MY JESUS AIN’T YOUR JESUS
By Daniel Fan
My Jesus ain’t your Jesus.
My Jesus was born in an alley.
The hotels, they had empty rooms
but they told his family “No Vacancy.”
When the wise men celebrated
they brought food stamps
When the authorities heard, they came too–
the social workers–
To take him away.
My Jesus, he rides on a bus through the projects
walks a mile through the sand to school
works at the 7-11 till midnight.
When you and your Jesus hang out
you’re a youth group.
When me and my Jesus hang out
we’re a street gang.
My Jesus didn’t just send packages to the poor.
He didn’t just serve in soup kitchens on Christmas Eve.
He was there every day
till they took him away . . .
kinky hair . . .
My Jesus is black
Got room in your heart for