Black Jesus, Hidden Truth
They showed me white Jesus hanging high on the wall,
Blue eyes, pale skin, like He looked like them all
But I kept reading scripture, and I started asking why—
If truth is really holy, why they scared to let it fly?
Hair like wool, feet like brass, written plain to see,
But they changed the image slowly, turned faith into authority
Used religion like a weapon, taught submission, taught fear,
While hiding roots of history they never wanted near
From Africa to Egypt, from the soil to the sand,
Faith was living long before they came to claim the land
Kings with darker features carved in stone for centuries,
But history got repainted to fit their empires’ needs
They said God looked like power, and power looked like white,
So they painted heaven’s image to match their earthly might
Tried to make us doubt ourselves, tried to steal identity,
But truth keeps breaking chains and bringing back divinity
Still today the same game, just dressed in modern clothes,
White Christian national voices deciding who belongs
Using faith to write control, saying power came from God,
While ignoring pain and justice, acting righteous while they rob
They preach freedom for themselves, but silence for the weak,
Wrap oppression in a sermon, then call that being meek
Voting rights, broken schools, neighborhoods left dry—
Then they quote a verse on Sunday and pretend they don’t know why
They fear a people waking, they fear history told straight,
Fear the truth about the past and who was standing at the gate
Because once we know our power, once we stop begging to belong,
The chains they built with lies don’t hold the people long
I’m not saying God needs color, God is bigger than a face,
But when they hide your reflection, they’re erasing your place
So I search beyond the portraits, beyond churches built on fear—
And I found Black Jesus living in the faith they tried to bury.
“ܘܬܶܕܥܘܢ ܫܪܪܐ، ܘܫܪܪܐ ܢܚܪܪܟܘܢ”
(And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. — John 8:32)
