A Divine Encounter in an Uber

by Maggie Zeillmann

“So, what brings you to Chicago?” 

I hesitated. Should I answer her question fully? Would Sharon, my Black Uber driver, be uncomfortable talking about racism with me, a white woman? Would we spend the next 30 minutes in awkward silence, or would we have a meaningful conversation? Something—maybe the Holy Spirit—led me to tell her what I was doing there. 

“I’m here at a church conference focused on antiracism.” 

Sharon was floored. “Oh, wow. Wow. You know, that’s maybe deeper than you know for me.” She began asking me questions about my home church (Pullen Memorial Baptist in Raleigh, NC) and our ongoing journey of antiracism, including—more than once—“And these are white people doing this? In the South?” She was deeply moved and amazed that Alliance churches are having these conversations, trying to reckon with our whiteness and the deep harm perpetrated in the name of white supremacy. 

Sharon is a Christian, too. For many years, she has been a member of the same church that President and Mrs. Obama attended before he was elected to the presidency, a community of believers that anchors her life. She and I talked about how the gospel of Jesus Christ is, at its core, about repairing the breach, crossing the human-made boundaries that separate us and prevent us from seeing the light of God in all people. We both had tears in our eyes to find how much we shared despite centuries of division between white and Black Christians in the United States. 

When I said, “There are no white people in the Bible,” Sharon told me she couldn’t believe a white person would echo an idea that she had only ever heard in Black churches. She recalled her childhood in rural Oklahoma where she only saw white depictions of Jesus and how many white Christians continue to try to claim Jesus as white, as though anyone could have ownership over the son of God. She said that the idea of a brown-skinned Jesus was radical to her when she first heard it. “But you know what? I would love him all the same, whatever his skin color.” 

The most emotional moment of our conversation came when I told Sharon about the inspiring story of reparations made by Lake Street Church of Evanston, the host of the Alliance Gathering. I described how Lake Street had both white and Black members at its founding, but with segregated seating during worship services eventually the Black members left to form a new church, Second Baptist. When I told her how majority-white Lake Street and majority-Black Second Baptist had formed a relationship since the 1990s and that Second Baptist now holds shared ownership of the Lake Street building, Sharon paused, wiping tears from her face before saying, “I feel so proud to be an American right now.” We agreed that reparations must also include relationship-building, and that the truth of the gospel holds the key to racial healing and reconciliation. “It won’t work otherwise!” she said.

At several points during our conversation, Sharon glanced back at me and said, “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with a white woman right now! Are you real?” I felt the same way. What were the chances that the Uber algorithm would match me with Sharon, two Christian women both in need of healing? I believe there was divine intervention in allowing us this time together. When we arrived at my hotel, she turned around and asked if she could just look at me for a second. We shared an emotional moment of eye contact, each seeing the light of God in the other. We both said, “I love you”—and meant it—before I stepped out of the car. 

Antiracism is heavy, difficult, slow work. In the face of centuries of harm, it can feel impossible to make any kind of meaningful impact. But truly, the conversation I had with Sharon is the work we are called to do. Racial reconciliation will happen one conversation at a time, one heart connecting with another, one small act of repentance and repair. My encounter with Sharon affirmed to me that what we are doing together in the Alliance matters deeply, slow and difficult though it may be. Alliance family, I am humbled and thankful to be on this journey with you all and inspired for the work ahead of us. Let us continue on together as we work to bring about God’s promised justice here on Earth.