Cultural sentiments can change in unexpected ways. People are complicated, and the direction of our discourse is often unpredictable. After losing the presidential election, Democratic Party leaders are learning—or should be learning—this the hard way. It turns out demographics aren’t destiny after all.
Some have called this change in the spirit of the day a “vibe shift.” But whatever we call it, for better or worse, it’s clear that many in our society began to feel differently over the last four or eight years about what’s valuable and prudent. In the flash of an eye, old terms, narratives, and frameworks lost their power.
With that context, it’s time to consider how race relations in the American church have actually worsened over the past half decade or so. The sentiment seems to have shifted in such a significant way that the once-popular racial-reconciliation project is now passé in many spaces. Even the term racial reconciliation feels corny and cringeworthy to some. But the problem is much bigger than semantics: I see the church’s racial and partisan divide growing at a moment when society most needs an example of a Christian ethic that destroys racial barriers and the dividing walls of partisan hostility (Eph. 2:14).
So why does it seem that the American church’s racial-unity experiment is no longer fashionable? Why do many of us no longer want to be unified?
Intrachurch race relations have been far from perfect. Yet events like MLK50 in 2018 offered hope that we could head in the right direction by bringing together diverse leaders with credibility in their respective communities. Seven years later, after right-wing backlash and much of the melanin leaving these organizations and denominations, assembling a similar group of leaders might prove more difficult.
More broadly, many of the Christian influencers who were on the cutting edge of the national racial-restoration effort appear to have given up and resolved to focus on their own church communities instead. I sympathize with that response because many of those who stuck their necks out to profess historical, biblical truth about race and pursue racial unity were professionally and reputationally punished. They were kicked out of churches and ministry jobs and had their careers sabotaged. I applaud those who stood up for themselves.
Therein lies one of the primary reasons I believe Christian race relations have soured: a bitter reprisal from some on the church’s far right. Those who had an aversion to even talking about racial justice lashed out, engaging in fearmongering rather than debate and scaring people away from even the most constructive conversations about race. They seized on the excesses of progressivism to discredit racial-restoration efforts altogether.
By design, their heavy-handed approach squeezed all the compassion out of their tribe. To even mourn for George Floyd or Breonna Taylor, in their telling, was to be brainwashed by wokeness. And this wasn’t just wild talk on the internet. It shaped major Christian institutions and sent race relations backward in the church.
A second factor aggravating all this was the reaction from some on the far left. The response to bad behavior can also be bad, which is why Frederick Douglass publicly disagreed with and separated himself from some abolitionists. Though they agreed on the wickedness of slavery, Douglass knew methods still mattered. That was not bothsidesism. It was an honest, impartial, and comprehensive critique from someone who wanted justice and order, not merely any win for his side.
Plenty of racial-justice efforts have been sincere and constructive, but inside and outside the church, the cause has also been misused as a vehicle to launder other progressive issues, like undermining the nuclear family. A lucrative industry emerged with no intention to actually solve the problem.
Regrettably, instead of confidently responding on our own terms as justice-conscious Christians, too many of us simply mimicked popular secular thinkers. Christian racial-justice efforts became a knockoff or repackaging of projects with no foundation in our faith. We religiously regurgitated their language without sufficient critique, even self-righteously berating fellow Christians who hadn’t memorized the vocabulary.
Like the Christian nationalists we were opposing, we dabbled in the dark arts of identity idolatry, casting aspersions against entire groups of people while demanding all grace for our own in rituals of self-justification and self-exaltation. Most regrettably, we lost sight of the importance of holiness, following secular activists into positions that undermined the authority of Scripture and sanctity of life.
The race debate in much of the church increasingly became a battle between those who were blind to the sin of racism and those who believed racism and sexism were the only sins.
Where do we go from here? Our resentments do not glorify a Savior who congregated with and died for tax collectors, zealots, prostitutes, and thieves. Remember, Christian unity is a command, not an option (1 Cor. 1:10).
We can throw up our hands and maintain our contempt for one another—but it will come at a cost. Every time we give a lesson or sermon on the Christian love ethic, we’ll do so with a measure of hypocrisy. Every time we tell our children about the necessity of grace and mercy, the stench of insincerity will betray us. Every time we pray, “Thy Kingdom come,” we’ll do so under the shadow of false pretense.
Without deeds of reconciliation to match these words of love, grace, and unity, the wider society will continue to question if we really believe what we say. Our divisions rob the church of credibility.
This is why we can’t give up on racial reconciliation in the church. We must have the moral imagination and determination to find a greater unity, working with and learning from nonbelievers without being indoctrinated by them.
Even when that work seems impossible, I take inspiration from elders like Barbara Williams-Skinner, Jo Anne Lyon, pastor Bob Roberts, and John Jenkins. If they’re still committed to pursuing racial unity after decades of disappointments, so am I. We’ll need new approaches and possibly new language, but the endgame must remain redemption, never retribution.
Not everyone is ready to move forward constructively, but we need a remnant—a coalition of the faithful who are willing to overcome past slights to pick up the cross. Those who are willing to lower themselves to help up their neighbors. Whether in style or out, self-sacrificial pursuit of racial unity is a Christian responsibility. It’s a kingdom prerequisite.
We can either follow the vibe or follow the Spirit.
Justin Giboney is an ordained minister, an attorney, and the president of the AND Campaign, a Christian civic organization. He’s the coauthor of Compassion (&) Conviction: The AND Campaign’s Guide to Faithful Civic Engagement.
