“The Gospel According to Whiteness”
They painted Christ with porcelain skin— soft hands, blue eyes, and a jawline chiseled like Manifest Destiny. Hung Him in the chapel beside the Confederate flag and called it holy. They knelt in pews while children were sold out back behind the steeple. Prayed in tongues, then used them to bless the rope that swung like a pendulum from trees still weeping. This is not Christianity. This is colonialism with a cross. This is genocide in a choir robe. This is white nationalism draped in scripture like a wolf in stolen wool. They preach a Jesus who speaks only English, votes straight MAGA, and builds walls instead of breaking bread. But the Christ I know washed brown feet, not with power, but with water and humility. He did not ride into Jerusalem on a war horse— He came on a borrowed donkey, not a tank, not a platform. He fed the poor without checking papers. He healed the sick without billing insurance. He welcomed children, women, lepers, and every “unclean” thing they still try to eras...