Stop Explaining the Black Church

Why the Most Misunderstood Institution in America No Longer Owes an Apology for Its Existence

There is a strange fatigue that comes from constantly having to explain yourself — a weariness that seeps into the soul. For centuries, the Black Church has been asked to do just that: explain its theology, its worship, its culture, its very existence. Yet it was in this very institution — this ark of safety and sanctuary — that enslaved men and women first heard, “Whom the Son sets free is free indeed” (John 8:36). The Black Church has been more than a place of religious gathering; it has been the keeper of dignity, the vessel of deliverance, and the workshop of faith where the gospel was preached, heard, and confessed. And yet, no Christian institution in America has been more criticized, scrutinized, and terrorized.

From the plantation to the bombed-out basements of Birmingham, the Black Church has borne a cross few others can imagine. Its pastors and parishioners were lied on and lynched. Its sanctuaries were burned because its theology dared to declare both the sovereignty of God and the sacredness of Black life. And yet, the assaults were not only physical but verbal — generations of caricatures, critiques, and cheap shots from those who never darkened its doors or studied its sermons. Still, the Black Church stood tall, declaring, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27:1).

What makes this particularly tragic is that such ridicule has not been evenly distributed. America’s white denominations — many of which historically baptized racism, sanctified segregation, and muted the moral call of the gospel — are rarely interrogated with the same vigor. Their sins are dismissed as relics of the past. The Black Church, however, must perpetually defend itself — both from a nation that once outlawed its gatherings and from a generation that often misunderstands its genius. This imbalance is not simply hypocrisy; it’s exhaustion. To have to defend your humanity and your faith in the same breath is to live in a perpetual state of trial. Yet Scripture reminds us that all people are made in the image of God — *imago Dei* — “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness” (Genesis 1:26). Humanity, the image-bearer, and the Church, the bride, were both conceived in divine love.

So where do we go from here? How do we respond to those who have shown no interest in honest or good-faith dialogue — those who are allergic to truth and enamored with provocation? There is a new breed of critics who prefer tweets to theology, clout to conviction. They avoid academic integrity like the plague, yet speak with the certainty of prophets. To them, the Black Church is a punchline or a platform. But the Bible is clear: “Have nothing to do with foolish, ignorant controversies; you know that they breed quarrels” (2 Timothy 2:23). The call of the Church — and especially the Black Church — is higher than debate.

We are not obligated to entertain the ignorant rhetoric of clout chasers. The apostle Paul warned, “Avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless” (Titus 3:9). Our task is not to amplify their noise but to amplify the Word. So we must remember a few things. First, we are not obligated to engage disingenuous people. Jesus himself remained silent before Herod (Luke 23:9). Second, we must avoid drawing attention to their platforms — that’s precisely what they want. Third, when compelled to speak, we do so with Scripture, not sarcasm. Fourth, we remain rooted in the Word and the work of ministry — feeding the hungry, visiting the imprisoned, and preaching the gospel of reconciliation. And finally, when we must engage, we do so with clarity and control: focusing the conversation on Christ, not culture wars, and refusing to waste energy on those unwilling to listen objectively or respond honestly.

The Black Church does not need to explain itself to those committed to misunderstanding it. Its record is written in both Scripture and in the blood of its saints. It has outlasted slavery, survived Jim Crow, and outlived every critic who said it was finished. “No weapon formed against you shall prosper” (Isaiah 54:17). That promise has been the Church’s song in every season of sorrow.

So, let the critics talk. Let them recycle their cynicism. The Church will continue to pray, sing, and serve. For its foundation is not built on applause but on a cornerstone that cannot be moved. The future of the Black Church is not up for debate — it is secure in the hands of the same God who delivered it from Egypt, brought it through Reconstruction, and sustains it still. “Upon this rock,” Jesus said, “I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it” (Matthew 16:18).

The Black Church has nothing left to prove. It simply has to keep being what it’s always been — a light in the darkness, a witness to the world, and a testimony to the power of grace.