My Friend, Sarah

by B. J. Hamrick, RTF Staff Writer

When I think of the word bold, I think of Sarah’s red, flaming hair. But beneath her red, flaming hair was a person – someone just like you and me – someone who struggled to be bold in other ways.

“I want to stand up for Jesus at school,” she told us one night during camp devotions. “I want to make a difference.”

She talked about Columbine that night. She talked about the kids who stood up for Jesus when two killers asked the question, “Do you believe in God?” Those kids answered, “Yes”.

Sarah said she wanted to answer yes too. She wanted to see God change lives.

But seeing God change lives wasn’t new to Sarah. Everyone who knew her realized that she loved kids and spent every summer in the projects with them – playing games, telling Bible stories, and simply caring about their lives.

The summer of 2000 was no different. Sarah spent nearly every day teaching kids about God. In between teaching, she gave away extra lunches she packed for the homeless.

But Sarah sensed God calling her to move beyond the streets and care more intensely about her peers. Columbine had touched her so deeply, she told us that summer night, that she couldn’t turn back.

And she didn’t. That fall, Sarah had a real boldness in her faith. She smiled at people even when they didn’t smile back. She cared deeply and loved fervently. And she wasn’t ashamed to speak up when the school told the Christian students that they couldn’t advertise their club with the others.

It’s as if Sarah sensed urgency. “I’m not guaranteed another sunset,” she told me as we watched it disappear behind the hills one summer evening at camp. “None of us know how long we have.”

I didn’t realize the significance of Sarah’s words until ten months later, when I got the phone call. Sarah was gone. She’d been killed in an auto accident on her way to school. We were devastated.

I’ll never forget Sarah’s flaming red hair. But most of all, I’ll never forget her inner boldness.

I will always remember the summer night when she told us she wanted to make a difference at school. I will always remember the hundreds of students at her funeral who told about the difference Jesus made through her life.

And I will always remember the words those students painted on a rock outside her school on the day she died:

“Sarah is with Jesus. Where will you B?”

** Article written with permission from and with love for the Longstreet family**

To contact BJ, go to www.bjhamrick.com