When Silence Becomes Betrayal

I’m talking about some of us. Some of us have sold ourselves out—not because somebody bought us, but because we refused to use the voice, the privilege and the opportunity God gave us. There was a time when our ancestors couldn’t vote. Today, too many of us won’t vote.

And there is a difference between having your voice taken from you and voluntarily giving it away. If you have the right to vote but choose to sit at home because you don’t like either candidate, you have surrendered your voice.

If generations before you marched, bled, went to jail, lost jobs, endured dogs, fire hoses and intimidation so you could walk into a voting booth—and you decide your vote doesn’t matter—you have treated their sacrifice as though it didn’t matter. If the only issue that can get you to the polls is the one that personally benefits you, while your schools, neighborhoods, voting rights, health care and economic future are being decided, then something is wrong.

Because voting isn’t just about you. It is about us. It is about the child who cannot vote yet. It is about the elder who fought so you could. It is about the generation coming behind us that will inherit whatever we have the courage—or cowardice—to leave behind.

But this message goes deeper than voting. Every time you witness evil and decide to say nothing, you have made a decision. Every time you recognize injustice but remain silent because speaking up might cost you something, you have made a decision. Every time you know something is wrong but refuse to challenge it because you’re afraid of losing your position, your invitation, your title, your friendship, your business or your seat at somebody’s table—you have made a decision.

And sometimes silence becomes betrayal. There comes a point when silence in the presence of injustice is no longer neutrality. It becomes complicity. When you have the power to speak and refuse to speak, your silence gives somebody else permission to continue. When you see corruption and look the other way, you strengthen corruption. When you witness injustice and say, “That’s not my fight,” eventually injustice may come knocking at your door—and by then there may be nobody left willing to fight for you.

That is why I believe God is still looking for some courageous Christians. Not just church-going Christians. Not just Sunday-morning Christians. Not just Christians who know how to shout when the organ plays, quote Scripture when it is convenient and say “Amen” when the sermon doesn’t challenge them. God needs some Christians with courage. Some people willing to stand flat-footed in the face of wrong and declare: “This is not right.” “This is not just.” “This is not what God requires of us.”

We need some people who understand that faith is not supposed to make us comfortable with injustice. Faith ought to make us uncomfortable enough to confront it. The Bible says, “Let the redeemed of the Lord say so.” That means you have to say something.

Your voice is not an accident. Your influence is not an accident. Your opportunity is not an accident. Your vote is not an accident. God gave you a voice because somewhere there is something that needs to be said. God gave you influence because somewhere there is somebody who needs you to use it. God gave you courage because somewhere there is a battle that requires you to stand.

So speak. Vote. Stand. Challenge. Question. Organize. Advocate. And when necessary, make some holy noise. Because the greatest betrayal does not always come from your enemies. Sometimes it comes from people who know better but refuse to do better. People who know something is wrong but are too afraid to say it. People who whisper behind closed doors what they don't have the courage to say in public. People who pray for change but refuse to participate in making change happen.

I still believe there are some people who will not grow weary in well-doing. I still believe there are some people who cannot be bought, bullied, intimidated or silenced. I still believe there are some people who would rather stand alone with truth than sit comfortably in a crowd with a lie. And maybe that is what God is calling us to become. Because when history asks where you stood, silence will not be an acceptable answer.

When your children ask what you did, “I stayed out of it” will not be enough. And when God asks what you did with the voice He gave you, I pray you can say: “Lord, I used it.” I spoke when speaking was uncomfortable. I stood when standing was unpopular. I voted when others stayed home. I challenged wrong when silence would have been easier. I refused to sell my voice for comfort, access or acceptance.

Because I finally understood: My voice was never given to me just for me. It was given to me to speak for those who could not speak. To stand for those who could not stand. To fight for those who had grown tired of fighting. And to remind a generation that silence may be comfortable—but courage changes things.