I’m Playing the Race Card

I blogged last year about the Trayvon Martin / George Zimmerman case. Specifically, I shared my uneasiness with claims of “God’s plan” being part of the rhetoric.

The verdict is in. I’m not a lawyer, and I don’t claim to understand the ins and outs of our judicial “system”. Perhaps that’s why for people of faith, we are told by God to withhold our vengeance, and trust that in God’s wisdom, vision, and insight, justice will be rendered in righteousness, and at the proper time.

If George Zimmerman had been convicted of Murder 2, Trayvon Martin would still be a dead 17-year old. His parents would still be crushed by the grief of his life cut short. A conviction would not have been a victory for Trayvon Martin. George Zimmerman’s not guilty verdict does not render him a free man. His decisions leading up to the altercation will be second-guessed, criticized, and talked about by our nation for a long time. He will have those conversations within his own mind for the rest of his days. This will never go away for him. The jury’s decision was not a victory for George Zimmerman.

There are no winners in this case.

This conflict was indeed about race. This conflict was indeed about color, but not black, white, brown, tan, or yellow…The color problem began with the first drop of red blood spilled in this altercation. When violence brings the flow of red blood from the body of a fellow human being, you have an issue of color and race.

We all bleed red.

We all share in one race; the human race.

As people fearfully and wonderfully made in the Image of God, we share a diverse commonality. That makes Travon Martin and George Zimmerman brothers. It makes them both my brothers…and yours. We all lost on Saturday night because we forgot our common color and race.

Pray for the parents and loved ones of Trayvon Martin…and pray for George Zimmerman …and God help us all.

“He prayed-it wasn’t my religion. He ate-it wasn’t what I ate. He spoke-it wasn’t my language. He dressed-it wasn’t what I wore. He shook my hand-it wasn’t the color of mine. But when he laughed-it was how I laughed, And when he cried-it was how I cried.” – Amy Maddox

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