“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing is a field.
I’ll meet you there.”
(ancient proverb)
On a warm September evening, a young man was eating ice cream on his couch in his apartment. He was watching TV when someone entered his apartment and killed him. The simplicity of an innocent man shot and murdered in his own home gives way to the complexity of the situation. The victim was black, and the suspect was white. The victim was a Christian man working with a local church’s youth, and the suspect was an off duty police officer. The victim’s story was simple, though sources tried to convolute it. The suspect’s story never really made sense. The officer worked a double shift and mistook the victim’s apartment for her own (how didn’t she notice the bright red “welcome” mat at the door?). Instead of calling for backup, she immediately pulled her weapon to kill what she thought was an intruder.
The victim, Botham Jean, from Saint Lucia, an island in the eastern Caribbean, was part of my fold. He was rooted in Churches of Christ, baptized at the age of nine, and a graduate of my alma mater, Harding University. From all accounts, he was a leader and servant, always looking to help his community and the people he contacted. All of who he was and could have been was stripped from him by one moment in time.
As we watched this story unfold, and I suspect that Botham’s story continues to unfold, three items are worth underscoring. First, the “black and white” dynamic is too obvious to ignore: a black man is shot to death by a white cop. It’s uncomfortable for me to even write those words. The pieces of evidence that emerged to turn this from a mistaken or careless moment into racism escalated when the Dallas Police Department attempted a smear campaign to discredit Botham’s character (a lawsuit is underway). Then, during the sentencing hearing, the officer’s text messages revealed racially charged statements. Whether or not the murder was racially motivated is still debated. That the officer held on to racists’ thoughts and expressed them to friends makes this moment feel like a racially charged crime.
Secondly, our country is still struggling to find justice in our criminal cases. The now ex-cop was given a 10 year jail sentence with possible parole in five years. The prosecution was hoping for a 28 year sentence to reflect Botham’s age at the time of the incident. She could have been given up to 99 years, which seemed to be the hope of the protesters. The justice system is supposed to be blind, but too often does view the world in “black and white.” Data in the prison systems will confirm that more people of color go to jail, and are given harsher sentences than those who are white. So while the Constitution speaks of equality, the application of the Constitution gets distorted by our own bias, prejudice and preconceived opinions rooted in the color of people. We are a fallen and sinful people.
Finally, the path forward came on the day of sentencing. Botham’s brother, Brandt, took the stand. He looked at the defendant, Amber Guyer, and what could have been words filled with hate and anger, were words filled with compassion and mercy. “I love you,” he said, “just like anyone else and I’m not going to hope you rot and die. I personally want the best for you . . . because I know that’s what Botham would want for you . . ..” He then turned to the judge and asked if he could give Amber a hug. She granted the unorthodox request. Brandt took only a couple of steps toward Amber when she ran into his arms like they were long lost friends reunited, like the way the Prodigal Son should have been welcomed home by his brother.
On a warm October afternoon, a young man is sitting in the grace of his reward and he smiles. He smiles, not because of his reward, but because his Savior gave his brother the power to seek justice, mercy and faithfulness, which is always beyond the black and white.
Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)