What Color is God?

For the past few weeks, the groups I've been working with have been doing kids ministry. My almost completely White youth groups have been ministering to almost completely Black groups of children. I wouldn't normally mention this fact, but for a question a little girl asked in the middle of a Bible story: "What color is God?" 
It wasn't a very relevant question to our story about David, but I could tell that she had been wrestling with it since the beginning of the week. Perhaps the only people to tell her about Jesus had been White. Perhaps the only depictions of Jesus she had seen portrayed him as light-skinned.
So we put the story on pause to tell the children a truth more relevant to them than anything they might learn from David and Goliath: God isn't White. He isn't any of our colors. Or maybe, in his miraculous way, he is all of them. But God is spirit, so he is not confided to any of the barriers that divide humans.
The African American population in New Orleans was over 60% at the 2010 census. While I didn't travel to a foreign country this summer, I am ever reminded that this city is vastly different from my own. And while I didn't have to learn a different language to communicate here, I've learned how important it is to communicate with respect. 
For example, I learned to share the gospel with children using a bracelet or book with various colors. Gold stood for heaven, black for sin, red for the blood of Jesus, white for forgiveness, and green for growth. I never saw a problem with this when I was teaching predominately White or even Hispanic children. However, the cultural insensitivity became painfully obvious when a White leader told a group of Black children that the color black stands for sin. I'm not trying to make anyone who uses this method feel guilty. I have used it myself for years. I am simply trying to see things from the perspective of others and help spread the gospel with both clarity and cultural consciousness. 
I was so pleased when one of my groups used a presentation method that used small pictures to represent the same elements of the gospel (sin was depicted by an apple with a bite taken out of it). I understand that to most of my readers, this might seem like an insignificant change. "Something that small doesn't bother me, so it shouldn't bother anyone!" But the fact that it doesn't offend you doesn't mean it isn't offensive to someone else. This trip has taught me that is so important to be able to see issues from another's perspective. 
It's the same thought process that finally brought down the Robert E. Lee Monument a few days before we arrived in New Orleans. From a White person's perspective, the statue might not have been upsetting. Many viewed the statue as a part of America's history, and a tribute to southern heritage. But try to imagine this scenario. An African American father takes his daughter on a walk around the city. They pass the statue, and the daughter asks who it is. The father takes a deep breath and explains, "this is a statue honoring a man who would rather us be slaves than free people." 
Wynton Marsalis in The Times-Picayune says it best: "What did Robert E. Lee do to merit his distinguished position? He fought for the enslavement of a people against our national army fighting for their freedom; killed more Americans than any opposing general in history; made no attempt to defend or protect this city; and even more absurdly, he never even set foot in Louisiana. In the heart of the most progressive and creative cultural city in America, why should we continue to commemorate this legacy?"
The sad truth is that while the majority of Americans are not blatantly racist, many still have an implicit racial bias. I've seen this in the actions of campers who have mistakenly assumed that an African American man sitting on a park bench was homeless, but would never approach a White man in the same position. I've even seen it in leaders as they nervously rush through conversations with African Americans, but seem so at ease when finding a White man at the door. Again, the last thing I want to do is judge these people. Their hearts were in the right place as they gave up a week of their summer to go serve Jesus and the people of New Orleans. And I am not casting judgment on you, my reader. But if what I write strikes a chord in your heart, maybe instead of getting offended, you could use a critical self-assessment. I know I can. 
Christ's message was one of inclusion. He intentionally ministered to the most marginalized members of society: lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors, Samaritans, the sick, and the poor. He didn't look down on them; he got down with them. He didn't see them as his project; he saw them as his people. Throughout the gospels, Jesus continually broke the barriers of socioeconomic status, culture, religious background, and race in a radical way. His preference was for none; his message was for all. 
The last thing Jesus prayed for in the Garden of Gethsemane was for believers to live in unity: "that they may all be one; even as You, Father, are in Me and I in You, that they also may be in Us, so that the world may believe that You sent Me" (John 17:21). How can the church share the gospel? By living in unity. We don't have to divide by the same barriers the world uses! We are one in Christ. 
Let us be humble enough to recognize our preferences, biases, and pride. Let us strive to see issues from the perspective of another. And let us be united, always showing love and sharing the gospel.