This week’s reflection is by the Rev. Ellis Crum. He is a United Methodist pastor, writer, and Cornelius Corps Board member who regularly shares his gifts with our ministry. In this piece, Rev. Crum challenges us to reflect on the relationship between forgiveness and justice focusing on an event from 2019 when Brandt Jean, a Black man, chose to forgive the white woman police officer who shot and killed his brother. It became national news when Brandt Jean asked and received permission from the judge to hug the officer. Rev. Crum provides a deep dive into the dynamics not only about those in the courtroom that day but about all of us who wrestle with the relationship between forgiveness and justice, individually and in community. The video posted at the end of the piece provides additional context related to this compelling story. Please take the time to read the reflection and watch the video.
Peace – Jim Melson, Executive Director
The Hug Was Not the End of the Story
What forgiveness asks of us, and what reconciliation requires of us all.
In October 2019, Brandt Jean, a young Black man, stood in a Dallas courtroom facing Amber
Guyger, the white female former police officer convicted of murdering his older brother, Botham
Jean.
He forgave her and expressed his desire for her to turn toward God. Then, with the judge’s
permission, he hugged her.
Many celebrated this embrace as an extraordinary expression of Christian faith, while others
questioned why Black forgiveness receives more attention than Black rage over injustice.
Forgiveness reminds us that grace is possible after devastating harm. Rage confronts us with the
depth and longevity of the injustice that made healing necessary. Both may emerge from the
same experience of suffering, and neither cancels the other.
Yet, the question that deserves our attention is: What happened after the hug?
Botham Jean: still dead. His family: still grieving. The racial divisions surrounding his death
remained.
Brandt’s act of forgiveness could not accomplish everything justice and reconciliation require.
We are invited to examine the faith of those who suffer, those who witness suffering, and
the communities we help shape.
The Faith of the Harmed
Brandt Jean’s choice to forgive belonged to him.
For Christians, forgiveness expresses God’s grace and challenges acts of retaliation without
abandoning justice.
Forgiveness is a Christian virtue, not a demand imposed upon the harmed.
Brandt’s family shared the loss, but not the response. His forgiveness did not invalidate their
grief, anger, or demands for accountability.
Sometimes we celebrate forgiveness while overlooking the harmed, admiring their grace while
becoming impatient with their pain.
Forgiveness, healing, and reconciliation are not interchangeable.
Forgiveness is a choice that may require continuing work. Healing addresses wounds over time.
Reconciliation rebuilds relationships through recognition, accountability, and renewed trust.
Brandt Jean’s forgiveness was his to give. The responsibility for justice was never his alone
to carry.
The Faith of the Witnesses
It is easier to admire another person’s forgiveness than to examine the assumptions shaping our
responses to suffering.
We may celebrate Black grace because it reassures us that healing is possible, yet resist Black
rage because it confronts us with injustice that remains. If our faith welcomes forgiveness but
resists demands for accountability, what does that reveal about us?
Whose tears move us? Whose suffering do we question? Whose explanations do we readily
accept?
Our assumptions develop through family, community, and experience. We may affirm that
everyone bears God’s image while responding differently to people because of race. Recognizing
equal human dignity does not mean assigning equal responsibility for wrongdoing.
The New Testament book of James reminds us that faith cannot remain disconnected from what we do. Our convictions must
find expression in our choices and actions.
The question is not simply whether Brandt Jean’s forgiveness moved us. It is whether
Botham Jean’s death moves us to examine ourselves and act differently.
The Faith of the Community
Our responses to injustice do not remain private. They shape the relationships and communities
we create.
Following Botham Jean’s murder, Black and white ministers from Churches of Christ in Dallas
began coming together to confront racial division and seek accountability.
Some barely knew one another despite sharing the same Christian tradition. Their unfamiliarity
exposed a contradiction: congregations professing the same faith remained separated in practice.
From their efforts emerged M.A.R.C.H., the Ministry for Awareness, Relationships, Change, and
Healing. Its four principles challenge who we are becoming together.
Awareness asks us to recognize divisions we have learned to accept and examine how our
communities sustain them.
Relationships move us beyond assumptions through meaningful encounters and listening,
especially when another person’s experience challenges our understanding.
But awareness and relationships are insufficient.
Change asks what we are willing to become because of what we have learned. If our encounters
never reshape our priorities, decisions, and practices, familiarity has not become transformation.
M.A.R.C.H.’s support for the Botham Jean Act in Texas illustrates this movement from
relationships to collective action. Their work extended beyond bringing congregations together
to addressing conditions that allowed injustice to persist.
Healing requires addressing harm, rebuilding trust, and practicing accountability. It cannot be
declared simply because people have begun worshiping together.
We may be individually welcoming while participating in congregations whose leadership,
decisions, and relationships remain divided.
Our convictions shape our communities. Our communities, in turn, shape us.
Reconciliation begins with who we are becoming together and takes root in how we choose
to live together.
After the Hug
The faith of the harmed, witnesses, and community is connected, but their responsibilities differ.
Those who suffer determine their response; witnesses must examine their assumptions;
communities must confront the practices sustaining division.
Our responsibility grows with our contribution to injustice and our capacity to change it.
The question is not whether we could have offered the same embrace.
It is whether we are willing to confront what must change within ourselves and our communities.
What happens after the hug reveals what we are willing to become.