White Supremacy: A Noose Around Its Own Neck

Whiteness and white supremacy is a feedback loop, a self-replicating system that reflects God’s genius in His reap/sow principle. Let me explain.

Throughout history, Jesus’ name, likeness, and purpose were co-opted to promote colonization and domination by white races—even though the man himself was black and preached peace. This distortion is a planet-sized slander, promoting the enslavement and dehumanization of His own bloodline and those who happened to look like them. Even worse, His name was used to justify this inhumanity.

Yet when viewed from a spiritual perspective, the response of Yeshuah (Jesus) to this slander is profoundly elegant.

Supremacy as a Curse

Over the centuries, white races obtained a form of supremacy, interwoven with the name of Jesus, making the lie even more dangerous and widespread. But this supremacy—born of distortion—is itself a curse. It’s a noose around the neck of anyone who actively works within it.

This curse is not just moral guilt but a deep spiritual burden. The pain and treachery inflicted by white supremacy is now being tattooed onto the skin of those who look like the forefathers who promoted the lie for personal gain. This doesn’t mean that all white people are condemned, but it does mean that the amount of soul work required to overcome supremacy is immense—and that may be the point.

In today’s world, some contemporary political figures deliberately fan the flames of supremacist rhetoric, refusing to acknowledge the deep spiritual and moral cost of perpetuating the lie. They claim to defend traditions and uphold identity, but what they are truly doing is deepening the curse—binding themselves and their followers more tightly to an illusion of power that ultimately eats itself alive.

By amplifying supremacy, they are actively choosing blindness over transformation, ensuring that the noose of supremacy tightens not just around individuals but around entire communities. As they pile on rhetoric and incite division, they are doubling down on a broken identity, making redemption harder and the fall more severe.

White supremacists are scrambling because God is stirring the pot, and judgment is being poured out. But the judgment itself is the supremacy—an identity and system that crushes even its proponents. A few are waking up to the reality, but the sheer magnitude of the wrongs and the weight of historical distortion make it painfully hard to put down the mantle of supremacy once worn with pride.

What’s the Cost?

What’s the cost of earning supremacy by slandering the name and purpose of God?

Is it worth it?

This slander has been condemned by God. Therefore, every wrong, injustice, system, weapon, or action born out of white supremacy buries the perpetrator deeper into God’s judgment while freeing its victims.

White supremacy will die in its supremacy because that’s its nature. It doesn’t turn a new leaf. It eats itself. Yeshuah is just letting it do its thing because the pain it causes ultimately comes to nothing.

True Rest in Yeshuah: The Sabbath Embodied

There is a profound spiritual reality here: Yeshuah Himself is the Sabbath—a place of rest, reconciliation, and liberation. Those who cling to supremacy will never know rest because they cannot see Jesus for who He truly is—a liberator, not a conqueror.

The Sabbath is not just a day on a calendar; it is a person and a state of being. To rest in Christ means to cease from oppressive systems, to let go of the illusion of dominance and embrace the humility and peace that Yeshuah taught.

The irony is that those who built their identity around white supremacy now find themselves ensnared by it. They must do the hard soul work of tearing down the idols their forefathers built—not to earn forgiveness, but to step into the rest that Yeshuah offers.

A Path to Redemption

This judgment isn’t final condemnation—it’s a call to transformation. Those who truly repent, who acknowledge the wrong, and who commit to dismantling supremacy are breaking the cycle. It’s not easy; it’s soul-changing work. But grace and transformation are still possible because Yeshuah’s purpose was always reconciliation, not domination.

The future of faith may not be in restoring cathedrals or reclaiming political power. Instead, it lies in rebuilding relationships—shared meals, honest conversations, and forgiveness between neighbors. True rest comes when we cease striving for power and embrace the humility of Christ.

A Final Reflection

White supremacy will die in its supremacy because God’s justice is not just about retribution; it’s about revealing the lie for what it is. The real work lies in breaking free from that noose—choosing to rest in Christ, to see others as equally loved, and to live out the peace Yeshuah preached.

What’s the cost of supremacy born from slandering the name of God? It’s too high. The only way out is not through dominance but through surrender—to rest in the truth that love, not power, is the heartbeat of God.

The Portal to Humanity: Why Are Women Treated as Secondary Citizens?

In the grand design of life, women are literally the portal through which humanity enters the world. They bear the burdens of creation, nurture, and sustain life, yet throughout history and across cultures, they have been treated as secondary citizens. Why does society, despite its reverence for the miracle of birth, consistently marginalize the very beings that make existence possible?

The Paradox of Power and Subservience

It’s a striking paradox: those who hold the power to birth and nurture are systematically stripped of societal power. Historically, patriarchy has positioned itself as the dominant force, subduing and controlling the very essence of human origin. Why is this? What compels mankind to make powerful things subservient?

One theory is rooted in the human inclination to dominate what we cannot fully comprehend or control. The power of creation—an inherently mysterious and sacred act—is something men, historically lacking direct participation in, may have feared or envied. Instead of revering this power, they sought to cage it, shaping societies where women are reduced to their utility rather than their inherent value.

The Industrialization of Humanity

Imagine if the divine—Jesus and the Father—were made accessible and tangible. Humanity’s history suggests that even the sacred would be co-opted, industrialized, and put to work. We see glimpses of this already in how religious institutions often institutionalize the divine, packaging spirituality as something to be controlled rather than freely accessed.

In a similar fashion, women’s inherent power has been harnessed, categorized, and subdued. Rather than being celebrated as the portals of life, they are often viewed through a utilitarian lens: workers, caretakers, mothers—valuable for what they provide, but not necessarily for who they are.

Why Patriarchy Persists

Patriarchy is not just a social construct but a deeply ingrained psychological framework. Its persistence can be attributed to its self-perpetuating nature: it teaches sons to dominate and daughters to serve, maintaining a cycle that is difficult to break. Even progressive societies wrestle with the remnants of this mindset.

A Brokenness Within Humanity

The root of this desire to dominate powerful things may lie in humanity’s brokenness—a fundamental insecurity that drives people to subdue anything perceived as a threat. It’s not just about women. Any force that stands autonomous and powerful—be it nature, spirituality, or creativity—gets harnessed, domesticated, and put to use.

Reimagining Power

If we want to break free from this cycle, we must first recognize that power does not inherently mean dominance. Real power lies in nurturing, in enabling growth, in allowing potential to flourish. Women embody this kind of power. To truly honor them, society must shift from seeing women as secondary to recognizing them as foundational.

Conclusion

How do we move forward? By challenging the societal norms that glorify dominance and control. By teaching the next generation that power is not inherently oppressive. And by restoring reverence for the very portals of life—the women who bear humanity.

Until we embrace the idea that powerful things are not threats but gifts, humanity will continue to break what it should be celebrating. Perhaps it’s time to let go of the need to dominate and instead learn to coexist with power in its purest form: life itself.

Arianism: The Last Stand of Non-Imperial Christianity

When we trace the path of Christian history, it’s easy to assume that the version that won—the Nicene, imperial, hierarchical form—was always destined to dominate. But hidden beneath the grand cathedrals and imperial decrees lies a story of resistance. Not from enemies of the cross, but from those who honored Christ differently. Among the most forgotten? The Arians.

And no, they weren’t godless pagans or confused cultists. They were Christians—often devout, often sincere—whose view of Christ and community clashed with the rising tide of imperial theology.

What Was Arian Christianity?

Arianism, named after the 4th-century priest Arius of Alexandria, held that Jesus Christ, while divine, was not co-eternal with the Father. In simpler terms: the Son was begotten—not made—but still subordinate to God the Father. Arians saw Christ as the first and greatest of God’s creations, a bridge between the divine and the human.

Though this view was condemned at the Council of Nicaea in 325 AD, it didn’t vanish. In fact, it spread. Missionaries like Ulfilas brought Arian Christianity to the Germanic tribes—the Visigoths, Ostrogoths, Vandals, Lombards—who embraced it with fervor. They carved out their own Christian societies, distinct from Roman orthodoxy, grounded in local languages and simpler liturgies.

Why Did It Matter?

Because Arian Christianity resisted empire. It survived for centuries outside Roman control and without the imperial stamp of approval. While Nicene Christianity became increasingly aligned with the state—creating a unity of Church, Creed, and Crown—Arian believers practiced a form of Christianity that:

• Didn’t require metaphysical uniformity
• Didn’t demand total ecclesiastical obedience
• Didn’t centralize power through bishops and emperors
• Preserved the Gospel in tribal tongues, not Latin

This wasn’t a rebellion—it was an alternative vision of the faith. One that prioritized communal integrity, ethical conduct, and a mediating Christ accessible to all.

Two Tablets, Two Realities

To understand how radically different this approach was, consider the Ten Commandments—the original law of divine-human relationship. These were delivered on two tablets, a symbolic split:

• One tablet was God-centered: no idols, no other gods, honoring His name and His Sabbath.
• The other was human-centered: do not steal, murder, lie, or covet your neighbor’s life.

The command to “remember the Sabbath and keep it holy” stands as a unique bridge between the two—God’s gift to man, a divine rhythm rooted in rest.

But over time, Sabbath observance—once central to divine-human alignment—was reconfigured. Imperial Christianity shifted emphasis to Sunday worship, aligning Christ’s resurrection with Roman solar symbolism and the rhythm of empire. What was once a communal rest became a sanctioned ritual.

What If the Sabbath Was Never Just a Day?

What if the Sabbath was always pointing to something deeper?

“Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Could it be that Jesus Himself is the Sabbath?

Not merely as a symbolic rest, but as God’s embodied rest among creation—a cosmic seventh day. If so, then His presence marks an ongoing spiritual Sabbath, a time of divine trust where the Father has entrusted the household to the Son.

In this light, Jesus is not equal to God in being—as imperial theology later insisted—but equal in authority by commission. He is tending to the house while the Father rests, just as Joseph tended to Egypt in Pharaoh’s absence.

This vision aligns powerfully with Arian theology, where Christ is divine but subordinate, appointed, and honored as Son—not as the Father.

Arianism vs. Empire

The Roman world couldn’t tolerate this divergence forever.

The label “Arian” itself became a theological slur—a way to discredit entire peoples as heretics. The Eastern church painted the Germanic tribes as dangerous, unorthodox barbarians, even as it absorbed pagan festivals and Roman law. After the Franks converted to Nicene Christianity under Clovis in 496 AD, the tide turned. The Visigoths soon renounced Arianism. The Lombards and Vandals fell in line—or fell entirely.

With the extinction of Arianism, the last significant form of non-imperial Christianity in Europe was wiped away.

What Was Lost?

Arianism wasn’t perfect. But it stood for something now largely forgotten:

• That Christianity could exist without empire
• That faith could be relational, not ritualistic
• That Christ could serve without being Caesar
• That the Sabbath wasn’t a law to enforce, but a life to enter

In a strange way, Arian Christianity may have reflected something closer to the early communal spirit of the Jesus movement—a faith rooted in service, humility, and shared life, not creeds and councils.

A Faith Remembered

Today, as many seek a more grounded, decolonized, or post-institutional Christianity, Arianism may offer not answers, but questions worth revisiting:

• What if Christ doesn’t need to mirror Caesar to be followed?
• What if the early tribal churches were closer in spirit to Jesus than the gold-robed bishops of Rome?
• What if the Sabbath isn’t a day we lost, but a Person we missed?

And most of all:

• What if Christ never intended to be locked in a building, a ritual, or a hierarchy—but instead to dwell among people?

After all, “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am among them.” (Matthew 18:20)

This was never about pews or pulpits. It was always about presence—God’s presence in relationship, rest, and righteousness shared among ordinary people.

The church was never meant to be an empire’s sanctuary, but a living body, built not of bricks but of hearts knit together in Christ.

Arianism may have died at the hands of empire, but the spirit behind it—that God entrusted His Son to dwell with us, and that Christ lives where love gathers, not where titles rule—is still alive for those who listen.

A Final Reflection

Maybe the future of Christianity doesn’t look like a restored cathedral or a megachurch revival.

Maybe it looks like a shared meal, a conversation on a porch, an act of forgiveness between neighbors.

Maybe, just maybe, the truest Sabbath is the moment we stop striving, stop performing, and rest in each other—because that’s where Christ already is.