Nonfiction

In January 2017, one of the highest grossing films of the year, Get Out by Jordan Peele, was released in theaters and immediately became a global phenomenon, making over $250 million worldwide. The movie centers around Chris Washington, a black man living in inner-city New York played by Daniel Kaluuya. Him and his white girlfriend, femme fatale Rose Armitage (Allison Williams) visit her family’s farm house on a weekend so Chris can meet them, the same weekend as her supposed “family” reunion. While there, Chris becomes held captive by her family who kidnaps and uses black people to better the lives of the members of the society they’re a part of.

In early 2017, the United States was in the middle of a massive political transition. There was a change from eight years of presidency under Barack Obama, America’s first black president, to a very controversial white president, Donald Trump. In the months following the election, a rise in public racism and prejudice took hold and an increase of separation between political parties arose as well. While the Get Out is cast with American actors and set in New York , the main message applies to a global audience, as widespread discrimination are at highs in this era of history. It is clear that the wish of Jordan Peele is for the viewers in the audience to try to see the world from a different set of eyes than the ones they have been accustomed to their whole lives.

Cultural Appropriation

Many white-dominant countries are beginning to culturally appropriate, or adopt aspects of minority cultures that they are not a part of in order to achieve a purpose. This is different from cultural diffusion because there is usually a lack of respect when it comes to cultural appropriation, and many times the appropriator gains something from their action, such as wealth or popularity, while not acknowledging the significant and valuable aspects that a culture contains and provides.

In real life, cultural appropriation is commonly seen on the body, such as when black hairstyles, for example: cornrows, dreadlocks, afros, etc, are worn by non-black people. In Get Out, the appropriation is taken to the next level, where the wealthy, white people literally become black through the transfer of the brain through surgery. In the movie it is stated that they do so for physical abilities as well as for the sake of physical fashionability, and the desire to assimilate to black culture. The members of the organization even drive around in black limousines and wear black-colored clothing, showing their desires to literally wear and be black.

Despite the darkness and violence of using actual bodies of people of color to convey the message, the method rings true, as the end is still the same: the external attractiveness of a minority group is exploited to the gain of the majority, while the cultural significance remains unacknowledged and suppressed. Instead of exhibiting appropriation in an obvious or cliche way, which could come off as comedic and offset the mood of a psychological thriller, Peele uses this method to more subtly, while still effectively, bring his point across: black culture is valued only as surface level in American society, while the people themselves are unappreciated and discriminated against for the differences that are, at the same time, adopted by the majority to physically enhance their appearances.

Perceptions vs Realities of Racism

Typically, racism is thought of as people yelling in public offensive slurs against certain groups of people. The imagined idea of racism is that it is very outright, direct, and inherently violent. Jordan Peele challenges this perception with a very quiet, yet very real, portrayal of racism in Get Out.

In 21st century America, especially in the last two years, the outward expression of racism has increased dramatically, as well as cases of police brutality and wrongful arrests against members of the African American community. The original ending to Get Out would have been Chris getting arrested for murdering the Armitage family; however, due to the number of police brutality cases in America skyrocketing around the time of the movie’s release, the ending was changed to not only avoid triggering audience members, but to show an oppressed man in the position of freedom and power, as opposed to one of no control and weakness. Left in the movie, however, is a police officer harassing Chris after him and Rose get pulled over, even though he wasn’t the one driving. This example of institutionalized racism is continued when Rose has to talk the cop out of his actions, giving her the role of the white savior. Despite this scene taking place in less than three minutes, it effectively represents how power and respect is constantly taken from minority groups, and they have no control over what happens to them unless they are “saved” by a white person with inherently more power. Members of the African American community continuously face the struggle and inability to pull themselves out of a position of powerlessness. The idea of a “white savior” only bestows more power to the majority, disguising it with the bettering of circumstance to the minority who still don’t have power to help themselves.

In the movie, cover-up remarks are made by Rose’s family, such as “I would have voted for Obama a third time if I could have” and “I can't quite swing the hips like I used to, though. But, I do know Tiger!”. These microaggressions - slight comments made that dismiss deeper social issues - that could be passed over by someone in the majority group have an effect of grouping all members of the African American community together, as well as caters to the assumed ideas of that community. At surface level, these comments are of someone who isn’t racist; someone who supports equal rights and opportunities. Nevertheless, when examined deeper, they’re made in effort to trick Chris that the family isn’t racist in order to gain his trust and find some sort of common ground with him. They also stereotype him by associating his beliefs and interests with those of famous black men, without knowing his opinions on them as people and public figures.

Ideas held by characters on segregation pass through small symbolism, where Rose eats dry Froot Loops and drinks plain milk. This unnoticed action has deep meaning, yet delivers how Rose believes those of color should not mix with what is white, and incorporating the two together would not be best. Rose most likely gets these views from her parents, who have separate living quarters for their servants, even though internally they have the minds of Dean Armitage’s parents. Dean and Missy cannot get past the color of their skin to allow them to sleep inside. The practice of segregation in their home rejects their claims that they are progressive, even if they have convinced themselves that they are. Having the characters be hypocrites is a sly commentary on how racism is not actions, but a mindset, and can often be more harmful than public displays of it.

“Visual” Effects

While visual effects are usually thought of as CGI additions to make a movie more realistic, the visual effects in this movie are entirely different, as one of Jordan Peele’s mediums for his theme is a focus on eyes and cameras, both used as lenses to see the world that we live in.

From emotion expressed through eyes, the shifting of mood told through what goes on behind the eyes, to even a song played at the beginning of the movie that contains the lyric “Now don’t you close your eyes …” it is an understatement to only say that the eyes are important in this movie. In a specific scene, where the main character Chris begins to notice something wrong, is when he takes a picture of another man he believes to be hypnotized. The man snaps out of his daze, and a massive shift is seen in how his expression goes from cheerful to tortured, all by being concentrated on his eyes. They reveal the truth to the situation, and allow the audience insight to the reality of the danger Chris and other African American characters are in.

The focus on eyes and photography in this movie are meant to represent the many different perspectives in society. Most of the focus is directed towards black characters, with somewhat frequent zoom-ins on their eyes. Going against this, one of the most important characters in this theme is Jim Hudson, portrayed by Stephen Root, who is blind and also white. The fact that many of the caucasian characters are either wearing glasses, or even to the extent of being blind, represents that these characters can’t see other perspectives, and lack the ability to see clearly how their attitudes and actions are morally wrong. Only through literally embodying someone of a different race can they see the issues. The change, most likely, will not be to the strength of someone who has lived their life as a black man or woman in a white America, as people who have transformed are hidden away from the true horrors of the real world.

Through the lens of Frederick Douglass

Frederick Douglass, a runaway slave and powerful orator, spoke on the injustices of slavery and the hypocrisy of white America. During the 19th century, slaves were seen as property, not as people, and had no control over their own lives and selves. He dressed and spoke like an educated white man, despite being told to fit the “role” of a black man at the time. Douglass’s reasoning behind this was to help his audience see him as more of an equal rather than inferior to them.

As a black man who was formerly under the control of white American society, Frederick Douglass would have greatly enjoyed this movie and its motifs. From the idea of a farm/plantation that the Armitage family lives on, to the costumes many of the African American characters in the film wear, reminders of slavery are extremely present; even the game of bingo played to determine who will buy Chris mirrors a slave auction. What would have stuck out the most to him is the idea of the “sunken place”. In Get Out, the sunken place is where the mind goes when hypnotized, trapping victims in a space-like zone where one cannot move and only falls down. As a former slave, Douglass would have fixed himself on this idea.

The sunken place is one of the more political aspects of the movie, representing stopping progress and the lack of control that members of the black community have over their own bodies and minds. The hypnotism to send victims into the sunken place occurs when Missy Armitage, played by Catherine Keener, taps her tea cup and triggers the transition. The tea and tea cup are symbols themselves of colonial power and white superiority. The sunken place is a metaphor for the continuous suppression of minority groups in white society through civil oppression, anti-progressive laws, and the spread of misinformation to spawn fear and hatred. Douglass would have keyed in on this idea, as pushback against abolition was at an all time high when his speeches became extremely famous. The methods to keep former slaves oppressed even after their liberation, such as through Jim Crow laws, literacy tests, and poll taxes are meant to stop progression in a time of change, just like how the Armitage family attempts to turn black men and women into slaves despite their outward progressive perception.

Through the lens of Aristotle

One of the most important aspects of how Aristotle formulated his arguments was through his understanding of human psychology and the importance of allowing an equal playing field when it comes to rhetoric. Aristotle knew all perspectives should be heard in order to achieve true goodness to better cities, nations, and the world. In ancient Athens, slavery was alive and well, but the class system wasn’t based off of the color of one’s skin. Slaves were captured during wars and battles, and were often the same skin color as the people they served. In Aristotle’s opinion, slaves should be thought of as human and intellectually above animals.

One of the more problematic qualities of the Armitage family and the group they belong to is that they don’t see African Americans as human, or at least not human enough. Despite the liberal ideas they put forth in the movie, instead of seeing minority groups as people, they see black culture as more of an abstract ideal. Upon watching this movie, Aristotle would have argued against the beliefs of the Armitage family and the Order of the Coagula. Whereas the order genuinely believes they are progressive in their thoughts and actions, their liberal ideas are limited by their desire to stay at the top. They don’t attempt to strive for equality between the two races, but instead use characteristics of African Americans to further white ability and power. None of the members of the order want to deeply understand the consequences of inequality and racism, and interact with the issues on an highly surface level. This reflects the way that, when tragedy occurs in the United States, rarely is appropriate action taken to justify the wrongdoings against the African American communities, and instead well-wishes and prayers are sent, while the manipulation and suffering of minority communities remains.

The entire idea of a movie written, directed, and produced by a black man as well as incorporating a black man as the main character grabs power and control back to the voices that have been suppressed by the majority for centuries. This corresponds with the argument Aristotle made that rhetoric should not be held for one specific class, and should be used as a general application. While previously in media, even if there are people of color in a movie or television show, they are usually only listed as side characters to give way to the white main character whom around which the story revolved. Peele flips the mainstream convention on its head, with the white cast as side pieces in Chris’s story, even using cotton stuffed in a chair to be the way Chris gets out of his capture. This tactic completely changes cotton as a former reason to keep slaves in captivity to it being a mechanism of freedom. This isn’t done to negate the importance of stories from all perspectives, and in fact does the opposite. The purpose of Get Out is to tell the story and experiences of a black man to its fullest potential. Not only is it a story surrounding a colored man, it is written by Jordan Peele, someone who fully understands the challenges that would be faced as a black man living in modern America. He has the background knowledge to speak appropriately on the damages that a small and limited perspective has on society as a whole, and the people who live in it. Aristotle deeply believed in the importance of having background knowledge when making an argument and how crucial it is to speak confidently and appropriately, leaving no possibilities of mispeaking or misinformation. Overall, he would have appreciated what Get Out does to better society in its entirety and its efforts to represent power equally between the races.

Through the lens of Cicero

A common similarity between Cicero and Jordan Peele is that they both found themselves speaking out from a minority position against an authority they believed to be unjust and unfair. Both men utilized their talents in rhetoric to better their societies and promote goodness amongst all classes of men, not just those who held power. Neither give in to the anticipations of the audience as it would counteract their common purpose: to flip conventional attitudes and challenge the common way of thinking in order to bring justice and equality to all.

Cicero would have admired the risk that Jordan Peele is taking in making such a forward and outright political claim. Previously starring on comedy sketch show Key and Peele, a commonly loved program, Jordan Peele had much to risk in terms of reputation and admiration by going against the discriminatory opinions of many holding power in the American government, as well as upsetting fans who either didn’t share Peele’s values, or didn’t want to listen to the way this message was presented. Either way, Peele was putting his entire career that he spent decades building up in jeopardy for the sake of illuminating how many people of color are used by caucasians to further themselves, rather than being appreciated for what they can do and given the autonomy to do it. This is similar to what Cicero experienced by speaking against Caesar Augustus, the Roman emperor during his time. Cicero paid the ultimate price for his political statements, unlike Jordan Peele who timed the release of Get Out perfectly, during a penultimate time in America’s history full of hatred and bias, and got audiences to understand, rather than make assumptions.

Conclusion

Get Out is an enjoyable experience to watch even without deeply analyzing it. Comedic timing is on point, dialogue is well thought out and beautifully written, and the directional style is unique and lives up to the expectations of a psychological thriller. However, the thought-provoking commentary on race and class in modern America makes an audience member think about deep issues without realizing they are. Jordan Peele places the audience members in the lens of an African American man living through racial discrimination and the many forms that it takes. The vast amount of symbolism and metaphor convey the horrific consequences of maintaining integrated racism in societal operation. Get Out reveals the abuse of white power over minority members disguised as tolerance and compassion, and engages the audience in a progressive conversation by providing them with first-hand experience with encountering how racism truly presents itself. The problems put forth by Peele in this work strip back the layers used to cover up discrimination in the twenty-first century, and bring to light that we as humans are not as nearly as advanced as we think we are.

It was the calm before the storm.

I didn't really think much of it that day. My dad, sober for once, engaged with me on topics I knew he hated. As if he knew l that this was his last chance to be a good father. His last chance to show me he cared. My interests suddenly became his and conversation flew without slurring of words or casual fading from awareness. For once, it seemed that things were finally looking up. After months of giving in to temptation from five years of sobriety, he had come back to us, once and for all.

It was a Thursday. A regular Thursday. Me in the same position on the sofa watching an episode of Friends for the fifteenth time over. Rachel was hiding under a blanket while watching Cujo. “Have you seen it?” my dad asked. I hadn’t, as even though I was a huge fan of horror movies, I tended not to like them. He told me of when he watched it as a kid and how his parents scolded him for scaring himself so badly. How it made him never want to get a dog, but only for a few days until he snapped out of his state. It was easy. Like talking to a friend that had been gone for a while. He asked me about my day at school, and watched the television with me despite not liking the show. I inquired about his. As a construction worker, there was always something new that happened and always something that goes wrong.

Afternoon passed into evening and we all ate dinner together. Tensions were still raised from my father essentially kicking my brother out of the house before he sobered up and realized his mistake. We didn’t eat together as a family a whole lot, but that night we all sat down and ate together while watching whatever cop show my parents decided to put on.

The next day was Pajama day at my high school for spirit week. The Student Council always saved the best day for last. The day that everyone got to wake up five minutes before leaving the house because no one had to put in effort that morning. I wore a black tee shirt, Snoopy pajama bottoms, and a red fluffy robe that left lint on my pants. Once twelve-nineteen rolled around, the lunch bell rang and my friends and I chose to go out to lunch since none of us had a final period. Of course, I wanted to go home and change so there weren’t any weird glances my way from the other customers at the Chili’s down the street.

My friends dropped me off at home and I ran inside. “Hello!” I yelled to my dad as I had seen his truck in the driveway. No response. I figure he’s on the phone with someone in his office and get dressed. As I leave, I hear what sounds like a cup being knocked over, but I ignore it and leave.

How did I not stay?

After lunch, my friends bring me back to my house and I yell again. “Hey!” Still no response. My dogs run to the door with tails wagging faster than dog butts should be able to move. I greet them and they run back to the back hall, hoping for a treat. I give them one and peer my head into the office, and my dad is asleep in his chair. Typical. He usually naps around noon to three, so I didn’t think anything of it. Part of me was relieved, as I saw an opened beer can on his table and didn’t know if it was old or new. All of me didn’t want to find out, so I tucked myself away and stayed in there cleaning and doing homework until someone else got home.

My mom arrived home around seven that evening, and I begged her to take me Homecoming shopping. See, I had been asked earlier that day and I wanted to start on my date’s garter as soon as possible. At seventeen, it’s easy to get lost in the details and not see the big picture.

An hour later, my mom went into the office to wake up my dad and tell him where we were going. It was customary for him to sleep this late into the day, as it had happened on more than one occasion. I went outside to wait at the car, eager to be a teenage girl who did teenage girl things.

The scream was the most disturbing part about it all. The rest of the night has melted together in my head, but I distinctly remember not being able to distinguish between what could have either been crying or laughter. Once that door opened, it was unrecognizable.

Keeping a clear head in moments like those is much easier than I previously had believed. My mother, on the floor in an uncontrollable fit, most likely thinks otherwise.

The coroner said it was a heart attack, and that makes sense. My dad was an alcoholic diabetic who was shit about taking his insulin medication. The heart attack happened so fast, that even if I had registered the cup falling off the table was a sign for help rather than an accident, it wouldn’t have done any good. The most I would have been able to do was watch him die in front of me, instead of him having to go alone.

I’ll never forget how awkward the silence was. Me, my mother, my brother, and the friend he was with were all sitting around the kitchen table while cops shuffled around in the back hall, radios going off every ten seconds. One of my dad’s friends, who was the root problem of my dad breaking his sobriety, ranted something about methodists or how life is unfair. I’m still not sure.

That was the day my life changed forever. I think back on how different things would be today had it not happened, and I believe things are for the better now. I don’t know how long I would’ve had to deal with a verbally abusive drunk father for, but the last day is one I will never forget. When he returned to me, as if he knew he had to make up for a past of sin and pain, of tears and resentment, with one last moment of love and care.

Maybe I will never know. Over the past two years, I have learned to find peace in the unanswerable, and that’s enough for now.

In the two and a half years that I’ve followed Christ, I’m not sure if I have been in a more obviously sanctifying season —— including the gap year I took to solely be with Him.

Lately, I have been at war with myself with no side winning. I’ve begged God for answers out of the desire to be obedient, pleading for Him to show me right from wrong, with no feeling of clarity or revelation. My spirit has been stuck in the gray. I have gotten on my hands and knees for God to show me what is black and what is white, and I’ve got nothing to show for it. That’s at least what I thought until today.

T. here has been pressure on me to make a choice: go down path A, or path B, but don’t stay at the fork in the middle. I have sought the wisdom of friends, the counsel of loved ones, and the perspectives of community, and I have come to my choice: I am choosing Jesus.

I’ve never sat down and created a “What I Love Most About Jesus” list, but if I were to, I think somewhere at the top of that list would be His discernment while navigating the gray areas in a world where people were telling him to conform to the laws and traditions that were put into place not out of reverence for God, but because men trusted in their own wisdom. We cannot perfectly navigate the gray areas like Jesus can, but the way He did it was always for the purpose of glorifying His Father in heaven, and when we lose sight of that being our purpose, we lose our ability to worship.

One of my favorite stories from the Bible is John 4, where Jesus makes the Samaritan woman seen, known, and loved. He tells her the freedom that we have is in God, not in the laws, because “God is spirit, and his worshippers must worship in the Spirit and in truth (John 4:24).”

The way we worship God is in Spirit. It must be sincere.

“For our boast is this, the testimony of our conscience, that we behaved in the world with simplicity and godly sincerity, not by earthly wisdom but by the grace of God, and supremely so toward you (2 Corinthians 1:12).” In whatever we do, we must not mix our motivations. How do we know if we have mixed motivations? The beginning of this verse says we must have the testimony of our conscience on our side. We must create room for the Spirit within us to search us and see if there is any offensive way in us, so we can be led to the way of eternal life (Psalm 139:24). This can only be achieved through vulnerability and surrender to God of our pride. If we are proud, our consciences testify against us, but if we are honest and bring to light evidence of the truth, then God will pass His judgment and announce us innocent, as Jesus did not come to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him (John 3:17). We cannot worship well if we worship with the wrong heart-posture.

According to Paul in 2 Corinthians 1:12, we also worship through the Spirit with grace, towards one another and towards ourselves. God is jealous for our spirit and desires to give us grace so we may give it to others (James 4:5-6). I have the bad habit of holding a measuring stick up to myself and comparing where I am to others, saying I am not good enough, wise enough, or godly enough. I do this, shaming myself, wanting to keep my shame in the dark. It diminishes the spirit inside of me, indirectly saying that God’s grace is not enough for me, or that people will doubt the sincerity of my faith if I don’t do A, B, or C. I have animosity towards myself. How rare it is that I believe what Paul claims in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” I don’t know about you, but I tend to not boast about my weaknesses. In fact, I do the opposite: I cover them up, pretend they aren’t there, and when I see other people being strong in the areas I am weak, I inwardly turn away from them in shame. I deny God’s grace for myself. No wonder my spirit is shriveling —— I have been deliberately keeping living water away from it.

I also have a bad habit of holding that same measuring stick up to others, either telling myself or them that they have growth that they need to do. This is the most obvious statement to ever be made, “for everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God's glorious standard. Yet God, in his grace, freely makes us right in his sight. He did this through Christ Jesus when he freed us from the penalty for our sins (Romans 3:23-24).” We all fall short, and we are going to continue to fall short. “You, then, why do you judge your brother or sister? Or why do you treat them with contempt? For we will all stand before God’s judgment seat (Romans 14:10).” I do not believe Paul is asking this question rhetorically; I believe Paul is legitimately calling all believers to wrestle with the Spirit inside of us and be honest about why we hold a measuring stick up to other people —— why we deny them grace or assume we know what is best for them. We are taught to not judge anything before its time, but to entrust Christ to do it when the appointed time comes because only He can bring to light any darkness within (1 Corinthians 4:5).

You might be asking: what does this have to do with worship? Based on all of the passages I have included above, it is my opinion that we cannot sincerely worship from the Spirit when we have binded ourselves in judgment and rejection. Grace and worship are intertwined, for we worship God’s great grace in sending His son to die for our sins and be brought to life so we may live in Him, and him in us. If our spirits are not saved through this grace, they cannot worship sincerely.

2. The way we worship God is also in truth. It must be in Christ.

“Let the message about Christ, in all its richness, fill your lives. Teach and counsel each other with all the wisdom he gives. Sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs to God with thankful hearts (Colossians 3:16).” Before we can worship God in truth, we must know the truth: that Jesus Christ came to earth miraculously through the Holy Spirit, lived His life in service to God, that all may come to the Father through the Son, performing signs and wonders, teaching heavenly truths, and was crucified as the payment of our sins before rising from the dead, claiming victory over the sins that lead to it.

We worship this truth internally, verbally, and physically: we nourish our souls with it through spending time with a personal, intimate God; we profess the Gospel of Who Jesus truly is; we love others as Christ has loved us, “becoming all things to all people so that by all possible means [we] might save some. [We] do this all for the sake of the Gospel, that [we] might share in its blessings (1 Corinthians 9:22b-23).” This does not mean that we change who we are to spread God’s word. We do not act inauthentically as worship, but we live in humility and compassion, having empathy for all and not thinking ourselves higher or better than anyone else, so that they may experience the grace of God through us.

“The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and only Son, Who came from the Father, full of grace and truth (John 1:14).” We see here that the truth of God does not change in Christ’s humility, but is actually glorified and spread. Jesus humbled Himself, becoming all things to all people so they might be saved. Who He was and the truth of God did not change because of this humility, but was shown to the world as Truth.

You might again have the question: “what does this have to do with worship?” From the scriptures above, it is my belief that our worship is our response to the truth, and we cannot have a response of worship if we do not know what this truth is: the life, death, and resurrection of Christ so we may experience eternal life with Him. Only then can we adequately teach and counsel one another, worshiping together as a body with thankful hearts.

3. Surrendering to Worship, Worship by Surrendering

As you might recall, in my introduction I explained how I feel as if I am in a spiritual gray area, demanding God to distinguish the black from the white and show me the “right” way; however, what I have failed to consider until tonight is that the only right way is surrendering to The Way —— Jesus (sounds obvious, right?).

I have been believing that we arrive at forks in the road in life, and God wants us to pick a specific path. The enemy, Satan, tells us this: either we pick the right path and move closer to God and His will, or we pick the wrong path and move further from God, backwards in our sanctification, and away from His will. This. Is. A. Lie. Yes, God puts us in tests to see what we choose and tests our love for Him, but it is not to condemn or shame us, but to develop and grow us. God does not let go of our hand for making mistakes; he holds it all the way as we cross the street of sanctification and never gives up on us. If you don’t believe this, look at every area in scripture that Peter does anything. The enemy twists the truth and tells us the lie that God’s favor stands on the choices we make.

“Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those in Christ Jesus, for the law of the Spirit of life frees us from the law of sin and death (Romans 8:1-2).” The truth is, either path we take, as long as we choose Jesus on it, we cannot move away from Him. We can never turn away from His will if we are seeking to be devoted to Him in all that we do. We place laws around ourselves where they are not placed by God by taking the wisdom graciously given to us by Him, and using it in ways that bring shame, condemnation, and death. This is not by God, but by man’s pride.

I am not saying that we ignore God’s wisdom, or that we shouldn’t be discerning in areas that are not clearly laid out in scripture —— the mark of a mature Christian is being wise and discerning in these gray areas. What I am saying is we can frequently be like the Pharisees, who take these laws and turn them into chains, making idols out of our own discernment, saying one way is “right” and another “wrong.” The reason there are so many denominations in Christianity is because mankind is hellbent on turning the gray into black and white. The reason I have encountered so much spiritual suffering is because I am demanding black and white from God when He has left it gray intentionally.

There is a difference between “convictions” and “opinions.” Convictions are Spirit given, leading us towards obedience to God; opinions, however, are judgments from our own minds based on facts or pertinent experiences.

We cannot worship God when we idolize our opinion in the gray. When we are sure that our opinion is the right one, we lose grace for others and for ourselves when we fall short; therefore, we cannot worship through our spirit. When we move in the gray with our opinions of right and wrong, we still cannot worship because we lose sight of the truth of the Gospel, becoming “puffed up with the idle notions by [our] spiritual mind… such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility, and their harsh treatment of their body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence (Colossians 2:18b, 23).” By giving Jesus the final say rather than making hard and fast rules, we are given freedom in the Spirit, letting Him show us how to move within God’s will. Christ came to set us free from human rules, binding us to the law of the Spirit inside of us, commanding of us only two things: “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, and strength (Deuteronomy 6:5),” and “Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends (John 15: 12b-13).” We cannot love our friends if we are not willing to surrender our false notions of black and white through the gray.

What Scripture defines as black and white is often not sufficient enough for us. We would never say that, but when we live based on our opinions, we are conveying the message that we must be sovereign over the gray areas and can make those judgments on our own. What may be conviction for you might not be for someone else. You may see alcohol as too much temptation and surrender it to God, and that is good. Someone else may not see alcohol as temptation, and can wisely choose to partake in a glass of wine every now and then, and that is also good. “The one who eats everything must not treat with contempt the one who does not, and the one who does not eat everything must not judge the one who does, for God has accepted them. Who are you to judge someone else’s servant? To their own master, servants stand or fall. And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand (Romans 14:3-4).” It is not the strength of our opinions that makes us stand, but our servitude to God through surrendering our ideas of what life should look like or what we should and should not do. We cannot listen to what God says to do when our heads are too full on what our lives should be like.

God intentionally did not make us robots. We are gifted with free will so that we can make our own choice to love Him, which means we also have to make these earthly decisions within the gray. Some of them are as minute as whether or not to go out on Saturdays when you know you have church in the morning, others can be as big as choosing a life partner or picking a career. "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given to him (James 1:5).” God will often test us to see where our hearts are on these matters, not to shame us, but to make us more like His Son. If God’s goal is not to shame, why do we seek to shame?

The body of Christ must be more gracious with how others are choosing to navigate the gray. “Do everything in love. And do everything with love. Let all that you do be done in love (1 Corinthians 16:14).” I don’t think it’s a mistake that Paul says to do everything in and with love three times; I think it’s a sign of our tendency to love ourselves and our ways more so than those around us. When we make our choices in life, we must do so out of God’s love for us. When we disagree with one another, we must do so lovingly. We must surrender our self-righteousness so we can love the way we were made to.

With where I am in life, I could go down path A and glorify God, and I could go down path B and also glorify God. And I don’t know which one I will take. But when I surrender my ideas of what the black and white is, I can properly live a life in which I can worship in the gray.

Ban - verb, officially or legally prohibit

We didn’t have cable television. It was a small apartment with an office manager who was looking for any reason to fine us for putting a hole in the wall, a scratch in the laminate floor, or a stain in the carpet. So the television stayed standing up against the wall, with nothing more than my roommate Tyler’s XBox One as a friend.

Instead of watching the Electoral College votes roll in on the news, I would refresh Snapchat every five or so minutes to check the updates. Ian, my other roommate, laid in bed with me. As a newly eighteen year old, any presence of another guy in my bed would have made me blush, but I thought nothing of it since he was gay. He was gunning for Trump to win, which I thought was interesting considering Trump’s feelings towards members of the LGBT+ community. Earlier that day, I casted my vote for Hillary Clinton in spite of wishing that I felt the Bern, justifying it with “she’s the lesser of two evils,” and ignoring comments that I was a communist. I don’t think anyone particularly enjoyed that election year, except for maybe the Klan.

Ten o’clock that night rolled around. The Snapchat filter was no longer updating, and I got a Twitter notification saying that Donald Trump was America’s new President Elect. Ian cheered. Tyler cheered. I laid in bed, staring at my ceiling hoping it was all a dream. For the first time in my eighteen years of life, I felt totally, completely helpless.

My roommates said that I was overreacting. That Trump would make the country great again.

The following day I went into my afternoon shift at Starbucks where I had been working for nearly two weeks at that point. I noticed the shift manager who had been scheduled to work was absent, and a substitute was in her place. He told me that she called him earlier that morning, unable to get out of bed, devastated from the announcement made the night prior. She had been a Bernie Sanders supporter, but ended up settling for Clinton. It took her a week to come back to work.

Over the next year, more and more reports of school shootings began to air. The first few stuck with me. When Columbine happened, I was only a year old. Never in my life had I seen violence on such a scale. White boys around the country broke into their fathers’ gun safes and were driven to kill their classmates. When it was announced that Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida faced seventeen deaths and enough injuries to match, I was about to take a U.S. History test I had crammed for the entire night before.

In that one moment, I forgot every single detail I had studied for, and grief flooded my heart. I had never experienced true grief for a stranger before, let alone seventeen of them. Due to the power of social media I memorized each and every one of their names and faces until I had half-convinced myself I had actually known them. I overlooked what the shooter’s name was.

So many people had thoughts and prayers. I had a few thoughts of my own: how could this have happened? Why did it seem that no one truly gave a shit? Who is going to tell the parents of the victims that their children died in the hands of their “protectors”?

Was anyone going to protect me?

The March for Our Lives movement made its way around the country, and myself and several friends attended. It was so loud that day. Thousands of activists stormed the streets of Fort Worth. If you listened closely enough, you might have heard the echoes of chants coming from Dallas. We wanted to be heard. We needed to be heard. We were screaming so intensely that we couldn’t speak the next day.

We weren’t loud enough.

Sutherland Springs, a small town in Texas, faced a brutal attack in 2017 two days before the anniversary of Trump’s election. My aunt lived down the road from the church that was tainted by a man whose name I choose not to state. In a house of God, there is no glory in his actions. I cried for five days. I wrote my Senator, I called my local government offices, I talked to anyone who would listen. Twenty-six innocent souls died, including an unborn child.

The following May, Santa Fe High School in Houston, Texas, located a few hours east of Sutherland Springs, faced their own tragedy. Kids barely younger than I lost their lives in an avoidable disaster. I cried for them for two days. Ten were killed, and thirteen were injured.

In exactly 1,200 days since Election day in 2016, there have been 239 mass shootings. Statistically, that is one shooting every five days. With those odds, how can one comfortably tell themselves - This won’t happen to me?

I had to stop telling myself that on July 17th, 2018. It was a seemingly normal, slow Wednesday at work. I was the Game Master for an escape room company called Breakout. I liked my job well enough. Sure it was in a mall and traffic was a bitch, but they paid me $10.25/hour. That kind of money to a nineteen year old made me feel like I was in the one percent, but I have never had a good fiscal sense.

Sirens blared at 4:52pm, which wasn’t good because my group was handcuffed to a bench in their room (willingly, of course). My coworker bursted into the back room moments later, announcing that there was a shooter in the mall and that the police were evacuating everyone.

At first, there were no thoughts in my mind. I sat, stunned into silence while chaos stirred around me. Then, I had many thoughts. Who would take care of my mom? Would my cat understand that I wasn’t coming back? I’m not ready to die. Please God, don’t let me die.

After getting all of the guests out of their rooms, we locked the gates and escaped through the back halls. Security shielded us as we all ran outside, past fire trucks and cop cars and bystanders conversing in confused tones. I ran, and ran, and kept running, scared that at any moment a bullet would find its way into my chest. My feet carried me until I made it inside my car. Never in my life had I been so grateful to see that old chunk of metal with brakes so stiff that it was a miracle I hadn’t died already.

My key quickly found the ignition and I sped out of the parking lot faster than I thought my car could move. I didn’t have to worry about hitting anyone, as they were all standing by the building, disgustingly eager to see what happened next. Human nature and its fascination in destruction is truly evil.

Tears didn’t come to my eyes until I had made it outside the mall property and stopped at a traffic light. They held themselves back as long as they could before releasing themselves in uncontrollable weeps of relief mixed with fear. I knew the police would be too preoccupied to worry about speeding tickets, so I got home as quickly as possible without worrying about how fast I was going. The sunset that evening was more beautiful than I’d ever witnessed.

My mom was home. She had taken the day off to go see my grandmother and bring her to the eye doctor. Usually she stays there till rather late in the evening, but mothers have a keen sense of insight. A simple feeling arrives to them, and they know where to go.

I hugged her so tightly, it surprised me that she didn’t burst open. Through split sobs and choked back wails, I told her the story. She ran to the couch and turned on the news. Interviews of cops outside the mall showed on screen. Yellow tape barred off the doors to anyone who tried to get inside. I couldn’t comprehend how someone could be so stupid, but it wouldn’t have shocked me to discover that they did exist.

Luckily, there isn’t a second that goes undocumented in today’s society. A snapchat video began to go viral of the incident where the shooting first started and the following panic that ensued. A man tried to rob the Sunglasses Hut downstairs by the food court, and when he was chased by the police, he drew a gun. For his sake, the cop fired first, shooting the thief in the leg. Frightened by the sound of gunshots, everyone in the area fled for their lives. With the rise in the mass shooting rate in this country, no one was willing to take any chances.

In Conservative, Texas, there was no more denying a white supremicist’s version of “the talk”. The close-calls brought realistic conversations about gun control to homes across the city. The only real argument anyone could make to deny regulation was “what about my second amendment rights?”

They didn’t seem to care about my right to life.

In August of 2019, a white supremicist posed an attack in El Paso, Texas, at the Walmart down the street from my cousin’s house. I called him for hours after the event, desperate to hear his voice. He called me that evening, as he had been in Italy and the time difference meant he had been sleeping when the event occurred. My friend’s mother was at the store when the attack happened. She was lucky to make it out alive. Twenty-two others were not.

Two weeks later, another supremacist shot and killed police officers in Midland, Texas. Seven officers died.

Two months later, a shooter walked into a Halloween party at Texas A&M Commerce. Two students died.

At some point, I stopped crying.

Admittingly, there are so many mass shootings around the country that I cannot remember the locations and dates of all of them. I decided to look some up. Between 1991 and 2016, Texas had five situations that were classified as mass shootings. In the last three years, we have heard of just as many.

My brother owns a few guns. They’re safely stowed away in a closeted, coded safe in the office of my house. He pulls them out to go hunting every spring, and then locks them back away at the end of the season until the following February. My mother is the only one with knowledge of the safe combination. When I was younger, I tried to guess the numbers with all of the usual obvious choices: anniversaries, addresses, birthdays, names, etc. Everytime a new idea sprung to mind, I would sneak into the closet and enter the buttons. Inevitably they would be wrong, and the safe would beep with such an ear-piercing sound that I had no choice but to make an escape before someone caught me attempting to break in. With the high security, my family sees no reason to take such extreme measures as restricting gun access. After all, if they had to go through background checks and lock their guns safely away, what could go wrong?

Marshall County High School found out the answer. On January 23, 2018, two students were shot and killed during their first period class, and another fourteen were left injured. The fifteen year old student had stolen his step-dad’s gun the night prior to the massacre, which hadn’t been locked away or hidden, and opened fire on his classmates that morning.

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” - United States Constitution, 2nd Amendment, 1791.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” - United States Declaration of Independence, 1776.

I fear that our basic, unalienable right to life has been overlooked in favor of the right to bear arms. We are told that there is no value to human life - that each and every existence is priceless. But an adult body in perfect health could be worth up to $45 million in value of organs, blood, and bone.

The cheapest price of an AR-15 is $450, equalling 0.001% of an adult body.

It is possible that these school shootings are only met with “thoughts and prayers” because high school students are not adults. They aren’t monetarily worth as much.

There are factors that have protected me thus far: I graduated high school before the sudden increase in gun violence, I prefer Kroger over Walmart, and I disconnected from religion when I was fourteen. But in five months from now, I will be teaching at a high school in Arlington, TX. As a role model and guardian, it will be my responsibility to ensure the safety of dozens of students during the hours of 7:30am-3pm, every Monday through Friday during the academic year. Thinking about the lives lost in schools, both student and faculty, almost tempts me to choose another career path. Every instinct in my body tells me to quit. To abandon my dreams in favor of my life. Freelance writers usually don’t get murdered at their jobs right?

One in thirty-six homes are invaded in a year in the United States, or seven per minute.

Only three countries have the constitutional right to own a gun: the United States of America, Mexico, and Guatemala. Together, the three nations make up 22.7% of all gun deaths in the world, despite only carrying 6.8% of the world’s population; more specifically the United States alone makes up 14.8%, and carries 4.2% of the world’s population.

Every night, I pray that change happens before I get employed. The weight of so many lives on my shoulders is a burden I would prefer not to bear. Depressing thoughts occur to me that my prayers will be just as ineffective as those of the President and other politicians who pray for the families victimized by this endless violence. As if it makes their grief any easier.

When I held my mom after returning from the mall that day, a flood of emotion hit me. Tears momentarily stained the mint-green of her sweater, turning it to mimic billiard grass. Some part of me somewhere accepted that I would never see her again. How many others whose stories ended much different than mine had been forced to accept that fact as well?

I’m rather fond of living, and would like to continue to do so unopposed.

Regulate - verb, control or supervise (something, especially a company or business activity) by means of rules