“Rarely, if ever, are any of us healed in isolation.” (bell hooks)

I have wondered over the years how pastors of color cope with the emotional stress and persistent relational isolation thrust upon them by our racialized¹Michael Emerson and Christian Smith define a racialized society as “a society that allocates differential economic, political, social, and even psychological rewards to groups along perceived racial lines; lines that are socially constructed.”society. This thought arises of my own personal experience as a pastor of color who leads a multi-racial church. I’ve imagined many pastors coped with racial stress by praying their way through this ever-present anxiety, or meditating on Scripture, or even by preaching to themselves as exhortation in the midst of this peculiar tension. I am very familiar with these formational approaches, as I used them to manage distress while leading my own congregation over the years. However, while each brought me some momentary reprieve, feelings of anxiety and isolation returned shortly thereafter in an ongoing, unwelcome cycle. 

From my own experience as a Black man living in America in 2024, the persistent racial stress endured by pastors of color derives from a tension between their lived experience within a racialized²Emerson, Michael O., and Christian Smith (Eds.). “Confronting the Black-White Racial Divide,” in Divided by Faith: Evangelical Religion and the Problem of Race in America. New York: Oxford University Press (2000), 7.system and their multi-racial congregations’ relative lack of biblical understanding on issues of race. Conflict usually will arise when a pastor opens up about his or her actual experiences living as a person of color within America today, or when he or she tries to teach biblical truths concerning racial injustice. Whether a pastor of color speaks out about racial injustice or remains silent, an inevitable disconnect arises between the pulpit and the pews, prompting pastors of color to feel locked in a prison of isolation. 

Dr. Korrie Edwards and Rebecca Kim, in their recent book, Estranged Pioneers, found that pastors of color pay significant personal cost that their white colleagues do not. Edwards and Kim refer to pastors of color as estranged pioneers because their ventures are not celebrated nor valued in the communities they come from. Edwards and Kim describe their journeys as being incredibly isolating.³Edwards, Korie L., and Rebecca Kim. “Estranged Pioneers: The Case of African American and Asian American Multiracial Church Pastors.” Sociology of Religion, 2019. Although it is likely most pastors face some sort of relational isolation and persistent loneliness while leading their ministries, to endure isolation primarily because of the color of one’s skin is altogether a different circumstance entirely. 

The persistent racial stress endured by pastors of color derives from a tension between their lived experience within a racialized system and their multi-racial congregations’ relative lack of biblical understanding on race. (1/2) Share on X

Dr. Korie Edwards and Rebecca Kim refer to pastors of color as 'estranged pioneers' because their ventures are not celebrated nor valued in the communities they come from. Their journeys as being incredibly isolating. (2/2) Share on X

On a personal level, I became curious as to how pastors like myself cope with feelings of racial isolation when a routine morning jog through my neighborhood over a decade ago resulted in angst. Like some Christian leaders, my morning jogs are my stress reliever as well as my prayer time, where I pray for the needs my city and congregation. Ten years later, I still remember this particular jog, because it was on the heels of the murder of Michael Brown. After watching the disturbing video of yet another police shooting, and how young Michael Brown laid lifeless in the middle of the street, I was of overwhelmed with feelings of sorrow. I decided to use my time jogging to pray for unity in the city of Ferguson, Missouri, and to pray for the surrounding parishes to ultimately play a role in the towns healing. 

Two feelings vividly come to my recollection during this specific jog through my upper-middle class community. The first feeling was of encouragement. I was heartened by the Sprit of God and reminded of God’s supreme sovereignty over this tragic incident. The second feeling was an anxious thought of me personally being mistaken as a threat while jogging in my own neighborhood. I recall asking myself, “What if a police officer saw me right now jogging and mistook me for someone  fleeing a crime?” At the time I tried to push this thought aside, excusing it as highly unlikely, but if I am honest, that fear still lingers today when I go for a run.

No matter how helpful it may be to de-escalate personal anxiety with more rational thoughts, it doesn’t free people of color like myself from the systemically unjust racial realities that are embedded within our society. Just a few days after that morning run where I was praying for Ferguson, a picture of me jogging that very morning was posted in a local social media group with a caption  reading, “Suspicious person jogging around neighborhood, scoping out homes.” In that instant, I felt a growing sense of potential danger with the increased possibility  that I would be caught in a similar incident to Michael Brown for jogging in my own neighborhood. 

While this heightened possibly of physical danger isn’t what entirely caused my feelings of relational isolation as a pastor of color, the dismissiveness of a church leader who happened to be a white male and lived within my same neighborhood did. This leader thought I was overreacting, and said the neighborhood where I pastor and live in was safe. It felt offensive and isolating to know that ‘close’ ministry partners like this church leader couldn’t relate to the racial reality I faced every single day. Internally, I asked myself the question, “Safe for who?” It is not as if young Latino and Black people of color are not wrongly questioned by the police in our neighborhood on a weekly basis.⁴*Editorial Note: According to an October 2021 report by the Public Policy Institute of California, entitled “Racial Disparities in Law Enforcement Stops,” which analyzed almost 4 million stops in 2019 by the 15 largest law enforcement agencies in California, “Black Californians are more than twice as likely to be searched as white Californians, at about 20 percent versus 8 percent of all stops.” While this stat doesn’t prove causality, the statistical danger that Black Americans face by the police on a consistent basis cannot be overstated. Accessed at https://www.ppic.org/publication/racial-disparities-in-law-enforcement-stops/ on September 14th, 2024. ~CK People of privilege typically don’t pay any attention to these types of daily injustices because they have simply not happened to them. For people of color, we notice these microagressions, all of which lead to feelings of relational isolation. 

No matter how helpful it may be to de-escalate personal anxiety with more rational thoughts, it doesn’t free people of color like myself from the systemically unjust racial realities that are embedded within our society. (1/2) Share on X

People of privilege typically don’t pay any attention to daily injustices because they have simply not happened to them. For people of color, we notice these microagressions, which lead to feelings of relational isolation. (2/2) Share on X

Pastors of color know that Scripture speaks to injustice, but may fail to realize that it also teaches us how to cope with isolating anxiety. Paul is certainly aquatinted with isolation, and more than qualified to instruct us on coping with injustice as well. He writes the book of Philippians from a Roman jail cell. His isolation came as a result of his faith, and that same faith in Christ leads him to encourage believers at Philippi to not be anxious. In Philippians 4, Paul writes “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7, NIV). Paul’s antidote for anxiousness is to cast off worry, pray, and speak with God from a place of thanksgiving. Sounds simple, right? And yet, it’s not as if when we do these three things the radicalized systems that alienate people of color are removed. Rather, when we do these three things, we experience peace within these broken systems. A peace that surpasses human understanding comes to us as we place our full trust in God’s care.

In recent years, an idea came to mind after reading Philippians 4 that broke the cycle of relational isolation for me. I really thought I was placing my full trust in Christ concerning the racial systems I navigate as a pastor of color, and yet I found myself in a hamster wheel of isolation. Revisiting Paul’s letter to the church at Philippi with a searching heart led me to notice an additional coping action Paul discovered while in prison. Paul didn’t sit idly in prison, but rather praised God, giving thanks for those supporting him in difficult circumstances. He reached out to those believers to return the same benevolent encouragement they had given him. Paul’s purpose in writing the Philippi believers was to not only thank them for their support of his ministry, but to strengthening their commitment to follow Jesus in the tough circumstances they faced. Paul provided for the Philippians what he also needed himself, giving his Philippian co-laborers reciprocal support in times of their own crisis.

What does this mean for pastors of color? As a means of coping ourselves, we should reach out to others with the peace that they are seeking in Christ. We do not have to wait until an injustice is removed or a broken system is fixed, but we can reach out with the peace of Christ in the midst of injustice. This invitation further helps me grasp Paul’s reference to a peace that transcends all understanding. Amid the ever-present racial stress that comes with being a pastor of color, I’ve found an everlasting peace through the Spirit of God who dwells within me, and through fellowship with other pastors of color leading churches like mine. I am realizing that I am not alone.

It took a more extreme form of isolation to guide me to my own group of likeminded pastors. Although we met at a multiracial church conference just before the Covid-19 pandemic began, we started gathering online for a monthly Zoom call once the stay-at-home orders were given. You would think that the conversation would have centered around navigating church in the midst of the pandemic, but it was quite the opposite. Our conversations naturally centered around past and present racialized trauma that each of us had experienced in our lives. Each pastor’s story was so similar that we often joked as if someone had a secret inequity manual in the predominantly white institutions that everyone read from. These conversations made me feel seen, and slowly over time drew me out of isolation and into true fellowship. 

I no longer wonder how pastors of color are coping with racialized systems, because I know how my own friends and fellow pastoral colleagues  are coping. I meet with them monthly online, and gather with them yearly in-person to give and receive mutual encouragement in the Lord. I highly recommend that if you are a pastor of color, that you find a group of like-minded leaders seeking connection and commune with them on a regular basis. It will be the sustaining strength you need to finish your race strong.

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Amid the ever-present racial stress that comes with being a pastor of color, I’ve found a lasting peace through the Spirit of God who dwells within me, and through fellowship with pastors of color leading churches like mine. (1/2) Share on X

I highly recommend that if you are a pastor of color, that you find a group of like-minded leaders seeking connection and commune with them on a regular basis. It will be the sustaining strength you need to finish strong. (2/2) Share on X

*Editorial Note: Lamont’s visceral, complex, relationally isolating, and ultimately hopeful reality living as a Black man in America, and as a Pastor of Color shepherding a multi-racial church in 2024, is the tenth and final article in a summer series that we will publish over the next few weeks, introducing our 2024 Writing Fellows Cohort in their own voices. ~CK