Take a Bullet

Nicole Worm
May 26, 2020
5 min read

Growing up I didn’t have parents that told me, “Don’t be racist.” Instead, they put me on a basketball team where I was the only white kid. I was the only one with my skin color. I was the only one with my cultural background. I was the only one on the team who looked like me. Those guys became my best friends. There was nothing forced about it. There was nothing inorganic about it. Even though we grew up in different neighborhoods, it didn’t change my friendship with them. It didn’t change my love for them. We saw color, but it didn’t separate us. We saw each other’s houses, and it didn’t make us not want to be friends. We saw each other’s family dynamics, but the goal was still the same. Love each other, win, and above all else, have each other’s backs.

I was white, but I grew up as the minority. I was so honored to do that. And as I got older, and my relationship with my friends grew deeper and deeper. I remember asking my mom a question. I pulled her aside and said, “Mom, why aren’t I black? Why am I not the same color as my friends?” And she smiled and giggled and just said, “You just aren’t.” In today’s society, it’s not a big public statement for a white person to say, “Hey, I want to be black.” Because to be black today is hard. I’m not even going to try and articulate what it’s like because that would just be disrespectful. But to walk into a store and be looked at differently because of your skin, I can’t imagine. To jog down the street and get gunned down, I can’t even imagine. To be in your own house and just get shot, because a police officer was at the wrong house, I can’t even imagine. I can’t even imagine.

The black community knows racism exists, but does the white community? And if we do know it exists, then what are we doing about it? Are we remaining silent? Or are we taking a stand? Are we turning on the news, hearing about what happened to Ahmaud, and then two seconds later putting on Tiger King? Or are we falling to our knees, praying to God, calling people and listening to their frustrations? Listening to their anger about what happened? Are we letting them speak and hearing their pain, or are we just turning the channel?

I think a lot of times in today’s culture white people can be afraid to speak out against racism because we don’t want to be wrong. We don’t want to say the wrong thing. We don’t want to be involved because we don’t feel qualified to say the right thing. We don’t feel qualified to take a stand because we don’t know how to. Jesus never asked for anyone’s qualification papers, He asked are you available to do what’s right. And if I’m being blunt, we live in a society that’s famous for just taking shots at others, and not for taking them for others.

We’re so good at attacking people online through social media. We’re great at taking shots at their beliefs, their values, and their lifestyles. But we are terrible at taking shots for people. Standing up for people, even if we have to look like a fool. Having someone’s back even if it costs you something. Standing with someone who is different than you, even if that means you can’t walk into the same part of town. Being a person who’s willing to take a bullet, instead of shooting one.

Jesus has a woman thrown in front of him naked, because she was caught in the act of adultery. She’s exposed in the most horrific ways. She was stared at and mocked because of what she had done. She had broken the law, and by the law, she could be stoned to death. And there she is right in front of Jesus, with people circling her, with rocks in their hands. They’re ready to end her life. They’re ready to make an example out of her. They’re ready to shoot her. And Jesus kneels on the ground, and puts his posture down, and not up. And where his posture goes, his hand follows. He bends over, and begins to write in the dirt. Now we don’t know what he writes, and frankly, I don’t think it matters. If Jesus wanted us to know, we would have known. But what’s interesting is His hand is in the dirt. He’s showing us who we should be helping. People in the dirt. People who are hurting. People who feel like they can’t enter a grocery store. People who feel like they can’t jog down the street anymore, people who are the minority…

And Jesus says “those without sin, let him cast the first stone.” All of them knew that they weren’t perfect. All of them knew that they’d messed up. So they left, and all that’s left is Jesus and this woman. Jesus doesn’t condemn her, and he allows her to go freely. The rest of the crowd was ready to shoot her down. The rest of the crowd was ready to take shots at her. And Jesus was ready to take a shot for her. He protected her. He even asked her questions after. He took a shot for her.

My grandfather got to past during the civil rights era. He would march down the street with black pastors. They would lock arms for unity. My dad told me growing up, “Your grandfather would leave the house, and I didn’t know if he was coming back.” Because he used to tell them, ``If I don’t come home tonight, just know your daddy is in heaven for standing up for what’s right.” My dad would wake up in the middle of the night because someone would burn crosses on his front lawn. Because my grandfather was willing to lock on arms and march with those who didn’t have the same rights as him.

In 2020, with racism still knocking at our door, I want to be a white person who’s willing to take a bullet for one of my friends. I want to go down as someone who was willing to die, protecting my friends who don’t have the same privileges as me. Why live another day in comfort, while your friends live everyday in question. Racism won’t be solved overnight, but it’s a fight we have to be willing to take on. As a white man, I need to be out there standing up for my friends. I need to be out there marching about this. I need to be out there teaching about this, and I need to be out there taking a bullet for this.

So to all my white people, take a stand and let’s talk with each other. Let’s march for people who don’t have our privileges. Let’s call them and pray with them. Let’s listen to them. We don’t need anymore funerals where mothers have to bury their babies because their baby was hated for their skin.

Take a bullet, don’t shoot it.

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