What’s A White Girl To Do?

Can I just dive straight into this? Without any bait and switch, I try to trick you with some opening paragraph to lure you in with a “what could she mean?”

This question of, “As a white person, what do I do?” is a question I have seen posted so many times over the past 3 days, by girls just like me trying to work out how to respond in light of #irunwithmaud, #breonnataylor, #justiceforgeorge.

This time of social distancing and isolation has been stretching to say the least. Not just as it applies to how to live in a pandemic, but beyond that, how do we live in this world, in our society, in our communities. Because as I have been learning to limit my rights for the well-being of others, putting on a mask or staying home, I have been learning another area where I need to set aside self-interest.

Over the past few years I have watched a few of my friends who will post the hashtags or share the stories and I wonder, how did this become the issue they fight for? I watch and weigh out situation after situation, waiting for enough information to come through for me to decide which narrative I am going to believe. I think about people of color who are my family and friends and recognize there is a disparity there, a brokenness there. And it confuses me.

In the face of the brokenness of our country over racial issues, what am I, a white girl, supposed to do?

I don’t have all the answers. None of us do. But this I know. We need to make some decisions about if and how this will change us for more than just the reactionary period of this week. So, here is what I’m going to do.

1) I am going to stop weighing out the value of other people of color against the value of people of color whom I love.

The victim of the crimes that we see on tv, they aren’t valuable because they bear the image of someone who has brought happiness into my life. They aren’t valuable because they remind me of a cute black kid I once knew.

They are valuable because they are image bearers of the living, breathing, God of the universe!

2) I am going to stop worrying if my social media friends will think I’ve gone political.

This isn’t a left vs. right thing. This isn’t an either or. We can expect more out of our law enforcement. We can have a strong police force and not be ok with murder.

Because you know what? Ridding our justice system of these kind of brutalities, it makes the system better! It makes the badge more honorable, not less! It proves the worth of the person in uniform. Demanding justice for senseless acts of violence and inhumanity is to say, “I refuse to let THAT be what defines our justice system.”

3) I will say something, click report, speak up, share.

Why? Because we built this country on the back of an enslaved people group, and even though they are freed, we have since the beginning of that freedom put the burden of restoration and rising up squarely on the same backs that we whipped into submission.

Should I be the one speaking for the black experience? Or the Asian experience? Or the hispanic experience? No! But hasn’t it been long enough that they have been yelling “Listen to me!!!!” By saying something, clicking report, speaking up, and sharing, I am accepting the responsibility of crying out “Listen up!” and silencing the crowd, so that the correct voices can be heard.

4) I will intentionally seek out relationships outside of my race.

And in those relationships I will seek an exchange of care, not looking for some poor soul I can reach out to so that I may better their lives.

Even moreso, I will seek to be educated by people of color on issues that extend beyond racism. I will look to hear their thoughts on the things that matter most to me, theology, family, culture, compassion.

5) I will stop waiting to see if there is more to the story.

If Ahmaud had stolen a hammer from the worksite, would it have justified his murder? If Breonna had gotten out of bed, would it have justified her murder? If George had used a fake $20, would it have justified his murder? No.

What explanation is plausible for this? 

6) I will repent.

I don’t have the right to simply grieve or lament.

I have not acted. I have not spoken up. I have “withheld judgement” like I am holding court over media images of dead bodies.

And this one hurts deeply…my silence has become a black mark on the gospel. I have let my God down.

That’s what this white girl is going to do.

If you’d like some resources, check out these links.

https://www.facebook.com/TheBridgeChurchVA/videos/249791866360008

-This conversation by The Bridge Church includes Chris Johnson, the pastor of DUCC, and his wife, along with 3 other couples, one black, one white and one interracial. Good open conversation.

https://mcleanbible.org/sermons/Psalms/7/

-This one includes perspectives from other cultures as well who are impacted by the lack of unity in diversity in our country.

https://medium.com/equality-includes-you/what-white-people-can-do-for-racial-justice-f2d18b0e0234?fbclid=IwAR3yV4GKuCwLcCRp8-MzJpbISC4Lh2f766_9lIkT2u2c5Q31g8OpaeFiiFI

– A list of 75 things white people can do practically for racial justice

Some suggestions of thoughtful voices to follow on social media; Julian Newman, Latasha Morrison, Carlos Whittaker, Tedashii, Be The Bridge

Please feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments.

Text Flyod to 55156 to call for charges to be filed against the arresting officer in the death of George Floyd.

Do You Even Like Me?

This is what it boils down to over and over in my life.

Do you even like me?

I mean, really, actually like me?

People can disagree with me or think I’m wrong all day (clearly, I’m right, but that’s another point 😉 However, if there is one thing that stifles me, that can stop me dead in my tracks, it’s catching the sense that someone doesn’t like me.

It used to be such a controlling factor that I allowed it to shape how I presented myself to the outside world. But scarier than that, it used to be such a controlling factor that I allowed it to shape how I presented myself to myself.

The biggest challenge is moving past wondering if other people like me and learning to love myself. Once I worked through stepping out from underneath the crushing weight of my perception of other people’s opinions, I had to ask myself, “Do you even like me?

It isn’t something I have all figured out. It is a question I have to continue to wrestle with. But, I have at least come to the point where I can see myself like a garden planted by a good gardener. That means I’m still growing. As new things pop up, I stop and wonder if what just broke ground is going to be a new flower I’ve never seen, some offshoot growing off an old flower, or a weed that will threaten what’s already blooming. It means I find creepy crawly things and dirt and mess, which aren’t all bad!

I’m going to do something here that’s a little out of order. I’m going to share the conclusion of this post, which is, we all need to come to a place where we stop asking everyone else, “Do you even like me,” and we ask ourselves that question.

I’m sharing that at this point, because maybe you won’t find the rest of this post interesting at all, and that’s ok. I have had a lot of new people stop by my blog in the past 48 hours though, and what follows should serve as a this is who Sarah Kinzer is. I’d love to invite you to take a walk around my garden.

1. Everything in my garden points to a gardener.

Anyone who knows how I garden in the literal sense will tell you, if a flower is kept alive at my house, it ain’t because I did something right. It’s because it’s an exceptionally hard to kill flower. Or it’s a pinwheel.

The same is true in my life. If you are new to my blog, if you are new to me, let me introduce myself. My name is Sarah and I believe in God, the living, breathing, creator and sustainer of the universe who deeply cares about the whole world, and who deeply cares about me.

I like God. This is who I am, and I like that about me.

2. My garden gate has no lock.

Literally anyone is welcome in my garden. I don’t care how you look, talk, dress, think, or speak. Anyone can come in.

I used to say “I hate people,” but I think that was a lie that I told myself. The truth of the matter is I like everyone. I really like people. Like in the way that makes people go “Woah, Sarah, you seem to really like me.” And before, when I was all wrapped up in my fear of rejection, the “I hate everyone” line was a defense mechanism, a lock on my garden gate. It was so confusing to me how I could like other people so much, but they didn’t like me back the same. The fact of the matter is, not everyone else likes people as much as I do, and that is ok. Once I figured that out, it was like the lock broke off my gate.

I like people. This is who I am, and I like that about me.

3. My garden has a path.

I may not have a lock, but I do have a path.

If I find someone off the path, trampling what I’ve been growing or ripping things out by the root, or pointing at my flowers and laughing, I’m going to ask them to get back on the path. If someone is trying to reattach the lock to my gate, I’m going to tell them I don’t do locks. If I find someone trying to pull down my garden swing, I’m going to tell them to knock it off.

What grows in my garden is valuable, and one of the hardest lessons I’m learning is how protect what grows in my life. My gifts, my talents, my people, my heart, are worth protecting.

Also, my garden is not full of stepping stones and bridges. It is wild and a good bit is overgrown, like an English cottage garden that values wildflowers. If you’re walking with me, you’re going to be walking in dirt. And not everyone wants to do that. so the path is there as a courtesy for them, too.

I like my messy me. That is who I am, and I like that about me.

4. My garden has a certain kind of party.

And my party is super confusing. The soundtrack is almost always Ellie Holcomb, laid back crunchy guitar music or Andy Mineo, Christian rap, or it is some random podcast. The food I offer is going to be allergy-aware, but may not be healthy at all. There will be dancing. There will be laughing. It will be super, super loud.

If I like it, I’ll talk about it at my party. So that means, we’re going to talk about Harry Potter, Gilmore Girls, funny tiktoks, ethical conundrums, social justice issues, implications of scripture, books I’ve read, song lyrics, wrestling, kid’s football and cheer, things I remember about the 90s, a podcast I listened to once, conversations I’ve had that made me happy, what I like about you, what I like about someone else, what I like about everyone.

And sometimes, I’m also going to talk about what I don’t like. And I’m not going to hide my opinion of it. I’m not going to mince words. If I don’t like something, I’m not going to pretend I do.

And I’m just not going to be quiet. I’m not.

I like what I like. That is who I am, and I like that about me.


So, that’s what I got this morning. A walk around my garden with me.

I’d love to take a tour of your garden sometime, and to hear what it is you like about you.

I Am Done Going To Church.

After 39 years of consistent church attendance, I feel it is time for me to go public with my decision which has been heavily impacted by recent events.

I am done going to church.

Many places around this country will be reopening this weekend and people will be returning to their pews. Everyone wants the normal back.

I don’t. I truly and sincerely don’t.

I am done going to church.

Please, don’t hear what I’m not saying…I am not saying that I no longer want to gather or worship or learn or serve alongside other followers of Christ. As I have thought about how best to say this, I have heard Hebrews 10:24-25 float through my mind. “And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

But still…I am done going to church.

I haven’t been able to “go to church” on Sunday mornings for over 2 months now. The last time I stood in a service we had about 1/8th of our regular congregation in attendance and I wept like it was a funeral. It hurt. It felt wrong. Standing in the sanctuary with a fraction of my family cut like I had no idea it would. I miss gathering.

I acknowledge how difficult this time must be for those who the traditional Sunday morning gathering was their entire Christian family. That Sunday morning was ever that for people is something I have begun to understand as lamentable, a failure on my part to live out what church should be. If that is you, please hear my heartfelt apology.

But this break has given me a new mind about going to church.

I have spent Sunday mornings watching service in jammies and eating breakfast at the same time. I will confess, if no one else is willing to, that I have also spent Sunday mornings telling (or fussing at…or barking at) my children to stop harassing the cats or to sit up because I do too know they aren’t just “resting their eyes.” But in the end, we’ve worshipped as a family.

I have spent Wednesday’s tuning in to the new half hour video conversation with our pastor called MidWeek. While dinner simmers on the stove, we sit together and learn. My husband laughs and cheers when our pastor says the word wrestling. My kids answer the funny questions at the beginning and have taken to studying our pastor’s idiosyncrasies. Sitting in our living room, our family feels more connected to our leadership, feeling more like “this guy is my pastor” than ever before.

Bringing Sunday morning into our living room has changed the rest of our weekdays. I’ve helped on a team of people making masks. I’ve made treats and pick up supplies. I’ve dropped things on doorsteps and run off, the best kind of ding dong ditch ever. I’ve been able to do these things with the help of my kids, them riding along and doing drop offs. Them taping together little bits of wire in bundles of ten for facemask kits. They have always served alongside me on Sunday mornings, but this day to day doing what they can do to show care to others, this is fresh.

I’ve been able to think outside the box and try new things. Sometimes things work and sometimes they don’t. But I am learning and growing and DOING the work of GOING!

An ache for community has pressed the design of everything I’m doing to have a more intentional impact for meaningful connection. The absence of constant communication, the introduction of silence, has pressed the design of everything I’m doing to effectively communicate messages that matter.

That last service where I wept and felt the sense of a funeral, oh how I pray that that was what it was. Because I know that I serve a resurrected Savior, and work for a God of new life.

When this began, many of us thought we’d be back together by Easter and laughed about the daydream of all of us together again on the best Sunday of the year. Easter came and went and we were all home. But I am still holding out hope that the first time we gather together again will indeed be Resurrection Sunday.

Let going to church be dead.
Let being the church be born.
Let being the church be born and grow so strong and healthy that the days of going to church are strange memories.

Let gathering not be about getting that spiritual fix so we can make it through another week, but rather about what we can give. Let us give our worship to God. Let us give our service to others. Let us look into each other’s eyes instead of over one another’s shoulder to who we want to talk to next.

Let our days be filled with action to meet the needs of others. Let us involve the next generation in the work of reconciliation. Let us work together with others who are in the church, an assembly line of compassion.

Let our families worship together. Let us see our loved ones delight in time spent listening to God’s word and like them more because of it.

Let us seek out the lonely, the hurt, the invisible, and let us seek to offer community, healing and presence.

Let us not wait for our leaders to design a program to tell us what to do. Let us do. Let us try. Let us go. Let us be.

Let us see our faith not as made up, in nice clothes, where we can’t drop food on our shirts or can’t soak in a service with our feet up. Let us worship in spirit and truth, truth which doesn’t mean “rightness” but truth that means “honesty and vulnerability.” Let our worship of God be real. Even if it is messy. Even if it is emotional. Even if it isn’t “Sunday best.”

I am done going to church.

And I am asking you, inviting you, imploring you to please….please….will you be done going to church with me?


Jo Saxton and My Trash Pit Mess

Yesterday I had the opportunity to Zoom with Jo Saxton and 4 other women.

Ok, so allow me to gush momentarily. Jo Saxton is a flippin’ delight.

Last summer I had a conversation about if I could fill a dinner table with people I wanted to meet and talk to, who would be at my table. For sure, Jo Saxton was at it. I have come to realize out of all my list people, the reason that Jo Saxton is so appealing is, I think she’d actually accept an invitation to dinner. She just makes you feel seen and liked, even if you’re listening to her podcast, where clearly, she can neither see you, nor form an opinion of you. So, if you want to follow someone who isn’t just smart and introspective and visionary, but also kind and real, Jo’s your girl. Find her on Insta. Read her book, Ready To Rise. Listen to her podcast, Lead Stories Podcast.

Alright, gush-fest done. Back to reality…the awesome reality where I zoomed with Jo Saxton. She was answering questions. A few of the ladies were touching on this sense that, in “these days,” they are trying to sort out what things to keep, what things to use and what things to throw away. Not in an actual Marie Kondo, clean out your closets way, but in the sense that they have a lot going on right now and are in a unique space and time to reflect and evaluate where to go from here.

I think many of us can identify with that right now.

Our kids are not in sports or other extra curriculars, and we are able to do things with them that we have wanted to do for years, but have set aside because wee’re too busy.

Or we are working from home and we are, and our companies, are finding out that being in the office is not as essential as we once thought it was.

Or our job tasks are shifting or changing or restructuring, if not forever, at least for a time.

Interests and passions that we once laid aside are being picked up again to keep us from going stir crazy.

Jo…(when I casually refer to Jo, I wonder if I should say Jo or Jo Saxton? She might just be one of those 2 name type of people…)….Saxton was advising them to take this time to look at the different things/experiences/moments in these times and name them. Evaluate and consider what they could be, whether they were something they wanted to pursue or not, and decide.

She made mention of being in a room and being distracted by everything around you. It was as if she could see the rest of the room I was in and not just the clean corner I was zooming from. It was such a lovely thought and made so much sense that I wanted to share it and my reflections with you.

So, um, I have a touch of the ADD and I’m a clutterbug. If I say it all that way, it sounds cute and not so much like, I’m a mess who can’t focus.

My daughter can rock the same vibe, though her focus is admittedly better than mine. We both can look at a messy room and get overwhelmed and struggle to clean it because it’s like, in this room there 8,000 tasks, and I have no idea even where to begin.

I think that’s how a lot of us are feeling right now.

My husband advises my daughter to clean like this. First you clean up the center of the room. Then you drag the stuff from the sides to the center one bit at a time. Then you can identify what it is and put it away correctly.

With all that’s happening, its as if we are standing each in our own quarintine room filled with a lot of things we aren’t used to looking at in one small space. And so it looks like a trash pit mess to them. Over there is the trashpile called work from home, and there is the one called distance learning, and there is the one called new opportunities, and find a mask, and care for others, and self preservation, and stress response and all those piles are covered in a good film of yuck called the pants that no longer fit.

And it’s overwhelming.

But drag a bit in the middle, and identify it and then you can sort out how to properly store it, use it or trash it.

You know, I hear a lot of people talking about how this is a Sabbath time, a time of rest. I get that. But one of the most restful things about this time has been the order and organization that God is building into my rest.

When Molly is finished cleaning her room, which in our house with the freedoms we do allow can be a big undertaking, I ask her, “Doesn’t having a clean room feel so much better?” And without hesitation, and without mentioning the effort it took to get there, she always says,”Oh yeah.”

So, if you feel a bit like I have and like at least 4 other women seem to be feeling, that quarantine is shining a light on all your clutter piles and all your treasure spots and all your coffee cups, there’s what Jo Saxton told us and what my husband tells my daughter. Why not give it a try?

Clear out a space big enough to sit down. Drag a pile in the middle and ask yourself, “What is this? Do I like this? Do I want to keep this or has it served it’s purpose? Where should I put it?” Clean a spot, take a break and then go back to it. Drag another pile in and repeat.

And maybe at the end of all this we can ask each other, “Doesn’t it feel nice to have a clean room?”