I entered college to become an engineer. I left, ten years afterward, with two degrees in engineering and something that no gilded picture frame could contain. I had a zeal for missions, community development, and reconciliation.

How did this happen to a little black girl from the sticks of North Carolina? Not sure. I blame it all on God.

My major, biological and agricultural engineering, was dominated by good old boys just like I’d gone to high school with. They chewed tobacco in class and listened to Reba McEntire in the student lounge. They roasted peanuts in the lab, while crafting the latest innovations in biomedical and agricultural robotics engineering. Although I was the only black student for most of that decade and one of precious few women, I was very comfortable there.

I was also very comfortable in the rank and file of a student-led group called the United Student Fellowship, or USF for short. We had Bible study every Friday night and church services (led by an outside minister) on Sunday morning. We passed out tracts on campus and had evangelism outreach to freshmen in the fall. I served on the leadership team for more than five years.  Except for the occasional white visitor, we were an all-black student organization.

Then there was InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. I liked InterVarsity. A lot. I belonged to the largest chapter on campus (we had three). I was a regular at large group. And attended early morning prayer religiously. Praying in the student union as the sun rose over campus was one of my fondest memories.

As you might expect, my experiences singing and clapping in church service with USF were different from my experiences in IV large group. Worlds different. But both shaped me as a believer. I would not be the person I am today had it not been for those quiet moments in large group with hands raised, listening to the last melodic chords of a praise song.  Similarly, I would be a very different Christian had I never been part of the loud and rowdy praises that went up at USF. Both groups filled a need in me and helped me connect with God on many levels.

Even though we ‘never got together’ as Christian groups. I don’t regret my involvement in either. I do regret one decision that I made in haste.

Somewhere around my sophomore year, one of the IV staffers approached me to become a student leader. We called it being on ‘exec.’ The request shocked and offended me.

‘He’s just doing this because you’re black,’ I thought. I told him I’d give it some thought (and prayer) and get back with him in a few days. A few days later, I told him ‘no.’

I chalk that decision up to my own stupidity and small mindedness. All my fault. Not a single ounce of God in that choice.

Were you in InterVarsity? How about another Christian student group? Did it strive for reconciliation and inclusion? Please share.

WHITE-LABEL MARKETING

My first real exposure to the Emergent Church Movement was through a Christian book brochure in 2008. I was doing a few book signings at the International Christian Retail Show. As I flipped through the pages of trendy 20-something white males sporting goatee and cool shades holding the latest emergent church book, I realized that I’d seen these images in Christian advertising before but didn’t have a word for it until that moment. Emergent.

It seems writer and pastor Soong-Chan Rah has had a similar epiphany. He writes more about his connection (or rather disconnection) with the label on Sojourners.

From the outside looking in, I have to admit that the Emergent Church Movement is very effective from a marketing standpoint. The men who started the movement, mapped it out with the help of the best post-modern church marketing minds. Their results hit smack dab in the middle of their target market, which unfortunately didn’t include people of color.

MEET THE NEW BOSS. SAME AS THE OLD BOSS

The primarily-white churches in my city that would identify themselves as being part of the Emergent Church Movement are made up of middle- to upper-class folks. I’ve visited the largest one several times. Even volunteered in their MOPS program. It’s a fascinating machine, in a sense.

It’s interesting to note that despite the presence of body piercings and tattoos, these new and emerging church populations reflect the same whitebred values of their parents and grandparents.

Their leaderships are just as white (with the occasional non-white). Their ministries cater to those with money and means. They have fancy coffee in the lobby, next to the lounge chairs. And Christian celebrities visit on a regular basis.

Racial diversity is relegated to a program during a missions conference (maybe). Justice, inclusion, and reconciliation are left for Easter and Christmas charity baskets. Meet the new boss.

NOT IN MY CHURCH

Is racial reconciliation not relevant to the emergent church? To put it differently, are emergent Christians anti-reconciliation?

I’ve been told that post-baby boomers learn differently than boomers, and that they react differently when it comes to reconciling racial differences and prejudices. Do folks who’ve bought into the emergent church way of living think less of race and class?

I really want to know.

Many of the church leaders that I follow keep calling for a deeper conversation along issues of justice (racial, social, economics). Not for the sake of any trend or movement but for the sake of the Gospel. Can we expect those from the emergent church to join in? We need to hear all voices.

What do you think?