The Black Church: Why it must tell its own story

Rev Ronald A Nathan shares why it’s more important than ever for the Black Church to share, write, preserve and pass on their stories and experiences

Seventy-eight years after the arrival of the HMT Empire Windrush, Britain continues to celebrate the contribution of Caribbean migrants to national life. Public commemorations rightly honour labour, music, sport, activism, and the struggle against racism. Yet one of the most influential institutions in Black British life remains insufficiently documented: the Black Church.

This silence matters even more in today’s political climate. Across the United States, the backlash against what critics call “woke culture” has fuelled attempts to restrict the teaching of Black history, race theory and African American literature. Similar currents are visible in Britain, where discussions of colonialism, racism, reparative justice and Black identity are increasingly dismissed as divisive or ideological. The danger is not simply disagreement, but erasure.

When societies begin questioning the legitimacy of Black history and Black intellectual traditions, the responsibility for preservation cannot be left solely to external institutions. The Black Church must become intentional about documenting its own story, preserving its theology, recording its migration experiences, and building structures capable of sustaining a long-term writing and publishing tradition.

As a student at an Oxford University college in the 1990s, I remember a professor telling me that Black Christian leaders do not write and that my proposed area of study would therefore suffer from a lack of available literature.

The issue was never an absence of thought, theology or scholarship. Over time, I discovered numerous books written by Black Christian leaders. The deeper problem was that many were self-published, produced in small print runs, poorly archived and rarely republished. They circulated within churches and communities but seldom entered mainstream academic systems or public memory.

The Black Church in Britain has shaped generations of families through worship, counselling, youth work, social care, political activism and spiritual formation. Yet much of that contribution remains scattered across sermons, conference recordings, personal testimonies and fragile church newsletters, rather than preserved within permanent archives.

The Black Church has also played a critical role in helping Caribbean and African migrants navigate life in Britain. In many communities, church was not simply a place of worship but also a social centre, a counselling service, a community organiser and a source of emotional survival.

Part of the challenge lies in how knowledge is valued. Academic institutions have historically privileged certain forms of writing and documentation, while dismissing oral traditions and lived experience. Black churches frequently communicated theology through preaching, testimony, music and collective memory rather than through formal publishing structures. That does not make the intellectual tradition weaker; it simply means that its methods of transmission have differed.

However, the modern world increasingly depends on digital records, searchable archives and published scholarship. If stories are not preserved in accessible forms, future generations may struggle to understand the depth and diversity of Black religious life in Britain. Younger people growing up in an age of rapid information may inherit fragments of history rather than a coherent account of the sacrifices, faith and resilience that shaped their communities.

This is why intentional preservation matters. Churches should not wait for universities, museums or broadcasters to decide which stories deserve attention. Congregations can begin recording oral histories, digitising photographs, archiving sermons, publishing memoirs and supporting younger writers and researchers. Seminaries and theological colleges can encourage Black theological scholarship that reflects the experiences of diasporic communities in Britain. Pastors and church leaders can mentor emerging thinkers whose voices might otherwise remain unheard.

The task is not only historical but spiritual. In many biblical traditions, remembering is an act of faith. Communities are repeatedly instructed to recall journeys, struggles, victories and covenant relationships, so that future generations understand who they are and where they come from. Forgetting weakens identity; remembrance strengthens it.

The Black Church, therefore, stands at an important crossroads. It can allow its history to remain scattered, vulnerable and easily overlooked, or it can commit itself to building a durable intellectual and cultural legacy. The next generation deserves more than fragments. It deserves access to the testimonies, theology, creativity and leadership that helped shape Black British Christianity across the 20th and 21st centuries.

Telling these stories is not an exercise in nostalgia or self-congratulation. It is an act of cultural stewardship. In an era when historical narratives are increasingly contested, communities that preserve their own voices are better equipped to resist distortion and erasure. The Black Church has already transformed countless lives. The challenge now is to ensure that its history, wisdom and witness are preserved with the seriousness they deserve.

RONALD A. NATHAN
Elder with the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, public theologian, lecturer at Christ Theological College, and World Politics Editor for the Star of Zion newspaper
Email rancilen@gmail.com