A prophetic call to the Christian Church

The Christian Church stands at a moral crossroads. Across Africa and the diaspora, a revolutionary tide is rising — one that demands justice for centuries of colonial exploitation, slavery, and systemic theft. From the streets of Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso, where Captain Ibrahim Traoré’s anti-imperialist movement has reignited Pan-African fervour, to the Caribbean’s enduring cries for reparations, history is being rewritten. Yet, the Church risks repeating its past sins: complicity with empire, silence in the face of oppression, and a theology that prioritised heavenly passivity over earthly liberation. If it fails to align itself with Africa’s struggle for freedom and dignity, it will cement its place on the wrong side of history—and lose a generation in the process.

THE CHURCH’S COLONIAL COMPLICITY: A LEGACY OF BETRAYAL

For centuries, the Church served as a handmaiden to colonialism. Missionaries arrived on African soil preaching a gospel intertwined with European supremacy, teaching enslaved and colonised peoples that their “wealth was in Heaven” while their land, labour, and resources were pillaged. This theology of submission — turn the other cheek, obey your masters — softened the soil for exploitation. As Walter Rodney argued in How Europe Underdeveloped Africa, colonial Christianity severed Africans from their spiritual and cultural roots, replacing communal resilience with docility.

The Church’s silence during the transatlantic slave trade, its justification of racial hierarchy, and its collaboration with colonial regimes are well-documented. Even after formal colonialism ended, mainstream churches often legitimised neocolonial puppet regimes. In Burkina Faso, for instance, the Catholic and Protestant hierarchies largely ignored Thomas Sankara’s 1980s revolution — a movement that sought to reclaim economic sovereignty, empower women, and reject foreign debt — until his assassination. Today, as Captain Traoré’s government expels French troops and denounces Western exploitation, the Church’s muted response echoes its past equivocations.

When Marcus Garvey’s Universal Negro Improvement Association (UNIA) mobilised millions in the 1920s, demanding “Africa for Africans”, the Church stood aside. Garvey’s vision of black self-determination and repatriation was labelled radical, even dangerous. His 1923 mail fraud conviction — a politically motivated act to dismantle the UNIA, as historians and Garvey’s descendants assert — was met with ecclesiastical indifference. Only in 2022 did the US government, under President Biden, offer a posthumous pardon—a gesture critics call a hollow “joke” (no pun intended) after a century of attempts to erase him.

Similarly, the Rastafari movement, born from resistance to British colonialism in Jamaica, was demonised by Church and State alike. Its critique of Babylon — the system of racial capitalism — and its reverence for Ethiopia’s Haile Selassie as a divine liberator were dismissed as heresy. Yet, as Bob Marley later sang, “ How long shall they kill our prophets while we stand aside and look?” The Church’s failure to amplify these movements — choosing instead to protect its institutional power—alienated those seeking liberation, both spiritually and materially.

BURKINA FASO AND THE REVOLUTION THE CHURCH CANNOT IGNORE

Today, Burkina Faso epitomises Africa’s renewed revolutionary spirit. Under Traoré, the nation has rejected French neocolonialism, nationalised resources, and allied with regional forces like Mali and Niger to expel foreign militaries. This is not merely political; it is deeply theological. Traoré’s rhetoric echoes Sankara’s insistence that “he who feeds you, controls you”, framing economic sovereignty as a sacred right. Yet, where are the Christian leaders proclaiming this as a divine mandate for justice? Where are the theologians of today who will frame Ibrahim Traoré in light of Joel’s prophecy - ‘ young men shall see visions’ - and Nelson Mandela: ‘ Old men shall see dream dreams’? This is how we make theology relevant to human history and not mere fanciful pulpiteering.

The Church’s silence is not neutrality. As philosopher Sylvia Wynter warns, neutrality in the face of oppression is complicity. When the Church excuses its inaction by claiming to “focus on heavenly matters”, it repeats the colonial-era lie that spirituality requires disengagement from material suffering. This hypocrisy is laid bare in Africa, where 350,000 Catholics left the Church between 2020–2022, according to the African Jesuit Review, citing disillusionment with its elitism and inertia.

A WARNING FROM THE YOUTH: REDEMPTION DEMANDS REPARATIONS

The Church’s future hinges on its capacity for repentance. Redemption, in the Biblical sense, is not abstract: it requires dismantling systems of theft. For Africa, this means reparations — the return of stolen artifacts, cancelled debts, and restitution for slavery. It means supporting Burkina Faso’s defiance, not France’s hegemony. It means amplifying movements like the Caribbean’s Reparations Commission, not hiding behind “heavenly” escapism.

Young Africans and diasporans are watching. A 2023 Pew Research study found that 74 per cent of African Christians under 35 believe churches “must prioritise economic justice” to remain relevant. They are leaving congregations that preach piety while ignoring police brutality, corporate land grabs, and IMF austerity. This is a solemn warning, if the Church “sits on the fence” during this revolution, it will be “ignored when we get up to teach your heavenly message”.

THE CHURCH’S FINAL CROSSROADS

The Christian Church cannot claim innocence. It was complicit when missionaries blessed colonial flags; it is complicit now if it turns away from Burkina Faso’s fight. The Gospel of Luke declares, “ To whom much is given, much will be required” (12:48). The Church has been given influence, resources, and a legacy — however stained — of moral authority. We must now choose: Will we use these gifts to serve empire or liberation?

The answer will determine whether we survive as a relevant force — or fade into what Frantz Fanon called “the graveyard of dead ideologies”. The time to act is now. As Bob Marley warned, “None but ourselves can free our minds.” We must free ourselves from the chains of silence — or be left behind by history.

Rev Desmond Robinson is a Seventh-day Church pastor and PhD student, counseling .pastordcrobinson@yahoo.com