The “Black Cage Stage” is the cycle that Black folks go through when they discover White Eurocentric reformed theology. This other side to so-called orthodox Christianity hits us Black people smack in the face and we immediately act in illogical ways as a result of our pride, and of course due to the whiplash.

It usually plays out a little something like this:

Note: I plan to get a little bit more into the weeds about specific parts of this cycle in subsequent blog posts.

 

The Build Up

I’ve been here and lived this “Black Cage Stage” experience, full body.

I discovered reformed-ish theology via Pastor John MacArthur by being exposed to his books somewhere around 2008 or so. (Note: this ain’t the time to hop in my comments to inform me that Pastor Johnny Mac ain’t really reformed and {insert stupid soapbox rant as if the distinction matters for eternity})

Upon discovering this “new to me” way of viewing soteriology, sin, ecclesiology, grace etc I was off to the races! All of this new information about God was like food to my soul. I wiped my plate with book after book about: Calvinism, Puritans, and Systematic Theology.

However, the more I learned the more prideful I became. I also did what many of us Black people do when we discover reformed theology, we take up the narrative that the Black church is insufficient and full of error. That negative change in point of view, along with a lack of historical grounding usually lead to my first “Exit.”

 

The Arrogance and The First Exit

I slowly but surely started to become grounded in many different theological concepts. With those revelations I began to see the issues in my current Black church, at the time.

Let me be clear. I still maintain that I needed to leave that church for a lot of reasons that had nothing to do with “The Black Cage Stage.” However, my ignorance of church history and frankly my naivety, pride, and arrogance were the reasons why I did not exit in a way that was fully honoring to God.

I’ve since apologized for specific sins to my old pastor, one to one, and he accepted my apology.

At the time when I left, I was full of arrogance. Openly posting on social media and telling anyone who would listen why the Black church was failing.

Make no mistake the Black church has mad issues. The big C Church has mad issues too. Sex abuse scandals and cover ups, extra biblical fundamental legalistic rules around so-called womanhood and manhood, hyper patriarchy, horrid ecclesiology, misuse of funds, unchecked racism, unchecked mysticism, just to name a few big-ticket problems…currently exist in the Church as a whole.

My big head at the time blocked me from seeing the forest from the trees. As long as WE, human beings are in the church, there will be problems.

 

The Entry

Convinced that the answer to my inferior Black church woes was to join a reformed church, I started attending the first 1689 Reformed Baptist Church I visited.

It was a whole new world. I came to understand grace in action at that church in ways that I had never experienced before. After my first year at that church I cried as I shared how healing that was for me early on.

The grace was fantastic and sorely needed when I arrived on the scene, beaten down by the Law. However, it was only a matter of time and after I’d devoured more books that I would come to give the nagging feeling in the back of my mind some space to be fleshed out.

That Baptist Church was my home church, make no mistake.  Yet, as the years went on I never felt at home. I think my first elders there, kind of knew that I was trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. During my membership interview the teaching elder asked me, “are you sure you want to join?” He was referring to me being single and in my late 30’s in a church full of married White folks, and single boys.  I was determined so I didn’t heed his nudge. I often wonder if he was concerned about a lot more than my marital status.

 

The Confusion and The Second Exit

But soon the same music and culture that I bristled against in my black church, I now longed for, desperately missing the cultural connection. I also discovered that hymns have just as many theological issues as contemporary Gospel music.

I noticed my friendships were polarized to a degree. I spent more time talking to women who identified with my way of doing life, being a single professional. I struggled with connecting to the members who were more traditional and deeply ingrained into White reformed subculture.

As the last presidential election raged the wheels began to fall off. The race and social justice conversation was going full-bore as I had to sit next to members who I loved that openly supported a candidate who I believed to be racist. It was a very jagged pill to swallow, while walking in love with people, respecting their personal choices.

It was hard to see injustice after injustice happen, and only hear it addressed among members who questioned their validity, not in prayer.

For a long time I tried to serve as the bridge, to try to educate White people and gently expose ignorance. I simultaneously pleaded with Black people to show some grace because many people in majority culture misunderstand these issues out of ignorance. They haven’t been called to or forced to learn our history like we have had to learn American History. An American History which unfortunately diminishes the horrors of slavery, and is white washed to the maximum capacity of White western centricity being put forward as the normal.

It took me some years to realize this was a prideful proposition and I had no chance of succeeding in building this bridge. You can’t build with people misrepresenting definitions and refusing to exist anywhere but in their echo chambers of agreement and comfort.

There was space for me to disagree, but there was an unspoken cost. I was ok as long as I assimilated and checked all the boxes of how a Black person should carry their culture and ethnicity. Silently. The minute that I got off of the accepted path I became more so uncomfortable. I didn’t want to spend every dinner or fellowship debating and being told I don’t know how to parse my own past experiences with racism. I wanted to experience empathy in the church for unique issues that I have to endure as a Black woman. I was given no such quarter to be real and feel understood.

Despite the obvious disconnects I served in music ministry primarily, participated in small groups, and tried really hard to build relationships at my new church. I succeeded with many people, and many people succeeded to build with me. Many of them I still love and talk to on a regular basis even though I ultimately decided to no longer be a member of that church.

 

The Truth

Even up to this very moment I have no answers about what is the best course of action regarding church membership. I am praying for answers and healing. I have never felt quite at home at any church that I have been a part of as an adult. I acknowledge that it is a tricky proposition for someone who is bi-ethnic and comes from growing up in a church tradition (Jamaican Revivalism) that wasn’t American, much less Black American.

I know all the doctrine around idolatry and comfort…but if this isn’t a consideration for me as a Black woman, then why is it ok for other people to expect to feel comfortable and experience said comfort, in their church home?

It is very easy to sit back and tell someone to “suffer well” when you have yet to deal with the kind of suffering that they are currently enduring.

All I know is the truth of Scripture. I see the book of Acts and I yearn for that experience in church. Acceptance. Cultural Inclusion. Life Integration. Benevolence. Orthodoxy. Humility. Application.

I don’t regret being in the “Black Cage Stage,” because I learned so much about myself, God, the Church, and history. I was exposed to realities that I wouldn’t have ever learned about if I didn’t run headlong into this cycle.

This blog describes very messy and sometimes sinful process. Keep in mind I am leaving a lot out, but just from the high level view that I am giving, you can see it is no cake walk.

What I think many don’t know is a lot of black people are in various stages of this cycle. I find myself praying that they will have a different outcome than I had, and many people who I know have shared. Praying they won’t experience the loneliness and disillusionment. Asking God to show them any sins they may have committed along this path, the way he showed me, and that it would lead them to repentance. Clinging to a small amount of hope that some true multicultural churches will spring up and overcome the racist history of the Church in America.

Unfortunately this blog doesn’t have a neat little ending to tie it up into a nice little “Jesus juke” bow. There are no quick and dirty answers to the symptoms that lead a black person to participate in this cycle. “The Black Cage Stage” happens as a result of unaddressed problems and history within the Church. Until all of those things can be identified, confronted, and addressed biblically, I don’t see this cycle ending anytime soon.