A Sharp Line, A Soft Answer, Evidence of God's Work

The Moment

This past Friday was the opening night of my son’s school musical. As a fellow thespian, I was overjoyed to see him exploring theatre — and even more proud to see how seriously he committed to the craft for this, his second production. He’s in the 4th grade, and this year he played several small but important roles. I could see his growth from last year’s debut to now.

I remembered the days he asked us to play the performance tracks in the car so he could sing along, memorizing lines and movements. He really worked to come into his own this year. The production was AMAZING. The evidence of the hard work my son, his castmates, and the staff put into it was everywhere — from the costumes to the choreography. They did an incredible job.

Except for one small but very profound part.

One of my son’s roles was as a house boy. My husband and I didn’t realize that was the actual name of one of his characters until opening week, and the name alone gave us pause. Still, I tried not to put too much thought into it because it’s a children’s musical.

“I’m sure there’s nothing for me to worry about. It’s gonna be just fine.”

Until one line stopped me dead in my tracks.

“…you stupid boy.”

The Impact

My heart dropped.

My whole body tightened.

My mind began racing.

I tried hard to shake it off and not lose focus on being present in the moment to enjoy the rest of my son’s and the cast’s performance. I’ve been working so hard these last several years to be "Unoffendable" (yes, just like the book title), that I tried to make myself ignore the feelings welling up in my body. It took me a few minutes to refocus and ground myself.

But I was hurt and disappointed.

It wasn’t just that my son was being talked down to in front of the entire audience — it was that he was being berated by a white girl. For a white girl to call a Black boy “boy” in that manner is not just in poor taste; it is historically harmful in one of the worst ways possible. Though my son may not yet understand the denigration and degradation embedded in that seemingly small moment, I felt it.

And I would discover later that I wasn’t the only one.

What made it worse was that the line wasn’t even necessary for the musical to be enjoyed or understood. It wasn’t integral to the plot. It didn’t have to be said that way.

I pushed aside the offense to remain present for the rest of the musical, though the moment had tainted the experience for me.

And for others.

When my sister-in-love mentioned it afterward, the weight of responsibility settled on me.

The Wrestling

What you must know about me is that I tend to be very hot or very cold about things. When something bothers me, I can get so fired up that I don’t always handle things in the best manner. I’ve always called it passion, and I’m grateful to be designed with so much of it. But when it’s unbridled, it’s not helpful to me or others.

Just the mention of the line made my blood start to boil again, even as I tried to keep a calm and positive demeanor so I wouldn’t dampen the excitement for my son, who was elated after finishing the first performance.

I wrestled with what to do — so much so that I called my brother later to get his take on the line and see if he felt the same way my sister-in-love and I did. We were all on the same page, which validated my feelings and pushed me to act.

Our feelings about the line — and about my son being on the receiving end of it — were undeniable. I felt it. His aunt felt it. His uncle felt it. And possibly others in the audience, too.

The Evidence of Growth

I knew what I had to do. And though I was willing to do it, it was important to me to do it God’s way.

In Galatians 5:22–23, where the fruit of the Spirit is listed, we’re given a clear picture of what it looks like to live in the Spirit. I wanted to exercise self-control and gentleness while also advocating for my child — and for every other child and adult who might have been harmed by that line.

I also wanted to speak up for myself, because I was harmed too.

I called the director of the musical. I don’t usually call him, so he immediately asked if something was wrong. I told him the production was amazing to the exclusion of that line and asked if it could be adjusted for the future. More members of my family were planning to attend both performances the next day. I didn't want it to be harmful to them or anyone else for that matter.

I explained that the line, though historically used against Black men, is also deeply harmful to the women who love them — including me.

I didn’t yell.

I didn’t cuss.

I didn’t cry or present as overly emotional — though there would have been nothing wrong with crying. It was simply a personal sign of growth in me.

I handled myself exceedingly better than I thought I would. That really hot Diamond managed the heat, and advocated for a change — a change the director agreed to with no hesitation. In fact, he was deeply apologetic, not only for the harm caused but for not having recognized the potential harm earlier and making the change himself.

I praise God for this experience. It is evidence of growth in a season when the tendency to struggle and potentially self-sabotage feels overwhelming at times. Sometimes I don’t trust myself to demonstrate the work God is doing and has done in me. In that way, I sabotage my own process and progress.

I feel the responsibility of having written a Christian book, which comes with eyes watching everything I do — including how I handle emotionally charged situations. And it matters that I model behaviors consistent with what I believe.

James 1:19–20 tells us to be “quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger.”

Micah 6:8 tells us to “do justice, love mercy, walk humbly.”

How I show up, interact, and engage with others — especially in difficult times — matters.

Closing

I’m happy to say the line was changed for the Saturday performances. When I spoke to the director after the second performance Saturday night, he was still expressing so much remorse for not having caught the line and made the change himself. He continued to apologize, and I was grateful he didn’t dismiss, disregard, or minimize my concerns.

We’re living in volatile times. People don’t always take the time to listen and reflect feelings, let alone make amends when harm has been done.

I’d like to think my advocacy made a bigger difference than I can see. That somehow, addressing my concerns calmly and coolly — even though the offense left me feeling anything but calm and cool — was a way I let the Jesus in me shine out to others.

Reflection for You

• When have you felt the tension between reacting quickly and responding wisely?

  
  

• What emotions rise in you when you witness something that feels harmful or unjust?

  
  

• How do you discern when to speak up and when to pause and seek clarity first?

  
  

• Where do you see evidence of God’s refining work in how you handle difficult moments?

  
  

• What does advocacy look like for you in your current season — in your home, your work, or your community?

  
  

• How can you honor both truth and peace when navigating emotionally charged situations?

May your discernment deepen, your restraint bear fruit, and your confidence rest in the God whose work in you becomes visible right when you need it most.