Today is October 3, which means it’s book release day.  It’s time for me to finally write the review I’ve been dreading since the end of May when I downloaded an advance digital copy of Shalom Sistas: Living Wholeheartedly in a Brokenhearted World by Osheta Moore to the Kindle app on my ancient iPad 2.

Let’s back up a bit.

On the day of the download, I didn’t waste time posting the above picture from Instagram onto Facebook to announce to the world, or at least to all my Facebook friends and Instagram followers, that I was part of Osheta’s Moore’s launch team for her very first book.  Shalom Sistas was the first launch team I was part of.  I was stoked.  So much so that I hinted at the notion that Shalom Sistas was going to be a profound read.  I’d barely begun the book, truth be told; yet I was enthusiastic about its message from the start.  I wanted to tell all my friends that they, too, should give Osheta and her book a chance, a must-read for everyone.  I remember joking that it was rare of me to savor a book but I was taking my time with this one.  You might not know this about me, but I tend to plow through books like a summer fling.  Not that I’m into summer flings, or spring flings for that matter.  I’m not that kind of gal.  I’m just a girl who loves being lost in the wonderment of a good book.

Unwilling or unable to put it down wasn’t the case with Shalom Sistas.

Hear me out.  (because I’m for the book, not against it).  It took an entire summer and into the first part of fall for me to reach the final pages of Shalom Sistas. Certainly, it wasn’t for lack of love for Osheta Moore and all her book stands for.  Oh, no.  I deeply respect Osheta.  She’s a champion peacemaker and a superb storyteller.  And she’s funny, very very funny.

The truth is, I just didn’t have it in me to breeze through Shalom Sistas if I truly planned on heeding its message.  I needed the luxury of time to let Osheta’s words properly marinate the deepest of deep parts of my soul in a manner that would allow me to fully process the manifesto points of shalom and make way for a new way of living and thinking.

Are you wondering why I’m avoiding my review of Shalom Sistas when I wholeheartedly stand behind its message?

It’s not that simple.

I keep asking myself one question: who am I?  Who am I to write about practicing shalom and building bridges?  Who am I to speak against racism and injustice, particularly black lives and how they matter?

I’m embarrassed to say that before Shalom Sistas, I would’ve come back with,  “Of course black lives matter, all lives matter,” which is true but isn’t the point.  It isn’t the point because it misses the point.  You see, I’m finding myself in a unique place, a humble place where I can admit I was wrong. Also, through Shalom Sistas I’m beginning to see the plight of persons of color through new lenses.  I’ll never truly understand, I can’t, I’m not black, but I’m trying really hard to gain a fresh perspective.  I hate to say it, but I’m more aware of privilege than I was before.  And it’s an awkward place to be.  I’d kinda like to remove these new lenses, but can’t; which is why Shalom Sistas is a must-read, and why it makes me so darn uncomfortable.

About privilege, otherwise known as the elephant in the room that no one talks about but can’t be ignored.  I used to say that I wasn’t privileged.  I mean, really, I’m not wealthy, and I’ve walked through some hard times.  I’m not immune to grief and brokenness, and heartache. As I read through Shalom Sistas, I began to see, perhaps for the first time, that no matter how difficult the road I’ve walked, it’s still a life of privilege simply because I’m white.  And middle class.  Before the book, I didn’t recognize my privilege and my responsibility to practice shalom in this brokenhearted world.

And then I remembered what my cousin posted on Facebook shortly after the atrocities that happened in Charolottesville, VA.  Regarding Charlottesville, and racism in general, Jimmy said it best, “…it’s especially important for people who look like me (straight, white men) to speak up.”

Or in my case, straight, white, middle class women pushing forty.

I, too, have a voice.

I, too, am a Shalom Sista.

I am a Shalom Sista.  I, too, am invited, beloved, am enough, will see beauty, will rest, will choose subversive joy, will tell better stories, will serve before I speak, will build bridges, not walls.  I will choose ordinary acts of peace.  I will be a peacemaker, not a peacekeeper.  In other words, I will live out a life of shalom.  But it’s a process, y’all, it’s a process, especially the bit about being a peacemaker, not a peacekeeper. I’m still working on that one.  I’m counting on my love of Christ, more importantly, his deep love for me, to pave the way.

By the way, I didn’t come up with these points on my own.  They’re part of the of Shalom Sistas manifesto.  Osheta discusses each manifesto point in great detail in her book, it’s what I’ve been chewing on over the last several months.

As for this nontraditional book review, the one I’ve been thinking about in my head, but dreading to write, since the afternoon when Osheta’s baby materialized on my ancient iPad.  Well, there’s so much more for me to say about Shalom Sistas.  But I have a feeling you’ll need to read it for yourself.  Go on, I dare you.

N.