And you can listen to this rather lengthy post below!

Two friends of mine recently posted memes, questions from Twitter asking why Black and indigenous folks practice Christianity, given that it was the foundation of their oppression. I am not quoting directly, and I have posted the memes in this blog post, so that you can have a look. 

As I read the question, I thought back to one particular history lesson I took when I was a young teenager, learning about the origins and justification of colonization and slavery, associated with the church. I was as stunned then as I sometimes am today when I think about this. For someone who grew up and remained in the church for over half of my life, it was and is a hard pill to swallow. As someone who left, my lingering feelings and doubts sometimes make me feel a little bit guilty. 

The history of the church in Black communities both here in the Caribbean and in Africa is complicated. I am not going to attempt to write a historical piece here, where I have researched that history, this is more of a personal piece where, as is the spirit of this tiny section of my blog, I have more questions than answers. I am going to start by writing a bit about my own journey in church. 

The Christian faith was a part of my life before I even had a life. My mother played the piano at church, and my father had a group of friends from his youth group, a number of whom were there for him right up to his death.

I have so many memories that include church as I was growing up - going to Friday night youth group with family friends, singing in more than one harmonious trio, and travelling around the island to perform at different harvest festivals. 

When I was about 12 years old, a group came from the US to our school to perform a concert for us, and encourage us to be saved, by saying “the prayer” (and if you have spent any time in church, you know what it is!) and leaving us a copy of the book of John.

I remember being swept along with some other students to pray and be prayed for, and after that, going home and trying to decipher the book of John, and wondering when I was going to “feel different”.

Also around that time, two of my father’s friends were now the pastor (and his wife) of a small church on the island, and they started coming to pick us up every Sunday morning for church (and then on Fridays, and any other day that we had a service or a rehearsal). That was a constant as I grew up as a teenager - Rick Dees top 40 as we drove up to church on a Sunday morning.

Around that time, I was also learning more Caribbean history at school, and I remember learning about the role of the Christian church in colonization, in slavery, and I remember being slightly confused. How was God ok with that? But the story always was - that was then and this is now, and remember John 3:16 - God is love and ultimately, no matter how we got here, we have been saved. There was an idea of the means justifying the end, even if no-one actually used those words (because if they did, I probably would have been more sceptical than I already was!)

And I was pretty sceptical. I received a large King James Bible at the age of 6 years old, and my father wrote in it that he gave it to me because I wanted to read the “real” bible and find all of the answers myself. I wasn’t interested in the picture book version that they wanted to read to us at school - not even at 6 years old. I always had a million questions. Occasionally they were answered, and sometimes I was shushed by an older person, because they were tired of my constant questioning. The questions continued into my teenage years, and on more than one occasion, I wanted to leave the church and never return, because I felt like there was no room for those questions.

Meanwhile, church ushered in life, and ushered us out of this world. I attended both of my parents’ funerals before I hit the age of 25, and I spent more time in church at university in England than I thought I would, given that I had decided when I moved there on my own, that I would not go to church ever again. The day that I arrived in Bristol, alone, away from home for the first time (and pre- internet!) I was greeted by the leaders of the hall Christian fellowship who made me cups of tea, and who I am still friends with to this day over 25 years later. 

I really got immersed into church when I moved to the UK. I  taught Sunday school, and took the children’s camp to France. I made breakfast and lunch and dinner for hungry teenagers, and for the homeless ministry and the alpha ministry, and in all of those situations, we talked about the bible and life with them.

I attended 7am prayer services in the middle of winter, before heading down to the medical school for classes. There was a time when I was at church or some church related activity almost every single day. I had some amazing times - working on projects in the community, and we enjoyed ourselves.

I also had doubts and questions. I watched those around me appear to be profoundly connected to God, while I felt nothing. I prayed and memorized bible verses. I yearned to have the experience I imagined others around me were having. I heard about the God of love but I only felt love from the people around me. Because I also had friends and community. Faith was the thing I had in common with almost every close friend that I still have to this day, even though I wouldn’t say I had any faith these days. 

I walked away from my faith, one step at a time soon after a close friend passed away unexpectedly. The weight of the questions became heavier than I could manage. I remember during that time having a long argument with my all White small group about slavery and Christianity, and they just stared at me, as if I had spoken to out of turn, and I guess I had. 

And note carefully - that when I walked away, I lost a lot. I wrote about that in depth in this piece “Things I miss about God”.

So when I saw the memes that ask about why Black and Indigenous communities still practice Christianity, I had so many thoughts about it. I feel like it is almost a form of privilege to be able to ask that question. And I can see both sides - as always there is a nuance required to write about it and to understand it and I hope that in writing this piece I am able to express that here.

I know that historically, my ancestors would have had no choice but to practice Christianity, even if they practiced their own traditions in secret. I can't imagine being held prisoner and knowing that death was imminent if I didn't comply.

 As for us generations later, our lives may not be at risk from the church directly, but there are different dynamics at play. The dynamic of belief is the biggest one - and the reality that for many Black Christians - this is their truth. They feel saved and feel like this faith is the truth of the relationship that they have with the divine. Even if they know and understand the origins of this faith in their communities, was it worth it if it's true and they will get their heavenly reward? Of course it’s not that simple and I don’t think that people walk around thinking those thoughts. But you have to understand that it’s all intertwined. 

 And to ask that question could feel insulting to a person or group of people who have a genuine faith and belief. That was something that also made me pause when I was in the church. Do not scoff at belief it is a huge factor. If you believe in something then it's easy to justify and ignore other information. You certainly won't seek it out, so you might not have that information, you might invalidate it, or instead you might see it as a means to an end, or you might not think about it at all. 

 Remember that when you ask this question, you are questioning folks who have a different belief system than you, and belief is a powerful thing. It's easy to scoff at that if it isn't your truth or has never been. Take it from someone who grew up embedded in the church. Even now that I'm pretty sure I'm out of it and I don't believe I sometimes have the thought - what if they are right and I am wrong and I find myself standing at the gates of hell when all is said and done? 

 I know that idea might seem crazy to you if that isn’t your belief system. One of my favourite people in this world considers himself agnostic, and he often asks me how an educated person can believe and have that level of faith. I have never been able to answer him in a way that has leant to his understanding. I don’t know how to explain that for people who are there, whose lives are intertwined with their faith, who have that level of belief, who feel that they have experienced the divine - how could you not believe? Even for me, although I don’t feel as if I had those experiences so to speak, watching those around me have those experiences kept me hopeful in church for a long time. And even out of the church, I still don’t feel that I can say with certainty that there is no God. Somedays I feel like it would be an easier journey if I did feel that way. 

 But other dynamics are also at play including that of community and purpose. While there was a time when the Church would have been a place of oppression for those in many communities (and up to today it still is for some folks) it can also play a role of being a safe place where you have a community banding together to meet your needs and you meeting theirs as well. I was recently listening to a podcast episode of For the Love with Jen Hatmaker podcast where the featured guest Casper ter Kuile was also the author of one of my favourite reads from a few years ago - The power of Ritual. One of the points that they made in their conversation was that - many churches are closing, and the landscape of the church is changing for many reasons. But people are also lonelier than ever and missing the community, the meaning and the communion that church would have once provided in their lives. Do not underestimate the power of the rituals and of having that community around you. The world can be a hard place when you feel as if you don’t have a place to belong.

 On the flip side, I too have questions about why people, particularly Black people seem so at home in Christianity. 

 I watched a documentary about the Black church and one of the questions that came up was - how can we worship in an institution with a White Blonde Jesus. (aside from the fact that it's super unlikely that Jesus was White or blonde... Aside from that - how are we ok in an institution where we do not see our own image represented when we consider the divine). 

 There is that reality that there are very few places where God is represented looking like us. On another episode of For the Love podcast, author Christena Cleveland who wrote the book God is a Black Woman spoke about her pilgrimage across France looking for images of the Black Madonna, and critiquing the idea that God is a White Man, and the effect that this belief has had on society. 

 I am aware that the effect that Christianity has had on society is very much intertwined with the Patriarchy, and White supremacy. It is in all of our bones, whether we want it there or not. And so I know that is also at the heart of why so many of us have been practicing a Christian faith, with that White male God.

 And whenever I think about this idea of God as a White man, I think of this skit by Famalam (compliments of the BBC) titled - there is no White Jesus.It cracks me up every time.

 I mention this because I love these conversations about the changing landscape of faith - I am borderline obsessed with them. Listening to her (and I plan to read her book) and watching the documentary made me reflect on the other truth that for many Black folks, their relationship with the divine transcends church and the traditional beliefs and practices there. A friend of mine recently recommended her church’s podcast to me - Staying at the table - and I have listened to this episode about their statement of inclusion recently, and their journey to become inclusive, focusing particularly on the LGBTQIA+ community. One of the speakers made a point that I keep coming back to - pretty much every group of people in this world apart from White men have been oppressed by the church. That was mind blowing to me - to hear it phrased like that. 

 And statements like that make me come back to the questions I have about being a Black woman in the Christian church. Despite the changes that are sweeping across the church (some welcome by those there and some not) is the institution simply broken? And if it is, should God be thrown out along with it?

 I think this is going to be the final point that I make, as it is my biggest unanswered question. One of the comments on the social media post with the meme was from a person who said she is devoted to Christ, not to Christianity. For many folks -particularly those who don’t consider themselves spiritual, or who are on the outside of or on the fringes in church or religion, the idea of God is wrapped up in the idea of the church. They judge the church, and God by the conduct of those within the church, particularly the leadership. And I get it - I do that too. 

 But for many I have spoken to, some who have walked away from one faith tradition for another, others who are more “spiritual than religious”, some who are still in the church, their faith and relationship with God (or the divine) transcends church, and doesn’t rely on their opinion of the people who claim a particular identity. 

 It is those people that I am the most jealous of. They do not feel shackled by the rules and beliefs of church, but feel connected to a force greater than themselves. Some of them still go to institutions to worship, others have rituals that they feel connect them. 

 Personally, I still get angry when I think about God, and so it’s hard to connect to this idea of love, without thinking of that White man in the sky, and thinking about everything that is “wrong” with the church. So I can understand the question - particularly for Black and indigenous folks in this part of the world, and I have added it to my list of questions. And in the meantime, to anyone who has made it to the end, I appreciate you. While I don’t have the answer, I hope that reading (or listening) to this has made you think a bit more, and given you some insight, and maybe given you some more to noodle on when you see memes popping up.

 I think that memes can be one dimensional, while these conversations require a great deal more nuance. 

 I am always open to discussing this (over a cup of tea, of course!!)

 And I send you big love from a small island.

PS that documentary I mentioned is caled This is our story - the history of the Black Church by Henry Louis Gates. Find the entire documentary if it is showinng in your region.