“‘Christo-Urbanite,’ a term that perfectly encapsulates individuals who are immersed in urban hip-hop culture but are transformed by a profound Christian faith.”

Shai-Linne

Our sense of belonging, I believe, comes from the reality that we are not yet where we are ultimately meant to be. We belong to God, our Father, but for now, we await the day when that truth will be fully seen, felt, and experienced. Personally, I struggle with belonging, especially when I’m among others who share my theological convictions but come from different backgrounds. This often leads to misunderstandings and false assumptions—both on their part and, admittedly, on mine as well.

I’m turning 50 this year, yet I still find myself wearing Timberland boots and hoodies in the winter—something that often raises eyebrows and sparks questions. When I tell people I’m a pastor, their reactions range from surprise to skepticism—raised eyebrows, smirks, and even confused looks. I once had someone ask about my profession, and when I responded, “I’m a pastor,” they followed up with, “Oh, so you’re a youth pastor?” The variety of reactions I’ve received has sometimes made me laugh, but other times, it’s been frustrating.

I’ve attended many conferences and pastors’ gatherings, often surrounded by pastors who dress and speak in a certain way. In these spaces, I’ve sometimes experienced awkward moments simply because of how I present myself—whether it’s calling someone “bro” or mentioning my involvement in Christian hip-hop. It often feels as if what I’ve dedicated myself to is seen as immature or unworthy of serious ministry. Some view hip-hop culture as entirely secular and unfit for the church, and at times, I’ve felt the unspoken expectation to leave my language, experiences, and background at the door just to be part of the conversation.

It often feels like there’s no space for a pastor who comes from a hip-hop background, loves Christ, and still identifies with the culture. The struggle to belong can feel exhausting and, at times, not even worth the effort. The constant need to explain myself, clarify my words, and preface conversations to avoid misinterpretation—simply because of how I speak or dress—can be draining. Theologically, I may be on the same page as others in these spaces, but my identity as a Christo-Urbanite clashes with the traditional expectations of what a pastor is “supposed” to be.

I am a pastor—a shepherd to our local church here in the city. Born and raised in this community, I was called to proclaim the gospel in the very place I have called my home. By God’s grace, I preach almost every week, striving to faithfully teach His Word and exposit Scripture for His people. Yet, I often find myself caught between two worlds—either I’m seen as “too urban” for reformed circles or “too theologically different” for many in the urban community who don’t share my reformed convictions. On one side, there are culturally familiar churches that lack solid biblical teaching, and on the other, there are theologically sound churches that dismiss my cultural background. In both spaces, I’ve struggled to feel understood or truly welcomed.

The dilemma I often face is knowing what to do with these thoughts and tensions in different spaces. When I’m among those who share my cultural background, I struggle to find common ground in theological convictions. I have to tread carefully in conversations, as certain beliefs are expressed that leave me concerned about the theology behind them. On the other hand, when I’m in a reformed setting, I deeply appreciate the theological discussions, but my culture and appearance are often misunderstood. Even worse, there’s an assumption that I lack depth in theological conversations—perhaps because I listen to Christian hip-hop or because I’m involved in urban ministries that engage B-Boys and DJs who use their gifts for the gospel. Of course, this may not always reflect what others are actually thinking, but it’s how I feel in those moments. Whether it’s a perception I impose on myself or a reality, the sense of not belonging can be both distracting and, at times, deeply exhausting.

In those moments, I have to remind myself that my time in these spaces where I feel like I don’t belong is temporary—I’m only pitching a tent, not building a home. I’m just passing through. I’ve come to accept that in some circles, conversations about Kendrick and Drake don’t fit, while in others, discussions about the impeccability of Christ are never on the table. To make things even more challenging, being introverted and sometimes insecure only adds to the cultural and philosophical differences I navigate in social settings.

For the urban, inner-city believer in Jesus who has grown in their faith with a solid biblical theology, finding a true sense of belonging can feel impossible. They may never find a home in this world—and perhaps that’s fitting, given the greater reality. The truth is, this world is not our home, and the deep sense of belonging we long for will only be fully realized on the day we stand with the Lord.

A Christo-Urbanite is a unique individual—immersed in urban hip-hop culture yet transformed by a profound truth. The truth is that we carry an incredible treasure in these earthen, urban vessels—outwardly fading, yet inwardly being renewed day by day. In moments of feeling left out, overlooked, misunderstood, or misinterpreted, we can find comfort in knowing that we truly belong—to a redeemed community made up of many nations. Until the day we stand before the Lord, we will continue to long for it—even in moments when we receive questioning looks or feel overlooked because of our culture.

The deep, existential reality that we don’t fully belong in this world is difficult but it reflects the biblical truth that, as Christians, we are sojourners (Hebrews 13:14, 1 Peter 2:11), longing for our true home in God’s presence. This is my attempt to describe the inner tension I have felt—one that others as Christo-Urbanites may also experience—being caught between different cultural and theological spaces, yet ultimately finding our true belonging in Christ.

Revelation 21:4 describes a future where Christ will wipe away every tear, and death will be no more. There will be no mourning, no crying, no pain—everything that once caused sorrow will be gone, including the experiences of neglect and rejection. In that great, eternal city of God, we will walk humbly before Him, fully accepted, and forever celebrating the redemption and inclusion of those of us identified as Christo-Urbanites.

For many of us from the inner city, our true belonging will be found in the city that shines with God’s glory—a city with streets of pure gold and gates of pearl. There is no temple, for God and the Lamb are its light, and it welcomes the redeemed from every nation. There is no night, no impurity—only eternal peace and communion with God. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even get to make a beat or two.