There’s something powerful about being seen—truly seen. Not just for what you do, or how you appear, but for who you are at the deepest level.
For Native people, being truly seen is rare. Too often we’ve been misrepresented, erased, or forced into someone else’s mold—especially when it comes to spirituality. Many of us have been told, directly or indirectly, that if we want to follow Jesus, we have to stop being Native.
I know this because I was one of those people.
The Lie I Was Told
I came to faith as a teenager. I was attending a church led by a Native pastor and filled with Native people. You’d think that would have been a safe space for culture and faith to walk together.
But shortly after I started following Jesus, I was told:
“If you’re serious about your walk with Christ, you need to leave your Native culture behind. It’s of the devil.”
That statement, whether meant to protect or control, cut me deeply. I didn’t know how to process it. I was new in my faith, eager to grow, trying to do what was “right.” So, I tried to obey. I pulled back from dancing. I stopped wearing regalia. I tried not to talk too much about my culture. I compartmentalized myself—one version of me in church, another in the powwow arena.
And I carried the weight of that division silently for years.
Who I Am
Let me tell you who I really am.
I’m a Native man enrolled with the Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara Nation. My blood carries the stories of four different peoples: Arikara, Hidatsa, Comanche, and Delaware—rooted in both the Northern and Southern Plains.
I’m a member of the Dead Grass Society in White Shield, North Dakota—a sacred dance society for the Arikara people. I carry a whistle for that society, something entrusted to me with honor and responsibility. I dance both Northern Traditional and Southern Straight. These aren’t just hobbies or performance arts. They’re expressions of prayer, identity, and legacy.
These things don’t make me less Christian. They reflect how the Creator has shaped me—how He’s written my story through generations of resilience, wisdom, and beauty.
When the Creator Spoke to Me
What began to free me from the lie that I had to choose between Jesus and my Native identity was a passage in the Gospel of Mark.
At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.”
Jesus hadn’t preached a single sermon yet. He hadn’t healed anyone, hadn’t cast out demons, hadn’t died on the cross. He had done none of the “ministry stuff” we tend to think earns approval. And still—the Creator says, “You are my Son. I love you. I’m pleased with you.”
But here’s what hit me even deeper: Jesus was baptized as a Jewish man, shaped by his people’s traditions, language, and culture. The Creator didn’t wait for Jesus to step out of his cultural identity. He affirmed Him within it.
That moment flipped the script for me.
If Jesus could be fully who he was—and be loved and affirmed by the Creator—then maybe, just maybe, I could be too. Maybe I didn’t have to erase myself to follow Jesus. Maybe I could follow Him as a Native man.
The Creator Made You Native on Purpose
Let’s go back even further. In Genesis, we read:
“Let us make mankind in our image, to be like us… So God created mankind in his own image. In the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”
This isn’t just about biology. It’s about identity. We’re made in the image of the Creator—every nation, every tribe, every people. Native people are not outsiders to the story of God. We are not spiritual stragglers who need to “catch up” to the rest of Christianity.
We are image-bearers. And the Creator didn’t make us accidentally.
“You knit me together in my mother’s womb… I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
He could’ve made us anything else. But He made us Native. With our songs. With our languages. With our prayers. With our kinship systems. He didn’t overlook us. He chose to create us, just as we are, to reflect something sacred about Himself.
The False Gospel of Colonization
Let’s be honest about why so many of us have wrestled with shame over our identity:
It wasn’t Jesus who told us to erase ourselves. It was colonization.
The boarding school system. The forced conversions. The stripping of language, culture, and ceremony—all done “in the name of Christ.” That’s a deep wound many of us still carry.
But that wasn’t the Gospel. That was empire.
The true Gospel restores what has been lost. It doesn’t destroy—it rebuilds.
“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”
The word workmanship here comes from the Greek word poiēma (phonetic pronunciation: poy-AY-mah). It’s where we get our word poem. It means art. Beauty. Craftsmanship.
You are the Creator’s poem. His masterpiece. Your culture, your language, your traditions—they are not barriers to faith. They are brushstrokes in the painting He made when He made you.
You Were Meant for This Time, This Place
Paul writes in Acts:
“From one man he made all the nations… and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands. God did this so that they would seek him…”
The Creator chose this time and this place for you. You were meant to be born into your people, into your generation, into your story. Not by accident, but by divine appointment.
The Good Road is for You
Jesus said:
“I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”
That “full life” isn’t one where you’re ashamed of who you are. It’s a life of freedom. Restoration. Belonging. Wholeness.
And it starts when we believe what the Creator has been saying all along:
“You are my child. I made you on purpose. I love you. I am pleased with you.”
Where Do We Go From Here?
If you’ve ever felt like you had to choose between your culture and your faith, I want you to hear this clearly:
You were never meant to split yourself in two.
The Creator sees you—fully. The parts you’ve celebrated and the parts you’ve silenced. The moments you’ve danced in joy, and the moments you’ve sat quietly in church wondering if you belonged. He sees it all, and He still says, “I love you. I made you on purpose. I’m pleased with you.”
This isn’t just theology—it’s healing.
Over the years, I’ve had the chance to share this story in different places, and I’ve watched it unlock something in people. Not because of anything special in me, but because the truth has a way of breaking chains we didn’t even know we were dragging. I’ve seen people whisper “finally” with tears in their eyes. I’ve seen heads bow, not in shame, but in relief. Like maybe—for the first time in a long time—they’re hearing something that rings true in both their heart and their heritage.
Maybe that’s you today.
So where do we go from here? We keep walking. We walk the Good Road—not in disguise, but in the fullness of who we are. We reclaim what was lost. We listen for the voice of the Creator saying, “I never forgot you.”
And if this story has stirred something in you, don’t keep it quiet. Someone else may need to hear that they are fully seen, fully Native, and fully loved too.
