Racial Reconciliation / Luke 6:41-42 / Ephesians 2:8-22

Leading with the Log

As I get started this week, I need to mention my buddy DJ Criner, who is here with us. I am so grateful that DJ is here. For those of you at Midweek tonight, of course, you get to see DJ. If you are watching on video, just trust me—my friend is there. We interacted earlier today, and I said, “Man, I’m kind of going there. Can you come?” He replied, “Thanks for the advance notice.” I know that’s my bad, but I am so thankful he’s here, both to hold me accountable to what we talk about and to keep me straight if I start getting foolish.

In Luke chapter six, Jesus makes a pretty fascinating statement. He says to the people around Him, “Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite! First take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.”

Luke 6:41-42 (NASB)

’Why do you look at the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? ’Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Brother, let me take out the speck that is in your eye,’ when you yourself do not see the log that is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take out the speck that is in your brother’s eye.

What I want to do as we begin is lead with the log. I don’t want to talk to you first about what you need to change, fix, do, or correct. I want to talk first about what God has done in my life, and in that, show you the journey I have been on regarding this issue of racial reconciliation.

First and foremost, can I say right off the bat: this has been a wickedly frustrating topic for me. I grew up as an athlete in a locker room where there was no racial tension. It didn’t matter what color you were. If a guy was better than you, he played and you sat. If you didn’t like it, you played better and he sat. It didn’t matter about color. I grew up in that environment, and I was convinced, “I’m not a racist.”

That being said, as a college student, I had a very difficult time understanding why we needed a Black Student Union or a Black fraternity. I thought in my head, What do you think would happen if I started announcing around campus that we were going to have a White Student Union or a White fraternity? I wonder how that would go. In my head, I was frustrated with these issues. I brought into the conversation a very strong narrative of personal responsibility. In my family, that was the way my dad raised me, and I just assumed that could be projected onto everyone else.

I found myself—and I’m just being gut-level honest; I’m not necessarily proud of this, but I want you to know where I’m coming from—saying, “Can I be honest? Why are we talking about this? Look, we don’t have colored restrooms anymore, right? Man, I was proud that we elected a Black president! We’ve come a long way. Do we really still need to be talking about it?” I say that because I am fairly confident that most white people, at least at some point in their lives, have thought like that too.

I remember being frustrated. I thought, Look, I’m a fan of Dr. King. I believe in the civil rights movement. I’m thankful we ended segregation. We are progressing.

Then a buddy of mine named John Bryson, who was my college pastor and actually officiated my wedding, planted a church in Memphis, Tennessee—one of the historic hotbeds of segregation. As a white guy from Harlan, Kentucky, he planted this church with a specific desire to be multiethnic. I remember him telling me that racial reconciliation is a gospel imperative—that a church under the banner of Jesus Christ ought to be multiethnic.

I remember thinking, Time out. What do you mean “ought to be”? In reality, Black churches in Fresno were primarily reaching Black folks, Hmong churches were reaching Hmong folks, Hispanic churches were reaching Hispanic people, and white churches were reaching white people. But we’re all on the same team, right? Is that really what we have to do? I was confused.

John stepped into Memphis, planted this church, and did something I had never seen a white guy do in that context. He looked around and realized that if he was white, his elders were white, his staff was white, and his worship team was white, he was never going to reach the African American community in Memphis. So he found a phenomenal leader, raised him up, stepped down, made this African American brother the senior pastor, and chose to serve on his staff instead.

I remember talking to John about this, saying, “Man, that is fascinating what you’re doing. Good for you! I’m glad that’s your passion. That’s just not my passion. I’m not opposed to it, but that’s not what I’m into.” I knew Dr. King said that eleven o’clock on Sunday morning is the most segregated hour of the week, but at that point, I wasn’t convinced that was a bad thing. I thought, Isn’t it more strategic to reach people who look like you, because like begets like?

The Ambush and the Education

With that perspective, you could see the ambush coming. I was watching this social media firestorm unfold in our culture, reading posts—which I don’t recommend if you want to stay sane. I watched people type things they would never say to someone’s face. Behind the privacy of their screens, they were dropping hate bombs. We were watching videos of police shootings, everyone was playing CSI, arguing over whether it was racially motivated or whether there was a gun. Meanwhile, the media was photoshopping pictures and editing clips, driving the whole narrative, and people kept throwing logs on the fire.

Night after night, I watched race-baiters make everything about race, and race-deniers say, “What’s your problem? Get over it! I don’t own slaves, deal with it!” Neither response was accurate or biblical. I found myself asking, Where is God in all of this?

I was reading through 1 John, where it says, “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love.”

1 John 4:7-8 (NASB)

Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. The one who does not love does not know God, for God is love.

I thought, We need some better evangelism, because half the people in our churches, by the way they hate on each other online, demonstrate a severe lack of love for God. This issue brought it out instantly.

I’ll lay my cards on the table. Don’t hate on me, but I didn’t vote for President Obama. It wasn’t that I liked whoever was running against him; I just didn’t agree with his policies. When he was re-elected for his second term, I posted online—I should have known better—saying, “I’m really disappointed.” I literally had people commenting on that post saying I was a racist, that a pastor in my position should never say such things, and that it was a demonstration of poor leadership. For some people, that was the beginning of the end, and they left our church because I said, “I’m disappointed.”

You realize very quickly: we are in the middle of one of the most controversial issues of our generation. Yes, we have moved a long way, but my goodness, we have a long way to go.

In 2013, I was invited to participate on a panel about race. It was a group of pastors, primarily pastors of color, and me—basically the only white guy from North Fresno. I thought, I’ll show up, see what happens, learn a little bit, and hear from different people.

Question number one was directed straight at me: “Pastor Bell, do you believe in ethnic diversity, and do you see it represented in your church?” They handed me the mic. I thought, I just got ambushed.

I looked around. The panel was held at Westside Church of God in Southwest Fresno, and the audience was predominantly people of color. So I said what I believed at the time: “I think the body of Christ is diverse. We’re on the same team. It doesn’t really matter if one local church is multiethnic, because under the headship of Jesus, we are all one.” In my head, I patted myself on the back: You dodged a bullet. Good job, buddy.

My answer was not well received by the crowd. Not only that, it sparked a dialogue on the panel that I was entirely unprepared for. The panelists gently pointed out that my answer was a wee bit naive. They suggested there was more to the story, and that my background didn’t give me the complete picture. They started using terms like “white privilege” and “dominant narrative.”

I stopped them and said, “Look, no offense, but what are you talking about? I’m not even familiar with these concepts.”

Afterward, I realized I needed to follow up. I called Pastor Binion, Pastor Lewis, and Pastor Criner. I said, “Can we get together? I feel like I am way behind the curve educationally. I put myself out there thinking I did well, and I realize I’m actually way behind.”

That started an incredible process of growth. Here is what I began to realize: my story, zoomed in, made complete sense to me. That was my journey and my reality. But when you zoom the camera out, other people have completely different experiences and stories that shape their reality.

I had to learn about concepts like implicit bias—subconscious decisions we make every day. If you hear footsteps behind you and turn around to see a guy with teardrop tattoos all over his face, you make an immediate assumption about your safety. But if it’s a white guy in a sweater vest and penny loafers, you relax. Sometimes snap judgments are helpful, but often they are deeply flawed. A good African American friend of mine was walking through his own neighborhood, a neighborhood where he owned a home. A neighbor down the street called out, “Hey, can I help you?” He thought, I live five houses down! I helped you bring your trash cans in last week! What do you mean, ‘Can I help you?’ To that white neighbor, a Black man walking down the street signaled that something was wrong. That is implicit bias.

Then they started talking about systemic and institutional racism, and my hard drive completely locked up. I thought racism was only personal hatred. I had no category for racism embedded within institutions. But consider this: if a young white man gets caught with drugs and gets probation because his family has money to hire a top attorney, while a young man of color gets caught with the exact same thing and goes to prison because he has an overburdened public defender, that is an unequal system producing unequal outcomes.

They explained dominant narrative to me. When you go to the store to buy a “flesh-colored” Band-Aid, why does the Band-Aid match my skin and not DJ’s? Why is the default Barbie typically a white girl? When white folks talk about “the good old days” of sock hops and poodle skirts, are we forgetting that those were also the days of colored water fountains? That is the dominant narrative.

People say, “I’m colorblind.” I used to say that. What I meant was, “I’m not racist.” But that is a one-sided perspective. I went to Jason Spencer’s wedding, and I was pretty much the only white guy in the room. In that moment, I was not colorblind! I felt what it was like to be the only white person in the room. I was thrilled to be there, sitting next to Mrs. Jackie whom I love, but I definitely noticed. If you are a white guy living in a white world, of course you think you’re colorblind—everyone around you looks like you.

We were hosting a communicator training at our church, teaching young communicators how to handle God’s Word. I compiled about twenty-five YouTube clips of great communicators: expositors, storytellers, dynamic speakers. Then Jason Spencer, an African American pastor at City of Refuge in Fresno, walked into the room. I panicked. Looking at my list, I realized every single communicator I had selected was white. It wasn’t intentional; it was because my world was so white that I didn’t even notice. Without realizing it, I was communicating that the people who really handle God’s Word well are white men. Having Jay Spence in the room made me a better pastor because it forced me to see the incredible communicators of color I had overlooked.

I realized I needed to listen, learn, and grow. I needed to ask DJ Criner, “What is life like for you? What was it like growing up as a person of color in our city?” I had to learn to enter into someone else’s story and practice being quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.

James 1:19 (NASB)

[This] you know, my beloved brethren. But everyone must be quick to hear, slow to speak [and] slow to anger;

Whenever someone used to bring up white privilege or racial profiling, my immediate reaction was defensiveness. Defensiveness is a sign of pride—it means you are trying to protect something. But in Christ, we have nothing we need to protect.

We hosted a conversation called Hope Fresno, bringing in facilitators to guide the discussion. It was uncomfortable, painful, and powerful. It opened my eyes. I realized that the church has to lead this conversation. Too often, people set up straw-man arguments—taking the most extreme, irrational voice on the other side, knocking it down, and dismissing the entire conversation. We cannot allow the world to define this through political shouting matches. We must bring the gospel to bear.

Philippians charges us: “Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

Philippians 2:3-4 (NASB)

Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not [merely] look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others.

Romans 12 tells us to “love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.”

Romans 12:10 (NASB)

[Be] devoted to one another in brotherly love; give preference to one another in honor;

Over the last several years, God has lit a fire in my heart. It has moved this issue from something I could care about to something I must care about. My friend John Bryson was right: ethnic diversity and reconciliation are gospel imperatives. Christ has already accomplished our oneness at the cross. The issue is not the theology—the heavy lifting has been done. The issue is the practical living out of that theological reality.

Having addressed the log in my own eye, can we now talk about the speck? Can we talk about what we as a faith community must address? I am no expert, and I am still learning. Some of you might think, Pastor, where have you been? We’ve been talking about this for ten years! Others are thinking, Are you kidding me? I’m tired of hearing about this on the news, and now I have to hear it at church? Either way, I know I might take heat for this message, but I am utterly compelled by scripture to go here.

When Chef Paul from Chef Paul’s Cafe catered our Hope Fresno dinner, he looked at me and said, “Pastor, are you sure you know what you’re getting into? You’re going to make some people uncomfortable. You might make people angry, and some might even leave your church.” I told him, “That’s alright. We have to go here.”

The Gospel Destroys the Dividing Wall

Let’s turn to Ephesians chapter two. To set this up, we must remember that Jesus was not born in California. Jesus was born in the Middle East. He was not white; He was a brown-skinned Middle Eastern Jewish man. He ministered in a profoundly segregated world.

In John 4, when Jesus encounters the Samaritan woman at the well, He crosses centuries of deep ethnic tension. Jews and Samaritans despised each other, yet Jesus sits down, asks for a drink from her cup, and shatters eight hundred years of hostility over lunch.

John 4:7-9 (NASB)

There came a woman of Samaria to draw water. Jesus said to her, ‘Give Me a drink.’ For His disciples had gone away into the city to buy food. Therefore the Samaritan woman said to Him, ‘How is it that You, being a Jew, ask me for a drink since I am a Samaritan woman?’ (For Jews have no dealings with Samaritans.)

The early church struggled deeply with this reality. In Mark 11, when Jesus cleanses the temple, He quotes Isaiah and says, “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations.” The Greek word used there for “nations” is ethnos, which literally means ethnicities.

Mark 11:17 (NASB)

And He [began] to teach and say to them, ’Is it not written, ’MY HOUSE SHALL BE CALLED A HOUSE OF PRAYER FOR ALL THE NATIONS ‘? But you have made it a ROBBERS’ DEN.’

In the Great Commission, Jesus commands them to “go therefore and make disciples of all nations”—all ethnos.

Matthew 28:19 (NASB)

’Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,

Yet even after Acts 1:8 commanded them to go to Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria, and the ends of the earth, the apostles stayed in Jerusalem. It took intense persecution in Acts 8 for believers to finally scatter, and even then, the apostles initially stayed behind. In Acts 10, God had to give Peter a vision of unclean animals just to get him to enter the home of Cornelius, a Roman Gentile. When Peter finally arrived, he asked, “Why did you send for me?” When Peter returned to Jerusalem in Acts 11, the believers criticized him for eating with uncircumcised men. It was not until the Jerusalem Council in Acts 15 that the church formally affirmed that the gospel was fully for Gentiles without requiring them to assimilate into Jewish culture.

Christianity is not a white man’s religion. If you are white, you were once outside the covenant, and by the sheer grace of God, you were brought in.

Ephesians 2 explains this vertical and horizontal reconciliation. Verses 8 and 9 give us the familiar foundation: “For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”

Ephesians 2:8-9 (NASB)

For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, [it is] the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast.

Then verse 10 tells us, “For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” Our vertical reconciliation with God must produce horizontal good works in the world.

Ephesians 2:10 (NASB)

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.

Paul continues in verses 13 through 16: “But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility by abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that he might create in himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility.”

Ephesians 2:13-16 (NASB)

But now in Christ Jesus you who formerly were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For He Himself is our peace, who made both [groups into] one and broke down the barrier of the dividing wall, by abolishing in His flesh the enmity, [which is] the Law of commandments [contained] in ordinances, so that in Himself He might make the two into one new man, [thus] establishing peace, and might reconcile them both in one body to God through the cross, by it having put to death the enmity.

Jesus took two groups—Jew and Gentile—and destroyed the dividing wall between them. He abolished the hostility to make “one new man.” He established peace through the cross. There is no longer an “us versus them.” There is no ethnic superiority or inferiority in the kingdom of God.

Genesis 2:24 says, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” In marriage, becoming “one” does not mean you always agree on everything. My wife and I are two sinners saved by grace; we still make mistakes and disagree, but we don’t fight to destroy each other, because to destroy your spouse is to destroy yourself. You fight to protect the oneness. That is what Christ has done for the church.

Our ethnic diversity reflects the image of God. Psalm 139 tells us that we are fearfully and wonderfully made. If you are Latino, God made you Latino. If you are Armenian, God made you Armenian. If you are Black, God made you Black. If you are white, God made you white. Diversity is not an accident; it is God’s creative design, meant to display His glory through equal-value human beings made in His image.

Psalms 139:14 (NASB)

I will give thanks to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Wonderful are Your works, And my soul knows it very well.

Colossians 3:8 says, “Put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth.” When you are looking at social media, ask yourself: is what I am about to post full of anger, wrath, or slander? A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger. Our speech must be seasoned with grace.

Colossians 3:8 (NASB)

But now you also, put them all aside: anger, wrath, malice, slander, [and] abusive speech from your mouth.

Paul writes in Ephesians 2:17-22 that Christ “came and preached peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near. For through him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus himself being the cornerstone, in whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord. In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.”

Ephesians 2:17-22 (NASB)

AND HE CAME AND PREACHED PEACE TO YOU WHO WERE FAR AWAY, AND PEACE TO THOSE WHO WERE NEAR; for through Him we both have our access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints, and are of God’s household, having been built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus Himself being the corner [stone], in whom the whole building, being fitted together, is growing into a holy temple in the Lord, in whom you also are being built together into a dwelling of God in the Spirit.

Galatians 3:28 famously states, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

Galatians 3:28 (NASB)

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free man, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.

This does not mean we lose our distinct identities. When you come to Christ, you don’t stop being male or female. You don’t have to erase your ethnicity. You don’t have to be ashamed of your heritage, and white believers do not need to feel guilty simply for being white. The issue is idolatry: when your ethnicity, gender, or political identity becomes your cornerstone instead of Jesus Christ. Jesus is the cornerstone; everything else is secondary.

In Revelation 7:9, John sees “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes.” Heaven is multiethnic. If diversity bothers you, you are not going to enjoy heaven, so we might as well figure out how to love one another now.

Revelation 7:9 (NASB)

After these things I looked, and behold, a great multitude which no one could count, from every nation and [all] tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, and palm branches [were] in their hands;

Walking Out Reconciliation in Fresno

How do we live out this visible expression of the gospel in our community? Let me give you two challenges.

First, launch your own personal diversity journey and wage war with “same.”

When you walk into a room with two tables—one filled with people who look like you and one filled with people who don’t—which table do you gravitate toward? We naturally choose the table of people who look like us because it feels safer and less awkward. We assume we have more in common. But when you build relationships with people who don’t look like you, you quickly realize you share the exact same human experiences: trying to pay bills, raising children, planning for retirement, and navigating life. Step outside your comfort zone. Form genuine friendships where you listen to the pain and emotions of others before debating data.

Second, recognize that racial division is systemic, not just individual.

I used to think racism was purely an individual issue of personal prejudice. But history shows us how past injustices formed structural realities that still affect our neighbors today.

Consider the history of housing right here in Fresno. In the 1930s, the Federal Housing Administration created low-interest FHA loans to stimulate homeownership. When rating neighborhoods in cities like Fresno, they evaluated terrain, property age, and explicitly listed “the threat of infiltration of foreign-born, Negro, or lower-grade populations.” Neighborhoods with people of color were color-coded red on government maps—a practice known as redlining.

Banks refused to issue standard loans in redlined areas, and people of color were legally prohibited from buying homes in “green” neighborhoods. In 1944, property deeds in prominent Fresno neighborhoods like Fig Garden and Sunnyside contained covenants stating that the property could never be occupied by “a Negro, a Chinese, a Japanese, a Hindu, an Armenian, an Asiatic… or anyone not of the white or Caucasian race,” unless they were employed as domestic servants.

Consider the generational impact of those policies. If a white family bought a home in an appreciating area in the 1940s, they built home equity, passed generational wealth to their children, and established financial stability. Meanwhile, families of color were denied access to mortgages, forced into rental markets, and concentrated into disinvested neighborhoods. When you rent, you don’t build equity. Over decades, that created an immense generational wealth gap that persists today.

Even after the Fair Housing Act passed in the 1960s, Fresno’s economic development migrated entirely northward. Malls, banks, grocery stores, and medical centers moved north, while South Fresno was left behind. Today, there are severe food deserts in Southwest Fresno—in the middle of the most productive agricultural valley in the world. That is what we mean by systemic disparity. You didn’t create that history, but as followers of Jesus, we are called to be part of the healing.

In Matthew 25, Jesus tells His followers that how we treat the marginalized is how we treat Him: “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.”

Matthew 25:40 (NASB)

’The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, [even] the least [of them], you did it to Me.’

When you look at our city through the lens of the gospel and historic understanding, you realize that people didn’t just end up in hardship by accident. Injustices helped shape these realities, and the church has a responsibility to bring hope, restoration, and love to those spaces.

I am encouraged because the church is beginning to show up. We are stepping into the conversation. We will make mistakes along the way, but we cannot remain passive or silent. God has placed us here as the local church to display the unifying, reconciling power of Jesus Christ.

Let’s pray.

Father, thank You for Your Word and for the call to live as one new humanity in Christ. Give us courage, humility, and strength to be the church You have called us to be. Make us agents of Your peace and reconciliation in our city, and point our community to Jesus in a fresh and powerful way. We pray all this in Jesus’ name. Amen.