At the Crossroads of History and Grace: A Pastoral Reflection on Colonialism and Slavery
“I am a descendant of someone on the Mayflower.” The opening ice breaker line I shared during my time in Cape Town reveals how deeply my own story is entwined with colonialism. Add my Norwegian heritage—the legacy of Vikings—and I carry ancestry marked by conquest. While there are also abolitionists and freedom-seekers in my family tree, I’ve long wrestled with the complexity of colonialism and its impact on America and on my faith.
Growing up in Oregon, I learned to admire pioneers who crossed the Oregon Trail, yet later realized those “open spaces” were already home to others. That awareness has shaped my pursuit of racial justice and my desire to approach these issues with grief and humility rather than defensiveness. Though I never enslaved anyone, I have benefited from systems built on enslavement and displacement. So how does a follower of Jesus in the twenty-first century live out Micah 6:8: “to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God”?
Nigel Biggar’s, Colonialism: A Moral Reckoning helped me here. He reminds readers that moral judgment of empire must include both its evils and its goods. I’ve tended to view colonialism as wholly negative, but Biggar forces me to face its moral complexity. That tension came alive in Cape Town at the District Six Museum, which commemorates the community forcibly removed to make room for white developers who never used the land. In one corner hung a poem that still echoes in my heart—a lament and a warning:
“In remembering we do not want
to recreate District Six
but to work with its memory:
of hurts inflicted and received
of loss, achievements and of shames.
We wish to remember
so that we can all,
together and by ourselves,
rebuild a city
which belongs to all of us,
in which all of us can live,
not as races but as people.”
The Global and Ongoing Reality of Slavery
Jeremy Black broadened my understanding of slavery’s persistence across history. He shows that slavery long predated and outlasted European colonialism, appearing within African and Islamic societies as well. This perspective does not excuse Western atrocities; it places them within a wider story of humanity’s brokenness. Seeing slavery as a universal human disease reframes my moral outlook. It reminds me how easily we distort the image of God in others for our own gain. It also underscores the need to pursue truth rather than simplistic victim-oppressor binaries. Shared brokenness does not erase responsibility, but it deepens humility.
Our visit to Robben Island embodied this truth. Hearing a former prisoner describe his years behind bars revealed the personal cost of power’s corruption and the continuing need for transformation—both individual and societal—so that all forms of bondage may be undone.
Religion, War, and Counterfactual History
If slavery and subjugation are complex, adding religion only deepens the challenge. Black notes that empire and religion—Christianity, Islam, and others—have long reinforced one another. The claim that “God is on our side” has justified conquest for centuries. Such theology distorts the character of Christ and repeats the same harm in new forms. The question of what Europe and global Christianity might look like if the Islamic conquests had succeeded is provocative. Perhaps Christianity, forced to live on the margins, would have learned humility sooner. Yet, as Rodney Stark argues in How the West Was Won, Western modernity’s commitment to “freedom, reason, and human dignity” produced real benefits that should not be ignored.
What fascinates me most is Christianity’s self-correcting power. The same Scriptures once misused to justify slavery later fueled liberation. At the Desmond and Leah Tutu House, I heard sermons declaring that “those who sought to exploit us should never have given us the Bible—it placed dynamite under their nefarious schemes.” Tutu’s words remind me that the gospel carries its own protest against oppression.
Contemporary leaders must face this paradox honestly: not discarding the truths of Christianity because they were co-opted, but reclaiming them. The cross, not the crown, defines our posture in the world.
The Costs and Benefits of Colonialism
Biggar calls for moral balance: colonialism produced both harm and infrastructure, oppression and education. Walking through Cape Town’s Bo-Kaap neighborhood illustrated that mixture. Its brightly painted homes, once whitewashed under oppression, now testify to resilience and shared hope. Yet even amid the color, signs of Islamic faith and solidarity with Gaza reveal the layered complexity of history. In South Africa, the legacies of colonialism and apartheid remain visible in economic disparity and racial tension, yet so do traces of progress—rule of law, universities, and civic freedom. To lead with integrity is to hold both realities: neither romanticizing empire nor flattening history into guilt.
Conclusion
Engaging these histories reminds me that honest remembering requires both breadth and depth. It is human nature to simplify atrocities just to bear them. Much of the outrage we see today reflects generations struggling to process inherited pain. Yet the legacy of empire is mixed—both tragic and transformative. For me, this complexity strengthens faith in the gospel’s redemptive power. Without it, we would have only the horrors of empire to reckon with; with it, we glimpse the possibility of forgiveness and renewal. Like Joseph before his brothers, I hear this refrain: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good” (Genesis 50:20). As I return home from Cape Town, I look for the places where God is turning harm into healing—and seek to join Him there.
About the Author
Ryan Thorson
Follower of Jesus. Husband. Father. Pastor. Coach. I am passionate about helping people discover the gift of Sabbath and slow down spirituality in the context of our busy world.One response to “At the Crossroads of History and Grace: A Pastoral Reflection on Colonialism and Slavery”
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Great reflection, Ryan! What are ways you invite your congregation into recognizing and responding to “generations struggling to process inherited pain” in your community?