Middle East today and fight for “democracy” is also to fight against nations that don’t allow abortion-on-demand, and it is to fight for a nation that does. To help America is therefore to help abortion. Well, we would say, quite rightly, it isn’t quite that simple. I completely agree . . . but would also add that it wasn’t that simple in Virginia one hundred and fifty years ago. We really must use equal weights and measures. The Lord was quite insistent upon it — the judgment we use will be the judgment that is used against us (Matt. 7: 1-2).

Conclusion
In conclusion, we believe a fair summary of our conclusions would be this. It is possible for Christians to disagree about volatile issues. Moreover, it is possible — indeed necessary — to do so charitably. The strong disagreement makes us feel like enemies and strangers, while the charity reminds us of our brotherhood in Christ. The strong disagreement tests the bonds of our fellowship and love for one another, while genuine love covers over a multitude of sins and holds all virtues together. We believe we have experienced both the testing strain of strong disagreement and the preserving bonds of biblical love. We thank God for it even as we disagree about some things, agree about others, and hope to be faithful to our common Master in it all. We believe that this is what it looks like to labor to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace — it is kind of messy sometimes, but we believe it pleases God.

HT: @davidmbailey and @cscleve for tweeting out this article on racial reconciliation efforts in churches in Richmond, VA. Here’s a city that has its own ugly past regarding racial issues. So it’s an awesome testimony to God’s grace and the power of the gospel to see the Lord at work to  heal the old wounds through Christ.

The article does a good job of bringing out both the blessings and challenges of being the diverse people of God united in Christ. Mention is made of privilege, power, equality and the like. As we’ve seen in many posts of late, reconciliation work ain’t easy, but it’s worth it. Moreover, the article helpfully illustrates one of the concerns Wilson points out in all of this: the way even good efforts at something like reconciliation can be seized upon by things contrary to Scripture. For example, one pastor commented, “Multicultural worship is an image of the kingdom of God, and in the kingdom of God everybody is included — black, white, gay, straight, young, old, liberal, conservative.” Interesting to note how “gay” sauntered into the list as an aspect of “multicultural worship” as an “image of the kingdom of God.” We’re always in danger of righteousness being abused by unrighteousness.

The article reminds us that the number of diverse (more than 20% from a minority group) congregations has grown but remains low. I’m encouraged by the progress but there’s still work to do in living out the reconciliation Christ purchased (Eph. 2:14).

Which brings me to a question asked somewhere in the comments thread in my exchanges with Wilson. Someone asked something along the lines of why “diverse churches” tend to be churches where African Americans and others attend predominantly white evangelical churches. The sense of the question, as I remember (or misremember?) it, was something along the lines of “if White pastors and churches were so ‘racist’ or ‘racially insensitive’ then why are most of the ‘diverse’ churches predominantly white and led by white pastors.” I hope I’m remembering this correctly because if I’m not then this will be a needlessly contentious issue.

But here’s my answer: I reject the premise. I could list a long list of African American pastors and largely African American congregations that have substantial numbers of white members and members from other ethnic groups. It’s a significant overstatement to say “all” or “most” of the diverse congregations are headed by White pastors and then conclude there’s no problem with ‘racial sensitivity.’ If anything, most of the pastors I know who lead diverse congregations would say they’ve been made more aware of their blind spots and thereby more lovingly sensitive to people from different backgrounds. And the relative higher numbers of African Americans willing to integrate into predominantly white churches compared to the relatively few white Christians going to Black churches might actually be a measure of African American willingness to sacrifice for integration. Lots of leaders remain discouraged that by-and-large white Christians don’t demonstrate their heart for reconciliation by intentionally seeking ethnic churches to join. A great memoir on this theme is Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove’s Free to Be Bound: Church Beyond the Color Line. Wilson-Hartgrove, a White brother in Christ, tells his story of joining and serving on staff at a traditional Black church in Durham, N.C. Good read. But the Wilson-Hartgroves of the world remain few in number it seems to me.

But there’s something else to say about all this. I don’t have any empirical evidence. This is just an observation that could prove false, but I think I’m not far from the truth. Whether predominantly Black or White or Asian or Hispanic or whatever, the churches that experience the most integration across ethnic lines are likely to be the churches with the ‘thinnest’ cultural layers surrounding it. The ‘thicker’ the cultural requirements for fellowship the less likely cultural ‘others’ can get inside and fellowship fruitfully. Or, to put it another way, the more “traditional” the church is–whether “traditional Black” or “traditional Southern Baptist” or “traditional Dutch,” etc–the less likely people from other cultural backgrounds will be able to stick it out in those worship communities in any significant numbers (20% or more).

Why is that? It’s likely because such churches have something in addition to/apart from Christ and the Scripture at the center of their congregational lives and their worship experience. The closer “tradition” or “culture” lies to the center of things, the less room on the periphery for those who don’t share that tradition or culture.

Now, it seems to me that all of this means we have to be careful with our interpretation of diversity statistics even as we pursue the reconciliation Christ has purchased. A church that fails to reflect the diversity of its community might be less diverse than we’d hope, but that doesn’t mean its ‘racially insensitive’ or ‘racist.’ It may be, but there may be other factors that better explain things. The traditional Black church is not a ‘racially insensitive’ or ‘racist’ church (though surely there are racist persons in these types of churches just as there are racist persons in every type of church). Yet, the traditional Black church is still called the ‘traditional Black church’ because that tradition is pretty prominent in its self-understanding and identity. That valuing of culture and identity, in part a self-protective response to the wider church’s historical practice of racial segregation and refusing church membership to African Americans, no doubt alienates some who don’t know the ways of being, speaking, and worshiping very well. But it doesn’t necessarily amount to ‘racial insensitivity’ or ‘racism.’ In the same way, I have a pastor friend who loves to talk about the Confederate heroes of the Civil War, attends re-enactments, and gives out Civil War books. It’s a passion for him. I’m sure others in the church share that passion. But the man is no racist. His church isn’t very diverse even though he ministers in a pretty diverse city. Might culture and tradition play a part here? I think so. After all, when most of us say “Southerner” we tend to think of White people, not the many others who live in and love the South as well.

Okay, I don’t have an eloquent way to end these ramblings. So I’ll just stop. Let’s keep battling in faith for a deeply reconciled church.

One of my absolute favorite professors in undergraduate school was Dr. Karla Holloway, a funny and brilliant woman. She taught me to “stay in the text,” which later the Lord would use in my approach to preaching. Dr. Holloway now serves as the James B. Duke Professor of English, Professor of Law, and Professor of Women’s Studies at Duke University. Her work focuses on African American Cultural/Literary Studies, Biocultural Studies, Ethics in Law and Medicine.

Recent discussions about history, race, perception and sensitivity, etc. were fresh in my head as I watched this lecture from Dr. Holloway. In “Black Bodies and Public Texts,” based in part on her book, Private Bodies, Public Texts: Race, Gender, and a Cultural Bioethics, Dr. Holloway talks about the way our bodies get “read” and how that “reading” affects public policy, bioethics, and how we consume media and history. It’s a wide-ranging lecture, but I thought some folks following the conversation might enjoy it.

Somewhere along the way I lost track of the many posts Douglas Wilson and I have exchanged regarding his book, Black and Tan, so I posted a “round-up” of them all. While I lost track of the posts, by God’s grace I don’t think I lost track of the conversation itself.

We’ve covered a lot of ground. The tone has been charitable. The engagement has been on the issues and not an attack on persons. We’ve reached a fair amount of important agreement, and we have some significant disagreements remaining. I think that’s better than we might expect any time a former African American Muslim and a self-described “paleo-Confederate” start talking about slavery, “race,” and the like. Praise God for the Spirit’s work in redeemed clay!

I’ve covered pretty much all the ground I’d hoped to cover in my critique of Black and Tan and then some. But I want to offer one last post, not so much about Black and Tan but about how we talk about these things publicly. This will have all the coherence of a ramble, so I ask your patience and your grace. I hope it’ll be useful on some level.

I thought Wilson’s last post served us all when he shifted the conversation to the issue of the watching public. I like Wilson’s gift with language and metaphors. I wish I could title my posts with the kind of creativity he uses! If this thing were judged on post titles it would be a complete shut-out in Wilson’s favor! Among Wilson’s rhetorical gifts is the use of metaphor, simile and analogy. Now I don’t normally like to argue using analogy because they always break down, and then there are those who seize on every detail of the analogy and miss the main point (kinda the way some preachers preach parables). But I find myself in a rare analogy using mood. But, the best I can do here is borrow an analogy Wilson used. One I like very much and think captures one aspect of our discussion.

Wilson writes, “we are having this discussion on the fifty yard line in a full stadium.” That’s well-said. There are a lot of onlookers to this discussion. The stadium feels filled with four types.

The Kinds of Onlookers We Tend to Be

Partisans. There are those wearing Doug Wilson jerseys who cheer for his every play and find a way to blame the refs every time he appears to suffer a setback. There are the folks wearing Thabiti jerseys who cheer his every play and find a way to blame the refs every time he appears to suffer a setback. These are the partisans, hard to be won over, watching the game with a jaundiced eye, as eager to “boo” as to cheer. They make sure the team is supported and the stadium is filled. But–and this is a “but” the size of Aunt Fanny’s on Robots–partisans don’t make good discussion partners. Teams need them and work hard to gather them. But partisans hate close calls, disdain the finer points of the game, and tend to want winners by wide margins. This makes them difficult to woo with anything other than the other teams head on a stick. But they’ll march out single file and singing if said head could really be on a stick carried out as a totem of their prowess and dominance. Partisans can be the death of discussion. But we love them, and we have to be careful how we court them when we’re helmet to helmet on the 50-yard line. That’s one part of our stewardship in public discussions.

Empaths. There’s also a type of fan who makes for our purposes a second group. That’s the guy who refers to his team with the plural pronoun “we.” When he gives the report on the game he says, “We lost” or “We won.” When his team loses, he’s unable to go to work Monday morning. When they win he is unbearable all week. He’s the kind of guy who takes everything happening on the field personally, as if he’s on the roster with the other guys. You’ve heard the joke about the guy who sits in the stands with 30,000 people and believes the players are talking about him when they meet in the huddle. He’s the guy who watches a play unfold on the field and can’t help but say, “That’s just what I was thinking they should do,” and believes his thinking it (or his watching or not watching the play) has something to do with how the play unfolded. He’s an empath, like Deanna Troy on Star Trek Next Generation, and a witch. And he shows up feeling everything the team should feel but without any real involvement in the game. The empaths feel and feel and feel, but like Officer Troy really doesn’t do much. Careful how much you feed them!

Aficionados. Then there are those folks who came to the game looking for a good afternoon’s entertainment. They’re not really fans of either team. They’re perhaps loyal to another team in another town. But they enjoy the game. They like the artistry as well as the fundamentals. They’re the kind of attendees who carry years of stats in their heads and know something about the character of the teams and their owners. They’re great people to take score, indifferent as they are to the teams themselves and capable as they are of comprehending the issues in the game. Now, many partisans think they’re these kinds of indifferent aficionados simply because they know stats and won-loss records. The difference between a partisan and an aficionado isn’t a matter of statistical record-keeping but of heart’s attachment. The aficionado’s heart is attached to the game while the partisan’s heart is attached to the team. Now, the person most often needed in the 50-yard line discussion is the aficionado. They’re the persons that can help keep our view of things straight, fill in the action for those with bad seats, and calmly toss a flag against either team as occasion requires. But the problem is this: when you’re in Philly and you’re an aficionado you’re probably better off keeping your mouth closed! In other words, the great crowd of fans/partisans rooting for their teams don’t want to hear from the smaller pack of aficionados, who find themselves pushed to the margins rather than invited into the analysis and enjoyment of the game. There’s a contest going on in the stands, too, and it’s not just partisans against partisans but also partisans against the rightly dispassionate and fair. If we lose the fair-minded, the open to learning and changing, the willing to listen and consider, then we lose the whole shootin’ match (to mix metaphors).

Girlfriends. Fourth, in the stands of a football game there’s another kind of attendee. That’s the girlfriend (usually, stereotypically; trust me, I know women can be and are every bit as passionate and knowledgeable about football as the guys; but permit me the admittedly stereotypical analogy). She only came to the game to get some time with the ex-jock boyfriend. She cheers for his team but she really isn’t a fan. She’d rather be aloof about the whole thing but she doesn’t have the aficionado’s history and understanding. She simply showed up and found herself engulfed in a smash-mouth football game with beer sloshing, face-painted, shirtless partisans shouting all around her. She’d rather be at home watching HGTV or Lifetime or some such thing, but she’d do anything for her man. And that’s her difficulty. She’s got a decision to make. All the bluster and banter suggests something really important is happening on the 50-yard line. She should probably pay attention. The aficionado next to her seems to have a good grasp on things but she can’t tell from his dispassionate comments who’s right or wrong, and talk about completion percentage has her wondering if any of the players finished school. The fans screaming their heads off have made up their mind who “they’re for,” but they seem to overlook some pretty significant happenings on the field and to fixate on a couple other things that seem to be over now. Does she follow her boyfriend, does she pretend the aficionado’s indifference, or does she make up her own mind, even if that means picking the team with the prettiest colors? You see, there are a great many people new to the game, new to all the party lines, trying to figure things out and make a reasonable decision. And precisely because they’re reasonable, they may just decide to bail on the whole sordid thing. Or, they may be swept up with the mobs rather than think through an issue. Or, they may choose their pretty colors, complain the game is too violent to begin with, and watch only for the “pretty” plays.

All that to say this: When the nose guard and the center line up at the fifty yard line, they’re going to have to make themselves blissfully unaware of the people in the stadium and observe the player in front of them and the rules of the game on the field. It’s the only way to lead, influence, and actually win the game. The irony of sports performance is that winning the fans requires ignoring the fans. The fella kicking the field goal can’t allow himself to get distracted by the end zone crazies waving towels and howling ugly things about his mother. The quarterback and receiver looking to connect on a timing pattern can’t listen to the thunderous cheers and boos coming from the rafters. To play the game faithfully and effectively the players must focus on what’s happening on the field.

Why This Matters

This  singular focus helps us in a number of ways.

First, it keeps us from playing the impossible game of answering critics. I learned this from another warrior in today’s culture battles: John MacArthur. He said he learned long ago never to answer his critics. When I first heard it I thought, How do you not do that. Then I became a senior pastor. It became very apparent very quickly that if I were to answer my critics it would be a full-time job and the main thing would never get done. But here’s the tricky part of all this: Answering critics may either be direct replies to them or anticipating and adjusting my comments to guard against them in some way. Either way, the critic sets the agenda for some part of my ministry and life rather than God’s calling. This is why Paul tells the Corinthians, “But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me. Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart. Then each one will receive his commendation from God” (1 Cor. 4:3-5). The apostle focuses instead on being faithful as a steward of the mysteries of God (4:1-2). We can’t answer our critics. There are too many of them.

Second, playing the game between the lines keeps us focused on the ball. That was what my daddy said when he was particularly pleased with me. “Son, you’re on the ball.” He meant I had my head in the game and was doing what was expected of me. As Christians and certainly as ministers we have a more important task–to be faithful to the decrees of God and the proclamation of His everlasting gospel. The players on the field have to understand that most of all. Inevitably the news reporter finds them in the locker room before they’re even dry from the shower and starts asking or blaming on camera. Indeed, the reporters and the fans have already begun their second-guessing while the game is being played. But the player has to keep his mind on what the coaches and the captains are instructing. The most ridiculous thing in all of football is an off sides penalty or an illegal motion penalty on the nose guard or the center. They’re the guys closest to the ball. One of them even has his hands on the ball and knows the snap count! Losing track of the ball is an inexcusable error for them. They must maintain a singular focus on the ball, and if they do they’re able to be faithful to their calling. Win or lose they have done that most important thing: protect or get the ball.

Third, being focused on the game and playing by the rules of the game keeps us consistent with all the fans in the stand. We know the bleachers are partisan. We know there are observers wanting our heads for this or that reason, or for no reason at all. And we know there are people in the same bleachers looking at things carefully and those watching cluelessly. How do we play the game in a way that honors them all? We line up and we play without cheating. Cheating sours every fan. Even the fan whose team won through the missed call or the indiscretion can’t talk in loud tones about the “win.” The whole thing is suspect and they know it in their hearts. Only when everything is “fair and square,” “by the book” can players on the field and people in the stands hold their heads up in dignity. But to have dignity in either victory or defeat, we have to play by one set of rules observed by all, whether on the field or off the field. A holding penalty has to be a holding penalty, even when it’s close. A late hit has to be a late hit even if it’s a nanosecond after the quarterback releases the ball. Lining up off sides has to be an infraction no matter whether you’re fanboy, aficionado, or hapless spectator and no matter whether you’ve got 50-yard line seats or you’re in the nosebleeds. When an infraction is called–especially when the players admit it, and even when they hate that it hurts their team or disappoints their fans or gives joy to their opponents–submission to the ruling has to apply to all. We don’t have penalties that only affect the center but not the rest of the team, or only benefits one player but not all.

One person in the comments thread, a partisan, I think, asked if I thought charges of “racial insensitivity” were “objective” such that Wilson’s humble apology (and I do think it was humble to make an apology on the 50-yard line) should be made to all without respect to whether they were themselves honest or opportunistic. My answer to that is, “Yes.” If I’ve wronged one brother with a remark, there’s no reason for me to assume the remark doesn’t harm others, even others I regard as partisans on the other team always howling against me and my team. Here’s the thing: Floppers have feelings, too (again, to mix sporting metaphors). So, too, do the unredeemed from whom we may even expect flopping because it inheres in their fallenness. Even if floppers have faked a hundred charges like Bobby Hurley of Duke days gone by, that does not mean the next time we see him spread eagle counting ceiling tiles that no charge occurred . We don’t get to offend our enemies. We don’t get to ignore the effect of our words on others. We get to love them, offer them the other cheek, and prove ourselves to be unlike sinners by doing good without expectation of return and being merciful to those who are not merciful to us (Luke 6:27-36). Sometimes love looks like the coal-hot kindness of an apology sincerely offered to all, especially our detractors (Rom. 12:19-21).

Fourth, playing the games by the rules and focusing on the ball makes us winsome with fans and enemies alike. Let me admit something. I was a Michael Jordan hater for half his career. I went to NC State, Jordan to Carolina. In the sports world that is the ACC, that was enough to make us mortal enemies and rule out any favorable remarks one might have toward Jordan. But I was indeed a hater. About five years into his reign in Chicago, I too had to admit the obvious. The man was great as greatness goes in the world of professional sports. I had to stop quarreling and admit it. I wasn’t being very gracious and I wasn’t winning any friends who could see the obvious truth.

Even in football there is something called “unsportsmanlike conduct.” It’s not the kind of observable infraction like being off sides, but it is a conduct unbecoming a player on the field. It’s “unsportsmanlike.” We may think it subjective, but it’s real nonetheless. “Racial insensitivity” and insensitivity of every sort has the same “realness” as unsportsmanlike conduct. After all, the servant of the Lord must not quarrel but be kind to everyone and correct his opponents with gentleness (2 Tim. 2:23-25).

If my infraction was an infraction, then it was an infraction against the Gamemaker, the game, the other team opposed to me, and against the onlookers who may be taken in by my sin. If I behave in an unbecoming way then I need to take the ten yard penalty, line it up again, and run the next play. But I shouldn’t complain about the ref or attempt to comply with the penalty only with those I like.  I should admit and receive the penalty like a son being chastised by His Father and look forward to the harvest of righteousness that will surely come (Heb. 12:7-11). To do otherwise is to deny the grace of God in correction and it is possibly to set an example we don’t want followed by those watching in the stands.

Fifth, and finally, playing the game by the rules and staying on the field delivers us from fear. Wilson was quite humble and transparent to talk about his concerns in the broader culture wars, concerns or fears that have shaped some of his comments in this discussion. I think I understand and appreciate his concerns. What I want for him and for us all is a certain kind of fearlessness. I think it comes more effectively by simply attending to the conversation or issue at hand and leaving the results to the Lord. We play football one snap at a time. Surely those plays build to the game’s conclusion, but we can’t predict the conclusion by the next third-down meeting at the line of scrimmage. We line up, make the snap, run the play, and trust the Lord that the game rides on lots of such plays. Even when we’re in the red zone on the game’s final drive, that drive is only “final” because it followed lots of other drives and plays that put us in the position. All that to say: Freedom comes from running the play, forgetting the fans, and trusting God with the outcome. After all, who of us is sufficient for these things? Who can arrest the decay of the Church or perfect its health? Who of us can guard against the attacks of detractors or change the hearts of one onlooker? None of us. But God can and He surely will cause His church to prevail against the gates of hell. We need not fear. We might even be a bit more postmill and optimistic. The Lord reigns–even at the 50 yard line when the fans are going wild.

Conclusion

So let me bring this to a conclusion, long overdue by now. Thank you for reading thus far and for contributing in whatever way the Lord has prompted you to beyond reading: leaving comments, passing along links, praying for me and Wilson. I think I can safely say that he and I both appreciate your engagement with us.

If I have one hope in addition to deep reconciliation of God’s people, it would be that we learn to talk with one another–especially when it comes to matters touching upon “race.” Personally I don’t like talking about “race.” Yet I find myself from time to time drawn into such discussions. Perhaps the Lord sees me as a kind of Jonah and he keeps preparing fish to swallow me and spit me out on the banks of these discussions. I don’t know. But insofar as He keeps me involved in these kinds of exchanges, I hope to be an ambassador for Him, to do some little thing that models His graciousness, and to call us all to a faithful embrace of His word.

In that sense, this discussion with Wilson hasn’t been solely about Wilson and me. It’s about you, the reader. It’s about the Lord’s Church, made up of every tribe, nation, and language. It’s about our collective sanctification and trusting that our racial warts are there not by accident but by God’s providential design to conform us to the image of His Son whom He loves. I think Wilson and I may try to offer a joint summary post with agreements, disagreements, and conclusions. We’ve talked about that; we’ll see if we can pull it off. But you’re still writing this series for us in all the conversations you have with others about these things and in the conversations you even have with yourself. May those conversations bear the peaceable fruit of wisdom and love. Grace to us all.

For the past couple of weeks, Douglas Wilson and I have carried on a discussion of his book, Black and Tan. The book and its prequel, Southern Slavery As It Was, triggered controversy that’s lasted these last ten years or so. Our exchanges have been charitable and frequent. I thought it might be good to include a post-by-post round-up for anyone wishing to follow the discussion as it evolved. I think I’ve gotten them all, but there have been a lot of posts, sometimes seemingly posted only minutes after one or the other of us have hit “post.” So, if I missed one or more, please charge it to my head (and eyesight) not my heart.

Why Respond Publicly to Douglas Wilson’s “Black and Tan”? (TA)

A brief post explaining how I became involved in this discussion and listing five reasons I think it wise to proceed with a public discussion rather than a private one.

Douglas Wilson’s Views on Race, Racism, Slavery and the Bible (TA)

I attempt (successfully, according to Wilson) to summarize the main argument and points included in Black and Tan. I quote at length Wilson’s comments rejecting racism and slavery, and attempt to summarize Wilson’s motivation for writing Black and Tan.

Does the Driving Logic of “Black and Tan” Hold Up? (TA)

I attempt to address three basic aspects of the book: (1) the underlying logic guiding the entire book, (2) the exegetical case for slavery as a permissible institution, and (3) the historical claim that the South as a nation and the slavery it practiced was comparable to the Roman practice the apostle Paul addressed. I contend that the authority of the Bible was not widely challenged leading up to the Civil War, and that federal action to end the Civil War cannot be causally linked to our contemporary culture wars.

Patrick “Nostradamus” Henry (DW)

Wilson responds to my first critique by distinguishing between the formal authority and the functional authority of Scripture. He expresses his concern that the real issue was not the doctrine of Scripture among slaveholders and abolitionists but the doing of scripture, actual obedience.

Slavery and the Bible: The Perspective of This Abolitionist (TA)

I attempt to account for the biblical texts relevant to the question of slavery, its practice, and its end. I call for an immediatism to slavery’s end, contrary to the gradualism Wilson proposes. We cover the commandment to love, Philemon, 1 Tim. 1:10; 6:1-2, and the household codes.

Love Is Never Later (DW)

Wilson responds to my exegesis of the biblical texts with almost complete agreement. He agrees that we should privilege the command to love and that obedience to that command should not be delayed. Wilson points to some hypothetical situations where he suggests that love might not mean immediate manumission.

How Koinonia Conquers (DW)

Wilson offers this article, originally published in Omnibus, as evidence of his treatment of Philemon and evidence of how closely aligned our understandings of the text are. He believes Philemon received Onesimus back as a brother, most likely freed Onesimus, that Onesimus became a co-laborer with Paul, and that Onesimus is likely the same Onesimus addressed by Ignatius.

The Designated Ambition Pole (DW)

Wilson reminds us of the original context for publishing Black and Tan. He recounts Paul Hill’s murder of an abortion clinic doctor, the questions Hill’s actions provoked, and his desire to avoid the marketing shrink wrap of so much evangelical culture.

Sometimes the Exceptions Reveal How Far We’ve Gone with the Rule (TA)

A response to Wilson’s near complete agreement with my biblical exegesis of pertinent texts on slavery. Wilson imagines situations where a gradual manumission might be more loving, while I ask, “Why not free the slave immediately and still provide the kinds of support that express love?”

Adoni-bezek’s Thumbs and Toes (DW)

Wilson explains why he continues to believe that current obligations to do things like denounce racism cannot be disentangled from “messy history.” He also introduces the notion of progressive revelation as he discusses a portion of Lev. 25′s commands regarding slaves.

The Cost of Our Chosen Entanglements (TA)

I attempt to explain why I think Wilson’s association with the “civilian affairs” of the South’s secession impairs his ability to value African-American life and to extend to African Americans the same right to pursue the freedom he cherishes.

Water Is Thicker Than Blood (DW)

Wilson explains why we mustn’t go to war with cartoons but recognize the humanity of our opponents and explains why he doesn’t think constitutional issues are easily disentangled from very real lives that have been disenfranchised.

Resisting the Slavers (DW)

In response to thread comments, Wilson takes up the issue of whether the War of Independence could be considered just and the Civil War not.

The Histories of the American South: A Caution Against Hegemonies (TA)

After attempting to avoid a discussion of the historical issues at play, I felt compelled to make an assessment of the assumed history in Black and Tan. I argue Black and Tan fails to provide us any history while attempting a major revision of our understanding of the American South and slavery. I also contend that the book’s failure to interact with differing perspectives amounts to a biased view and an overly optimistic view due to Wilson’s postmill perspective.  I conclude with a postscript on historical and cultural hegemony.

With Jello in My Hair (DW)

Wilson replies to my concerns about the history in Black and Tan by admitting the book is not and is not intended to be a work of history, that he believes the book would have been stronger to interacting with differing viewpoints on the history, and explaining his postmill perspective. He pushes back against a postmodernism and “multiculturalism” that denies God’s metainarrative on history.

Another Point Where Wilson and I Almost Entirely Agree: On Doing History and Multiculturalism (TA)

I reassert my basic critiques of Black and Tan‘s underlying history by responding to Wilson’s defenses. I also attempt to discuss how many African American and White discussants have two different things in mind when they talk about “multiculturalism.”

A Good Luck Wave Won’t Cut It (DW)

Wilson responds to my critique of Black and Tan’s history, agrees with my previous post’s comments about multiculturalism, and returns to a comparison of slavery and abortion, maintaining that abortion is far worse than slavery in its death toll. He also explains why he doesn’t think his postmill views lead to a “rosy” picture of slavery.

Illustrating Racial Insensitivity in Black and Tan (TA)

I attempt to define “racial insensitivity” and to comment on several minor and more serious comments in Black and Tan that I think fail to lovingly consider diverse readers and racial sensitivities.

Harder Than It Looks (DW)

Wilson responds to my definition of “racial insensitivity” with a proposed amendment and replies in turn to my citations of racial insensitivity. He offers an apology while distinguishing between persons genuinely offended and those who may be “flopping”. He calls for the kind of effort at reconciliation where parties say what they want to say and remain at the table after they have said it.

A Theology of Apology (DW)

Following up on “Harder Than It Looks,” Wilson uses three biblical incidents to explain why his apology came with qualifications and explanations.

I Can Be Insensitive, Too (TA)

I offer an apology to readers who took offense at a passing reference to Trayvon Martin.

Once More Into the Breach (TA)

I respond to Wilson’s call to “stay at the table” by pointing out three problems with his apology post and seeking to get a clear sense of whether Wilson though he’d written anything insensitive in Black and Tan, accepts responsibility for those comments, and would retract them. I refer to some useful principles for apologies and forgiveness from Peacemaker Ministries.

A Trigger Alert Study Bible (DW)

Wilson pushes back against an apology I offered readers at Pure Church. He then reasserts the need for a full and complete acceptance of scripture and a way for understanding our current cultural struggles in historical context before he could apologize for Black and Tan across the board.

Oh, So Close… And Yet So Far Away (TA)

I clarify that I was not asking him to retract Black and Tan across the board, but respond specifically to the charge of insensitive comments. I also speculate about whether fear of negative results might hinder Wilson giving a more complete apology.

Another Rose Hedge Awaits (DW)

Wilson accepts that I was not asking him to retract Black and Tan and apologizes for misreading me. He restates his apology by admitting that he believes himself to have written some insensitive things in Black and Tan. He creates a placeholder for some future comments.

Hecklers Gonna Heck (DW)

As promised, Wilson returns with more thoughts about the kinds of fears he has in public conversations of this sort and why different tones might be appropriate for different persons in such a discussion. Part of his concern is that evangelical capitulation to insistence on “polite” speech often comes a step or two before evangelical capitulation to the demands of those rebelling against God’s rule.

That’s what reconciliation work feels like sometimes. And I don’t just mean the work of reconciling across ethnic lines. I mean all reconciliation work. Ever tried to get fighting spouses to put down the frying pan and rolling pin to embrace each other? Ever tried to talk a parent down off the roof when they were about to drop a WWF-inspired elbow on a disobedient child? There are those moments when you think you see just how close the parties are… if… they… would… just…. We can be  so close and yet so far away.

That’s how I feel to some extent in the interactions with Douglas Wilson about his book Black and Tan. We’ve covered a lot of ground and have agreed on a  surprising amount. Now we’re at a point where I’ve made some specific appeals to Wilson which I think are reasonable. We’re close to talking about the heart of the matter in terms of what offends me in reading the book. Close… but not there yet. I feel like we’re talking past one another.

In my last post, I offered questions to Wilson to assess where we are in our discussion. Those were:

1. Does Wilson think the comments I cited, his circumstantial explanations notwithstanding, were in any way insensitive along racial lines?
2. If so, does Wilson joyfully own complete responsibility for those comments?
3. If so, does Wilson think repentance might include a more complete and specific apology along with written retraction of the insensitive things he believes he has written? (Bear in mind, I’m not asking him to retract an argument he thinks is true, but to retract and restate the way things have been said—much the same way he argues the way slavery was ended was wrong, not that its ending was wrong).

But I don’t think Wilson understood what I was asking (particularly as it relates to the parenthetical comment at the end of #3). I say I don’t think he understood what I was asking because of this comment:

So that’s it. In order to apologize for Black & Tan across the board, I need a way forward that won’t apologize for, or ignore, certain parts of the Bible, and I need a coherent understanding of our cultural history that enables me to stand in a long line of faithful men.

This was Wilson’s summary of the two theological stones he thinks I’ve left unturned in all of this (see here).

But I’m really not asking Wilson to “apologize for Black and Tan across the board.” I agree with Wilson that we need to refuse apologizing for the faith or for the parts of the Bible its “cultured despisers” reject.  We must not ignore any part of the whole counsel of God, including what Wilson calls the “angular” texts of the Bible dealing with slavery. As I recall, there wasn’t much more than a hair’s breath between us in the ordering and exegeting of the biblical texts on the matter. Moreover, I think the search for a “coherent understanding of our cultural history that enables us to stand in a long line of faithful men” is an appropriate quest we all need to pursue. As I understand it, these are the reasons he wrote Black and Tan. Those reasons seem compelling to me. I’m not after a retraction of any of that–not even the parts of the history about which we disagree.

I’m seeking something narrower and more specific. I think the way Wilson wrote Black and Tan–its tone and balance–is the problem. Let me try to illustrate. Wilson doesn’t think slavery should have continued. He is for it’s abolition, just not the bloody way it was abolished. In like manner, I’m not calling for a retraction of the book “across the board.” I’m for Wilson stating what he thinks and risking the skin to stand behind it. I’m just not for the insensitive way he’s done so at points in the book.

I’m simply asking the question: Doug, do you think it might be possible that a reasonable man (and I’m thankful that you include me among them) might take legitimate offense at the way you have put some things in the book? As a reasonable man yourself, do you think that some of your comments in the book are insensitive to the legitimate concerns, natural affections, and understandable perspectives of some of your reasonable readers?

As you think about that, I would hope you would be able to consider the narrower question of phrasing at various points in a manner consistent with the way you wish your writing to be judged at other points. What I mean is this: When it comes to the claims that you are a racist, you point to the number of places where you explicitly disavow such things. You ask to be judged on what you actually wrote. I think that’s fair, and that’s what I’ve tried to do.

But in your last couple posts regarding racial insensitivity, you’ve asked us to consider what you intended rather than what you actually wrote. It seems like you’re retreating to motive and in doing so you’re perhaps not properly evaluating your words.

I write all the time. I know what it’s like to write something with one intent and to really blunder with the words. I regret it when I goof like that, especially in my preaching and when people are hurt by my words. So I’m not aiming at Wilson as though I’m some Teflon Don against whom the same charges won’t stick.

But each time we’ve come close to getting an account of the kinds of harmful things I’ve cited, we’re hearing a lot about the wider audience “out there,” the detractors who have surfaced over the years. I’m left thinking, “Hey, Doug, I’m over here.” And when we hear concerns about abandoning the Bible and the like, I’m thinking, “Yeah, but that’s not what I’m asking you to do or want to do myself.”

I get that you’re not wanting to give ground to those you think are insincere or who have an anti-Bible agenda. I get that. And I believe you when you say you don’t think you’re “tripping over personal egotism or pride.” Reading your last post, however, I wonder if you might not be stumbling over fear??? Fear that engaging the narrower issues will somehow amount to unfaithfulness in your apologetic calling. Or fear that some concession to an opponent’s argument might end in a check mate you didn’t see. Or fear that the hecklers out there might have their howling party once and for all. Or fear that an evanjellyfish church might lose even the muscular integrity of jelly. I don’t know. I can’t pretend to know your head or heart. It just seemed to me as I read your last post that it was so heavy with concern for potential negative results that you weren’t allowing yourself to come down to the conversation I’m actually trying to have with you. To be honest, I’ve felt that way for the last 3-4 posts now.

So, it seems to me that the threshold question is whether or not you recognize anything offense in your words. Whether or not you can see a causal connection between the ways you’ve sometimes described or referenced African Americans or slavery and the hurt, anger, or offense some have taken. You’ve already admitted to a kind of “collateral damage.” What’s left to be determined is whether you think that damage is in the heads of the wounded or should be located in the words you’ve written.

We’ve gotten close enough to put that question on the table. How close we really are and how far we can walk together in agreement depends on what you see here.

I suspected that when the conversation regarding Black and Tan turned to specific citations of racial insensitivity (which I obligated myself to make in the conclusion of the first post), things might actually get more difficult. Such allegations create fever. Understandably so. When these things are alleged we naturally feel that more ground is at risk, and often it is. And there’s the heightened temptation to either attack with the allegations or to be defensive in hearing them. The flesh may be involved in the anger of the accuser or the pride of the accused. Precisely at these times we need the most patient effort and the grittiest stick-to-it-ness. We’ll either fold or double down.

But if we’re in it for genuine reconciliation and understanding, we find ourselves called upon to attack the citadel once again, even if it means filling the breach with our dead. Wilson rightly says that the discussion is “harder than it looks,” a fact I’m praying all the onlookers will keep in mind as they watch us talk and offer their opinions. Surely we’re all closest to falling when we’re most self-confident and self-assured (1 Cor. 10:12).

But risks taken to achieve understanding, reconciliation, and peace are worth it even if they’re “deadly” to us. I waivered for some time about whether to post a response to Wilson’s “Harder Than It Looks,” a reply to my charges of racial insensitivity. Three drafts later, two things have led me to this post: (1) offers of apology require response and (2) the duties of love.

Wilson is absolutely correct when he writes:

“Real racial reconciliation is not a game, and so if we want it, we have to stop playing games. We have to be willing to have conversations in which everybody says what they actually think, and where we all stay at the table after we have said it. That’s what love actually looks like.” (emphasis added)

It’s so easy to smash mouths, step on toes, and give people the remaining piece of our minds then peacock strut our way from the table, congratulating ourselves all the way to our camp, where our friends await to join us in our self-congratulatory and self-righteous retelling of events. “You sure told ‘em!” sounds so good to the flesh.

But we’re after reconciliation, which implies genuine confession, genuine repentance and genuine forgiveness.

Now, to be completely honest, the last year has included a measure of the Lord’s chastening when it comes to my tendency to easily abandon relationships that prove difficult, especially distant relationships that don’t require regular accountability and love. I’ve been guilty of a passive approach to friendship and the last year has brought opportunities to relinquish that approach. While part of me wanted to move to the final summary post, another part, that part that knows the tendency of my flesh to not requite love, insisted that I “stay at the table” as Wilson put it. So here I am rushing into the breach crying, “God for Harry, England, and Saint George!”

I want, however, to limit myself to only what I think needs saying. And I must confess to some difficulty here because there’s so much I really want to say. I don’t think we’re to say everything we could say, for not everything that’s permissible is convenient. I trust that if we can remain focused on the needful we might have a conversation that, while it feels more intense on the one hand, will yield more fruit on the other. I’m praying to that end for us all.

In that spirit, let me offer three observations about Wilson’s comments in “Harder than It Looks” that, if addressed, would move us even farther down the road of reconciliation.

First, the apology follows prefacing comments that appear evasive and to shift blame.

Second, the apology follows defensive explanations where he essentially denies each instance of insensitivity.

Third, the apology gets caveated with references to those he thinks are “taking flops” over the very same comments I find offensive.

While I accept Wilson’s personal apology to me, these three problematic aspects of his post leave me wondering what he means when he refers to his “affront.”

Now, I’m very eager to avoid the appearance of a couple things. I’m not trying to say Wilson was insincere. I don’t know that. I’m not alleging that. Also, I’m not trying to hold Wilson hostage with some super-high and capricious standard for apologies. I realize that even writing these things can make me look like that perpetually-hurt, emotionally-manipulative person who is never satisfied. As best I know my own heart, that’s not what’s happening here. So, I’m neither questioning Wilson’s heart nor letting my own run renegade.

What am I trying to do then? I guess I’m trying to get to a couple things:

1. Some clear sense as to whether Wilson thinks the comments I cited, his circumstantial explanations notwithstanding, were in any way insensitive along racial lines.
2. If so, whether Wilson joyfully owns complete responsibility for those comments.
3. If so, whether Wilson thinks repentance might include a more complete and specific apology along with written retraction of the insensitive things he believes he has written. (Bear in mind, I’m not asking him to retract an argument he thinks is true, but to retract and restate the way things have been said—much the same way he argues the way slavery was ended was wrong, not that its ending was wrong).

If it’s “yes” to all three, then I think we’ve come a long, long way and would only encourage Wilson to make a full apology and retract offensive statements without qualification and defense. It would be honoring to Christ to: address everyone involved; avoid “if,” “but” and “maybe”; admit specifically; acknowledge the hurt; accept the consequences; alter behavior; and ask for forgiveness (to borrow from Peacemaker Ministries).

If it’s “no” to one or more, then I’d like to know what I could do to help him see my perspective more fully. What have I not done that might give him a sense of things from within my shoes, and by extension the shoes of others who react similarly to his writing in Black and Tan?

In the final analysis, I’m not engaging all of this to either score intellectual points in arguments or to see a man cry mea culpa. My purpose is redemptive. It seems clear to me that a brother in the Lord, a brother with considerable gifts, finds himself embattled on every side and perhaps needs a way out. That way out and the way to greater usefulness for his Lord and mine involves repentance, confession, and forgiveness.

After re-reading all of our exchanges, I still believe we have a ways to go in the way of confession and repentance. Were Wilson to offer such, then I stand ready to make four promises (again, to borrow from Peacemaker Ministries):

• I will not dwell on this incident;
• I will not bring this incident up and use it against you;
• I will not talk to others about this incident; and
• I will not allow this incident to stand between us or hinder our personal relationship.

That, I believe, would be the heart of forgiveness and reconciliation. That’s what love looks like; love keeps no record of wrongs. But the wrongs have to be genuinely confessed and repented of.

With faith, hope and love, I’m staying at the table and hoping we don’t have to close the breach with our dead.

Doug Wilson and I have been at this exchange for about two weeks now. Much has been said and much more could be discussed. But, alas, we have to bring things to an end at some point. For my part, this post will be my last comment on Black and Tan. I’m guessing Wilson will want to reply to the substance of this post, then perhaps we’ll end with some form of a summary comment.

Since the publication of Southern Slavery as It Was and Black and Tan, many readers have charged Wilson with either “racism” or being “racially insensitive.” Most would regard those charges as serious. I do, too. We live in a day where it’s no longer socially acceptable to be a racist or racially insensitive. It was perfectly fine—even expected—for certain persons to be racist and racially-motivated during the period we’ve been discussing (the 1800s). But much has changed, including the hearts of many people and the social standards by which we live with one another. Because of those changes and to protect those advances, we now also live at a time when such charges need to be proven, or at least an effort to do so ought to be made.

In this post, I want to lay out a few thoughts about Black and Tan and what I regard to be its racial insensitivity. I think I owe this to Wilson and to any reader who read my allusion to these issues in my very first post. I need to be accountable for the words I speak and I find this medium a sometimes effective place for receiving admonishment and accountability. So we begin….

What Is “Racial Insensitivity”?

Some commenters have suggested that the charge of “racial insensitivity” is little more than being overly sensitive. They’ve equated racial insensitivity with hurt feelings, implying or stating that the person with hurt feelings simply needs to “grow up” and be “adult” about such things. While I’m sure some people do need to grow up, please forgive me for saying that such counter-responses are themselves immature and have sometimes been evidence of the insensitivity in question.

It seems to me that discussions of this sort require definitions, lest we descend in a spiral of allegations, dismissals, and counter-allegations. Such definitions are notoriously difficult. Is “racial insensitivity” one of those things, like beauty, that’s forever imprisoned in the eyes of the beholder? Or can different eyes see it and all know it when they do? Or is it the opposite of beauty—can we define it but not know it when we see it? We need a working proposal?

We all have some sense of what we mean by “racial,” even though that term itself introduces ambiguity. For our purposes, let’s just assume a “man on the street” definition of “race.” The trickier term is “insensitive.” A Webster’s Dictionary definition for “insensitive” is “not responsive or susceptible” or “lacking feeling or tact.” Some synonyms include: compassionless, hard- or cold-hearted, heartless, inhumane, pachydermatous (my favorite!), pitiless, remorseless, and ruthless. Antonyms include: charitable, compassionate, humane, kindhearted, sympathetic, tender, warm, and warm-hearted.

At the level of word meaning, “racial insensitivity” involves being unresponsive or lacking in feeling or tact toward people of different races or issues associated with race. I would suggest it’s a certain inability or unwillingness to sense and lovingly consider the concerns, feelings, and perspectives of others across racial lines.

Who Gets to Decide What Is “Racially Insensitive”?

Of course, offering a definition only gets us started. We need to also offer some thoughts about how we know racial insensitivity has occurred. In a world where charges are made and denied, who gets the final say-so?

Here’s where being dismissive of other people’s feelings—not to mention their statements, perspectives, cultures and the like—actually becomes a big deal. Insensitivity is fraught with feeling, and usually the lead indicator that something insensitive has happened will be one emotion or another. The emotion could be bitterness, like the wife whose dinner lies cold waiting on a husband who for the thousandth time has broken his promise to be home for dinner. Or, it could be deep sadness, like the man told his wife has been unfaithful. A thousand examples could be imagined. But you get the point. Insensitivity provokes feeling, and if we’re dismissive of that feeling or insensitive toward it we’ll only compound the problems we have across racial lines.

So, who gets to decide? I don’t know if they get the final word, but the person so hurt should at least have the first word. And the person doing the hurting should really stop and listen for what they missed. That listening turns out to be crucial because the nature of insensitivity is that it fails to sense something. When we’re insensitive we have a blind spot, at least. At worst, we’re knowingly and intentionally trying to cut and hurt. In either case, we’ll never properly fix the hurt or help the hurting feel differently or address our own heart issues (out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks, right?) if we continue tone-deaf to that leading indicator—the other person’s feelings.

How Does Racial Insensitivity Affect Us?

Bulls in china shops really do cause a lot of damage. Scripture warns us repeatedly about the deadly destruction of our tongues.  So, it should be obvious that such insensitivity affects us deeply. The effects range from hurt feelings, to broken relationships, discord among brothers, hardened hearts, mistrust, and significant sins against each other.

In the context of race relations, both inside and outside the church, we’ve paid a tremendously high cost for our racial insensitivity. We continue, by and large, to worship the same Savior in different churches. We continue to suspect and mistrust one another. We continue to make the same cross-cultural gaffes and we continue to avoid seeking forgiveness and understanding for those gaffes. Some continue to hate. Some continue to pretend ignorance of deep hurts, and some others just want to “get past it all.” Many continue to cry out, “How long?” but they’re addressing the racial other, not the Lord. There are the costs in missed opportunities for friendship, worship, mission and partnership. The stakes are really quite high and the effects are difficult to number and assess. This is why willful ignorance ranks among the most significant contaminates in cross-cultural or inter-ethnic relationships.

What Ought to Be Done When Racial Insensitivity Occurs?

We should apply the Bible. We should go to our brothers and show them their faults. If he hears us (there’s that listening thing again), then we have won our brother over. If he will not hear us, we should take two or three witnesses with us who can establish every fact of the matter. And if we’re in the same church, we may just get to the point of having to tell the entire church. It seems the Master’s instructions in Matthew 18:15-17 apply pretty specifically to the personal offense of racial insensitivity.

Or, perhaps we would be wise to consider Titus 3:10. We should warn the divisive person once. We should warn them a second time. And if the behavior isn’t repented of after the second warning, we should have nothing to do with them. We regard them as brothers, but we can’t have meaningful fellowship with someone who continues to wound and sin without acknowledgement of the hurt they’ve caused.

All of this suggests to us that charges of “racial insensitivity” ought not be made lightly and they ought not be treated lightly. The fellowship and witness of our Lord’s church is at stake. Which brings us to our key question for this post.

Is Black and Tan Racially Insensitive?

Before we answer that question, let me remind us of a couple things stated in earlier posts. Wilson makes it clear repeatedly that he abominates and disavows racism, racial vainglory and white supremacy. He does not write anywhere in the book that one race is superior to another. Instead, he offers a rather sound biblical anthropology that emphasizes our common descent from Adam, our close cousinage biologically, and our common need for the Savior because of our common problem of sin. I think it’s important to hear him at these points and to take him at his word about these things even as (especially as) we take issue with his words at other places.

I am not here leveling a charge of “racism” against Wilson. But I do want to enter a charge of “racial insensitivity.” In my mind, racism is related to racial insensitivity the way criminal cases are related to civil cases. The former (racism, criminal cases) require higher levels of proof to substantiate. The latter require a lower threshold, some indication that damages have occurred, even sometimes when a person has been acquitted in a criminal case. Think O.J. Simpson’s criminal acquittal for the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson and his subsequent civil conviction in a suit brought by her family.

With that in mind, I want to quote a series of things from Black and Tan and offer very brief explanations for why I think they’re racially insensitive or what I think Wilson fails to sense in these comments. Some of these illustrations will be more minor and some more serious. The point is to demonstrate something of the range of statements that might leave an honest reader offended and hurt by such remarks.

A Benign Slavery Ended Wrongly

“It was the contention of this booklet [Slavery as It Was] that the way in which slavery ended has had ongoing deleterious consequences for modern Christians in our current culture wars, and that slavery was far more benign in practice than it was made to appear in the literature of the abolitionists” (p. 14).

This, the central premise of the book, fails to sense how horrific an experience slavery was for African Americans. It fails to take into account, that though removed from chattel slavery by 150 years, African Americans consider the 350 year slave experience foundational to their condition here and we regard the 100 years or so of Jim Crow segregation a modified continuance of systematic oppression based on race. This quote fails to recognize that the abolitionists are the heroes to African Americans, not the villains. To repeat this premise throughout the book without ever showing consideration for how African Americans view that history or hear these words is an instance of racial insensitivity, in my opinion.

Labels Like “Paleo-Confederate”

“I’m a paleo-Confederate” (p. 15).

Wilson works hard to distinguish himself from “neo-Confederates” and to define what he means by “paleo-Confederate.” But “Confederate” hits the black ear with cuffed hands and leaves the listener shell shocked and momentarily disoriented. I don’t want to argue that Wilson shouldn’t use this label for himself. But I think if he continues to do so, he should offer a definition without the wordplay and “snark” of Black and Tan. The label “Confederate” has a lot of negative connotations. Wilson appears insensitive to the fact that for African Americans “Confederate” connotes white subjugation of Blacks and conjures nightmares related to lynchings, segregation, cross burnings, and the like. Rightly or wrongly, to embrace the label is to embrace the connotations. A lot of those associations, which Wilson seems to understand (p. 15), have to do with racism and racist attitudes. It then becomes insensitive to take on the label without plainly, tactfully, and sympathetically defining and distinguishing what is meant or not meant for those you don’t want to offend. As it is, that label and its proud use feels like a giant defiant finger in the eye.

The Inferiority of Black Culture

“Both Northerners and Southerners were misled by the obvious inferiority of black culture at that time, which had nothing to do with whether blacks bore the image of God in man, and everything to do with whether the gospel had yet had an opportunity to do its work within black culture” (p.18).

“All men exhibit the image of God equally, but all cultures are not equal. As we look at all the tribes of men, we see some that have landed a man on the moon, and some that have not yet worked out the concept of the wheel. We have some with one whole row in the supermarket dedicated to shampoo, while in another tribe hair is washed with cow urine” (p. 33).

Now, I need to hasten to add context to these words before I explain why I think they’re racially and culturally insensitive. In both places, Wilson denies that the relative superiority/inferiority of cultures has anything to do with race or racial differences. He attributes differences to the effect of the gospel in cultures. Some have received the gospel and been aided and changed by it, while others have not. He argues that racists make the misstep of attributing the “obvious differences” to race, but he does not. That’s important context. Leaving these quotes to stand alone would misrepresent his actual argument.

But what of his actual argument? I find it offensive on at least three grounds. First, he binds the gospel up with spurious assessments of cultures. He means to adorn the gospel (I get that) but as a Christian I think he effectively tarnishes the gospel by associating it with claims and perspectives the biblical writers nowhere make. There’s an implicit civilizationism here that needs to be detangled and questioned for the sake of the Good News.

Second, Wilson writes about the “obvious inferiority of black culture” with seemingly no understanding or acknowledgement of how the Southern culture he’s defending actually actively guaranteed black underdevelopment! With one broad stroke he lumps all of “black culture” (as if there’s only one) into one bag and deems it inferior to (I presume) “White culture” improved by the gospel. He does that while failing to mention that the supposedly gospel-enlightened white culture has its boot on the necks of people in the “inferior” black culture. His comments fail to sense this incongruity and it fails to acknowledge that a black culture of both resistance to inhumanity and promotion of everyone’s humanity—whites included—was well under way. One might argue that a culture of such tolerance, patience, and humanity is superior to one lacking those traits, no matter it’s economic and technological state.

Third, these comments fail to be sensitive to the fact that this very notion of cultural superiority has led to imperialistic abuses in the name of “civilization” all over the world. It was one justification for European colonization and a host of resultant crimes against others. It was justification, as Wilson notes (p. 34), for the racist attitude and actions of others.

These comments are racially and culturally insensitive to a host of things. In fact, shortly after the last quote, Wilson reveals an indifference that probably contributed to the tone and insensitivity of Black and Tan. “For those who do not want to listen to the argument, I have nothing more to say. For some, the mere denial of egalitarianism is enough to brand one as a racist forever, and since I am interested in taunting egalitarianism every chance I get, I have little hope of gaining there favor” (p. 34). Wilson seems to be digging in. I suspect that attitude, while aimed at his detractors at the time, creates a blind spot for Wilson when it comes to perceiving how his words wound others not in his immediate view. In stoning himself against those who call him “racist,” he may in fact have made himself insensitive to a ton of other people as well.

Little Black Sambo

In a more autobiographical section of the book, Wilson recalls a high school town meeting to discuss racial harmony.  He was a student on that panel and recalls that, “One of my co-panelists was aggrieved over the book Little Black Sambo. But Sambo was not an African American; he was from the subcontinent. And besides, as I recall saying that evening, I had nothing but the highest respect for Sambo. If anyone asked me to turn tigers into butter for my pancakes, I confess that I would be entirely nonplussed” (p. 24).

Honestly, I staggered over the racial insensitivity in these comments. Not only that, I couldn’t fathom how these comments served any real purpose in understanding one another. I suppose most readers will know that Sambo came to be a very hurtful racial trope and image. It’s a racial slur and Sambo iconography, like the “Mammy” figures once so prevalent, exaggerate and transmogrify racial features so much that many African Americans still have deep visceral reactions to them. They’ve been such a potent tool of hatred, oppression and misrepresentation that I simply can’t fathom why Wilson would (a) miss his co-panelists grief over the book and the racial insensitivity associated with it and (b) trivialize the entire matter with comments about butter for pancakes. If you want to know what racial insensitivity looks like, it looks like this anecdote. With all Wilson’s learning and reflection on these issues, it’s difficult for me not to think this anecdote isn’t an example of that racial insensitivity born of willful ignorance.

More Skilled at Confessing the Supposed Sins of Black People

“None of us is clean in himself. So do whites need to seek and receive forgiveness for their treatment of the black man? Absolutely. But blacks also need the cleansing blood of Christ—some of it for treatment of fellow blacks, some for responding to white hatred with hatred, some of it for taking mistreatment of a great-grandfather as a license for crime, and so on. We are, all of us, sinners. And it is not fitting for a sinner to look sideways at someone else and say, ‘Well, I’m less of a sinner than you’” (pp. 29-30).

Reading this I was left wondering, Why is Wilson so expert at confessing Black people’s sins and so slight and general in confessing the sins of white people in a book partially about slavery? He’s certainly correct to say we all need forgiveness. But that’s not all he says. He goes on to identify a few instances of sin that Blacks need to be cleansed of. The net effect is that Black people come off looking like the bad guys in a book about slavery! Again, all of this without attending in any way to the causative factors of white oppression. Instead, he imagines some black people justifying their crime by referring to a great-grandfather’s mistreatment. The section reads like a chastisement of Black people. I don’t doubt that some people need chastisement. But the question is whether Wilson displays any sensitivity in making these comments. I don’t think so. He seems to conveniently forget that whites commit crimes against whites; whites claim Twinkies made them kill their parents;  and whites have used the “mistreatment” of other whites as grounds for their mistreatment of blacks. Do we remember Emmet Till who supposedly offended a white woman, or Rosewood, or even Trayvon Martin whose offense was walking while Black*? Wilson’s comments here lack tact, compassion, and charity. They are, in a phrase, “racially insensitive.”

On Black Lives and the Implied Charge of Black Indifference to Abortion

Finally, I find it insensitive toward black life that Wilson and many commenters continually bring up black lives in abortion in this discussion but refuse to countenance the cost of black lives in the antebellum South. For instance, Wilson writes: “Who cannot lament the damage to both white and black that has occurred as a consequence of the way in which slavery was abolished? I am forced to say that, in many ways, the remedy which has been applied has resulted in problems that are every bit as bad as the original disease ever was. Christians who doubt this should consider whether it was safer to be a black child in the womb in 1858 or in 2005″ (p. 60).

I don’t get the sense from the overall tone of the book that Wilson was truly “forced” to write these things. One gets the sense that he took a kind of delight in saying them. And I can’t help but see the omissions and blind spots that make these comments insensitive. We’re frequently told of the over 600,000 lives lost in the Civil War but not once do I recall a mention of the 4-5 times that number of lives lost in the Middle Passage and Southern slavery up to the war. It strikes me as at least inconsistent and at worst opportunistic to emphasize one’s concern for black lives today while writing in a manner that suggests indifference to black lives then.

Moreover, many of these comments insinuate that Black people themselves are callously disinterested in Black life today. Case in point: This paragraph from Wilson’s initial post struck me as tremendously insensitive about men he does not know (at least he does not know me):

The blood of Jesus also makes it possible for the white liberal to repent of his exasperating and cloying insistence on a soft bigotry of low expectations, coupled with his destructive subsidies of all the wrong things in the black community. But the blood of Jesus makes it possible for the liberal to repent of Margaret Sanger’s war on black children in utero. In addition, it requires that he repent of celebrating, and giving awards to, those rap thugs who want to teach America’s next generation to think of black women as bitches and ho’s who are supposed to be beneath contempt. In the face of this demolition job being run on the black family by progressivism, with black children killed by the million, and black women publicly degraded by black men, and other black men standing by letting them, let’s get out there and rebuke the three remaining people who think that Robert E. Lee was an honorable man. Way to keep the priorities straight.

Brothers, I don’t have a problem with you standing up for and protecting your people. I do have a problem with your failure to do so.

Ouch! Whoa! All this from a blog post and a tweet. I don’t know how “the soft bigotry of low expectations” or liberal support of “destructive subsidies of all the wrong things in the black community” came into all of this. But it sounds to me like so much racially-loaded and insensitive speak. I’ve never given awards to “rap thugs” and I don’t use the language Wilson felt free to use in description of black women. And I don’t regard myself as “standing by” while such treatment goes on or children are killed. Nor do I think any of Wilson imaginings in these paragraphs amount to my failure to stand up for and protect my people. They’re his imagination and racially insensitive ones at that.

To be frank, I think Wilson should retract statements made in Black and Tan and really should apologize for the comments made in his post, “With a Bit of Menthol.” These comments are well beyond the lines drawn for us by our Lord in His word.

Conclusion

There are other examples I thought to provide. But this has gone on far longer than I’d hoped or planned. I wish I could write these things more succinctly. On second thought, I wish I didn’t have to write these things at all. I wish racially insensitive comments were not a part of Black and Tan, or a part of any internet exchanges between brothers. But, such comments are and we have to try to charitably work through them. I pray this post has made even incremental progress to that end. Racial insensitivity (and racism) is real. The hurt it causes is real. The loss to the church and its witness is real. But real, too, is the power of the Holy Spirit, the hope of the gospel, and the indwelling of Christ which can lift us above these thins by actually resolving them and reconciling. May the Lord be pleased to grant us such victory with one another and not over one another.

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* A couple of readers of this post found this reference to Trayvon Martin insensitive. I take their point and have offered an apology in the comments thread and separately in this post. I asked their counsel as to whether to leave the comment in the post or delete it. Those who replied suggested leaving it in the post with this kind of notation. Again, I offer a sincere apology for using a reference that would cause confusion, consternation, doubt, or anger for any reader. In an effort to argue for sensitivity in our communication about volatile issues, I certainly do not want to be insensitive in the process. May the Lord be gracious to us all.

In my last post regarding the historical outlook of Black and Tan, I included a post-script which I’d hoped would encourage us all to step back from “our” narratives to more fully consider the perspectives of others. I was contending that we live in a multicultural, multi-ethnic, multi-everything world. I think that’s irrefutable.

Today, Wilson responded with another very charitable engagement with my critique of Black and Tan‘s view of history and a push-back regarding my post-script.

Not responding to every response has helped Wilson and I keep the conversation moving and prevented us from being bogged down into very fine details. Those details are relevant but probably don’t fit a blog format very well. That’s why we have books with footnotes and the like. So, I don’t intend this to get us down into the thicket of historical detail or twist us in the brier of “he said-she said.” But I do want to attempt a quick reply to Wilson’s latest post with the hope of mutual understanding and charitable iron-sharpening.

Like Wilson, I have found every post in this back-and-forth to meet the requirements of Ephesians 4:29 and the Bible’s call for charity between brothers who disagree. I’m grateful–deeply grateful–for Wilson’s spirit in all of this because we’ve all seen our share of internet exchanges that fail to meet the tests of Scripture. So, Doug, “thank you” again for being willing to engage and for staking out your positions with a concern for truth and grace. I would have left comments like this on your blog several times by now but for some reason I can’t get the comment feature to work even though I’m registered. Oh well, on to my reply.

Critique 1: Black and Tan is not history.

Wilson concedes this point, but adds in his defense: “First, Thabiti is quite right that B&T is not, and was not intended to be, a work of history proper. I agree that my book is more a statement of an historical outlook than it is a foundation for that historical outlook. This approach has its limitations, but they need not be crippling limitations.” He then goes on to mention Genovese’s helpful comments on the manuscript and commendation of Wilson’s grasp of the intersection between American slavery and Christian theology.

Actually, I do think the book’s weaknesses here are “crippling.” The book doesn’t merely assert that “slavery was not that bad,” it goes on to argue that relationships between slaves and their owners were really quite good and to assert the outstanding Christian character of the South. Those assertions, it seems to me, are critical for the book’s analogy to abortion and our contemporary responses to abortion to hold. For if American chattel slavery fails to display the more benign character Wilson holds, the entire thing becomes a house of cards. Consequently, for such a dramatically revised view of the history to “stick” most thoughtful readers will require documentation well beyond the brief citations of a couple secondary works. Moreover, Genovese’s commendation doesn’t bolster the book’s argument, nor should we take it as a golden seal of approval. The Decline of African-American Theology boasts an endorsement from Dr. Dwight N. Hopkins, widely regarded as a leader in Black Liberation Theology and heir-apparent to James Cone. He says, “Thabiti Anyabwile builds on rich religious scholarship for the black church in the U.S.A.” I’m grateful for his endorsement and taking the time to read the book. But, judging from the differences between Dr. Hopkins’ emphasis and my own, that comment can hardly be interpreted as an unqualified endorsement of the book. Likewise, we don’t want to make too much of Genovese’s endorsement of Black and Tan, especially if said endorsement is being offered as a substitute for historical groundwork.

Critique 2: Black and Tan attempts a revision of history.

Here, I argued that Wilson needed to provide a lot of historical evidence if he was going to overturn the well-established narrative about American chattel slavery’s dehumanizing nature. To which Wilson replied, “Thabiti points to the “massive claim” that slavery was more benign than the literature of the abolitionists indicated. But I believe that this point really was established by Fogel and Engerman, and I cited them as having made it.”

I’d simply say that citing one source is nowhere near sufficient for substantiating the historical outlook Wilson maintains in Black and Tan. I suspect that if a student of Wilson’s attempted to counter the Southern conservative intellectual tradition’s narrative regarding, say, state’s rights, Wilson would require more than a reference to a Lincoln biographer writing 150 years later. Citing one source–a source very much debated–simply doesn’t hold muster when it comes to making a case on the magnitude that Black and Tan assumes.

Critique #3: Black and Tan needed to interact with a wider range of sources and opinions.

On this critique Wilson writes, “I think this is an entirely reasonable point. I have no objection to doing something like that….” He sees himself as doing that now, by which I take him to refer to these exchanges. He believes having done this “would have made Black and Tan a better book.” I agree, and I’m glad we agree. I hope that some future work from Wilson might attempt to remedy this omission and that he might especially use source material left by slaves themselves. Throughout Black and Tan I kept wondering, “But why doesn’t he include some statements from Black people themselves regarding what slavery was like?” Some good general introductions would be Mellon’s Bullwhip Days and Johnson’s, God Struck Me Dead. Both include first-hand narratives from the perspective of slaves in the twilight of the institution, and the conversion testimonies in God Struck Me Dead have useful glimpses into the slave’s perspective on that intersection of slavery and Christian theology. Including material of this sort would not only make Black and Tan a better book, it would make Black and Tan a different book.

Critique #4: Post-Mill assumptions make Black and Tan’s judgment of Southern history too optimistic

That was my contention, which I did not develop. I had in mind comments like: “The discipleship of the nations is a process. This means that the South was (along with all other nations) in transition from a state of pagan autonomy to one of full submission to the Lordship of Christ. Christian influence in the South was considerable and extensive, but the laws of the South still fell short of the biblical pattern. In spite of this, the Christian influence on antebellum Southern culture surpassed most other nations in the world of that time” (pp. 51-52).

Wilson writes in his post today that “postmill thinking doesn’t require us to believe that the past was altogether rosy. There are many historical hellholes that I believe were genuine hellholes, and this is not in tension with my postmillennialism at all.” I agree that post-mill thinking doesn’t require a unilaterally rosy view of the past. But I think Wilson’s view of the South falls far closer to “rosy” than “hellhole.” I suspect that assuming the possibility of something called a “Christian nation” and “the discipleship of nations” and a national “full submission to the Lordship of Christ” has a lot to do with post-mill understandings. If so, I think it’s corrupting Wilson’s view of the South precisely by making him too optimistic about its character and past. Without a fuller articulation of the historical evidence and/or how his post-mill views play into all this, I’m at least left guessing that’s the way his millennial views are at work.

The Post-Script on Multicultural Realities and Perspectives

Finally, in his critique of my post-script, Wilson wrote in part:

I would want us to be careful to distinguish multicultural realities, which are characteristic of our triune God’s creativity, and multiculturalism, which is a false and very postmodern way of refusing to privilege any historical narrative whatever. But such a refusal, in order to be workable at all, would have to include the scriptural narrative of creation, fall, flood, exile, return, not to mention the death and resurrection of the Messiah. Postmodernists don’t like any metanarrative – and the Bible is the biggest hegemon of them all. But then, after postmodernism has rejected all hegemonic stories, it keels over and points all four hooves toward the sky, and quietly decomposes into the future of every form of relativism.

I am as much concerned about the next hegemon as I am about the last one, and my concerns about the last one are largely wrapped up in wanting to learn the appropriate lessons so that we might not get ourselves a tyrant for the next one. In order to do this we have to assert that while we don’t have automatic access to a God’s-eye-view of history, there nevertheless is a God, and therefore there is a God’s-eye-view of history. He has given us a good portion of an inspired history in Scripture so that we might learn how to imitate it, and we should do our best to do exactly that. As we do our best, we know that we are fallible and so we should always be open to correction. We should do history with a confident humility, and a humble confidence.

Okay, now it’s time for me to say, “I’m not that kind of multiculturalist” in the same way that Wilson might say, “I’m not that kind of ‘Confederate’ or ‘neo-Confederate’.” That is to say, in conversations like this we always face the danger of not defining terms or pausing to know what the other guys means when they say ‘x’.

I completely agree with Wilson that there is a comprehensive, infallible, exhaustive meta-narrative. It is God’s metanarrative. Our Lord knows all, sees all, ordains all, and governs all. He comprehends the ends from the beginning, and I shout with the sacred writer, “Let God be true and every man a liar!” I want to ratify, endorse, sign off on, and cheer the call to “do history with a confident humility, and a humble confidence.” That’s well-stated, in typical Wilson fashion.

However, I think ethnic minorities and White evangelicals use “multicultural” and “multiculturalism” in two entirely different ways. When almost every ethnic minority I’ve ever had the conversation with uses the term “multicultural” or “multiculturalism,” they’re simply talking about the inclusion of their persons and their perspectives in the broader story of America or whatever story is in view at the time. It’s a way of saying, “We’re here, too.” I can’t think of a single conversation where a person from an ethnic background used “multiculturalism” as a joust against meta-narrative. We use it to push back on hegemony and the assumed normative nature of White western ideals and values, but not against the very nature of truth or of God’s controlling narrative. So we bristle and, quite honestly, assume the worst when we hear our white brethren rail against “multiculturalism.” It sounds to us like an adamant argument against our inclusion in the discourse and the history–an exclusion which we have historically felt the brunt of.

But I’ve learned that most of my White evangelical brothers are usually referring to something else entirely when they talk about the “ism” of “multiculturalism.” They’re stiffening their backs to defend the idea of absolute truth against the kind of “postmodern relativity” Wilson mentions. They’re aware of the postmodern theorists who really do deny any overarching story one could call in any absolute sense “true.” They deny Francis Schaeffer’s notion of “true truth” and embrace the skepticism of Derrida, Foucault and others. I happily join my white brothers in the fight against such claims!

But postmodernism–whether an academic or man on the street variety–is not at all what I mean when I use the term “multicultural” or “multiculturalism.” When my White friends think “postmodernism” while I’m thinking “include me,” we’re having two different conversations drawing upon two different experience from our respective “worlds,” and we’re missing each other completely. One walks away thinking, That’s a white supremacist racist way of viewing me, history, etc. The other walks away thinking, I’m tired of these attempts to deny the truth and to overthrow what’s good about my history, culture, and people. In the vast majority of cases, both walk away with false conclusions because they haven’t understood the other’s use of the term or the underlying concerns.

And this use of “multiculturalism” in our back and forth, it seems to me, illustrates and proves the point of my post-script. Unless we make room to really listen to one another and hear what the other is saying and meaning we doom ourselves to disastrous results. Wilson writes near the end of his post, “while I believe that it is valuable to hear different multicultural perspectives of different groups, especially on a subject as convoluted as this one, we must do so in a way that clearly resists every form of relativism.” Amen. And, we must also do so in a way that clearly questions the centrality of our own experience.

This exchange regarding “multiculturalism” proves another point as well: Listening is hard, slow work. Even when we’ve worked as hard as Wilson has to hear me, or as hard as I’ve worked to hear Wilson, it’s still entirely possible to misfire at various points. Then we have to go back and listen all over again–perhaps suspecting ourselves and our assumptions a bit more. It’s hard, slow work, but I think it’s worth it.

During my days of touring college campuses to hear men like Molefi Asante, Yosef ben Jochanon, Ivan van Sertima, Naim Akbar, and Wade Nobles wax poetic about Africentrism, African history, and the need for a genuinely multicultural American society, it was commonplace to argue that history was his story (lower case ‘h’). So much of what makes it into print in the widely published and standard texts, we were told, was written from the vantage point of white western elites who knew little of the peoples and cultures of Africa. We studiously took our place in the narrative wars of history and counter-history. Not only is one man’s terrorist another man’s freedom fighter, but it turns out that one man’s conspiracy theorist is another man’s historian.

I’m reminded of all this reading many of the comments and responses in the threads to these posts on Black and Tan. Many have questioned Wilson’s history of the American South, and others have fired back with facts and quotes in defense of that view. Every quote is met with a counter-quote, and on it goes. It sometimes looks like the amateur historian’s version of the preacher’s weak proof text (which is sometimes really a pretext for an a priori position).

In an earlier post, I thought we might be able to skip any discussion of the underlying history involved. I thought that because Wilson and I hold very similar views of the biblical texts, their priority, and their implications. I was hoping for some progress on biblical grounds, since we both think that’s precisely the ground at stake and the ground upon which Christians should stand. But, it seems a few general remarks about history and about Black and Tan‘s history are warranted.

An Appreciation

Let me begin with an appreciation. I’m grateful for Wilson’s defense of the generalist historian. Wilson understands that there’s no way to be a good pastor without having at least a general grip on history—secular and redemptive. He writes, “Historical laymen should read broadly enough to make sure they are not reading some truncated account or other, but neither should they be embarrassed by the necessity of popularizing the material” (pp. 8-9). I agree with this sentiment entirely. I join with Wilson in both appreciating the necessary role specialists play while affirming that all us non-specialists have a stake and role in telling the story as well. After all, good history has to be our story too.

Some Concerns with Black and Tan‘s Approach to History

But having said that, the “history” assumed in Black and Tan does provoke a few concerns. These concerns need to be touched upon because our view of what happened shapes our view of who we are, what is, and what ought to be. Again, Wilson and I agree: If we get the past wrong we’re likely to get every subsequent thing wrong, also. So to avoid that domino effect, we need to give attention to historical method.

From my perspective, Black and Tan is lacking in four ways.

First, Black and Tan is not history. The book makes claims about history, but it’s not a presentation or exposition of history in any sense that I could recognize. Now, I realize that Black and Tan is in many ways Wilson’s apologetic for Slavery As It Was—a work I have not read but understand to have presented more history than Black and Tan. Perhaps Wilson allows himself the convenience of not restating the arguments of Slavery As It Was. But the consequence, as he puts it, is a book with “an ad-hoc, ragtaggy feel” (p. 119). In my reading, that “feel” is felt most where historical claims are in view.

It’s difficult to offer a critique of the history since there’s no clear substantive historical basis to the book. For example, Wilson writes that “it is necessary to get clear on the nature of American slavery, which was not what it’s abolitionist opponents claimed for it” (p. 4). But he doesn’t give us either a sustained critique of abolitionist claims or a sustained argument for a different view. That being the case, readers of the book who take seriously the book’s claims about the nature of Southern slavery or the South in general are at least going to have to do a lot of homework themselves or at worst be prone to making serious mistakes in understanding the who, why, and what of contemporary society. We have to be careful here. How can we with intellectual integrity take the premise of Slavery as It Was as true without its doing anything to overturn the eyewitness testimony in American Slavery as It Is: Testimony of a Thousand Witnesses, for example? I chuckled at the amazing similarity of the titles. Then I thought to myself, What makes one title more reliable than the other? Until Wilson offers a substantive history, I’m afraid the burden of proof rests with him against eyewitness testimony.

Second, Black and Tan attempts historical revision. Wilson knows that “History is storytelling” and “Faithful history is faithful storytelling” (p. 8). But he’s concerned that the storytelling regarding American slavery and the South haven’t been all that faithful. He knows that facts matter, that “we… read the story with our loyalties intact,” and “Humility is hard” (p. 9). Wilson rightly maintains that “Objectivity is a false god” (p. 10), that “Some historians sin through hagiography and others sin through debunking” (p. 11), that it’s possible that “after about a hundred years or so, [political correctness] turns into historical correctness” (p. 11), and that “Proud ignorance is no better than proud knowledge” (p. 12). I take this to mean Wilson understands how fraught with complexity and pitfalls writing and re-writing history can be.

But he contends that the established narrative about slavery and the Civil War needs revising at critical points lest we misunderstand ourselves and our present cultural battles. “Some of the things that we think are slam-dunk certainties will almost certainly turn out not to be” (p. 10). Central to the book’s thesis and Wilson’s logic is the notion that “antebellum slavery was the normal kind of sinful situation” rather than “Apocalyptic Evil” (p. 4). In defense of Slavery as It Was, Wilson writes, “It was the contention of this booklet that the way in which slavery ended has had ongoing deleterious consequences for modern Christians in our current culture wars, and that slavery was far more benign in practice than it was made to appear in the literature of the abolitionists” (p. 14; emphasis added). That’s a massive claim.

So the first thing we ought to ask as good readers is, “How does the author know that?” The first responsibility of any writer must be to make his or her case clear to the reader. As someone that’s written his own book attempting some historical revision, I think I know two things: (1) such revisions are needful and can be helpful, and (2) if you’re going to attempt revising a long-held historical narrative you’d better bring plenty of evidence to substantiate your claims!

The worst kind of revisionist history is the kind that claims without certifying. Because Black and Tan suffers in that way, it’s vulnerable to every “Southern” agenda that opportunistically makes use of such claims. If for no other reasons, I hope Wilson will significantly modify this book to protect himself from those agendas and to make real contributions to a rich and still contested history. That will require more than mere assertion; it’ll require argumentation from source material and without the entanglements that keep us from being heard.

Third, Black and Tan represents a biased retelling of history. Wilson rightly points out that we all “do history” from a vantage point and questions how completely “objective” we can be in writing history. But though we’re not omniscient and though our assumptions influence us—sometimes unwittingly—it’s another thing altogether to adopt a point-of-view so deeply that we only present those things that confirm our bias. I think Black and Tan fails in this way.

Wilson tells us from the start that “to grasp the central issues, it is necessary to be steeped in a particular intellectual tradition” (p. 5). He has “the Southern conservative intellectual tradition” in mind. He doesn’t tell us why we must be “steeped” in that tradition. Instead, Wilson notes a deep hostility among some critics of this tradition and suspects no amount of argumentation will get through to them. We all know critics like that, don’t we? But it seems, those critics notwithstanding, Wilson has perhaps put himself in the lamentable position of preaching only to the choir of the Southern conservative intellectual tradition. He may be putting the pertinent facts and events outside the “grasp” of people from other traditions. That bias significantly limits the usefulness of this book.

That biased perspective also significantly curtails the range of resources used in Black and Tan. I counted roughly 90-95 footnotes in the work. Only a handful of those referenced historical works actually focusing on the antebellum South or the Civil War. There were two books by Eugene Genovese, A Consuming Fire and The Southern Front. Fogel and Engerman’s Time on the Cross was cited along with Weaver’s Southern Tradition at Bay. Dabney receives a number of notations. Apart from Dabney, who ardently defended the South and slavery, Genovese receives the most frequent approving citations. Wilson describes Genovese as “a modern and sympathetic critic of the South” (p. 59). But what about other views of the South and slavery written either by Southerners or about them? We’re not treated to any other perspectives. Even when Black and Tan calls upon Black writers like Benjamin Quarles, it does so to document the fact that a “small handful” of Blacks fought for the South in the Civil War (p. 73). Anyone who knows Quarles’ work knows Quarles would be unsympathetic with Wilson’s premise and probably chagrined to see his book brought into this service.

I understand that Black and Tan was written amidst controversy and a lot of criticism and personal attack. I understand how that context could make a person pessimistic about his opponents giving him a fair shake. I simply wish the book would have engaged the histories and story-telling outside the Southern conservative intellectual tradition. Having failed to do that, Black and Tan simply affirms its a priori assumptions.

Fourth, the post-mil perspective of Black and Tan makes it too optimistic about the South’s history. Much has been said about this already. I won’t belabor the point except to say that given the first three limitations this final perspective surely corrupts Wilson’s reading of the South and its culture.

For these reasons we should not think of or use Black and Tan as resource on either the historical period in question or a helpful way to understand our present situation. Wilson writes early on in Black and Tan: “the fact that I am willing to teach on historical subjects does not mean that I somehow think I am infallible. I have been wrong on numerous points over the years—sometimes the mistake is mine, and sometimes a source leads me astray. The point of all this is simply to say that on such subjects I am always open to correction, and moreover I am eager for it” (p. 3). Thus far, Wilson has been nothing but gracious. We’ve found ourselves agreeing on a number of things along the way. I suspect we’ll find a good amount to disagree about regarding the actual history of the South and slavery. I hope, and have no reason to think otherwise, that he’ll be willing to consider these points about the history assumed in Black and Tan and make modifications at a number of points.

A Post-Script

History belongs to us all—not just the winners. Wilson and I agree about that. I want to end my critique of the “history” in Black and Tan at this point. I just want to say a few things about us all and our readings and conversations about history.

It’s imperative that we (by which I mean all people and Christian people, in particular) understand that we don’t share the same experience of the same events. If we’re going to grow in understanding one another, we’ll have to allow the other to tell their story with empathy for “their side.” I don’t begrudge Southerners telling their history and defending themselves at various points along the way. Likewise, other Southerners (for to be “Southern” is not one thing), African Americans, Northerners, etc. have other stories to tell about the same events. But much of the rhetoric in the comments thread hasn’t allowed the same courtesy to others. When that happens we fall prey to thinking there’s only one objective, infallible history—and usually we think it’s ours.

I’ve noted the occasional jab at “public school education” and textbooks used there. I’ve read the disdaining remarks about “multiculturalism” and “postmodern relativism.” These are the charges and labels used whenever some have contended that “there’s another side” to that told in Black and Tan or, more often, by those who seem to support the work.

Such rejections are problematic for a number of reasons. First, they reveal an unwillingness to deal with the world as it really is. We already live—like it or not—in a multicultural, multi-ethnic, multi-everything world. We’ll either engage it fruitfully or bury ourselves under an avalanche of sentimental “histories” of bygone eras. Second, such rejections generally take for granted the normative nature of one’s own cultural and historical vantage point. This always leads to misunderstanding. Third, these rejections really serve a hegemonic purpose and refuse to admit as legitimate the counter-narratives caused by that hegemony. The 19^th century saw a lot of White Southern talk about “civilization” and the greatness of Western civilization. That talk is still with us. Many of those who take that view can’t fathom why African Americans, for example, talk much about African civilizations and the contributions of African Americans to our present “western” civilization. They don’t see (or refuse to see in some cases) how the “White Western civilization” narrative, which has historically disenfranchised and dehumanized Black people, necessitated a counter-narrative to correct the caricatures, misrepresentations, and racist viewpoints. In other words, we’re locked in this battle of telling and re-telling precisely because some people refuse to admit there are more people in the portrait than just those resembling themselves.

As W. Fitzhugh Brundage documents so insightfully in The Southern Past: A Clash of Race and Memory, the battle of competing narratives has been literally carved into the landscape of the South and has been encoded in racial memory. To come back to Wilson for a moment, he’s surely correct to contend that the effects of the Civil War live with us and the way the War ended slavery impacts our lives today. I just think it impacts us and our relationships across “racial” lines more than it does public policy. So, for my concluding post, I’ll comment on this issue of “racial insensitivity” and why I think it’s legitimate to point to Black and Tan as an example.