Lost Foundations: Reclaiming the Soul of the Black Church

Then shall the kingdom of heaven be likened unto ten virgins, which took their lamps, and went forth to meet the bridegroom. Matthew 25:1

I am just one woman—but I am a Black woman who feels compelled to offer a rebuke to the Black church. I use the term "Black" intentionally, acknowledging its universal application to those of us with more melanin than others within the human race. More specifically, I write for and to the American Black church—an institution whose influence is renowned, not merely because of race but due to its unique role in the history of the American Black community. The Black church, seen globally as a moral compass, carries a legacy shaped by struggle, resilience, and spiritual power. But these days, I have to question: where is the power of the Black church?

The Black church has always been a place of safety. For me, it was where I could hear the voice of God most clearly—where the community gathered in reverence and worship, finding solace and strength. But it is becoming painfully obvious that many of today’s mega Black churches are not established for the Gospel. Pastors sing "Wade in the Water" from wooden pulpits, exploiting the Black struggle while collecting inflated offerings. These churches, built as monuments to personal grandeur, fail to reflect the humility of the Gospel they claim to preach. The true purpose of the church—the Gospel—has been overshadowed by personal wealth and power.

Pastors without a foundation in faith masquerade as men of God, yet their actions betray them. They continually exploit the flock, promising blessings in exchange for financial contributions, showing little concern for the spiritual well-being of their congregants. Take Pastor Jamal Bryant, for example—after marrying on November 14, he stood before his congregation on Sunday, asking for $50,000 while his child’s mother fought for financial support in court. Bryant, who pretends to be upright and moral, skipped out on court to honeymoon in Israel, exposing the tragic irony of his actions. His public persona as a preacher of righteousness stands in stark contrast to his personal life, where his choices undermine the very moral compass he claims to uphold.

This issue of exploitation is not limited to male pastors—women leaders in the church also contribute to this erosion of faith. Women pastors and self-proclaimed prophets like Juanita Bynum and Tiphani Montgomery sell false hope for a price. They promise blessings—finding a husband, a home, financial abundance—in exchange for "blessed" prayer shawls and offerings. Like their male counterparts, they distort the truth, focusing on personal gain instead of faith. These pastors don’t believe the Gospel they preach. They don’t believe that Jesus Christ is the Head of the Church. It’s heartbreaking to see Black men and women twist the Word of God for selfish purposes. "Give, and you will get," they say, promising material wealth while diverting attention from spiritual salvation. The church should not be a place to build personal empires—it should be a place to uplift the soul.

Historically, Black women have been the prophets and teachers of our community, praying for the enslaved who fled under the cover of darkness, seeking freedom and refuge. These women carried the weight of a true calling from God, unlike the women we see today who have traded that calling for fame and fortune. The Black church was once a place where the voice of the oppressed could cry out for justice, where the powerless could find the strength to stand tall. Now, it seems the church itself has been swallowed by the very things it once sought to fight—greed, selfishness, and exploitation.

The tragic irony is that these pastors hold tremendous influence in our communities. Many entertainers in the Black community are lost and in need of deliverance, but when they reach out, they find themselves tied to powerless leaders. P. Diddy reached out to T.D. Jakes for support, only to find biblical advice replaced by worldly performances. Kamala Harris tried to sway Black voters by highlighting Rev. Amos C. Brown of Third Baptist Church. Yet none of these efforts shifted the deep, systemic challenges that persist.

This erosion of the Black church’s power is perhaps best illustrated by figures like Bryant, whose actions—abandoning his child’s mother while begging for money from his congregation—highlight the abandonment of true faith. It’s a clear example of how easily we can be led astray when the pursuit of wealth overshadows the calling of righteousness.

The Black church’s decline mirrors the tragic downfall of Mike Tyson—a metaphor for how far we’ve strayed. Tyson, who grew up Catholic, was once an icon of strength and determination. He achieved fame and fortune through raw power, only to see his life unravel in a series of poor decisions. Like Tyson, the Black church was once a pillar of strength and purpose, but now it is increasingly defined by empty promises and self-interest. Tyson’s fall symbolizes a life sold to the highest bidder—just as the church’s integrity has been sold out in exchange for personal gain. Both serve as cautionary tales of how power and influence can be corrupted when unmoored from foundational values.

Where do we go from here? It’s time for a reckoning. We must ask ourselves if we’ve lost our way, blinded by the glitter of false prophets and material wealth. Are we truly serving God—or have we become willing participants in a system that values vanity, power, and greed over truth and salvation?

To reclaim what was lost, we must rebuild the church on a foundation of true faith and justice. Communities must demand accountability from their leaders and seek out those who align with the Gospel’s message of humility and service. The Black church must return to its roots—where the voice of God is heard clearly, where the oppressed find refuge, and where salvation is not a business but a calling. Only then can we restore the integrity and power of an institution that has shaped the soul of our community for generations.