Our struggles can blind us to the struggles of others

​A dear friend - a friend of color - said these words to me yesterday: white Americans can no longer stay silently non-racist, but yet need to be vocally anti-racist.

Obviously, like many of you I'm sure, I've been thinking a lot about this race issue lately.

As a white person, I've been wired in many ways to be "silently non-racist."

In the earliest seconds of my life, my safety and security was defined by the face of a white woman. My brain started taking snapshots of my white mom, memories were created, and from those early moments on safety came to be defined by things that most closely resembled the face of the white woman holding me and feeding me and changing me and in all ways protecting me.

As I grew and developed, my security and safety - my sense of belonging - got further defined by the people groups most closely knitted to my mom and dad and my family. Almost all of which were white.

White schools. A white church. A predominantly white community.

My safety and survival got defined by the color white from the moment I first opened my eyes and saw a white woman smiling back at me.

That is science. That is the human brain. That is not racism.

Believe me, I was taught that people are people. I was raised to believe people aren't defined by their color. I was raised that we don't hate anyone.

I was true to that upbringing. Then and now, when I look at someone who is a different color, I don't experience hate.

What I've come to learn, though, is it's possible to really mistreat people without hating them. It's possible to really mistreat people because of the color of their skin without having anything against the color of their skin.

It's possible, through the pursuit of our own safety and survival, to be blinded to the struggles of others desperately fighting for their own.

I know I became aware of this for the first time at the age of 30 when I worked with at-risk kids. Many of them were different colors and cultures and backgrounds. It's when I first became aware that the environments that shape our sense of safety and security and belonging in this world are often different worlds than others get shaped in.

It's when I first came to understand that the same brain science that left me feeling safe and accepted left a lot of the world feeling left out and marginalized.

In the bible, the disciples asked Jesus why they had to go hang out with some of the people they were hanging out with. The disciples wanted to hang with the people that had come to define their security and their comfort. Jesus told them it was the people that made them feel uncomfortable that needed their attention most.

Jesus was saying, guys, at some point, this brain issue has to become a heart issue. Jesus was saying, you'll never discover the pain of others clinging to the comfort in your own lives. Jesus was saying, you were wired for your own comfort so you'd be better equipped to recognize and fight against the discomfort of others.

Jesus modeled for us that if we migrate to the places that make us feel most safe and comfortable, it's likely at the expense of not fully knowing just how unsafe and uncomfortable so many others are living.

Jesus modeled that having conversations with people that make us feel safe and keep our heart rates and anxieties from going through the roof are not always the conversations we need to be having most.

The reality is, many of us, like me, have ignored the plights of others through some brain processes created to make us feel safe and at ease.

But at some point, those brain processes have to help us identify things in this world that make our hearts feel uneasy.

We can't help heal what we don't know. And we can't know what we need to help heal without getting uncomfortable. Jesus is telling me and maybe you what he told his disciples - if you're hanging out in a comfortable spot, you're likely not coming to understand how deeply some people need your help.