I grew up in the segregated South, and churches were, for the most part, as segregated as any other gatherings. White Christians have much to repent of.

On the other hand, the civil rights movement of the 1960’s owes much of its success to Christian church leaders, the majority black but including white Christians as well.

My own church was segregated, although not purposely so. No sermon that I ever heard in that church preached segregation. It was a working class, lower middle class white church in a working class, lower middle class white neighborhood.

We can be faulted for not having questioned the culture in which we operated. We didn’t respond to racism when we should have. We didn’t think about abolishing nuclear weapons, either. Nor were we found in the ranks of those working for women’s equality.

Yet, in looking back, I find redemption in the love that permeated my church for those who were there, not a small thing. The greatest love I knew after the love of my family came from that church.

That love planted its seed and enabled me to grow and one day led to conviction for my own racial sins and to ask for forgiveness and to change.

Love indeed covers a multitude of sins. In an imperfect world, it also changes us and leads us toward overcoming those sins.