My Dearest U.S. Evangelicals,
In my early twenties, I walked down the “sawdust center aisle” in front of the entire congregation while the pianist softly played hymn number 472: “Just as I Am.” I publicly gave my life to Jesus on the first Advent Sunday of 1980 at University Baptist Church in Coral Gables, Florida.
Deeply committed to my newfound faith, I obtained my Master of Divinity at THE Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. During my studies, I was called to serve as the pastor of Goshen Baptist Church in Glenn Dean, a small rural town where I was ordained to preach the Gospel to lost souls.
My faith has always been a major pillar of my life. It led me to dispose of Championship Realty, the real estate company I began when I was nineteen years old. I made this business decision to dedicate my life to sharing the good news of Jesus.
I mean no disrespect when I say I no longer want anything to do with your patriarchal, homophobic and xenophobic white Trumpish god. If truth be known, I curse this impotent idol you call god and which I once followed.
Because your god is white, whiteness has become godly. This god you evangelize — defender of white supremacy — is responsible for widespread bloodshed and misery. If, indeed, a tree is known by its fruit, then your sadistic and diseased tree needs to be cut down and thrown into the fire.
Like the Pharisees, who meticulously tithed on small herbs like mint, you spiritually justify neglecting the more imperative and significant aspects of Christ’s message, such as justice, mercy, and love.  Â
For, as it is written, “God’s name is blasphemed because of you.” You preach justice while supporting laws of hatred that marginalize communities of color. You preach mercy while screaming at the top of your lungs, “Build that Wall.” You preach love while supporting a candidate that traffics in hatred to divide, so that he can win.
In the name of your god, you built your empire on the land stolen from indigenous people whose genocide was required for clear title.
In the name of your god, you built your empire on the stolen labor and stolen bodies of those kidnapped from their homeland and enslaved to build your generational wealth.
In the name of your god, you built your empire on the stolen resources and cheap labor of your neighbors south of the border.
You do realize it is white evangelicals of whom Jesus spoke when he said that on that day, many will come saying, “Lord, Lord, did we not vote for your anointed — the greatest purveyor of violent rhetoric in your name. And did we not cast out the demons of homosexuality, liberalism, and illegal immigrants in your name? And did we not do the mighty work of building a global empire in your name?”
And then, Jesus will declare: “I never knew you; away from me, you evil workers of lawlessness!”
Let’s face it: this white god whom you ask only to bless the USA is leading you away from the narrow gate and instead down the broad and easy highway to Hell. And for those within communities of color who embrace this white god of oppression, it is to participate in their own masochist disenfranchisement.
But I do have good news, my dearest white evangelicals. You, too, can be saved. Salvation is just as much for you as it is for those you have relegated to your margins.
It begins with the rejection of eurocentric theology and philosophy. Like the rich young ruler who asked how to obtain salvation, the answer begins with putting away your idols, specifically this idol you call god.
Why?
Because the spirituality you constructed to justify your preeminence is undergirded by a particular philosophical and theological way of thinking and being. This way has always supported a colonialist attitude that rationalizes white supremacy as god-ordained.
Salvation and liberation are obtained when whiteness is crucified on that old, rugged cross.
Who then is the Jesus to whom we should bow our knees and confess as Lord? Who, then, is the God of our liberation?
The Jesus who can save us is an Afro-Caribbean, undocumented, unhoused, transgender woman. Don’t you recall when Jesus said, “That which you do to the least of these you do unto me?” Jesus is the least of these, enfleshed in the one you despise the most.
We all find our salvation, our liberation, when we live in radical solidarity with the oppressed of the earth, signified by the broken body of Jesus given unto us. Those at our margins whom we think we must save are the ones who will bring about our own salvation.
Prayerfully, your humble servant,
Rev. Dr. DÂ
Professor of Social Ethics and Latinx Studies at Iliff School of Theology in Denver, Colorado, and a contributing correspondent at Good Faith Media.
