Jude 3 Project

Urban apologetics is the work of explaining and defending the Christian faith against the claims people in Black urban neighborhoods are actually hearing: that the Bible was changed, that Christianity is a white man’s religion, that true Black identity lies in Egyptology, Hebrew Israelite teaching or an unredeemed Black nationalism. In Dr. Eric Mason’s account, the arguments to answer those claims already existed. What was missing was the church’s presence in the places the claims were spreading. Filling that gap takes someone who has done both the reading and the living.

That distinction matters. If the problem were only missing information, a book list would fix it. Mason describes something harder to fix from a distance.

What gap was the church actually leaving?

Mason locates the pressure in a specific period. After a series of killings of unarmed Black men, he says the church looked silent. His words: “the murders of them seemed like the church just hasn’t been answering it.” He then qualifies his own charge in a way that is easy to miss. “I’m not saying the church hasn’t been, ’cause I know people have been dealing with it from pulpits, but it just wasn’t out there in people’s minds.”

That qualification is the key to the whole subject. Mason does not claim Black pastors had nothing to say. He claims that what they said did not reach the public space where young Black people were forming their convictions. “And there was no leading presence of the church,” he says. The result, as he describes it: “And so it almost kicked off mass exodus from churches.”

What Mason reports firsthand is the sound of the gap. Friends who knew he had read widely asked him for something to give people. Then, he says, “I started getting calls from pastors.” The questions were reaching pastors faster than their resources were. His summary of what drove the work is plain: “that’s what sort of burned it is just the need.”

How far does one pastor’s account go?

Here the evidence needs an honest label. The account of a gap rests on one practitioner’s observation: his own reading, his own phone calls, his own conversations on the street. Mason offers no attendance figures for the “mass exodus,” and he hedges it himself with the word “almost.” He also does not describe the wider apologetics movement or say what it did or failed to do in Black neighborhoods. The claim that mainstream apologetics passed these communities by is a reasonable inference from his story, but his story alone does not establish it.

The historical record that could test it is identifiable. Sermons and church publications from those years would show how much Black pulpits were addressing Pan-African and Hebrew Israelite claims. Membership and attendance records would show whether young adults actually left, and when. The catalogs and speaker lists of major apologetics conferences and publishers would show whom they addressed. Earlier Black Christian work on these questions would also need a place in the account. Mason himself mentions Carl Ellis, who he says has been engaging Islam “for years.” That detail alone suggests the field did not start from nothing. It drew on people already at work.

So the strongest form of Mason’s claim is modest and still important. A local pastor, close to the questions, saw them outpace the church’s public answers. That is testimony worth taking seriously, and it is testimony.

Who filled the silence, and what were they saying?

A vacuum does not stay empty. Mason says that over a few months he noticed what he calls an explosion of Pan-Africanism on YouTube. It had always been present, he notes, but it became more visible online. Alongside it he names a resurgence of Egyptology and teachings he first studied in college, plus Hebrew Israelite camps and various forms of Black nationalism.

A careful analysis has to slow down here, because it is easy to lump all of this together as one hostile movement. Mason does not. He defines Pan-Africanism as “the desire to connect with African diaspora across the earth” and to unify it economically, politically and spiritually. He then draws a line inside it: not every Pan-Africanist is a Black nationalist. Nationalists, as he describes them, want a separate state. Many Pan-Africanists want to explore their identity rather than separate.

He goes further. He says he does not think all of it is wrong. His concern is with these ideas in an unredeemed form, where a legitimate longing for identity and dignity is cut off from Christ and becomes something else.

That is a significant admission for an apologist. It means urban apologetics, as Mason practices it, treats the desire for African heritage as real and often right. What it contests is the story that desire gets attached to. His diagnosis of the false teaching is pointed. He says it draws on people’s experience of white supremacy, then on “the lack of identity culturally that blacks have in the United States,” and then on suspicion of the church. Combined, he says, these become a mix used to feed people false doctrine.

The false teaching invented none of those ingredients. It found real wounds and offered them an explanation. An apologetic that cannot name the wounds will not be heard when it answers the explanation.

Why did the answer have to come from inside the neighborhood?

Mason’s clearest illustration is a barbershop. He describes growing tired of hearing someone claim the Bible had been changed, and finally asking him where. That one question opened a conversation about canonicity, the history of the church fathers and what Mason calls “the fact that actually Christianity is an indigenous African religion.”

What he learned there explains why the field had to be built from inside. “They’re really used to Christians who aren’t well read or who just gonna say, well, I just believe he did it for me.” Mason does not mock that kind of faith. “We’re not mad that he did it for you, but you gotta talk about some other things in relation to that.” Personal testimony is true and good. It does not answer the claim that the text was altered or that the faith was imported from Europe.

Being inside the neighborhood gives two things distance cannot. The first is access. The barbershop conversation happens because Mason is in the barbershop. The second is fluency. He knows the specific sources his listeners lean on, because he has read them himself, some since college. That lets him ask the questions that actually test a claim.

His method follows from this. He starts with relationship, then listening, then picking out the fallacies in what he hears. When someone appeals to hieroglyphics, he asks whether they can actually read them and how they connect the Egyptian script to the conclusion they are drawing. When a teacher’s books come up, he says, “let’s get out his bibliography and let’s begin looking at some of the sources that he is rooting it in.” In his experience, much of that material lacks original sourcing tied to a real chronology.

He also explains why he prefers this to public debate. In a crowd, he says, “you’re in a crowd of people and they got their crew. It’s almost like a rap battle.” In a battle, the audience decides who won before the argument ends, and loyalty outlasts the result. A conversation between two people who know each other leaves room for someone to change their mind.

This is also why Mason wants teachers who are “scholarly practitioners, so people who both get into books but also get on the block.” His reasoning is blunt: “you can’t talk to people about reaching somebody and you haven’t talked to people.” An outsider can master the arguments. Only presence teaches which arguments are actually being made, by whom, and with what hurt underneath them.

Isn’t this just apologetics with a different racial packaging?

The strongest objection is simple. Truth does not depend on who says it. If an argument is sound, it is sound in a seminary or on a corner. Calling something urban apologetics can sound like conceding that the content changes with the audience, or that Black listeners need a Black messenger to believe anything.

Mason’s own guardrails answer much of this. He insists the content stays the same. He describes the historic Black church as holding the full range of Christian essentials, from grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone to the Trinity and the union of divine and human natures in Christ. “We believe all of that was not just a systematic theology to put in a book on a shelf,” he says. The doctrine is unchanged. What changes is whether it ever leaves the shelf and reaches the street.

He is also wary of the opposite error. “I don’t want to just make everything black,” he says, as though a source becomes trustworthy because it affirms Black identity. That is the same test he applies to Pan-Africanist writers, turned back on himself. A Christian who accepts weak sourcing because it flatters the right people has made the same mistake as the YouTube teacher.

The barbershop example shows the balance. Mason does not deny that Egypt and the wider ancient Near East shaped the world of the Bible. He points to background commentaries, including Craig Keener’s work in the IVP backgrounds series, that discuss those influences. What he rejects is the leap from shared background to the claim that Moses copied Scripture from hieroglyphs. The background is real evidence, and it does not carry that conclusion.

His own historical claims deserve the same scrutiny. When he tells listeners that John Mark came from Libya and evangelized northeastern Africa, he is drawing on early church tradition rather than the New Testament, and those are his assertions to be checked, not settled facts.

Credibility, in Mason’s account, does not stand in for truth. It decides whether truth gets a hearing at all, and it has to be earned twice: once by knowing the sources, and once by being present.

What does the church’s own record have to do with it?

One part of Mason’s diagnosis sets urban apologetics apart from a purely defensive posture. Among the things false teachers exploit, he lists suspicion of the church, and he does not wave it away. He says “the church has made some, what I believe, authentic mistakes,” and adds, “So we are not like free of guilt.”

This separates a belief system from the institutions that carry it. A young person’s distrust of a congregation may be earned. That distrust still does not prove the gospel false. An apologist who refuses to admit the first will never get to argue the second, and an outsider is rarely in a position to admit it credibly. Mason’s willingness to say both is part of why he can be heard.

Mason says he was rereading Jude as this work took shape. Jude urged his readers to “earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints” (Jude 1:3). The verse holds two things together that fit Mason’s approach. Contending means going where the faith is being challenged. A faith “once delivered” means the content is received, so it is not rebuilt to suit each audience. Urban apologetics, on Mason’s terms, tries to keep both.