“In this soil, there is the sweat of the enslaved. In the soil there is the blood of victims of racial violence and lynching. There are tears in the soil from all those who labored under the indignation and humiliation of segregation. But in the soil there is also the opportunity for new life, a chance to grow something hopeful and healing for the future.” – Bryan Stevenson, EJI Executive Director

Regarding their Christian faith, Black slaves' response to their treatment and their culture was one of lament and hope. Black slaves in the colonies desired real physical liberation, not solely spiritual liberation, but one that allowed them to live freely and be distant from the brutal treatment of their slave masters. Their lament for their condition and the hope they had can be found in slave songs. Louis Adams, in her slave narrative, recounts…

But what could happen when we collectively decide to break free from fear? It's something those in power conveniently overlook. They're all about crushing the vulnerable when they're down, thinking that's the end of the story. But what they fail to grasp is the resilience of the generations that rise after surviving the horrors of mass genocide, whether it's in Gaza, Cuba, Sudan, or right here in America—hidden beneath the facade of a justice system that was birthed out of the erasure of Black and Indigenous people.

I celebrate that theological discussions have become more public, and I am also glad that it has paved the way for people's deconstruction journey. I noticed that as people began to learn more about their faith through podcasts, YouTube videos, and books, they began to question what they really believe. This, coupled with people experiencing personal church hurt and abuse or learning about the historical injustices of the Church and Christians done in the name of faith, has led many to abandon their Christian faith or put it under an intense microscope.

Three days later, the pastor called me into his back office, sat me down, and the only thing he said to me was, “I probably should have done this a long time ago, but I'm going to have to let you go.” And just like that, the church my family had found when I was in first grade—the church I fell in love with after doing an internship at 13—after working full time since 18—I was now 26 years old and fired. Deep inside of me, I still believed the Lord wanted me in ministry. I just didn't know how, I didn't know when, and I'd honestly kind of given up on the dream.