Editor’s Note: The following article appeared in the March/April issue of Nurturing Faith Journal (NFJ.) In 2025, NFJ became Good Faith Magazine and is free of charge for all Good Faith Advocates.
I read Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower in January after learning the novel begins in 2024. It took a lot of nerve to read the book at this point in my life.
Originally released in 1993, Butler imagined a dystopia that could exist in the next 30 years–our present. N.K. Jemisin adeptly notes that “as science fiction reflects its present, the same ugliness afflicts our society on the macro scale.” Reading through Butler’s work and noticing parallels between the world she created and today’s world was heavy.
With all we continue to witness–bleak headlines, a devastating economy, political divisiveness, a pandemic, a genocide–people are looking for hope.
Of course, the church has a natural “in” when it comes to providing hope. But is the church – is your church – the safest place for all people? Without caveats? I hope a church would not respond with “Yes, 100%!” But instead, “We hope to be. And we are working on that daily.”
I am scared when communities think they have it all together–when they believe their place is the place to be.
Growing up in the church, I have been part of many congregations and experienced my share of church hurt, purity culture, and trauma within walls that are supposed to be “holy.” But, honestly, it seems like all I ever came into contact with inside the church were actual walls–systems that didn’t allow or approve of the entirety of my existence.
And I imagine if we long for our churches to reach their fullest potential –a potential where we caused less church hurt–then we would all admit there is much work to do. I hope our church leaders are committed to their congregations bringing peace instead of pain.
Butler’s opening of Parable of the Sower was striking:
“All that you touch
You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth
Is Change.
God is Change.”
What I know to be true–especially now–is that if churches want to live out the Gospel in their communities, they have a responsibility to create safe spaces for marginalized people. And to do that, change is not an option. It is a requirement. To be anti-racist, anti-ableist, anti-ageist, to be an ally to the LGBTQIA+ community, and to combat sexism and xenophobia takes work. But what does that look like?
In her best-seller Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria, Dr. Beverly Daniel Tatum paints a picture that could be used to combat any system of oppression. She gives the example of “visualiz[ing] the ongoing cycle of racism as a moving walkway at the airport.” To be actively racist, one must choose to walk in the direction the walkway is moving, choosing to follow the tide of racism. To be passively racist is to stand on the walkway, allowing it to carry you in the direction of racism. But to be anti-racist is to actively walk in the opposite direction the walkway is moving.
When the topic of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) is mentioned, I often notice people with power or status clutching their privilege a little tighter than before. I get it. The self-preservation aspect of our brains tells us there is not enough to go around. Our brains are wired to protect ourselves. But the idea that we get less when we engage in DEI is a classic case of scarcity mentality.
The reality is that DEI benefits everyone and is something we desperately need, especially in our churches.
I like to think about DEI in terms of a communal table where you take a seat. It’s not just any seat. It is a seat you desperately want because it is at an event that you want to actively participate in. The scarcity mindset says, “If I give up my seat, I will lose out.” But there is plenty of room at the table for everyone. The table has no parameters–it is infinite, and we can constantly make room for others.
Furthermore, our communities are better when we invite people different from us to sit at our table. Studies repeatedly show that diversity and inclusion contribute to improving businesses and organizations. Think about it–when everyone can be the fullest version of themselves without judgment or persecution, they have the freedom to show up. People are more likely to share ideas, perspectives, concepts, and stories. Wouldn’t the same be true for our faith communities?
At the heart of almost every faith tradition, community is essential. We were not made to be alone. If Christians hope to create communities where everyone knows, without a doubt, that their existence is not only valid but safe, then the church must engage in the ongoing work of DEI within their congregations.
Some faith leaders or congregations may be tempted to think, “Perhaps our congregation isn’t the issue,” or “We’re doing good enough.” I would remind them of Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King’s words to his “Christian and Jewish brothers” in his Letter from Birmingham Jail, that he “reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen’s Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice.”
We cannot stand passively on the moving walkway. We must decide how we will undertake DEI within our communities. Not deciding is a decision.
The great news is you do not have to reinvent the wheel. There are already experts doing the work. Often, they gain expertise because of their own identities and life experiences.
But where to start? There are plenty of resources. I invite you to consider:
Layla F. Saad’s Me and White Supremacy
Ibram X. Kendi’s How to Be Antiracist
Isabel Wilkerson’s Caste
Emily Ladau’s Demystifying Disability
Sonya Renee Taylor’s The Body is Not an Apology
Julie Rodgers’ Outlove: A Queer Christian Survival Story
Alok Vaid-Menon’s Beyond the Gender Binary
If you want to learn from the source, consider inviting experts into your congregations and your staff training to teach about these issues. And when you invite them, pay them. This is essential. Whether they are someone you know who specializes in DEI, disability, or trans inclusion, or if they are someone you learn from through their writing, podcasts, social media, or other work, it means something to literally invest in this learning.
Why? They are doing work, and paying people for their work is essential. When you consider all the systems of oppression in place in our country and around the world, not to mention the wage gap for marginalized people, it is the very least we can do to put our money where our mouth is.
There are plenty of resources. The question is, will you look for them? Will you consider venturing into a perspective, a life experience, different from your own? Will you turn against systems of oppression and listen to marginalized voices?
Isn’t that the gospel?
I am reminded of how God shows up to outsiders. Consider Hagar, an enslaved pregnant woman of a different faith. And yet, she is the only woman in the Bible to give God a name. And wasn’t it Jesus who sat with sex workers and tax collectors?
When Jesus sat down and shared meals or when God made God’s self known to someone, there was no aim to “save” or “fix” them. Instead, there was a safe space–an opportunity to show up, listen, learn, and consider.
These resources are not to mend those on the margins. They are to mend those with privilege. There is work to be done by individuals who carry privileged identities. There are a myriad of intersections of privilege. It is our responsibility, in whatever ways we hold privilege, to dismantle these oppressive systems.
As N.K. Jemisin said in her forward to Parable of the Sower, “… most powerful science fiction novels offer not only accurate visions of the future, but also suggestions for coping with the resulting changes… It’s our job to create change in fiction and in life.”