On the Ground - What Hate Feels Like (Part Deux)

On the Ground - What Hate Feels Like (Part Deux)

WHILE SHOPPING in Chennai, our merry band of Americans joined throngs of Diwali shoppers. Diwali, known as the Festival of Lights, is similar to our Christmas. So there we were, the night before Diwali—out shopping with 1.2 billion Indians who were looking for the perfect Diwali gift for their loved ones.

As we entered the open-air market, strung with lights, the excitement hung in the air like it does in Dallas’s NorthPark Center mall on Christmas Eve. A display caught our collective fashion eye, and we strolled into a shop that had the most beautiful shalwar kameez (traditional Indian ensembles) we had seen during our excursion. As I shopped on the south side of the corner store, I visited with the young English-speaking merchants.

Intrigued by the brightly colored merchandise, I meandered farther into the store. Then an elderly man, standing behind the counter, began speaking to me in Hindi. Animated, he motioned for me to move; I thought he wanted me to look at the clothes on another rack. But he continued to flap his hands and arms wildly and his voice grew louder. His expression turned angry. I looked around, confused, trying to understand what he wanted me to do—until a man, standing outside the shop, looked me in the eye and said, “He wants you to get out of his store.”

I was shocked. Why? What had I done? It became glaringly clear.

I was hated simply because I am an American. I am white. I am Christian. I am a woman. All I could think as I walked away—embarrassed, by the way—is I know he would like me if he would just stop hating me for a moment and give me a chance.

It is so easy to despise people who are different:

Left. Right.

Jew. Muslim.

Gay. Straight.

Black. Hispanic.

Male. Female.

Young. Old.

Rich. Poor.

My dear brothers and sisters, how can you claim to have faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ if you favor some people over others? (James 2:1)

Until each and every one of us has experienced the gut-wrenching feeling of being despised because of who we are—or what someone else thinks we are—we will not overthrow the kind of prejudice Jesus fought against. He loved people others loved to hate: The poor. The sick. The sinful. Those on the wrong side of the tracks or the wrong side of the rules. Feeling the sting of someone else’s hatred has given me a deeper appreciation for the boundary-breaking love of Jesus—and a stronger determination to pass that love along.