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Last week I speculated about the need for white mentors and leaders to step up boldly in support of our black brothers and sisters in Christ. In my latest book I wrote about a remarkable coach who was known for his absolute color blind approach to leading young men. W.T. Johnston forged a remarkable legacy. His dad Sonny was not a follower of Christ when W.T. was a youngster and it bothered him that his father would not accompany the family to church. But Sonny Johnston’s ingrained sense of justice and fairness changed his son’s life by example. Today’s excerpt from Between the White Lines is a bit longer but I hope you will find it worth your time. It is a lesson for all of us.

Sonny Johnston grew up in a sheltered environment in rural Oklahoma. When the Korean War broke out his limited perception of the world was about to change quickly. After enlisting in the Army, nineteen-year-old Sonny’s worldview dramatically expanded. Sonny Johnston had never met, let alone lived with, a black man. He found himself in the Korean War randomly partnered in a life-or-death team relationship with an African American soldier.

Sonny later told W.T. that he never had any reservations about his comrade going into battle. Together they faced the enemy and watched out for each other. From their bunker during the bloody conflict, Specialist Green loaded mortars and Sonny fired them. The two soldiers became friends as trust developed in the heat of battle. The men learned that in adversity, it doesn’t matter what color a man’s skin might be. It only matters if he has your back. That relationship became a harbinger of how the elder Johnston would deal with racial differences in an era when many, if not most, men routinely judged others by color.

When W.T. was seven, the family moved to Hemphill, Texas. Sonny had been promoted to became the district ranger at Sabine National Forest, a lush 160,656-acre piney woods forest that forms part of the boundary between Texas and Louisiana. Moving to a more diverse community enlarged W.T.’s world just as the military had for his dad. Johnston remembers how anxious he felt on the first day at a new school with no friends. He did not know that he would also interact with African American boys and girls for the first time in his life. Young W.T. had never encountered people who looked different from himself. He remembers feeling intimidated and even a little fearful. His father’s response to those emotions would help shape W.T.’s personality forever.

Sonny Johnston shared the story of Specialist Green with his son. He taught him that you treat people the same way you want to be treated, and then he finished with this wise counsel. “W.T., you judge a man by character and how he treats you. It doesn’t matter what he looks like.” Sonny modeled that as a Little League coach in racially charged East Texas. “My dad never treated black kids different. Dad was a rough guy, but also giving and fair with everyone. I got the message from him loud and clear that you ain’t born prejudiced. You have to be taught that.” The lesson was driven home by a courageous defense of Curtis Hamilton, the only black youth league coach in the area. He coached W.T.’s Little League team, and the young coach was certainly talented, although perhaps a bit cocky. Hamilton had a simple philosophy. “I didn’t care if your daddy was the town drunk or the president of the bank. I played the kids who deserved to play.” That strategy didn’t sit well with some power brokers who were used to influencing those decisions, and Curtis’s color only exacerbated the tension. They wanted him out as coach. Except for Sonny Johnston. He could not understand why anyone could be so negative about a good man and coach simply because of his skin color. In the midst of the conflict that Coach Hamilton described as catching “holy hell,” the attitudes of the men suddenly changed.

Unbeknownst to Hamilton, Sonny Johnston had called a meeting with the other fathers and coaches to discuss the young black coach. He passionately defended Hamilton by presenting facts about the progress Hamilton was making with the development of the boys. Sonny made sure race would not be the issue that would settle this debate. When Sonny Johnston bowed up, you tended to pay attention. “He came ready to reason but prepared to kick some butts,” W.T later recalled with a chuckle. The latter proved unnecessary, as Sonny convinced the men to give Curtis Hamilton a chance based on performance. “He was the only one who would stick out his neck,” Hamilton remembers with gratitude. “He changed the whole community by simply standing up for what he thought was the right thing to do. He didn’t care what the fallout might be. He just did the right thing because it was the right thing and never told me he had done it. That shows a man’s character.” In fact, Coach Hamilton was not aware of Sonny Johnston’s fiery defense until years later. Hamilton would go on to coach for the next forty-two years and be a part of two state football championships at Burkeville High School. He still wonders what would have happened if Sonny Johnston had not intervened on his behalf. “It was so discouraging. I felt all alone, and to be honest, I might have given up. I still can’t believe it was a white man from Oklahoma who had my back.”

Sonny Johnston’s courage infiltrated the DNA of W.T. Johnston. Years later during a seventh-grade football game in Hemphill, W.T. demonstrated that he had learned from his dad’s example. Maybe his father had not been the spiritual leader that W.T. had desired, but his practical lessons about how to treat others had made a difference. Perhaps it is impossible to be truly color-blind, yet W.T. had learned from his dad that you can be color indifferent and, more importantly, color courageous. It seems outrageous today, but it was not unheard of in the ’70s for white and black athletes to drink from different water bottles. The team was integrated, but the message was obvious: The players were not equal. Their water bottles were segregated, clearly labeled. “I remember grabbing one of the black kids’ water bottles, putting my lips on the spout, and drinking deeply. Some of the white kids looked at me in horror,” Johnston recalls with a smile. “What are you doing?” a white teammate blurted. W.T.’s answer was simple. “I’m thirsty.”

W.T. Johnston never looked for the easy or politically correct response. He learned to look for truth that would quench his thirst in every aspect of his life. That would become his lifelong quest.

Taken from Between the White Lines

That is the kind of courage and thirst for justice and truth that I want to define my quest to become more like Jesus. Paul talked about the importance of recognizing our influence.

And you yourself must be an example to them by doing good works of every kind. Let everything you do reflect the integrity and seriousness of your teaching. (Titus 2:7, NLT)

We all set an example and it is more important than we probably realize. As my friend Montagne McDonald said in last weeks article.

“Silence says more than people think”.

Click here if you want to read more of the story of W.T. Johnston.