This interview is part of The Reconstruct, a weekly newsletter from Sojourners. In a world where so much needs to change, Mitchell Atencio and Josiah R. Daniels interview people who have faith in a new future and are working toward repair. Subscribe here.
I’ve done interviews with celebrities and entertainers in the past, and my complaint is always this: They tend to avoid difficult topics, which then makes for a pretty drab conversation.
So when I got on the phone with Christian hip-hop artist Dylan Phillips, whose stage name is nobigdyl., I imagined getting him to say anything interesting would be about as difficult as noodling for catfish.
But I did not have to fish for long before I realized that nobigdyl. was more than willing to dive into difficult topics. This makes sense when considering his songs, which are not only catchy but also filled with references to current issues or philosophical and theological musings.
Considering some of his accolades, it feels strange to refer to Phillips by his stage name, nobigdyl. He made it onto former President Barack Obama’s 2023 summer playlist. More recently, he has been voted the fan favorite in NPR’s Tiny Desk Contest for two years running, and his song entries perfectly demonstrate his range, creativity, and willingness to explore complicated topics with artistic depth. If none of that is a big deal, then I don’t know what is.
In 2024, nobigdyl. told NPR that he wrote “Go With The Ghost” in hopes that it would resonate with “anyone on a journey of hearing and choosing God’s voice.” His 2025 entry, “imago interlude,” is a sustained meditation on what Jesus meant when he commanded us to love our enemies. It is more than likely, whoever you are, that you will listen to the song and be uncomfortable or mad at some point. Perhaps both. But after my conversation with nobigdyl., I realize that’s intentional.
“At some point throughout ‘imago interlude,’ I wanted every listener to encounter an enemy. Even if the enemy was me, as the rapper,” nobigdyl. told me.
At another point in our conversation, nobigdyl. was riffing on American Christianity, criticizing the idea that voting was the single best way to love one’s neighbor. He then offered a concrete example of how he sees people using this logic when it comes to voting on reproductive rights. Although nobigdyl. and I see things differently on this front, I found his vulnerability and willingness to engage on this topic refreshing.
Read ahead to find out about nobigdyl.’s thoughts on the South, politics, the Confederate flag, and why he thinks the voting ballot has become the Eucharist for some Christians.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Josiah R. Daniels, Sojourners: You live in Tennessee. What are some misconceptions that progressive people have about the South?
nobigdyl.: That it’s a bunch of white racists down here. That’s a lot of people’s default. Some of the same history they’re pulling from with that assumption is why there’s a large concentration of Black people in the South.
Some of the areas that maybe see themselves as leading in diversity and progression as far as race relations are some of the whitest areas in the country. They don’t actually interact with Black people that much, especially in their personal lives.
But down here in the South, Black people and white people have actually had to figure out how to coexist for the longest and in the most substantial ways. That’s why there’s this long history of race relations, good and bad.
In your song “imago interlude,” you critique yourself for ignoring a man on the corner “begging for some drugs and food” who you recognize as Jesus. Why do you think it’s important to write about your own mistakes and beliefs?
Because I’m not trying to have a moral high ground and be in a position of didactic teaching. “Yo, if you guys could just get like me, then that would be better.” I’m more trying to have a conversation about the inner turmoil that we all have. This is a conversation about us — not a lecture from me to you — but a conversation about us all growing and [learning to] see our blind spots.
I think that vulnerability is contagious. You can’t really inspire people to be vulnerable by standing on a moral pedestal. But you can inspire people to be vulnerable by saying, “You know what, I’ll go first.” This is the challenge that I feel like the Holy Spirit has given to me. I want to share that challenge with everybody. How can we all be more like Jesus?
That reminds me of a quote from Malcolm X when he said, “I’ve since learned … that the truth can be quickly received, or received at all, only by the sinner who knows and admits that he’s guilty of having sinned much. Stated another way: Only guilt admitted accepts truth.”
That’s good. Jesus comes to save the sick and the lost. He’s the good doctor. He doesn’t come to people who are already healed. People were mad at him for eating with sinners and prostitutes. They didn’t realize they were also sick. They needed him just as much, but because they weren’t in that position of admitting guilt and accepting truth, he played it by their rules. It’s like, “You guys are good, right? So, I’m not here for you.”
Why do you think it’s important to comment on politics in your songs?
Politics is a very loaded word. I think it’s good to use the common language that people use and then maybe deconstruct that. Politics is just how we navigate societies. We need healthy ways of relating to each other. We need protections against harm and dehumanization. You could make an argument that’s what laws are for: to actually protect people from evil. Politics is just the outer workings of that.
So, is it that I feel the need to comment on politics? Or is it that I feel the need to comment on the protection of the vulnerable and how we should work out our love of Jesus in the world and within society? I feel [commenting on politics] is necessary because I’m trying to follow Jesus and hoping for the kingdom of God.
So that takes talking about how we treat the poor. How do we see our enemies? At some point throughout “imago interlude,” I wanted every listener to encounter an enemy. Even if the enemy was me, as the rapper. “Why is he being political?” Or maybe your enemy was the drug addict. Maybe your enemy is Palestine, Israel, Russia, Ukraine, the cop, or the unarmed Black man. Whoever your enemy is in the song, I want you to encounter them and identify them as an enemy so that the last line, “You don’t know Jesus ‘til you see him in your enemy,” resonates with you harder because now you spent this whole song identifying your enemy.
You don’t know Jesus ‘til you see him in your enemy.
-nobigdyl.
Why do you think many Christians have difficulty understanding that the most helpful way to think about politics is in terms of how we treat our neighbors?
I’ll say a large portion of American Christianity has been infiltrated by American exceptionalism and individualism, and just the general culture of wanting the easiest way to participate and belong in a tribe. [Many American Christians say], “I don’t want to surrender my autonomy or my authority to the body of Christ, but I do want to identify as a Christian.” I think we are happy outsourcing our personal ethics and morality — and even our walk with Jesus — to our politics. I just want to check a box as a Christian.
So, what does it mean in America to be a Christian within this framework? [From the perspective of an American conservative], it would mean I vote against abortion. I go to church on Sunday. I support the police. I can do all of that with one vote.
All of those things have become almost like a drive-through, like they’ve been given to me like a McDonald’s burger. All I have to do is vote for Trump and I am imputed with the righteousness of being pro-life, pro-police, pro-Israel. I’m developing this idea as I’m talking, by the way. It’s like the vote almost takes the place of the blood of Christ. It’s my propitiation.
Wow. OK.
The voting ballot is the Eucharist. I vote, therefore I am Christian. I am saved; I’m covered. That’s how it presents to me.
The voting ballot is the Eucharist. I vote, therefore I am Christian. I am saved; I’m covered. That’s how it presents to me.
-nobigdyl.
But I think that each tribe, each camp, each echo chamber does believe that they are loving their neighbor through their politics. I don’t think they’d be like, “Loving your neighbor is not important, and I don’t care about that.” It’s like everybody’s outsourcing how to love your neighbor.
I’ll flesh it out some more: Let’s take abortion. Nobody wants to talk about that.
OK, let’s talk about it.
I can respect somebody on either side of the argument way more if, with their body, they are supporting the marginalized in the situation. If you are a pro-life Christian and you are working at and/or supporting crisis pregnancy centers, if you are an adoptive parent, or if you’re supporting adoption and fostering, or if you are an advocate for single mothers — if you are active in all of those things, if your life is about womb to the tomb, OK, I believe that you are walking out your Christianity.
And the same thing on the other side: If you have come to a pro-choice vote — however you’ve come to that …you can see what culture I am surrounded by because I’m trying to think the opposite way.
You’re saying that if someone were pro-choice, your expectation would be that they would, for example, also be against war. They’d be against the death penalty. And they wouldn’t just be against things, but they’d actively try to make it so that people had food, people had alternatives to prison, etc.
That’s right, what you just said. And then I also would expect you to have an ethic for why you’re pro-choice. I could respect that. If we are laying our bodies on the line to love our neighbor, then I think that love covers a multitude of sins, as the scripture says.
Full transparency, I would be someone who would say that I’m pro-choice. And my ethical reason for that is simply because I don’t think that you can force a person to undergo a trauma such as giving birth.
For people who are anti-abortion, my critique is this: In neighborhoods that are over-policed and have experienced systemic divestment, you want to force people to have kids, but then when that kid is shot by a cop as a teenager, you don’t care.
So, let me ask you: If [someone was anti-abortion] but was dedicated to anti-police brutality and a proponent of de-escalation within those communities, would you feel like they have credibility for their stance even though you didn’t agree with them [about abortion]?
Of course. There are people who have worked and written for Sojourners who are part of the pro-life Catholic tradition. They are pro-nuclear disarmament, anti-death penalty, anti-war, and anti-abortion.
I did not have in my notes that we would talk about abortion, so this is interesting.
Everybody’s avoiding this because we know that people will disagree. That’s not a valid reason not to talk about something.
Loving your enemies. The Republican Party and its supporters seem to be opposed to this idea, and the Democratic Party and its supporters at least seem willing to entertain the idea. I’m not a Republican, nor am I a Democrat; I would identify as a Black Leftist. But when it comes to your message of needing to love your enemy, do you think the Right needs to hear that message more than anyone else?
The Democratic Party, I think that they definitely verbally seem more merciful.
I will get back to your question. Here in Tennessee, in more rural areas, people like having Trump signs. But it feels the same to me as when I’m on tour in Portland and, within the city limits, people have “Black Lives Matter” or “We believe in” signs. What’s the point of this? I think Trump signs and Black Lives Matter signs are more like fashion. It’s like you put on a fresh tee.
Don’t get me started on this, dude.
It’s not challenging anything, whether you’re downtown Portland or you’re in rural Tennessee. It’s just like you put on a fire fit so that when people see you, they’re like, “Yeah, he’s lit.”
To your point, I think conservative culture really likes “love your neighbor” but they don’t realize that they would do the same thing that happened in scripture where the lawyer says, “But who’s my neighbor?” Jesus tells the story of the Samaritan and essentially says, “Your neighbor is your enemy.” Jesus is dope, it’s a bar.
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He picks someone they absolutely hate. The lawyer wants to put the onus on whether the person is a neighbor. But then Jesus says, “Who was a neighbor to the hurt man?” The Samaritan. Jesus is saying, “You’re supposed to be a neighbor to your enemy.” It’s crazy, bro. It gets me so hype.
What I would say is this: I think the Democrats would love my “love thy enemy” hat, but I’m like, “I don’t really see y’all doing that.”
Agreed.
I think both sides are loving their preferred neighbor, to be honest. If you’re in the Democratic Party, you don’t see addicts or whoever as your enemy. I think sometimes, people who vote Democrat think that “love your enemy” means love the marginalized. And I’m like, “No, you already see the marginalized as your neighbors.” So that’s not what that means. It’s very obvious who your enemy is.
Maybe for Democrats, and definitely for two Black guys like you and me, our enemies are people riding around with the stars and bars, right?
Yeah. Who do you hate? That’s what Jesus basically asked. I feel like the titles of Democrat and Republican are so broad, but whatever. If you’re a Democrat, it’s Ted Cruz on your “love thy enemy” hat. It’s not saying, “love the homeless man.” You’re already good at that.
Practically speaking, what does it mean for me to love that dude who’s repping the rebel flag? I’m thinking about your single “Parabolic!” where you got that great cover of you sitting on the back of a pickup truck, and then the Confederate flag is underneath the wheel. So, what does it actually mean to love someone who has clothed themselves in that flag?
It’s tough. I think that’s where I’ve lived most of my life. For me, a good portion of loving the person you just described has been open disagreement without dehumanization, which is always what Jesus did.
[Loving your enemy is not] baptizing everything they believe and refusing to challenge them. People know me as a person who will have these conversations with somebody that I completely disagree with. I’m not gonna yell and stop being your friend. I’ve had people who really resonate with my anti-violence, anti-police brutality, race relations, all that stuff but then, when they see some of the people that I’m friends with who are very conservative, they’ve been like, “How can you be friends with this person?” My viewpoint is, how could I not be friends with them? Just look at Jesus: He’s got a zealot; he’s got a tax collector.
To answer your question about what it looks like: It’s messy, but I think it looks like Jesus’ ministry. I think it just looks like long-suffering. I like that translation. We should keep that word, long-suffering. I’ve seen the fruit of these conversations.
If our hope is to create a society where the marginalized flourish, that’s going to require that we have disagreements with people who have created those conditions of marginalization, and then we need to invite them to see things differently. That’s what I hear you saying.
What you just described sounds exactly like Jesus’s ministry. Everybody he was around had to repent, had to change their minds. Jesus had hard conversations where people got offended. But he didn’t leave them.
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