It’s been a minute since I last wrote here. Life has been full these days with strategy meetings, research intensives, focus groups, community programs, and… raising a teenager who continues to teach me new ways to see the world. If you know me, though, you know that despite the busyness, I’ve been sitting with some heavy questions.

Here is some of what’s been on my mind:

• How many times in human history has religion been bent and twisted to hold people down, and how do we reclaim it for freedom? How do we take back the narrative on religious values?
• What does it mean for Black organizers and faith leaders to call communities toward civic power now, when Christian nationalism is loud and efforts to suppress not just our votes but our very voices — through intimidation, disinformation, and punishment for speaking out — are growing?
• What scriptures do we turn to when we say that voting, advocacy, and protecting our neighbors isn’t just politics but that it’s holy work?

The answers aren’t simple, but finding them is urgent.

History shows us that when power feels threatened, it sanctifies itself.

• Medieval Europe taught peasants to accept feudal lords as God’s will.
• Crusades promised heaven for conquest.
• Colonial empires declared they were “saving souls” while stealing land.
• Enslavers quoted the Bible to demand obedience.
• German Christians dubbed Hitler as God’s instrument.

Time after time, those in charge wrapped injustice in sacred language. Today, history has come right back around as Christian nationalism is the driving force behind rolling back reproductive rights and silencing marginalized people.

While that’s the precipice of the story, it’s never been the whole story.

Enslaved Africans created hush harbors where Exodus became a liberation song. Black churches birthed abolitionists, freedom riders, and civil rights strategists. Womanist theologians insisted God cares about the lives and bodies of Black women. Prophetic faith has always fought back.

So let me say this: I hate when people say “I’m not like my ancestors.” More than ever, we need to be more like them: resilient, resourceful, and able to find joy through strife. They survived, created, organized, prayed, and dreamed us into being. They taught us how to keep going when the odds were impossible. That inheritance is power.

Scripture itself tells us to:

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” — Proverbs 31:8-9

“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” — Isaiah 1:17

“The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” — Mark 12:31

“Select capable men from all the people—men who fear God, trustworthy men who hate dishonest gain—and appoint them as officials.” — Exodus 18:21

These aren’t footnotes. They’re marching orders.

When we organize to fight voter suppression, expose disinformation, defend free expression, and train everyday people to be storytellers and strategists, that’s not a departure from faith. It’s an expression of it. Our ancestors believed that casting a ballot, testifying in the public square, even challenging corrupt rulers could be holy acts. We inherit that mantle.

For Black organizers today, it means:

• Refusing to let religion be weaponized against us
• Reclaiming the pulpit, the prayer circle, and the policy room as spaces of liberation
• Framing civic engagement as a love ethic: loving neighbor as yourself means protecting their right to thrive

I’m writing this as a reminder (to myself as much as to you) that faith and freedom have always been intertwined in Black life. The work ahead isn’t just about strategy or metrics; it’s about soul work. It’s about telling the truth when others twist scripture to bless harm. It’s about organizing with a prophetic imagination. Now is the time to be fortifying our communities and building the structures we will need for the future we want.

If you’ve been feeling discouraged by fractured movements or loud voices of hate cloaked in piety, know this: we come from people who made justice roll down (a la Amos 5:24) before, and we can do it again.

Soundtrack of My Life: How I Got Over by Mahalia Jackson