"I want to go to a new park. To one I've never been to before!"
Keely prefers direct communication. Lately, it's more demand than request. Julia, patient and firm, "Keely, how do you ask that politely?"
"Please."
"Please, what? Please say it all together."
"Please can I go to a new park?"
It was Julia's last full day of maternity leave. She and I wanted to fill the day with adventures and time together as a family. The morning passed with fun time at the zoo. Naps went well. It was time for an afternoon adventure. And a new park, one we'd "never been to before," fit well with the day's goal.
Julia had heard positive reviews from other moms and the online picture of a castle-themed play area made the decision clear: Anderson Playground in Schenley Park.
As soon as their feet hit the playground Keely and Jay went running in different directions. Julia followed Jay with the stroller, where Joel lay sound asleep. I chased Keely from one play area to another, from one interaction to another, her steps bounding across the playground and back.
After exploring and considering all that the playground had to offer, Keely decided on one particular play area. As her energy and attention focused in that one area, I looked around the playground, stepping back through Keely's circuitous route and seeing all the children she'd interacted with. There were the boys standing near their Mom, dressed in a black burka. There was the Asian girl and her parents. There were the African American boys and their Dad.
I grew up in a suburb north of the city. The schools I attended were almost exclusively white. I had one African American classmate throughout high school and none prior to that. As a teenager, I worked at a fast-food restaurant in a mall food court. One summer all of my co-workers were African American. High school students who attended an inner-city high school, men and women working to support themselves or their families. Those co-workers were my first relationships with African-American boys and girls, men and women.
I was uncomfortable. The language and topics discussed were unfamiliar. One co-worker, Ron, told me stories about his community, his neighbors, and his family and his stories were realities that had only existed for me in the news or in movies. It took weeks, but I became friends with those boys and girls, men and women.
Our friendship was cemented the night I drove two co-workers home. Closing the store had taken longer than expected and the last bus from the mall to their homes had come and gone. I offered to give them a ride. Ron, one of my older co-workers, looked at me and asked, "You sure?" I was.
Ron and our other co-worker lived in the same neighborhood in the North Side, a few blocks from one another. "You don't have to drop us at our houses. You can drop us at the top of the hill," Ron offered. "I can take you to your home," I said, even though I was scared. People on the streets stared at me as I drove by. I felt out of place and like I didn't belong.
Julia and I have had to learn and are continuing to learn how to interact with people who are different than us. We've had to work through the personal discomfort and awkwardness of building relationships with people whose backgrounds and lifestyles and ethnicities are different than ours. Standing in that playground, though, I began to realize that our children will, simply because of where and how we live, have the opportunity to not only grow up in a diverse community, but also build friendships with people whose backgrounds and lifestyles and ethnicities are different than theirs. Keely is four and has already had more experience interacting with diverse people than I did when I was twenty-four and going to work in a corporate environment.
Keely, Jay, and Joel will be positioned to experience and build the Kingdom of God in a way that Julia and I are still learning. I don't think Keely or Jay notice skin color. They see boys and girls, playmates and potential friends. In their mind, if you're at the playground you're their friend.
"And they sang a new song, saying, 'Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.'" (Revelation 5:9-10, ESV)
Jesus died and with His blood He ransomed people from "every tribe and language and people and nation…" By His blood He purchased and He set free a racially and ethnically diverse group of people. The Kingdom of God is much more like Anderson Playground than the neighborhood I grew up in or the schools that I went to. The Kingdom of God is comprised of all the people that Keely so naturally interacts with and plays alongside.
By His blood He not only ransomed a racially and ethnically diverse group of people, He also made them a "kingdom of priests." Every person from every tribe and language and people and nation who follows Jesus is a priest. The roles that God has purposed every person in His Kingdom to play are not based on education, socioeconomic status, or any other human construct. God, through Jesus, reaches across every dividing line and unites a diverse group of people into one people, His people, and builds a Kingdom with them. The unity that God seeks for His Kingdom is unity that each one of us should be about in our families and in our neighborhoods.
There is a richness found inside of a diverse community, inside of a diverse Kingdom, that is missed by communities that lack diversity. Now, two things need to be clearly stated. First, even though our family lives in a community that is diverse we have to intentionally work at building meaningful relationships that cross racial and socioeconomic boundaries. We cannot allow ourselves to believe that because the community in which we live is diverse we've done all that God requires of us in regards to building and reflecting His Kingdom. I believe we would be doing a disservice to our children and ourselves by living in a diverse community and remaining ambivalent to or disengaged from the needs of our neighbors, living in such a way that observes an individual at a distance but remains disinterested in knowing them as a person. Second, we are not seeking to be critical of those who live in less diverse communities. The reality, though, is that living in a neighborhood where you do not naturally experience proximity to people of different cultures and races requires extra intentionality to understand the true Kingdom of God and to live out the call to bring the hope of Christ to "every tribe and every nation." For years I've watched high school students from the suburbs travel into inner-city Pittsburgh for service projects and mission trips, crossing racial and socioeconomic boundaries only to be eternally transformed by God through relationships with the men, women, children, and families they serve (if you'd like information on inner-city ministries that position you to cross racial and socioeconomic boundaries and to build relationships with people by serving them, see the very end of this post). Regardless of where we live, we should always be seeking ways and opportunities to experience and understand the diversity that already does and will eternally comprise God's Kingdom.
As followers of Jesus we are charged with building His Kingdom. The Kingdom that we are to be building should be a reflection of the eternal Kingdom He, Himself, is building. We are to be about our Father's business. He's shown us what His Kingdom does and will look like. Let's be busy building that kind of Kingdom now.
And sometimes, a trip to a playground can be a very real start.
Organizations for you and your family to explore:
The Pittsburgh Project, Living Ministry, Urban Impact, Learning and Mentoring Partnership
