When the Students Become the Teachers

One of the single greatest things I learned in my first year as a teacher was something simple I picked up on happenstance along the way. A student would linger after class. Packing up their bag slowly. The last to leave. In these hesitations from the hurry, I began to see opportunities. And in these moments, I would just take the time to ask, “How are you?”

Often a student’s rhythm of rushing out the door was slowed down by a weight they were carrying. And I could see it in their eyes if I just took the time to look.

Many of the most poignant conversations I’d have over the course of the year took place in these 2-minute brief exchanges. A relationship had ended. A college had turned them down. A grandparent was dying. A recurring sickness was flaring back up.

In January, though, a different one came to the forefront.

I had a dozen Chinese students in my classes. Bright, thoughtful young men and women who were studying abroad, across the world from home. Many not from Christian backgrounds. But all gracious and generous in hearing about what it meant to follow Jesus from me, their Bible teacher.

In January, one of my Chinese students was carrying stress differently than normal. When I asked her what was going on, she replied, “There is this virus that’s really bad that’s spreading all around back home. It has me very worried.”

That was the first I heard of the novel Coronavirus.

I checked in on her over the next couple weeks, especially as news of the virus began to make it’s way into mainstream media here stateside. Each time, she was more anxious. But that anxiety took an even greater toll when something else made its way here to the U.S.

Hateful, racist language toward our Chinese students from their U.S. classmates at our Christian private school.

As a group of Chinese students were walking on campus, they heard from another group across the way: “There goes the coronavirus…” and “It smells like the coronavirus here.”

Imagine, for a moment, the gospel message that sends to those living and learning among Christians.

I was aghast. Appalled. And tragically unsurprised when I heard the news. I’ve grown up in these United States. And while I wish I could say this isn’t representative of us as a nation, I would not only be lying, I’d also be using patriotism as a pacifier in the face of a people’s pain.

When our nation’s leader has done the same thing as these high school students, even calling the virus the “kung flu” at his rally in Tulsa on Saturday, how can I proclaim this kind of language as un-American?

Even more, when language like this is spouted at a Christian private school, and then spoken by a president so deeply enamored by Evangelical Conservative Christianity in this country, how can I say this kind of talk is un-Christian?

If talk like this is catering toward a constituency, then let it be known that this constituency will not be catered to by the Christ I know.

As my brother Andre Henry says, though, “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

– – –

In this leadership moment in our nation’s history, it has become the most un-American thing to do to back down and admit you were wrong. What we got in the aftermath of Tulsa was a press secretary doing gymnastics once again to defend demeaning, derogatory, and de-humanizing language.

Yet, what’s most needed is not more defense for offense. What this world is most longing for is a deep, sincere, heartfelt, humble acknowledgment of failure. And even if this will never come from our nation’s president, his closest Christian followers cannot continue to follow the litany of lies espoused in hate and call it speaking the truth in love.

If what our governmental leadership is modeling in this moment of history is a pride so puffed up that it’s never willing to confront and confess its own sins, we as the Church must do better.

One of the most Christian practices I partake in on a consistent basis is simply owning my mistakes.

– – –

I’ve learned over the past decade my children will grow up well aware their father is far from perfect. I say and do stupid things all the time. Often, in my anger and frustration, those faults are flung toward them.

But my children will also grow up experiencing something else: their dad always apologizes. And when my eldest son says time and time again, “It’s okay, Dad,” I then have to correct him and reply, “It’s not okay, son. What daddy did was wrong. And he shouldn’t have done it. That’s not okay. I’m so sorry.”

Show me a leader fully willing to confront their own mistakes and I’ll show you someone I’d be willing to follow.

Show me a follower of Jesus that rightly confesses their wrongs and I’ll point you to one who knows how to humbly walk in the way of love.

Church, just as we cannot be silent about the historical and present day reality of brutality toward our Black brothers and sisters in this country, so we cannot sit idly by as our Asian sisters and brothers are being insulted and assaulted as well.

– – –

A few of my Chinese students shared their story to their classmates in February. It was for a project they were presenting in my Bible class, one aimed to integrate a relevant cultural topic of their choosing with the Christian faith. And though these students did not all express follow-ship of Jesus in their own lives, they certainly faithfully followed Christ as they looked to the Scriptures to show that hate like this was not welcome as a witness to the way of Immanuel: God with us.

A couple weeks later, at an early morning all-staff meeting, two of the female Chinese students stood up before a room full of faculty and staff and bravely shared their story with everyone present there as well. Most of the room was in shock and couldn’t believe this could happen at our school. I wasn’t surprised about the sin. Instead, I was in awe of the poise of these two young women. The fortitude it took to boldly speak the truth to those who represented authority in their daily lives. And to courageously call for change.

That same day, a student in another class made another racist remark, loud enough for everyone to hear. This time, a teacher was there to step in right away. And swiftly denounce the student’s statement and instead defend the honor and humanity of her Chinese students.

The voice of the oppressed was heard. Those in leadership listened. Change immediately followed.

A high school history teacher helping write a new history with the help of a handful of incomparably brave Chinese students studying at a Christian private school in these United States.

There is a path forward, together. But Jesus tells us it’s a narrow path. It’s wide enough to hold all the love in this world, but there’s no extra room for hate. The hatred can go somewhere else. And so we must walk together. With humility and honor, conviction and courage, solidarity and strength.

But to do so, as U.S. Americans, we can no longer pacify a people’s pain with patriotism. And as Christians, we cannot stay silent when our Asian sisters and brothers are attacked.

The Jesus I know steps in front of the stones. The Christ I’m committed to calls us to confess. The faith I follow won’t forfeit its own soul to cater to any constituency.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

A handful of incomparably brave Chinese students studying at a Christian private school in these United States…they’re showing us another way.