A Sunday View from the Pew: The World Will Never Be Color Blind

Every time I hear someone say, “I don’t see color,” I feel something deep in my spirit stir — and not in a good way. Because while it may sound noble, that statement often comes from a place of comfort, not conviction. It’s an easy way to dodge the hard work of seeing, acknowledging, and understanding the world as it really is. Let’s be honest: the world will never be colorblind — and it was never meant to be.

When God spoke the universe into being, He didn’t say, “Let there be beige.” He said, “Let there be light.” And in that light came every hue known to humankind. The Creator painted the sky with streaks of crimson and gold, brushed the earth with soil ranging from deep onyx to rich clay, and shaped humanity in His image — plural, not singular. Different skin tones, textures, and tongues were not an accident. They were divine design.

Yet somewhere along the way, humanity decided that difference was a threat instead of a treasure. We began ranking shades instead of revering them. We let systems, not scripture, define worth. And then, when the conversation about race got uncomfortable, some folks found an escape hatch called “colorblindness.”

But here’s the truth: saying you don’t see color doesn’t erase racism — it erases reality. It silences stories, diminishes heritage, and denies the unique experiences that come with being who we are. When you claim not to see my color, you’re saying you don’t see the fullness of me — not the beauty, not the struggle, not the testimony written in the melanin of my skin.

I don’t need a colorblind world. I need a world with 20/20 vision — one that sees me clearly and still chooses compassion. Because love doesn’t require blindness; it requires sight with understanding. Jesus never told us to be blind to difference — He told us to love through it.

Think about His ministry. He spoke to Samaritans when others wouldn’t. He healed Roman soldiers’ servants. He sat with tax collectors, touched lepers, and uplifted women the world dismissed. Every act of Jesus was color-aware — culturally conscious — grounded in compassion that acknowledged the person and their story.

The cross itself was a meeting place of difference. On that hill stood Romans, Jews, Africans, and strangers from distant lands. All of them looking at the same Savior. The blood that flowed down Calvary wasn’t colorblind — it was color-covering. It didn’t erase who we are; it redeemed who we are.

See, I don’t want you to ignore my color. I want you to honor it. Honor the story of my ancestors who survived the middle passage, the faith of a people who sang “We Shall Overcome” with chains still on their wrists, and the brilliance of Black minds that built kingdoms, shaped culture, and still rise despite centuries of oppression. When you see me, I want you to see all of that — because that’s the reflection of God within me.

The world will never be colorblind. And thank God it won’t. Because color gives life its texture, its rhythm, its poetry. Can you imagine a sunrise without color? A garden without flowers? A choir where every voice sang the same note? God’s glory shines brightest in diversity.

So instead of chasing colorblindness, let’s chase color awareness. Let’s see each other fully — the joy, the pain, the past, and the promise. Because when we embrace what makes us different, we finally begin to reflect the fullness of God’s image on earth.

As for me, I’ll keep walking proudly in the skin He gave me. I’ll keep preaching from this pew that my Blackness isn’t a barrier to salvation — it’s part of His creation. Because I don't know about you but the God I serve didn’t make me to blend in; He made me to stand out.

And I stand — boldly, unapologetically, and gratefully — as proof that the world was never meant to be colorblind. It was meant to be beautifully seen and color-kind.