Running late and out of cereal, the kids and I stopped by McDonald’s for breakfast this morning. As we sat down, my eyes met the eyes of a black man thoughtfully eating his breakfast alone. It didn’t occur to me for a few minutes that he might be eavesdropping on the conversation of a table of white know-it-alls at the table behind him, shooting the breeze and bashing the president. The subject turned to the new resident pet at the White House, one of the graybeards referring to the dog as the “new little Obama girl.” The man near me stood slowly, locked eyes with me again, walked out the door, and got into his BMW. Maybe the coffee drinkers at the table didn’t mean anything by it. Maybe they did. Maybe they were prejudiced and that’s why they said what they did. Maybe the black man was the one prejudiced for thinking so. Maybe a little of both.
But prejudice is more than what I saw at McDonald’s today. It’s me, seeing a Christian concert poster, and just feeling that those guys aren’t sincere in what they sing. It’s judging the lives of people dressed differently than me. It’s you, seeing an “I love Jesus” sign at a church of a different denomination than your own, and realizing that they couldn’t really love Jesus like the folks at your church do. It’s deciding the sexually active teen is worse off than the bitter adult. Prejudice can be sweetly excusing someone’s ignorance because they use the wrong Bible. Prejudice can be knowing that you are much more in tune with God than others are, and kindly keeping that knowledge to yourself. It’s praying for that poor Christian who only goes to church once a week and needs to get it right like you. It can be knowing in your heart who at McDonalds was in the wrong.
“Search me O God, and know my heart today…”
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