
Let’s be honest. The western church has a racism problem. And it’s not just an ethical lapse — it’s a spiritual crisis.
For too long, Christians have treated racism as if it were a minor social issue, something regrettable but peripheral. As if it lives on the margins of theological concern, something best handled by activists, not theologians. But racism isn’t just a “bad attitude” or a political talking point. It is a spiritual disease. It’s a lie about God, about humanity, and about what salvation means.
And if our theology doesn’t confront it head-on, then our theology itself is compromised.
Because what is the gospel, if not the declaration that in Christ, a new creation has begun? That the dividing walls of hostility have been torn down? That every nation, tribe, people, and language are being gathered into one family? If we proclaim Jesus as Lord but still cling to the logic of supremacy, exclusion, or cultural dominance, then who, really, is our lord?
Racism isn’t just an ethical problem. It’s a Christological failure — a refusal to see Jesus in the faces of those we’ve been taught to look down on. It’s an anthropological distortion — a rejection of the image of God in others. It’s a soteriological confusion — as if salvation is about going to heaven when you die but has nothing to say about hellish systems we maintain while we live.
It’s an ecclesiological hypocrisy — a church that claims to be one body but tolerates segregated pews and theologies tailored to whiteness. It’s an eschatological amnesia — forgetting the vision of every tribe and tongue gathered around the throne.
So no, racism isn’t just a social issue. It’s a theological rupture.
And here’s the tragedy: many Christians have been discipled to think that good works are suspicious — “works righteousness” and all that. But in Scripture, good works are not about earning salvation; they’re the evidence of it. The fruit of a changed heart. The sign that the Kingdom is taking root.
Which means if racism persists in the church, it’s not just a moral failure. It may be a sign that we’ve misunderstood the gospel itself.
Because the good news isn’t just that your sins are forgiven. It’s that Jesus is Lord, and his reign doesn’t look like domination, exploitation, or fear. It looks like a table where enemies eat together. A cross that exposes the powers. A resurrection that breaks open a new world. A Spirit who speaks in many tongues and forms one body out of many parts.
If our theology doesn’t lead us toward that table, if our discipleship doesn’t teach us to tear down those walls, if our worship doesn’t move us to love our neighbors across every line the world draws, then what are we even doing?
Christians who refuse to confront racism aren’t just being politically quiet. They are spiritually negligent.
The call to repentance is not just for racists “out there.” It’s for a church that has too often baptized power, silenced prophets, and told the wounded to wait. It’s time we stop treating this as a side issue. It’s time we say it plainly: racism is anti-Christ.
But there’s hope. There is always hope. Because Jesus didn’t come just to forgive individuals. He came to form a people — a reconciled, renewed, and radically inclusive people. And we, the church, are called to embody that new humanity now.
Not perfectly. Not triumphantly. But truthfully.
So let’s preach a gospel that’s big enough to confront the poison of racism and other forms of discrimination. Let’s do theology that bears fruit in justice. Let’s live in a way that shows the world what resurrection looks like.
Because the gospel isn’t just a message to believe — it’s a life to live.







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