Robin DiAngelo writes like a white supremacist, and according to her concept of white fragility, it would be racist for her to reject my accusation—according to her own silly standards, she would have to agree with me that she’s indeed a white supremacist.

When I was a boy in Ghana, I once had a massive nail pierce through my foot, and I suffered through a makeshift surgery by my mom without anaesthesia.
And that was significantly more enjoyable than reading this book. It’s astonishingly bad.
White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism is one of the bestselling books right now, and it’s one of the worst books I’ve ever read.
White Fragility was released in 2018 by sociologist and anti-racist Robin DiAngelo. The book became a best-seller immediately after it was released. However, since George Floyd’s murder, it’s become the most recommended anti-racist book in the world.
In White Fragility, Robin DiAngelo attempts to explain why white people, especially “progressive” white people, do not believe they’re racists. In the book, she defines white fragility as any rejections—including sincere rejections—by white people against accusations of racism.
She says: “None of the people whose actions I describe in this book would identify as racist. In fact, they would most likely identify as racially progressive and vehemently deny any complicity with racism. Yet all their responses illustrate white fragility and how it holds racism in place.”
For that reason, she says: “white progressives cause the most daily damage to people of color.”
That’s probably the only thing from the book I agree with. She’s right—except she doesn’t know she’s referring to herself. White “progressives” cause the most daily damage to black people, and this book is a good example of that.
I read White Fragility over four days, and it damaged me in each of the four days. The book is more damaging than any massive nail to my foot.
Robin DiAngelo has managed to accomplish the difficult task of writing a book that is simultaneously anti-white and white supremacist. And yet, it’s the bestselling book on racism today.
What does it say about our culture when one of the most racist books I’ve ever read is considered by many to be the best book on racism?
We’re apparently so distracted and so deceived by false definitions of racism, we’re seemingly no longer able to discern what real racism looks like. And that’s one of the major problems with White Fragility and anti-racism ideology, it redefines racism and sin to predictably destructive and disastrous conclusions.
Anti-racism is synonymous with critical race theory, or more broadly, social justice ideology. Anti-racism is a commitment to eliminating practices and policies, sins and systems that anti-racists declare as racist.
In anti-racism ideology, racism isn’t an enticing sin, it’s an entity—or as DiAngelo references in the book—“an omnipresent phenomenon.”
And by that definition of racism, it’s not difficult to notice the religious overtones of anti-racism. Anti-racism is just pro-racism appearing as an angel of light. Anti-racism is an anti-Christ ideology that uses racism as a means to fight supposed racism. It’s an ideology that labels good as evil and evil as good. And it’s in direct opposition to Christianity.
In White Fragility, Robin DiAngelo says: “a positive white identity is an impossible goal. White identity is inherently racist; white people do not exist outside the system of white supremacy.”
Professing to be wise, Robin DiAngelo became a fool. Professing to be anti-racist, she became a racist. White Fragility is a racist and an anti-white book. And if we really lived in an anti-black culture like DiAngelo claims, her anti-white book wouldn’t be a bestseller.
But anti-racists like Robin DiAngelo do not hate racism, they only hate, supposedly, anti-black racism. And yet, like many “progressives”, her anti-white racism manifests in a condescending form of white supremacy. Anti-racist rhetoric is remarkably similar to white supremacist rhetoric.
Anti-racists and white supremacists agree that a person’s skin colour is the most significant thing about them. They agree that a person’s skin colour shapes who they are. And anti-racists agree with white supremacists that white people are more privileged than black people—except they say so with pity, not pride.
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Written by R. Scott Clark |
Monday, October 18, 2021
Had we only this one case to which we could point to show the dangers of claims of extra-biblical revelation, it would be enough. Sadly, however, we have hundreds and probably thousands of cases to which we can easily point to show the dangers of claims of continuing revelation.

Introduction
I am catching up Christianity Today‘s podcast series, “The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill. The August 30, 2021 episode, “Questioning the Origin Myth: A Rise and Fall Short Story,” centered around what, in Reformed theology, piety, and practice, we call the internal call to ministry. In our understanding of Scripture and its outworking in the life of the church there are two aspects to the call to ministry, the internal and the external. The former describes that God-given sense within a man that he ought to become a minister of God’s Word, that he ought to become a preacher. The latter refers to the confirmation which comes from the visible church. In Reformed theology, piety, and practice, the two go together. To illustrate this there is an old story that circulates in the Reformed churches about the farmer who, upon looking up in the sky while plowing, sees the letters PC in the sky. He gets off his tractor, goes to the preacher and tells him what he has seen and that he thinks it means, “Preach Christ.” So, as the story goes, the minister tells him to write a sermon and then gives him the pulpit next week. The farmer does as instructed. After his sermon he asked the minister, “Well, what do you think?” The minister replies, “I think PC means Plant Corn.”
I suppose lots of traditions tell this story or they should but for us it means that the confirmation of the visible church is essential. We do not leave a man to decide on his own whether he is called to ministry. Thus, it was interesting to hear Mike Cosper narrate the story around Mark Driscoll’s sense of internal call. Here is a clip.
According to Cosper and others whom he interviewed for this episode, this is the story that Driscoll told over and again. Indeed, Cosper illustrates how often and consistently Driscoll has told the story of his call by playing several clips in succession. The discrepancy between the way Driscoll accounts for his call and the way the Reformed think about the call is notable.
Its Churchlessness
According to Driscoll’s repeated, public testimony he knew with certainty that certain things must happen: he must plant churches, study the Word, marry Grace, and train young men. He knew all this, however, as one of his friends at the time pointed out to him, before he was ever actually involved in a local congregation. This is remarkable. It is consistent with the nature and history of American revivalism going back, in some aspects, to the First Great Awakening in the early eighteenth century and entirely consistent with the theology, piety, and practice of the Second Great Awakening in the nineteenth century.
Often these movements frequently emerged outside the visible church. In this regard Driscoll is a classic American religious entrepreneur. He knew his market (or his marks), his message, and his method before he was ever accountable to a visible church. In Reformed practice, however, that should never be. In our understanding of the Scriptures and the life of the church, a young man usually grows up in a congregation or is at least a part of a congregation long enough for them to begin to see in him a giftedness for ministry. They take an opportunity to test those gifts in various ways. Only after they have had time to get to know him, after he has been catechized, after he has been evaluated do they ordinarily commend him to the church as a candidate for ministry. Then he made a candidate for ministry, i.e., put “under care” of one of the assemblies of the churches (e.g., consistory/session, classis or presbytery) and sent off to seminary to get the eduction a minister ought to have. He should learn the original Biblical languages so that he is not reliant upon English translations, the Old Testament, the New Testament, Biblical Theology, church history and historical theology, systematic theology, the confessions of the churches, and the practice of pastoral ministry. A serious and genuine ministerial education normally takes 3 or 4 years. As part of that process the candidate serves as an intern in a congregation under the supervision of an experienced minister. He is also ordinarily licensed by the churches to exhort in order to serve the churches (by providing pulpit supply) and to gain experience. Only then is he presented to the regional church (presbytery or classis) for examination prior to becoming available for a call.
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Written by E.J. Hutchinson |
Sunday, August 7, 2022
“We always repeat, urge, and stuff people full of this topic about faith or Christian righteousness so that it would be preserved and accurately distinguished from the active righteousness of the law. (For from and in that teaching alone does the church come into and remain in existence.) Otherwise, we will not be able to preserve true theology, but rather we immediately become jurists, ceremonialists, legal eagles, papists; Christ is obscured, and no one in the church can be taught and encouraged rightly. Therefore, if we wish to be preachers and teachers of others, it is right that we take the greatest care over these matters, and skillfully maintain this distinction between the righteousness of the law and the righteousness of Christ.”

One might think that justification by faith alone is the easy way. In fact, just such a thing quite frequently has been thought. “What, you don’t even do anything? You wanna be a libertine or something?”
The objection has some force–but only when considered in general and in the abstract. It only has force, that is, when made a speculative morsel chewed by a mouth with no existential teeth.
“On the ground,” as it were, the situation is quite different. We humans like to be in control. We like to have something left to us to take care of. If there’s just something we can do–something to which we can point and say, “See? I did what I was told! I did good!”–we feel better, more assured. We like gold stars, pats on the back, a sense of achievement, of having done our bit.
For that reason, in particular and in the concrete there is nothing more difficult than believing that we are justified by faith alone. There is nothing more difficult than assenting to passive, rather than active, righteousness (that is, the righteousness of Christ rather than of ourselves) in relating to God.
Luther saw this, and it was one of his most important insights. Some deniers of justification by faith like to think of themselves as the mature ones, the purveyors of virtue, the upholders of Western Civilization, the builders of culture. In comes justification, out goes society, along with literature, the arts, and religion, to be replaced by licentiousness, barbarism, modernity (GASP).
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