If I were to interview myself about The Gospel Beyond the Grave: Toward a Black Theology of Hope, I’d begin with the questions that have haunted me for years—questions born from the deep wounds of history and the enduring silence of theology. This project emerged not from abstract curiosity, but from lived experience, pastoral ministry, classroom conversations, and the persistent conviction that Christian eschatology has not taken the Black experience seriously enough. In reflecting on the writing process, central themes, and unexpected insights, I offer a glimpse into the journey—intellectual, spiritual, and deeply personal—that shaped this book.

  1. What inspired you to write this book?

Over twenty years ago, as a Master of Divinity graduate preparing to enter a Ph.D. program, I came across a powerful article by theologian Christopher Pramuk titled Strange Fruit: Black Suffering, White Revelation.” In it, Pramuk, a White Catholic theologian, asked what it would mean for White Christians to place themselves under the judgment and mercy of the Black “cloud of witnesses” referenced in Hebrews 12:1. He also imagined racial reconciliation taking place in purgatory. These provocative theological images—White Christians standing under the judgment and mercy of Black witnesses, and the possibility of reconciliation beyond death—have remained with me ever since. They became seeds for this project.

The central premise of this book is the bold and, perhaps, controversial conversation between Black Theology and the Catholic doctrine of purgatory. I am not arguing that Black Theology must adopt purgatory wholesale. Rather, I explore how engaging with the idea of purgatory can open up new ways for American Christians to think critically and constructively about divine justice in the intermediate state between death and final judgment. Black Theology must wrestle not only with sin, liberation, and justice in this life but also with what the eschaton means for healing, reconciliation, and our collective salvation. I wrote this book to invite readers—scholars, clergy, and laypeople alike—to think differently about eschatology.

There must be a reckoning for the centuries of racial terror, exploitation, suffering, and death. I vividly remember when this conviction first took shape in my mind. During seminary, my friend and classmate Dr. Angela Cowser—now a Womanist ethicist—was presenting on the atrocities committed through slavery and systemic racism in a theology class taught by Dr. Stephen Ray. As she spoke, her voice trembled with sorrow and moral clarity. She paused and said, “There will be hell to pay for this.” It was not a statement of vengeance but a declaration of divine justice. Her belief that nothing escapes God’s sight—that the Judge of all would one day set things right—resonated with the biblical story of Exodus, where God holds Egypt accountable for the suffering of Israel.

Until that moment, I had never connected eschatology with our history in such a concrete way. Despite decades of theological study, I had rarely heard White theologians account for the role of African-descended peoples in God’s future. We were absent from dispensational charts, prophetic timelines, and end-times literature. Dr. Cowser’s words planted the theological vision that has grown into this book.

 

The Gospel Beyond the Grave: Toward a Black Theology of Hope reimagines Christian eschatology in light of slavery and racism. Too often, eschatological thought is either overly punitive or naively optimistic. Neither the church nor the academy has adequately integrated the brutal history of racism with the eschatological witness of the New Testament. After reading extensively in this field, I have yet to find a theologian who has meaningfully reflected on the judgment awaiting those who upheld and benefited from systems like colonialism, slavery, convict leasing, lynching, and redlining—as if these are somehow exempt from divine scrutiny.

Black voices are largely missing in conversations about Christian eschatology. We need theological frameworks that reflect the full diversity of humanity, including the suffering and spiritual resilience of African-descended peoples. How does the Black experience in America shape our understanding of the end of all things?

Given our history, Black life is lived in the shadow of death. How, then, can Black people—and the Black Church—afford to ignore eschatology? Our omission of this subject has weakened our ability to interpret and respond theologically to a deeply racist world. Black Theology must reclaim eschatology, including difficult topics like heaven, hell, and even purgatory. How God will deal with the countless victims of racism is not a peripheral concern—it is central to any theology that seeks to offer hope and justice. Millions of African people perished during the Middle Passage, under slavery, or through racial violence and systemic injustice. Many Black people today reject Christianity because of its association with White supremacy. Yet the question remains: How will a just God heal, reward, and reconcile Black people for their historical and ongoing suffering? This is not only a theological issue—it is also a pastoral one.

Black Christians often wrestle with forgiveness in the face of ongoing racial harm. Slave narratives reveal a deep ambivalence: some enslaved persons expressed a refusal to go to heaven if they had to share it with their oppressors. Are such souls ready to behold the face of God? What kind of eschatological space can Black Theology and the Church create to hold this pain, this estrangement—both in life and after death?

This book contends that Christian eschatology must affirm the humanity, moral agency, and spiritual longing of Black people. It must speak to the need for comfort, vindication, forgiveness, healing, and ultimate redemption—not only for individuals, but for the communities and cultures that have borne the brunt of history’s violence.

  1. What are some of the big questions the book asks or wrestles with?

At the heart of this book is a pressing and often overlooked question: Do Black lives matter in Christian eschatology? Put another way, will Black lives matter in God’s salvific and eschatological work? Given this country’s long-standing devaluation of Black life, these questions are not rhetorical—they are urgent theological inquiries born out of historical trauma and spiritual yearning.

The book wrestles with difficult, contextually grounded questions that many Black Christians have quietly or explicitly asked for generations:

  • Do White slave traffickers go to heaven?
  • What about the slave masters and overseers who brutalized generations of African people?
  • Do White theologians and pastors who used Scripture to defend slavery inherit eternal life?
  • What of those who lynched Black men and women, and the spectators who treated these acts as public celebrations—do they receive salvation?
  • Do police officers who murder unarmed Black people face divine justice?
  • Do lawmakers who created and upheld racist policies answer for their sins?
  • And perhaps most piercing of all: What will God do with White Christians who, for centuries, remained silent or complicit in racial violence and inequality?

These questions challenge conventional eschatology, not to shock, but to demand deeper theological reflection. They are not asked to render final judgment—that task belongs to God alone—but to insist that Christian theology make room for these concerns. The point of this book is not to offer easy answers, but to open sacred space for these questions to be taken seriously. The absence of such questions from much of Christian eschatology reflects a theological blind spot that must be addressed if the church hopes to speak truthfully about justice, reconciliation, and redemption.

The book also invites readers to reflect on broader theological questions:

  • Can God truly reconcile the descendants of the enslaved and the enslavers?
  • Can God sanctify us—not just individually, but as communities shaped by collective sin?
  • Will unconfessed and unhealed racial animosity be permitted to pass through the gates of heaven?
  • What does the experience of “hell on earth” reveal about God’s justice and ultimate purposes?
  • Why did Jesus descend into hell, and what implications does that have for the church’s mission today?

These are weighty, unsettling questions—but they are also hopeful. They signal that eschatology is not merely about what happens after death, but about how God’s justice and mercy break into history. By grappling with them, The Gospel Beyond the Grave seeks to offer a theology of hope that takes seriously the lived experiences of Black people and calls the church to deeper moral and spiritual accountability.

  1. Can you share why the writing process took longer than expected?

This book took nearly twenty years to write, and that was never the plan. But the nature of the questions I was asking—about race, salvation, judgment, and the hope of the gospel—required deep reflection, patient research, and lived experience. I spent years teaching and refining these ideas in undergraduate and graduate courses, and I led a clergy study series at a historically Black college. With each setting, I was met with curiosity and, often, surprise. Many had never considered these theological questions before, but they weren’t offended. The framework was new, sometimes unsettling, but ultimately it made sense to them. That reception encouraged me to continue.

It also took time because this is my first—and likely only—formal theology book. While I’m not a professional theologian by title, I’ve spent over three decades as a biblical scholar, minister, and teacher. I didn’t set out to write theology, but I felt compelled by the Spirit to speak into this space. This book marks a shift in my vocation as a scholar and writer. As James Cone once told me, “You have to find your voice.” That process meant learning to trust my training, my instincts, and my calling. Writing this book became an act of faith—step by step, through moments of clarity, grief, and deep spiritual reflection.

One such moment came with the death of my father. That experience shaped the book in ways I didn’t fully recognize until much later. As I grieved, the eschatological themes I was writing about—judgment, hope, the presence of God beyond the grave—moved from abstract concepts to lived truths. The book begins with the story of my father’s death and ends with Christ preaching to the spirits in hell (1 Peter), the Catholic doctrine of purgatory, and the vision of reconciliation that spans not only this life but the next. Grounded in the Christological vision of Jesus reconciling all things in heaven and earth (from 2 Corinthians, Ephesians, and Colossians), I offer the church a new hope—one that reaches beyond the stalemate of racial estrangement.

This project is bold. It pushes the boundaries of conventional theological categories and asks questions many would rather leave untouched. And truthfully, that’s another reason the book took so long. I wasn’t eager to take that risk. In both church and academic circles, prophetic critique is often unwelcome. Writing this felt like wrestling with God—much like Jacob wrestling with an angel in Genesis 32. I asked, “Why me? Why not a White theologian to challenge the idolatry in their own traditions? What will this cost me?” But I couldn’t walk away. I’m not saying God forced me to write it. Rather, God wouldn’t let my fears have the final word. As 2 Timothy 1:7 reminds us, “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.” That verse became an anchor. This book is my offering of faith—formed slowly, honestly, and with hope that it will shine some light into the theological and historical shadows we too often ignore.

  1. Will readers encounter any unexpected insights or revelations in the book?

Yes—there are several insights that may surprise readers, particularly those accustomed to conventional frameworks of Christian theology. I highlight four revelations that the book brings to the surface:

  1. Slavery, racism, and lynching are not just historical or social issues—they are eschatological issues.
    These realities must be confronted not only in our political and ethical discourse, but in our theology of judgment, salvation, and the afterlife. The suffering endured by Black people in America demands a theological reckoning that extends beyond temporal justice and into God’s eternal purposes. The gospel’s power must be expansive enough to speak to the horror of lynching trees as well as the cross.
  2. The fractured theological visions and worship practices between Black and White Christians expose a spiritual crisis at the core of American Christianity.
    When segments of the church justify or ignore racial violence while claiming to worship the same God, it calls into question not only ecclesiology but soteriology. Some Christians have bowed to idols—white supremacy, nationalism, comfort—rather than the living God. This isn’t just a moral failure; it is a salvific one.
  3. Catholic theology, particularly the doctrine of purgatory, offers rich resources for Black Theology.
    While often dismissed or misunderstood in Protestant circles, Catholic teachings such as the preferential option for the poor, the communion of saints (living and the dead), and purgatory provide theological lens to explore issues of divine justice. In particular, purgatory offers a way to think about healing, purification from individual and communal sin, and reconciliation beyond death—without demanding simplistic answers about eternal destinies. More Protestants, especially those grappling with the depth of historical harm, are beginning to find value in these ideas.
  4. The afterlife is far more complex than many imagine.
    The biblical witness speaks not only of death and heaven or hell, but of an intermediate state, final judgment, and the consummation of history. These stages raise profound questions about divine justice, collective memory, and the reconciliation of all things. The book invites readers to reexamine overly reductive notions of the afterlife in favor of a more layered, scripturally rooted vision of God’s redemptive work.

Taken together, these insights call for a reimagining of Christian eschatology that is honest about history, attentive to suffering, and hopeful about God’s ultimate purposes. They may be unexpected, but they are deeply faithful.

 

  1. What are some of the central themes or big ideas you explore?

At its core, this book reimagines Christian eschatology through the lens of Black suffering, survival, and theological insight. It’s not just a critique—it’s a constructive vision that dares to ask: what does ultimate justice look like in light of the brutal history of slavery, racism, and White Christian complicity? Here are some of the key themes I explore:

  • Eschatology in the Shadow of Slavery and Racism
    I argue that slavery, racism, and lynching are not just historical or ethical issues—they are eschatological issues. They demand theological reflection about what justice, judgment, and salvation really mean in light of such enduring suffering.
  • Theological Divide Between Black and White Christianity
    One of the most provocative questions the book asks is whether Black and White Christians have historically worshipped the same God. I examine the idolatrous undercurrents in White Christianity—manifest in support for slavery and systemic racism—and what that means for salvation and reconciliation.
  • Justice as a Divine Attribute
    Much theological discourse—especially in White mainline and evangelical churches—focuses on God’s love or holiness. I shift the conversation toward God’s justice, which has long been central to Black faith and survival. This reframing raises new questions about judgment, redemption, and the moral arc of the universe. Eschatology cannot ignore God’s justice.
  • Reimagining the Intermediate State
    The book introduces an eschatological framework that includes the intermediate state—the time between death and the final resurrection—as a critical space for God’s ongoing salvific work. Here, I engage the Catholic doctrine of purgatory not as something to adopt wholesale, but as a theological tool to reimagine how justice and healing might unfold after death.
  • Hope Beyond Deconstruction
    This is not merely a work of deconstructive theology. While I do critique the failures of White Christianity, the deeper aim is to offer hope—a vision of eschatological justice that restores, heals, and reconciles. I show how Black Theology can do more than indict; it can offer a gospel rooted in both truth and transcendence.
  • A Theological Imagination Grounded in Scripture
    Using texts like 1 Peter (where Jesus preaches to the spirits in prison) and Ephesians (where Christ reconciles all things in heaven and on earth), I build a case for a dynamic, ongoing vision of salvation that stretches beyond the grave. This is a cosmic gospel—one that speaks to both oppressed and oppressor, that honors the pain of history while offering a path forward.

In short, this book challenges traditional Christian ideas about the afterlife by placing racial injustice at the center of eschatological reflection. It dares to ask what salvation looks like not just for individuals, but for peoples, histories, and communities still marked by the wounds of White supremacy. It invites Black Theology to reenter the eschatological conversation—not as a peripheral voice, but as a prophetic one.

 

  1. Of the many books and articles you consulted during your research, which would you recommend for readers who want to dive deeper into these topics?

The theological vision presented in this book didn’t emerge in a vacuum. It’s rooted in a broader conversation—historical, theological, and spiritual—that deserves deeper engagement. Depending on your background, some of the ideas may feel familiar, while others might challenge long-held assumptions. To fully appreciate the arguments I put forward, especially regarding the eschatological dimensions of racial violence and hope, I encourage readers to explore the following works. Each contributed meaningfully to my own journey and will enrich yours:

 

Books

  • Jerry L. Walls, Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory: Rethinking the Things That Matter Most (Brazos Press, 2015)
    Walls offers a clear and accessible entry point into Christian thought about the afterlife, including a Protestant-friendly exploration of purgatory. His work challenges readers to think more expansively—and charitably—about divine justice and mercy.
  • Jürgen Moltmann, The Coming of God: Christian Eschatology (Fortress Press, 1996)
    Moltmann’s eschatological theology centers hope as the defining feature of Christian faith. His insights into resurrection, judgment, and the future of creation deeply informed my understanding of what it means to speak of “the end” in Christian terms.
  • Allan Boesak, Comfort and Protest: The Apocalypse of John from a South African Perspective(Wipf and Stock, 1987)
    Boesak reads Revelation through the lens of apartheid, offering a powerful example of contextual theology. His work reveals how eschatological texts speak directly into systems of oppression, resistance, and liberation.
  • James H. Cone, A Black Theology of Liberation (Orbis Books, 2004)
    No serious engagement with Black Theology is complete without Cone. His prophetic voice continues to challenge the theological status quo, and his work laid much of the foundation for this book’s core questions.

 

Articles

  • Christopher Pramuk, “Strange Fruit: Black Suffering / White Revelation,” Theological Studies 67 (2006): 345–377.
    This essay was a key inspiration for this project. Pramuk grapples with the theological implications of Black suffering for White Christian consciousness, raising hard and necessary questions about judgment, grace, and racial reconciliation.
  • Miroslav Volf, “Love Your Heavenly Enemy,” Christianity Today (October 23, 2000): 94–97.
    Volf’s reflection on forgiveness and eternity offers a profound theological challenge: what does it mean to truly love your enemies in heaven? His piece opens up space for thinking about reconciliation beyond death.

These works represent a range of traditions and perspectives, but they all share a deep concern for truth, justice, and hope. Engaging them will enrich your understanding of the themes explored in The Gospel Beyond the Grave and encourage deeper theological reflection on our shared human future.

  1. What does this project reveal about the nature of faith, especially in the context of racial trauma and historical injustice?

This project reminds us that faith is more than a set of beliefs—it is shaped by lived experience and the weight of historical realities. Reducing faith to mere intellectual assent overlooks how deeply it must engage with trauma, injustice, and death—many of which remain unresolved. For those living in the aftermath of racial violence and exploitation, faith in a just and loving God—and in a shared future with those complicit in their suffering—can feel not only difficult, but impossible.

As Reinhold Niebuhr writes, “The truth of the Christian gospel is apprehended at the very limit of all systems of meaning. It is only from that position that it has the power to challenge the complacency of those who have completed life too simply, and the despair of those who can find no meaning” (Faith and History, p. 170). Faith is not just doctrine on paper — it is what emerges from the ashes of meaninglessness, from the messiness of life, from our complex, shared histories and a deep engagement with the Holy One. It is always fides quaerens intellectum—faith seeking understanding. This book seeks to stretch the boundaries of theological truth by confronting the comfort of the privileged and offering a framework to make meaning of Black suffering, endurance, and hope.

  1. Why should people read this book?

This book should be read because it dares to ask the hard questions most theological works avoid—about race, justice, salvation, and the afterlife. It offers a bold and hopeful vision rooted in Black faith, one that invites readers to imagine a God who not only loves and forgives but also reckons and restores. If you’ve ever wrestled with how faith speaks to the legacy of racism and the hope of ultimate justice, this book is for you.

Share This
Secret Link