LET ME HELP YOU, BRO
Brother, let me speak plainly and with love.
No reasonable person of goodwill is asking you to carry personal guilt for sins you did not commit. You did not own slaves. You did not write Jim Crow laws. You did not stand in the schoolhouse door. That is not the burden being placed on your shoulders. The call is not to inherited shame; it is to present compassion.
What many are asking—especially our Black brothers and sisters—is something far simpler and far more Christlike: concern. A willingness to say, “Even if I did not cause this wound, I care that it still hurts you.” The Apostle Paul told us to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2). He did not add a footnote saying, “Only if you personally created the burden.” Love does not argue technicalities; love draws near.
When someone says that a Confederate flag represents pain to their family, they are not trying to rewrite your personal story. They are telling you about theirs. You may see “heritage.” They may see chains. You may see “tradition.” They may see terror. You may see a piece of cloth. They may see generations of humiliation. The question for the Christian is not, “Do I feel guilty?” but, “Do I love enough to listen?”
The Bible tells us, “Let no one seek his own, but each one the other’s well-being” (1 Corinthians 10:24). That means my preferences—my symbols, my traditions, even my sense of defiance—must bow to the higher law of love. If holding onto something causes my brother grief, even if I believe I have a right to it, love asks whether that right is worth the wound.
This is not about erasing history. History cannot be erased; it can only be remembered honestly. Nor is it about forcing anyone to grovel for crimes they never committed. It is about deciding what kind of people we want to be now. Will we be people who say, “I didn’t do it, so it’s not my problem”? Or will we be people who say, “I didn’t do it—but I refuse to add to the hurt”?
Real strength is not found in clinging to a symbol out of stubborn pride. Real strength is found in the humility to say, “My brother’s heart matters more than my banner.” Jesus told us that the world would know we are His disciples by our love for one another (John 13:35). Not by our ability to win arguments. Not by how fiercely we defend tradition. By love.
So no, you are not being asked to confess to crimes you never committed. You are being asked to care. To consider how your actions, your words, your public loyalties affect people who share your pew, your workplace, your neighborhood.
Even if you had nothing to do with the past, you have everything to do with the present. And love—real, biblical, Christ-shaped love—always asks, “How does this affect my brother?”
That is not guilt. That is grace in action.
BDD
