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Practicing Postures for Shalom

When you march 160 miles, you quickly discover how much you need other people — and how hard it is to let go of control. For white Christians working toward racial justice, that discomfort isn't an obstacle. It’s the point.

Emmanuel Gospel Center

Practicing Postures for Shalom

Invitations from a 160-mile march on how to work toward shalom in the ordinary 

by Megan Lietz, Founding Director, Race & Christian Community Initiative

With racism and xenophobia on the rise, the Church must stand up and take action. I recently took action by participating in a portion of the We Are America March: a 160-mile journey from Philadelphia to Washington, D.C.

The one thing that united marchers was a desire to see our country live into our democratic ideals. But with such a diverse group, there were many reasons people participated. I marched to honor those who marched before me, to learn, and be a faithful witness to Jesus. Throughout the march, I spoke about the foot soldiers of the civil rights movement who inspired me to engage in civic life. I was touched by the power of community and spoke openly about how my faith in Jesus motivates my justice journey. 

But what struck me most was how the march provided an invitation to practice the postures of shalom-building. This led me to reflect on the importance of Christians practicing these postures today. 

Participating in an inter-state march is no small undertaking. It comes at a cost. But I found that the cost was paid back many times over through the way God formed me and the blessings of community. I highlight three areas I feel the march invited participants to grow—areas white Christians need to practice to nurture shalom and invest in our own liberation. 

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Letting Go of Control 

When you’re on a week-long march, there’s much that isn’t in your control. Plans pivot. Weather changes. You don’t always know what you want to know. 

I’m someone who likes to be in control. To have a plan. To know what’s next. Though shaped in part by my personality and experiences, I also recognize that this desire for control is a core component of whiteness. From the earliest days of racialization, it motivated racial hierarchy and was used to keep it in place. And whether I realize it or not, I’ve been socialized in ways that lead me to desire, expect, and grasp for control in order to feel OK. 

The march was an opportunity to have faith, to know that God is in control, and to release the need to know. When I wanted to check the online schedule or ask how a change would affect the rest of the day, I paused. I don’t need to know. Others are working it out. Trust others to take the lead. I don’t need to be in control. 

When I released my desire to be in control to God, I received the gift of being more present to my work that day. I was also better positioned to be formed by my Lord and Savior.

While these dynamics are amplified in an immersive experience like a march, we have—and should take—the opportunity to practice releasing control in the day-to-day. 

While these dynamics are amplified in an immersive experience like a march, we have—and should take—the opportunity to practice releasing control in the day-to-day.

As white people who desire to contribute to the dismantling of racism, it’s critical that we learn how to let go of control and share leadership. But this is hard to do in real time. We hope we’ll be the kind of people who let go of control when it counts, but how will we do so without practice?! We won’t do it when it counts the most if we aren’t learning to release control in other areas of our lives.

Practical suggestions for learning to let go of control

Next time you’re noticing you’re not in control and feeling anxious about it or like you want to take action to put the ball back in your court, take a breath. Ask yourself, “Do I need to be in control right now?” Questions that can help you determine this include:

  • Whose comfort is my need for control really serving?

  • Is my urge to lead coming from competence and calling, or from habit and privilege?

  • What am I afraid will happen if I'm not in charge?

  • Have I been invited into leadership here, or have I assumed it?

Noticing when we’re vying for control—and intentionally giving it up—can build our muscle to do so when racial equity is on the line. It helps us practice more liberated ways of being. 

This is hard work, but it can be done with God’s help. I offer the following breath prayers as a grounding exercise: Breathe in: “You are God.” / Breathe out: “I am not.”

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Trusting for Care and Abundance 

On the march, we would pack up our meager belongings, put on our shoes, and walk an average of 10 miles a day until we reached where we would sleep that night. When we arrived, we would be welcomed by our hosts, fed dinner, and claim a space to set up our sleeping bag. This rhythm reminded me of God’s people on the move in the wilderness, following the cloud by day and pillar of fire by night (Exod. 13:21-22).

When marchers set out each morning, we wouldn’t have everything we needed for the day. We had to trust in the generosity and hospitality of others. Churches that opened their doors. Volunteers who made sandwiches. Medic teams who cared for our feet. And not least of all, my fellow marchers who consistently offered encouragement and kindness, be it helping me carry my luggage, finding a lost pillow, or giving up their own spot so I could have a more comfortable place to sleep. 

Marching invited participants to trust God’s providence and care through his people. In doing so, I grew in my faith. I experienced encouragement and healing as I received kindness from strangers. I came to better understand why Jesus would have sent out his disciples with little more than a staff (Mark 6:8), or told the Israelites to only gather enough manna for the day (Exod. 16:4): Because it was an exercise of faith. 

So much of the racism and xenophobia in our nation is derived from the belief that there’s not enough to go around. That if one group thrives, there won’t be enough for another. It is counter to God’s heart for mutual thriving and his instructions to seek the peace of the city and pray for it “because if it prospers, you will prosper” (Jer. 29:7). 

Marching invited participants to trust God’s providence and care through his people.

Especially as people of privilege, many of us can meet our daily needs on our own. But learning to trust others and receive their care is itself a gift. I believe it can reassure us that, even as we are giving generously and sacrificially to others, we can be cared for too. God himself will provide through his people. We are an interconnected, interdependent body (1 Cor. 12:12-27), and are designed to function as such.

For me, the march served as an invitation to embrace our interdependence and lean into community. Like letting go of control, we need to practice doing this. We don’t need to hoard resources or hold things too tightly. We should bless others, because they are God’s blessing to us. 

Practical suggestions for trusting in care and abundance

These spiritual practices help me trust that God will care for me, even as I give of myself:

  • Regularly give tithes and offerings: I can give to God and others and still have enough myself.

  • Incremental fasting: I can give up things I feel I need, like caffeine or sugar, and still have enough energy and emotional resources to do what God has for me that day. 

  • Ask for help when I need it: This is a hard one, but the more I’m willing to ask for help and receive from others in the small things, the better able I am to embrace the interdependent nature of the body of Christ!

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Persevering Through Discomfort 

Overall, during the march, I felt comfortable, cared for, and safe. But there were certainly moments of discomfort, like realizing that I’d be sleeping next to strangers, not having all the info I wanted when I wanted it, marching through the rain, or moving stiff muscles and sore feet. 

The march provided an invitation to persevere through discomfort. Because white folks are a part of the dominant culture, we are often afforded the opportunity to be in spaces and cultural contexts that are familiar to us and reflect our preferences. When we are not, we can feel uncomfortable. But as white people, too often we associate our discomfort with not being safe. We then tend to center our own emotions until comfort is regained—often while diminishing the needs and feelings of people of color. 

Learning how to persevere through discomfort is necessary to nurture shalom across racial lines.

Like letting go of control or trusting in God to care for us, shalom-seekers can benefit from learning how to persevere through discomfort. Crossing cultural lines, decentering oneself, or participating in civic engagement is often not comfortable work. It is sacrificial. Learning how to persevere through discomfort is necessary to nurture shalom across racial lines. 

Practical suggestions for persevering through discomfort

Some practices I use to persevere through discomfort include:

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Conclusion: Opportunities for Formation in the Ordinary

It doesn’t take an immersive experience like a march to practice these things. While I found the march to be an invitation to formation, it highlighted the work we need to be doing in the day-to-day. Consider the opportunities to:

  • Let go of control as you navigate changes in the office or collaborate on a group project.

  • Show kindness and generosity to a neighbor that extends beyond what you would normally give.

  • Vote in ways that may seem against your best interest in order to care for vulnerable populations and trust that God will care for you.

  • Practice self-soothing during a tense conversation with a friend or family member.

  • Intentionally orient yourself to your day with an open hand and flexibility. 

Lord Jesus, I invite you to form my ways of being. Come set me free. May I be more like you.

There are opportunities for liberation in the ordinary. Would you look for them with me? Would you learn with me how to let go of control, trust in God’s care and abundance, and persevere through discomfort? I believe, as we invite the Holy Spirit to form us in these ways, we can be better agents of shalom-building. Not because we have what it takes, but because, by God’s grace, he can make us new. 

If this resonates with you, I invite you to pray with me, “Lord Jesus, I invite you to form my ways of being. Come set me free. May I be more like you.”

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