"We need accomplices, those who are tethered to us. If one suffers, all suffer, and if one is free, all are free. In the legendary and historic 'Letter from Birmingham Jail,' the late Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us that, 'Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.' If we are truly serious about the work of justice, we will work daily to lay aside our political and religious differences for the sake of humanity and foster deep relationships that force us to be accomplices, not allies."

Wholistic well-being, as a value, can often feel ethereal. What makes us whole? How does wholistic well-being weave through the diverse parts of our humanity, our mind, body, and spirit? And more complicated still, how is our wholistic well-being enlivened by the multifaceted and complex creation we live among?

"During the racial reckoning of 2020, I began to understand something profound: Jesus, a brown, immigrant child born into poverty and unjustly lynched, mirrors the experiences of many Black and Brown people—descendants of immigrants born into poverty and unjustly lynched throughout history. This realization forces us to..."

"When I look back on my upbringing, I reflect on how frequently the imagery of trees surrounded me in relation to my faith. My father, who grew up in a rural town called Taylorsville, North Carolina, faithfully attended Liberty Grove Missionary Baptist Church—"Grove" referring to a small group of trees. Even though I did not attend the church growing up, it is part of my heritage. My family has been connected to..."

When Jesus speaks of a seed needing to die to bear fruit, I do not believe He is calling us to glorify oppression or to accept enduring oppressive systems and structures as our highest duty. This interpretation, I would argue, is a distortion of Jesus' liberating Good News. Rather, Jesus invites us to overcome our fear of the forces that attempt to bury us.

When we no longer fear the darkness that buries us, understanding instead that we possess the power to rise through it, drawn by the light that beckons us to catch the sun's rays—rays that breathe oxygen back into us. When we appreciate the rain provided by dark clouds, a gift of our ancestors' tears, and recognize that, unafraid, we collectively hold the power to keep each other safe—what then can bury us? 

Southern sacredness is in the texture of the grass, the song of the wind, the hue of the clay. In the whistles of the rivers, the latkes and the streams.

And it has been calling us.

It has been calling us to use our greatness to build it up to the best of what it can be.

To refuse to let the worst of yesterday dictate tomorrow's possibility.

It has been calling us to come back so that we all can move forward together.

As a descendant of Black folks who left their homes and families behind in hopes of a better tomorrow, I’m grateful for organizations like BLK South who are doing the work of honoring and reclaiming Black southern heritage.BLK South is more than a community organization. It’s in many ways a Sankofa movement; it’s a movement that reaches back, that learns from and honors our past, and allows it to inform our present and future as Black Americans.

With more Black Americans becoming educated, they entered academic spaces, producing literature to make sense of the Black American psyche and theology. Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) prepared members for leadership roles in the Black community. Passionate preachers in the Black church taught forgiveness and emphasized Jesus' solidarity with the oppressed.

“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

My grandmother's hands were soft and wrinkled—a softness earned through years of picking prickly cotton and preparing countless meals. Collard greens, shucking corn, kneading dough, baking cakes, dancing, singing, running, hiding, escaping. At the time, I didn't grasp the mystery within her hands—a mystery woven from experiences I knew nothing about but always yearned to understand.

After massive protests followed the police shooting of a black man in 2016, the city of Charlotte took the unprecedented move of electing a majority-minority leadership. VICE's Alzo Slade takes a deep dive into how one African-American leader is navigating centuries-old economic barriers in the pursuit of a more just society.

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.

A lesson taught in my MTC cohort experience is being able to affirm and reject what I am taught and information I am given about culture and the world recognizing that no one is without bias. This was taught to us so that we can affirm and reject thoughts and ideologies that do not allow us to be a faithful witness of Jesus and the Biblical story. I am a Black man in America who also identifies as a disciple of Jesus. I believe an expansive part of The Black American story as it relates to being a witness of Jesus was lacking in…

A stronger, more vibrant Black community is an integral component of a more prosperous America. For anyone who has had the opportunity to witness the evolving dynamics of American society, there's a resounding call from the conservative right to "Make America Great Again." However, I firmly contend that for America to truly embody greatness, it must prioritize…

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.