Rachel Dolezal was in the news a lot about a year ago. To refresh your memory, she was the head of the Spokane office of the NAACP. After six apparently highly productive months in that position, her parents came forward with her birth certificate and pointed out that Ms. Dolezal was born a white person. According to one article that I read, white with blond hair and blue eyes, no less. They were confused at her insistence that she is a black woman. Ms. Dolezal had to resign from her position in order to defuse the heated debate that surged around her. She insists to the present that she identifies as a black woman. In her eyes, she is black. Or, as she has termed it, “trans-black”. And it has cost her everything. She is unable to find any type of employment, teeters on the edge of homelessness and is living on food stamps. Who can doubt her sincerity? If I am asked to judge her by the culture in which I live, there is no basis to challenge that claim. If I am asked to judge her by the moral standards of my faith, then I must conclude that she is not black. Why the disparity? How can there be such a deep chasm between my culture and my faith? Easily. It all derives from the foundation on which each stands.