Walking Magnets

We are walking magnets, energy in constant motion. Everything around us vibrates with energy, which is why it's essential to keep your vibration positive. Energy flows where attention goes, so guard where you focus. Never tune into the negative frequencies of life. Keep your energy high, and let your vibration remain strong.

Racism has long been woven into the fabric of American society. Growing up in Dallas, Texas, during the 60s and 70s—one of the most racially divided cities at the time—I rarely encountered racism firsthand. The reason? My energy never attuned itself to that toxic station.

Much of this mindset can be traced back to my parents. They taught my brother and me from an early age that we were just as good as anyone else, regardless of race. I remember when I was around four or five years old. My father worked for a company that had an ice skating rink on the lower level. One weekend, when the building was mostly empty, he took me with him. This was in 1965 or 1966, when Jim Crow laws still held sway in the South. There, side by side, were "whites only" and "colored" drinking fountains.

I'm sure my father checked to make sure no one was watching before he picked me up and let me drink from the whites-only fountain. His only comment was simple: "It tastes the same, doesn't it?" At the time, I didn’t fully grasp what he meant. But over the years, that moment became a profound lesson. My father had taught me, without words, that people are not defined by the color of their skin. We are all the same. Humanity is divided only by character, moral compass, and the capacity to love.

As we navigate through life, we move through various magnetic fields—emotional, physical, spiritual—each surrounded by invisible forces. Just as a magnet attracts iron, certain people, places, or ideas can attract us, while others repel us. Beliefs, too, act as magnets: they draw in evidence that supports them and push away anything that contradicts them.

To maintain a high frequency, it's crucial to minimize exposure to draining influences. Avoid getting lost in the endless scroll of negativity, whether through social media, news, or toxic people. Positive energy is contagious. Clear your space—both physical and mental. A peaceful environment calms the mind and makes room for new energy. Surround yourself with uplifting music, acts of kindness, and moments of compassion. Even the smallest gestures can shift the energy around you, boosting your own vibration and spreading light to others.

Racism's Trump Card: The Apocryphal Jesus

Christianity emerged within the Roman Empire, taking root in Judea before expanding across the empire through the infrastructure provided by Roman rule. Its spread was facilitated by imperial support, particularly after Emperor Constantine's conversion. By 380 CE, Emperor Theodosius I had issued the Edict of Thessalonica, making Christianity the official religion of the empire. Over time, Christianity supplanted pagan traditions and became deeply intertwined with political and military campaigns, particularly during the Crusades and the age of European colonial expansion.

Christianity served as a justification for European colonialism, including the exploitation and subjugation of African nations. Under the guise of spreading Christian doctrine, European powers such as Britain, France, and the Netherlands sought to "civilize" indigenous populations. This often meant forced conversion and the erasure of traditional beliefs and cultural identities. Missionaries and colonial administrators imposed European customs, seized native lands, and employed coercion and violence to suppress indigenous ways of life.

The ideology of colonialism in Africa was built on the "Three C's": Civilization, Christianity, and Commerce. The mission was not just to introduce European governance and economic systems but also to use religion as a tool for control. The long-term effects of this forced assimilation persist today, leaving many African and African-descended communities struggling with cultural alienation, economic disenfranchisement, and generational trauma.

One of the most enduring consequences of this religious indoctrination is the financial devotion of Black Americans to the Church. Research indicates that 51% of Black churchgoers either tithe—giving 10% of their income—or regularly contribute to their congregation. Given that the median Black household income in 2022 was approximately $52,000 per year, even a modest contribution of 2.5% amounts to around $108 per month per household. When applied across millions of churchgoers, this translates to an estimated $1.75 billion to $2.63 billion per month, or between $21 billion and $32 billion annually.

Now, imagine if even a fraction of this wealth was redirected into Black communities rather than church coffers. This financial infusion could revolutionize economic conditions, funding education, businesses, housing, and healthcare. It would eliminate much of the need for government aid, which historically has been misallocated to benefit White Americans over African Americans. The Homestead Act, for example, disproportionately granted land to White families while denying Black Americans the same opportunities for generational wealth.

This is why Jesus and Christianity remain racism’s trump card—no pun intended. Black Americans have been conditioned since birth to believe that an apocryphal figure demands 10% of their earnings. They are further bound by scriptures such as Genesis 2:17, which warns against seeking knowledge beyond religious doctrine. This belief system echoes the tactics of slave owners, who forbade enslaved people from reading to maintain their subjugation.

Fast forward to the 21st century, and figures like Donald Trump capitalize on this same mindset. During his campaign, he famously declared, "I love the uneducated," acknowledging that ignorance is the handmaiden of tyranny.

A populace steeped in faith-based submission is easier to control, ensuring that resources are funneled into religious institutions rather than community development.

Tithing, once a mandatory tax in various societies, is now a voluntary—though often coerced—donation. In Black churches, it is supplemented by offerings, frequently referred to as "Love Offerings," which fund building projects, debt reduction, or missionary work. Yet, despite billions flowing into religious institutions, the Black community sees little tangible return on investment. The church continues to flourish while economic conditions for Black Americans remain stagnant.

If the 35 million Black Christians in the United States redirected just half of their estimated $25 billion in annual donations—$12.5 billion—into their communities, they could build self-sustaining infrastructures. Schools, businesses, and healthcare facilities could thrive, eliminating reliance on a government that has historically marginalized them. Meanwhile, White America resists aiding Black communities not out of malice alone, but also because much of the funding intended for lower-income families is redirected to poor White Americans, who outnumber African Americans at least three to one.

The sobering reality is that as long as the majority of Black Americans continue to believe in a literal Jesus—an invention of Western mythology—they will remain ensnared by the very system that oppresses them. These devout believers must awaken to the economic manipulation at play and cease the billion-dollar hemorrhaging into institutions that do nothing to improve their daily lives.

The church has failed to uplift the Black community in any meaningful way, proving itself to be an instrument of control rather than liberation.

In conclusion, Christianity, as it has been taught to Black Americans, functions as a mechanism of economic and intellectual subjugation. The financial contributions made to the church yield no return on investment, perpetuating cycles of poverty and dependence. Until Black Americans recognize that Jesus is racism's trump card, they will continue to invest in a system that extracts their wealth and power while offering nothing in return. The path forward requires breaking free from religious conditioning and redirecting resources to build a future grounded in self-sufficiency and empowerment.

The Economic Paradox of Black Church Contributions

In the United States, Black Christians play a significant role in organized religion, both in terms of faith and financial support. With an estimated 35 million Black Christians, their contributions to churches amount to billions of dollars annually. However, this immense financial commitment raises an important question: What is the return on investment (ROI) for these contributions, particularly in communities that continue to struggle economically?

Black Americans are among the most religious demographic groups in the country, with approximately 79% identifying as Christian. Church attendance rates are also high, with over 60% attending religious services at least once a month. This deep-rooted faith tradition has translated into substantial financial giving, as Black churchgoers are known to donate consistently and generously to their places of worship.

Research suggests that 51% of Black churchgoers either tithe—giving 10% of their income—or regularly contribute to their church. Given that the median Black household income in 2022 was approximately $52,000 per year ($4,333 per month), even a modest contribution of 2.5% of income amounts to $108 per month per household. When scaled across the millions who give, these contributions total an estimated $1.75 billion to $2.63 billion per month, or between $21 billion and $32 billion annually.

Despite these staggering figures, the economic conditions in many Black communities remain dire. High unemployment rates, underfunded schools, and a lack of wealth accumulation continue to plague predominantly Black neighborhoods. This raises a troubling paradox: While Black churches receive billions in contributions, these funds do not appear to translate into substantial economic empowerment for the communities that sustain them.

Historically, Black churches have served as more than just places of worship; they have been centers for civil rights activism, social services, and education. However, in modern times, the extent to which churches directly reinvest in their congregants' economic well-being is less clear. While some churches do provide scholarships, food pantries, and community programs, these efforts often pale in comparison to the financial contributions received.

A closer examination of church expenditures suggests that a significant portion of these funds goes toward maintaining church operations, salaries for clergy, and infrastructure costs. Megachurches, in particular, command vast sums of money, yet the wealth generated does not always trickle down to improve the economic conditions of their congregants. Instead, many churchgoers continue to struggle with financial instability while their churches flourish financially.

If the core purpose of tithing and church donations is to uplift the faithful, then a fundamental question must be asked: Are Black churches providing an adequate ROI to their communities? Unlike investments in education, businesses, or homeownership—which create long-term wealth—church giving, as it currently stands, often yields no tangible economic return for the average congregant.

This is not to say that faith-based giving should be entirely transactional. Many people donate out of a sense of spiritual duty, community support, or tradition. However, when such significant sums are at stake, it is reasonable to examine whether these contributions are being maximized to create lasting economic benefits for Black Americans.

Consider what could be achieved if even a fraction of this money were redirected toward community-owned businesses, credit unions, or investment funds designed to build Black wealth. Imagine the impact of collective economic strategies that prioritize financial literacy, homeownership programs, and business development initiatives. Such an approach could break cycles of poverty and create generational wealth in a way that church donations alone have failed to do.

The challenge, then, is not in the act of giving itself but in ensuring that giving serves a higher purpose beyond sustaining church institutions. Financial contributions to religious organizations should not come at the cost of individual and communal economic progress. Faith and financial prosperity should not be mutually exclusive; rather, they should work in tandem to uplift communities holistically.

Black churches remain vital cultural and spiritual institutions, but the time has come for a reassessment of their financial stewardship. If these religious organizations genuinely seek to serve their congregants, they must prioritize economic empowerment as a core mission. Whether through church-sponsored business grants, homeownership initiatives, or cooperative investment strategies, there must be a shift toward creating tangible economic returns on the billions of dollars flowing through Black religious institutions each year.

As Black Christians continue their tradition of faith and giving, they must also demand accountability and strategic reinvestment. The future of Black economic prosperity may very well depend on whether the Black church embraces this challenge or continues to operate under a financial model that benefits institutions more than individuals. Only through intentional and transformative financial strategies can the billions in church contributions translate into real economic progress for the communities that need it most.