Over the past few weeks, racial inequity and social justice have become powerful currents in our cultural conversation. It feels as though the country is galvanized to action, albeit in ways that at times are diametrically opposed to one another. And as a white woman, I’ve questioned how to appropriately use my voice during this time.

Mostly, I’ve tried to uplift the voices of Black, Indigenous and People of Color (BIPOC) individuals who have lived a very different reality from me. I’ve read and listened and continued to educate myself on the history of racial injustice in our country. I’ve had conversations with family and friends, but haven’t felt like I had something to add to the more public dialogue. And perhaps, I still don’t, but I do know God is calling me to share a bit of what I’ve been learning with the hope that it encourages others walking this path too.

Start Where You Are

A few years ago, I wrote about how I was waking up to injustice, and looking back on that post, I realize how I haven’t sustained the listening and the conversation I wrote about there. Rather than give excuses, I want to spend my energy pressing into peace, listening to my brothers and sisters, and praying that this current cultural moment is more than a moment. I pray that it represents a profound shift in how we view our fellow human beings and how we care for those that our society considers to be “the least of these” — the ones Jesus advocated for throughout his ministry (Matthew 25:40).

I want to acknowledge that this is all a lot. Particularly for our Black brothers and sisters, indigenous communities and people of color. And also for the white men and women who are trying to figure out how to support and process while simultaneously grieving the history of oppression in our country and their part in it. As a white woman, I did not choose my privilege, but I certainly did inherit it. And while that’s not something to feel guilty about, I do need to acknowledge it and be willing to leverage my privilege for the kingdom, not just for me. To start where I am but not stay there.

The Last Shall Be First

I am largely preaching to myself here and hoping it lands with someone else out there too. I do not want to be like the rich man who came to Jesus asking, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Mark 10:17). Embedded in that question is a window into his view of Jesus. He saw their relationship as transactional. Blinded by his wealth and concerned with his future, he wanted to know what actions he needed to take to secure his place in the kingdom. But in the topsy-turvy kingdom of God, the last shall be first (Mark 10:31), and Jesus gives him this answer in the end: “You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Mark 10:21). 

The man goes away disheartened and sorrowful “for he had great possessions” (Mark 10:22). We don’t actually know what the end of his story is. Jesus remarks to his disciples, “Children, how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God” (Mark 10: 24-25). But also, “With man it is impossible, but not with God. For all things are possible with God” (Mark 10:27). Maybe the man went away sorrowful but ultimately wrestled with his privilege and gave it up for the sake of the kingdom — for the sake of others. 

That’s my hope, because I too am like that rich man. Am I willing to give of my possessions, my voice, my power and my privilege? Am I willing to get uncomfortable and get it wrong and get called out? Gosh, so often I would do anything to not get called out, to avoid criticism and critique. I study and learn and seek out wisdom — all good things — but sometimes I stop there. I don’t actually take the next step and step out or step up because I’m afraid of the response. I’m afraid of getting it wrong, which ultimately makes it about me. 

I’m Here To Get It Right

In her podcast Unlocking Us, Brené Brown recently had a conversation with Austin Channing Brown in which she shared her current mantra: “I’m not here to be right. I’m here to get it right.” Being right, as she explains it, is about using our niceness and decency to defend our behavior. Getting it right is about listening and learning and being willing to become a better human to other humans — other image bearers of God — even if that means being called out.

Being called out feels terrible but God can and does work with that. He calls us out of our pride and into HIS work. HIS kingdom. Look, we all get stuff wrong. The question, as Austin Channing Brown puts it, is, “Have you built the capacity to care more about others than about protecting your own ego?” Wow. Just gonna let that sit with me for a minute…

My ego wants to be protected, but it’s not to be trusted. With how I’m wired, it keeps me silent, it keeps me small. For others, their ego may make them speak out with loud and sometimes hurtful defenses. On either end of the spectrum, that work is the opposite of Jesus’ kingdom work. That’s self-kingdom work. I don’t know about you but I want the former. 

In Still Life, the first book of Louise Penny’s spectacular Armand Gamache series, she shares Gamache’s “four statements that lead to wisdom.” Four sentences that the Canadian police in this wonderful, albeit fictional, series learned to say and mean: “I don’t know. I need help. I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

Safe and Secure

That’s where I feel like I’m starting and where I will need to start over and over again. In everything, but especially in the conversation about race, we want things to be black and white. No pun intended. We want rules about what to say and what not to say, for the purpose of doing better but also, if we’re honest, in order to protect ourselves against criticism. This approach doesn’t leave room for learning and growing. Letting go of that need to be right is part of letting go of our supremacy and sense of superiority. 

Thankfully, because Jesus is Lord, I don’t have to be right, and I don’t have to be seen as right. I don’t have to control outcomes. I can leave the governance of my life to God and focus on being faithful in this moment to the person or activity right in front of me. As James Bryan Smith puts it in The Good and Beautiful Community, “We are safe and secure. In that condition, we can move from self-focus to focusing on others.”

That’s my prayer for all of us. That we would feel safe and secure in who we are as beloved children of God. That we would not worry that our ideologies are being called into question. That we would not hold so tightly to our possessions and our privilege. That we would be willing to give it all up if God asks us to — for the good of his glorious, colorful, diverse kingdom. I also want to specifically uplift the people who are doing incredibly brave work right now, as it relates to COVID-19, issues of racial justice and the heart-rending intersection of the two. May you be protected and kept safe and have people around you with whom you can take off your armor and simply rest. 

Where We Go From Here

If you’re reading this and wondering what to do next, I want to leave you with a few thoughts and resources I’ve found helpful during this time. This is certainly not an exhaustive list, and there are lots of great roundup posts out there. So I encourage you to seek them out, too! 

• Listen. Keep seeking out diverse voices and listening to people whose experiences are different from yours. Be there for friends and learn to listen well. I’ve also appreciated NPR’s recent Life Kit episodes with Ijeoma Oluo and Robin DiAngelo and the Unlocking Us podcast episode with Austin Channing Brown that I mentioned above.
• Learn. Do the research. Educate yourself about the history of racial injustice in our country (have to shout out the book Just Mercy here!), the contributions of BIPOC individuals, and important milestones like Juneteenth. I’m also looking into organizations like Be the Bridge and Brownicity that offer training and resources for racial reconciliation.
• Love. Consider how to love well in actionable ways right where you are. I’m asking questions like: How am I showing up in my workplace? Where are my discretionary funds going? How can I love well in conversations about race? And ultimately, the place to start with all of this work is love.