"Who is him?"

I was promised I would be made new not made to look just like you. I can have black skin and still be white as snow.
Guitar strings, bar chords, worship bands, white forms, unfamiliar to me.
Culture is created to seem standard.
To whom?
Rolled from the same sacrifice, cookie cutter Christianity.
I stand at the foot of the cross, but only those who look like me stand at my side.
Maybe the corporate ladder is what Jacob dreamed of?
CEO's leaving their ivory tower to help for an hour in the projects, only to ascend back to corner offices and homeschool groups.
Robed in white flesh, are they angels?
Messengers bringing tales of prosperity I've never seen, at least not for people who look like me.
So maybe, I should look more like them?
Trading Tim's and chrome rims as if they were sins for my redemption.
In exchange, I get advice on how to build 401k's and go on mission.
Now, I'm back in my neighborhood. I feel like I don't belong. David in Saul's armor, I don't fit.
Don't conform to the world but conform to these norms.
That's the subtlety in my seeker friendly service.
We're made in his image, just who is him?
The God man, our Jewish Savior, Yeshua, or the White American version?