Marcellus Williams. This name has been on my mind for the past few weeks. Williams was a 55-year-old Black man who had been on death row for 24 years. His execution was set for Sept. 24. His legal team showed that he should not be executed because the conviction was based on tainted evidence. 

None of this mattered. About 6 p.m. Sept. 24, Williams was executed by the state of Missouri. His final words were, “All praise be to Allah in every situation!”

I counted down the hours and minutes until Williams’ execution. I constantly refreshed my news feed, hoping that somehow, some way, the U.S. Supreme Court would stay the execution and Williams would live. 

Moments like these feel lonely for me. I live in a predominantly White town and pastor a predominantly White church. Therefore, I live among privilege.

Privilege allows us to ignore oppression. If we are privileged, we are able to tune out the world’s problems that we think do not affect us. 

But I am not able to just turn off the TV or social media when things like this happen. I do not pretend that atrocities like this are happening a world away. I do not keep my distance, because these are situations that affect me and my family.

Poverty, houselessness, racism, sexism, homo­phobia — and racial disparities in applying the death penalty — are hard to see when we don’t face those realities personally. 

Even the most caring among us can fall into compassion fatigue, losing hope or becoming apathetic when a situation seems too big for us to overcome. Privilege becomes our shield from harsh realities. We abandon those who endure oppression.

Now, do not get me wrong. There is a time and a place for rest. It is hard physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually to constantly battle the world’s horrors. It is healthy to turn off our social media feeds from time to time. It is good to take a break from activism. 

The problem arises when we are no longer willing to return to the work. Instead of continuing to build relationships with those facing oppression, we walk away, knowing we do not have to return because it is not our problem.

I recently spent some time reading the story of the rich man in Mark 10:17-31. The man comes to Jesus wanting to know how to inherit eternal life. Jesus first makes sure he has kept the commandments and then gives an assignment: sell his possessions, give the money to the poor, and then follow. The rich man rejects the opportunity because he cannot bring himself to give up his possessions.

The assignment to not only get rid of his possessions but give the money to the poor makes me wonder how many interactions the rich man would have had with those living in poverty. What was his relationship to those who had little in his society? 

Jesus is asking the man to relate differently to those in poverty. By giving up his wealth, he would also give up his power and status. Poverty would no longer be just a concept to him. It would become a reality.

I believe that when we decide to follow Jesus, we commit to seeing the people Jesus sees. We commit to leaving behind the things that have blocked them from our sight. We commit to relating to the oppressed in a different way. 

We cannot completely shed our privilege, but Jesus challenges us to get as close to the oppressed as we can. We are no longer allowed to keep people at arm’s length. We are no longer allowed to ignore their hardships. 

When Jesus asks us to follow him, that path leads to where the oppressed are. It leads to Gaza and Ukraine and other places where war and violence take place. It leads us to those who are living in poverty. It leads us to those who face discrimination and injustice.

Jesus is going to lead us to uncomfortable places. Places our privilege shields us from. Jesus invites us to cast off our privilege and follow him into the trenches. 

No, we cannot solve all of the world’s problems. Yes, we will sometimes need breaks from the pain and injustice we see. But as the activist Fannie Lou Hamer (1917-1977) once said, “Nobody’s free until everybody’s free.” The journey begins by letting go of the privilege that separates us from the oppressed.