I remember the first time a Black man walked through the doors of my childhood church. He walked in late…really late. Actually, the sermon started to wrap up by the time he took his seat in the very back. As he later explained, he had spent most of the service out front pacing. See, he was just passing through the area and was trying to decide if his desire to attend Bible Study that evening outweighed his fear of walking into an unfamiliar church in a predominantly White area. He just didn’t know what to expect or if his presence would be well-received. I couldn’t have been more than 10…