On Being Christian AND Black: Race and the Evangelical Church

It’s not a Happy Black History Month, at least for all. It has always been a happy time for me to celebrate the achievements, triumphs,  and contributions of Black Americans and Black culture throughout history. It’s a joyful occasion, an opportunity to reflect with gratitude on the rich cultural heritage that has shaped so much of our society. Yet in recent years, it’s been extremely painful watching a beautiful season of reflection be met with resistance and divisive rhetoric, particularly within the evangelical church. 

Having been in evangelical spaces for nearly a decade, I have been presented with a “choice” that many others like me have also experienced: to fragment my identity and to wrestle with the tension that I cannot be fully myself in these spaces. There is an expectation in many evangelical churches to choose between embracing my faith and embracing my race, my Blackness, the fullness of who God created me to be —as if the two cannot coexist. While I reject this false dichotomy, the pressure to conform to such an idea has been deeply painful. Let me explain. 

Over the years, I have observed a pattern in evangelical churches about race, racism, and racial  justice. There is a prevailing sentiment that these topics should be avoided altogether as if silence is a virtue reflecting God’s perspective on race. “God doesn’t see color,” they say. “He only looks at the heart.” Therefore, the evangelicals reason, if God doesn’t see color then neither should we. Acknowledging race, racism, and racial justice is divisive, and celebrating cultural identity must be idolatrous.

But I wonder – how can we say God doesn’t see color when He intentionally created it?

Many evangelicals point to the idea that “God doesn’t see color,” referencing verses such as Galatians 3:28:

“There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

The idea behind this interpretation may be to state that access to God does not depend on our cultural background or physical characteristics such as skin color. But far too often I see this verse misinterpreted to suggest that our cultural identities vanish at the foot of the cross. I have even heard fellow believers—both Black and White—argue that referring to oneself as a “Black Christian” is a sign of misplaced priorities, as if acknowledging race diminishes one’s devotion to Christ. The common refrain, “We all bleed red,” is meant to emphasize equality, but in practice, it often dismisses the significance of our God-given differences.

God sees color because He made it. 

When evangelicals say that God doesn’t see color, they are saying color doesn’t matter to God. But erasing color is not the same as embracing unity. God intentionally created diversity—different cultures, languages, and traditions—each reflecting His creativity and sovereignty. How can we say color doesn’t matter to God when he made it? Our cultural identities and backgrounds do not disappear at the foot of the Cross, nor do I think they should.

A healthy, Christ-centered community should practice cultural awareness and humility. This means acknowledging and appreciating the different ways God has made us rather than attempting to blend everything into a single, dominant culture. Ignoring color does not bring us closer to God—it risks erasing the beauty He designed and can subtly lead to assimilation rather than true unity.

By not seeing color, we risk assimilating everyone into a mainstream culture, therefore making people into our image instead of God’s image.

Whether intentionally or not, many evangelical spaces reflect a singular cultural perspective, often expecting others to conform to it. As one resource so aptly put it: “One danger for ministers is that we imagine that everyone else is just like us and treating them accordingly. We need to be in the business of conforming people to Christ, not to ourselves!” 

When we say we “don’t see color” in evangelical spaces, what often happens instead is that everyone is expected to assimilate into the majority culture. Worship services favor certain styles of music while overlooking the contributions of diverse artists — for example, evangelicals sing Leeland’s version of “Waymaker” without acknowledging its Nigerian creator Sinach. A mainstream homiletic style is presented, and sermons frequently cite Puritan and European theologians while rarely mentioning historical or contemporary figures from non-White backgrounds. Even significant moments in Christian history are sometimes presented without proper acknowledgment of their diverse origins. For example, how often is it mentioned in evangelical spaces that the Azusa Street Revival—a movement that shaped modern Pentecostalism—was led by a Black preacher, William J. Seymour?

When evangelicals say that race doesn’t matter, yet remain steadfastly committed to a singular cultural expression, it sends an unspoken message: some cultures are more welcome than others.

When evangelicals demand certain groups of people to ignore color and race, we see a hurtful hypocrisy: Black people are often presented with a false dichotomy wherein they have to be “Black” or “Christian,” but not both. 

One of the most painful aspects of this dynamic is the way Black believers are sometimes asked—implicitly or explicitly—to choose between their cultural identity and their faith. While all Christians are called to place their identity in Christ above all else, no other group seems to be asked to disregard their cultural background in the way Black believers often are. And if we refuse, we may be accused of making an idol out of our race. This notion that we have to choose between being Black or following Jesus is a horrific holdover from supremacist theology. 

There is room to be proud of our Blackness while also being a Christian. Being proud of one’s heritage is not the same as idolatry. Loving one’s culture does not mean elevating it above Christ—it simply means recognizing and appreciating the way God has uniquely designed us. If anything, we should examine where true idolatry exists—whether in nationalism, political ideology, or traditions that go unquestioned in many evangelical settings.

Discussing racism isn’t inherently divisive. What is truly divisive is ignoring the reality that these issues exist within evangelical spaces.

If we truly believe that every nation, tribe, people, and tongue will worship God together in Heaven (Revelations 7:9-12), then our earthly spaces of worship should reflect that reality. This means moving beyond “colorblindness” and embracing the full spectrum of God’s creation. It means embracing cultural humility instead of cultural assimilation in churches. When evangelical spaces confront real division and recognize the beauty of diversity in the body of Christ, it will do a world of good in a world full of diverse people like me.