Renewed in the Tension: Serving Black Healing with Holy Love

My love begins with Blackness because it began with me.

Before I could love anyone else, I had to first learn how to love myself. And that self-love? That was me turning God’s love toward me. Speaking about myself like God speaks about me. Transforming Bible verses into affirmations. Turning fears and doubts into boldness and courage. Loving myself the way God loves me is what healed me. It’s what still heals me. It’s what taught me how to speak out—because as a Black woman, it’s our silence that makes us sick. So in this so-called “post-racial era,” it is foolish and unwise—especially here in the U.S.—to perpetuate colorblindness when it is that very mindset that’s killing Black people in our healthcare system.

While on this weekend’s silent retreat, I began reading a book that caught my eye. The brief foreword had me laugh, sigh, invited a lump to my throat and water to my eyes. Embodied Spirits: Stories of Spiritual Directors of Color.

It makes mention of the differences:

the discomfort seems to arise because well-meaning people from all walks of life want to find commonalities rather than differences. This is a worthy desire but a desire that sometimes masks a longing for the American “melting pot”. What time has taught is that we don’t melt very well.

I’ve had to sit with those differences time and time again. Caribbean-born friends didn’t know racism until they got to the DisUnited States of America. They had to learn the nuances, learn the subtle language of hatred towards the melaninated. They know colorism, but not racism.

Racism exists in the U.S. like no other. You know the history. Or if you don’t, look it up. How could you not? Black bodies have been misused since the very day we were stolen from “the Motherland” and brought to these shores.

Black women– more specifically, people of the global majority (PGM) is what brought me to nursing. I wanted to become a nurse to help Black women like myself learn how to fight their way out of the chasm I damn near fell through. It “shouldn’t” have taken me so long to learn how to be healthy, to live a life I actually enjoy.

And then, to my great big surprise, White men and women loved working with me, too. Didn’t they know?! I’m not here for you! I’m here first for Black women, and then, quickly, I learned no, I’m here for you, too.

And sometimes I find myself conflicted, like only Black people are worthy of my excellence.

This one thought has been nagging me all weekend. Rather, it returned to me. One that I was first introduced to when earning my Master of Arts in Teaching, and whose details I’ve long forgotten. Universal design explains that accommodations made for people with specific needs often end up benefiting everyone. For example, curb cuts in sidewalks were created for wheelchair users—but they also help people with strollers, bikes, or rolling suitcases.

What does this have to do with me? With you? The love I exude for Black people– PGM!– can be felt by everyone. It’s not selective, because love– true, divine, holy love!– knows no bounds. My love is God’s love. When I teach Black people how to heal themselves by speaking for themselves, I am loving them to wholeness, to wellness. To God.

How could White people not want this love I have to give? The God I serve knows no color.

That same God also knows I am still at times conflicted. Wanting to serve PGM and wanting to serve all who serve him.

Perhaps my double mindedness about wanting to serve only PGM is going to be like my food is for me, too. A challenge. A struggle. A recovery.

I know I need God because I can’t be transformed without him.

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. 

Romans 12:2 NIV

Renewing. -ing. Continual renewal. Ongoing.

The tension is clear– specificity versus expansiveness, deep love for my own versus the calling to serve beyond.

The more I know the more I know I don’t know. But I do know that God meets me in the tension each and er’time. I do know that I started Extend Yourself Grace to serve only clients willing to put in the work, and not at all coincidentally, those have all been PGM. (Though, I don’t have deep analytics on my blog, but I trust it’s a beautiful, eclectic mix.) I do know that in my full-time, W-2 jobs, I serve my White clients exceptionally well. (And I don’t say that flippantly, I say that having done the deep work to check myself on the regular so as not to impose any implicit biases.)

So maybe I don’t need to feel the tension. Maybe I just need to notice and continue on in love. With the same love God has shared with me, I share freely with others.

God,

For the one reading this—who’s carrying their own tension—meet them here. Right here, in the space between clarity and confusion, in the middle of the wrestle, in the place where they’re trying to make sense of who they are and who they’re called to serve.

Maybe they’re wondering if their love is too specific, or not wide enough. Maybe they’ve been told they have to choose between loving their people deeply or loving everyone well. Thank You that You are the God of both. The God of specificity and expansiveness. The God who meets us where we are and still calls us forward.

Thank You that loving ourselves first was never selfish—it was sacred. That healing begins in the particular, and that holy love always overflows. Let us experience Your freedom to name our tension without rushing to fix it.

Thank You that You are already there, holding the questions, the doubts, the call, and the clarity that’s still unfolding. May they continue on in love—rooted, renewed, and reminded that tension isn’t a problem to solve, but a place to be met by You.

“It is finished.” It is done. We are victorious. And now we are at rest. And so it is. Amen.