Dear White Pastors,

Let me begin by clarifying who I am not writing to.

I’m not writing to the white pastors who remain ignorant of nor ambivalent toward the pain of our black relatives.

I’m not writing to those who don’t feel compelled to speak up about the realities of racism, whiteness, and anti-black violence.

I’m not writing to you because I do not consider you to be shepherds of the restorative revolution. Instead, I understand you as purveyors of an imperial religion and hospice providers to a dying empire. You are still within my circle of human concern, but in this moment, I’m not writing to you.

I am writing to the white pastors who ache because of what is happening to our black relatives.

I’m writing to you who feel shame because you’ve been here before. You’ve felt this ache but you haven’t done anything about it.

I’m writing to you who know that something has to be said but you have no idea what to say.

I’m writing to you who know that to say anything will cost you the admiration of your white congregations that you’ve worked tirelessly to secure.

I’m writing to you who have begun the work of understanding and dismantling whiteness and are frustrated that so few in your congregations are with you in the journey.

Friends, I’ve been where you are and I know that there are at least three factors that threaten to keep you from leading courageously this weekend:

Ignorance. You actually don’t know what to say because while you feel the ache, you don’t understand racism, whiteness, and the history of anti-black violence.

Fear. The thought of saying something poorly is terrifying. You’ve worked quite hard to cultivate an image and you’re not ready to compromise the façade.

Economics. You know that a large percentage of your white congregation will be outraged by your mention of racism and will remove themselves and their dollars from your church.

So what are you to do? Let me offer the following recommendations:

Please do not dust off an old sermon about how all people are created as image bearers of God. That past sermon was crafted by a previous version of yourself and will fall flat.

Please do not plagiarize a compelling sermon on race in America that you’ve heard another pastor give. The last thing white folk need is to hear you stumbling through someone else’s script.

Please do not write a new sermon that tries to theologize the ache that you feel but don’t understand. It’ll only generate confusion.

Please do not invite a black pastor into your pulpit to talk about racism. Don’t do it this week. Don’t do it next week. We have asked our sisters and brothers of color to bleed in front of us and to absorb the violence of our white congregations for far too long.

This Sunday, please leverage your sermon moment in a way that models rather than preaches. Expose your ache to your congregation. Lament that you do not hold black lives in the same regard as white lives. Confess that while you have noticed a pattern of anti-black violence in and around you, you have done nothing about it. Ask your congregation for their forgiveness for the ways in which you’ve allowed fear to interrupt your ability to shepherd them responsibly. Articulate the next steps that you are committed to as a human being (not as a leader nor their pastor) in order to become a student of racism, whiteness, and anti-black violence. Three of those next steps should be that you will identify 4-5 black leaders who are spending their lives teaching anti-racism, follow them, and invest financially in them via their patreon channels. (DM me for some recommendations)

Next Sunday, invite a white person of faith whom you trust and whom you have observed as being informed and mentored by colleagues of color to teach about racism, whiteness, and anti-black violence. Your online gathering format creates the opportunity for this person to join you from anywhere.

Then, invite that white faith leader to accompany you as a coach as you embark upon the formational journey of becoming a white, anti-racist faith leader.

The transformation that we seek for ourselves, our congregations, and our communities lies just beyond the walls of fear that we have erected. I urge you to leave the shadows that fear has cast and join the restorative revolution. Trust me, it’s a journey that is worth your life!

– Jer Swigart
Co-Founding Director, Global Immersion