Emanuel African American Methodist Episcopal Church

Emanuel African American Methodist Episcopal Church—Charleston, SC

The Black Church—A Welcoming Community

We celebrated Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day this week, and my thoughts returned to the nine brothers and sisters in Christ who were murdered in Emanuel African American Methodist Episcopal Church. Please allow me give you some context.

One of the highest privileges in my teaching career, was to be asked to teach a class of 24 black pastors in the Black Studies Program at Azusa Pacific University’s graduate school of theology. I learned more from them than I was able to impart. Later, as a pastor in Cambridge Massachusetts, and an adjunct professor in Gordon-Conwell Seminary’s urban campus CUME (an educational institution created to make graduate studies affordable for pastors of color) for 10 years, I was privileged to stand in front of classes, where the same principle applied. My experience has always been one of acceptance and welcome. I have been invited to preach and participate in their church services. Every step I took toward the black community, it seemed as though they took at least two steps toward me.

The editor of the Explorer, David Rupkalvis, a local Oro Valley and Marana, Arizona newspaper, wrote an editorial about the tragic shooting of the black congregants in Charleston, South Carolina under the title, “Love the Real Story in South Carolina.” He gave me his permission to include these excerpts in this post.

“A local (black) church in Sierra Vista, started in the pastor’s home and eventually bought land and built a church on the outskirts of Sierra Vista. That church happened to be a few blocks from the home of my wife’s aunt and uncle… They enjoyed it so much, my in-laws started attending and then my family followed

“For several years, we were members of the “black” church and not one time did anyone question it. At that church, I was as welcome as anyone. My family eventually had leadership positions, we were welcomed at every level. Skin color was irrelevant.

“My story and my memories came flooding back as I write this, not because members of a black church were killed in a heinous crime. No, it was the way those members in one of their last acts on earth welcomed a lone white man into their midst in their final minutes on earth, they showed the love of God, loving a man who was planning to kill them. It’s that love that resonates with me and that love that offers hope even in this time of tragedy.”

To hear the story of these beautiful people in Charleston, South Carolina, and how welcoming they were of this young man, based on our own experiences, was very true to form. These church leaders were having a private Bible study and prayer time together. It would have been normal for them to have said to him that he should return later during office hours and they would be glad to speak with him then. But they opened their circle, placed a chair beside the pastor, and welcomed him as one of their own. And then after the dastardly deed was done, and members of the family were able to address this young man, to a person they said to him, “I forgive you.” Such grace—such a demonstration of the power of the gospel in the lives of people, only enhances the grace of God found in the people of this church.

The beauty and grace of these people was such a powerful testimony of true Christianity, that the broadcast media had nothing more to say. Yes, they refer to it, but to my knowledge there has been almost no extensive reporting since forgiveness was offered. Why is that? The shooter, I believe, told the police that he wanted to start a race war. And yet, the power of forgiveness stopped him and the broadcast media in their tracks.

Keep in mind, the black church is virtually the only institution in our country where they are fully in charge. Yet, the black church is completely welcoming of anyone who enters the “sanctuary” of its walls. There must be something we can learn from their story, my story, and David’s story. If only the white church could become just as welcoming. Might this be a seed from which the flower of reconciliation can emerge?