The Remnant Awakens – Episode 2(1) “The Hidden Truths in Slave Songs – How Our Ancestors Preserved Yashar’el”

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

Shalom, family. This is The Remnant Awakens, and I’m your brother, Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji. Today, we’re diving into something deep, something powerful, something—I mean, honestly—something that’s been waiting to be uncovered. The songs of our ancestors, those soul-deep spirituals, they carry truths you might not even realize. These weren’t just melodies for survival. They were messages, codes, declarations of identity. They were a bridge to who we are, Yashar’el, preserved through the darkest times.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

You see, the stories, the wisdom, the faith—it’s all been hidden in plain sight, carried forward by hands that worked under bondage, voices that cried out for freedom. These songs, they tell a story of deliverance, a story only Yashar’el could sing with such truth, such power. The Most High gave that sound, that resilience, to our people for a reason. And we’re gonna uncover those layers today, so, stick with me, and let’s reveal what’s been kept alive through the spirit of the ancestors.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

And now, we’re gonna begin with one of the most profound spirituals of all—“Go Down, Moses.” This is straight outta Exodus 5. Our ancestors knew, they knew, they were Israel.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

Let’s, uh, let’s talk about the first example. “Go Down, Moses.” You’ve probably heard it before—“Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt’s land, tell old Pharaoh, let my people go.” Now, hold on a second, because this, this is straight from Scripture, right? Exodus chapter 5. This is when Mosheh—Moses—goes to Pharaoh, demanding, in the name of Yah, to let the Israelites go free.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

But here’s the profound part: our ancestors, those enslaved here in the Americas, they were singing this not just as a cry for physical freedom. No, no. You gotta understand, they were calling upon their identity as Yashar’el. They knew they were the chosen people, I mean, literally the descendants of those ancient Israelites. “Let my people go” wasn’t just symbolic—it was them claiming and affirming who they were, even when everything around them tried to strip that identity away.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

And think about this, family. They sang these words while enduring, you know, the harshest, most unimaginable conditions. They weren’t just songs of survival. These were messages saturated with spiritual truth, truth that the oppressors couldn’t comprehend, but that our ancestors? They held onto it. They carried it, protected it. It was hidden in plain sight.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

When they sang, it was a declaration—a plea, too, but also a prophecy. Just like in Exodus, those songs reminded them, reminded us, that deliverance comes from Yah, and that one day, the oppression would end. In their hearts, they knew they weren’t just slaves. They were children of the covenant. They were Yashar’el, crying out to their Creator for freedom.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

And when we hear those songs today, we’re hearing a legacy, one that carries the same power, the same truth. Family, it’s all there. The spirit of Yashar’el lives on through these songs, passed down with a purpose, with that resilience Yah placed in our people.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

Now family, let me ask you something. Have you ever really stopped to think about the words in those spirituals—words like “Yah,” “Abba,” “Zion,” “Jericho”? Those aren’t just random churchy terms tossed in for effect. No, no, these are ancient, sacred words straight from Scripture. Words that link us, undeniably, to our heritage as Yashar’el.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

“Yah”—that’s the name of the Most High, preserved right there in the songs. Not hidden, but right in front of us. And “Abba,” meaning Father, like when we cry out to the Most High in prayer. Every time those words were sung, they were connecting with their true heavenly Father, not just the idea of a god, but Yah Himself. Our ancestors knew, they felt it in their spirit.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

And then, there’s powerful places like “Zion” and “Jericho.” You hear those names, and they just—they echo, right? Zion, the city of Yah, our eternal home. When our ancestors sang about heading to Zion, they weren’t talking about some vague paradise. No, they were looking toward the promise given to Yashar’el, the restoration, the return to our Creator and our land.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

And Jericho? Oh, that one gives me chills. It’s not just a city. It’s the story of walls coming down, right? Victory through the power of Yah. When they sang about Jericho, they were prophesying their own deliverance. They believed, even in the darkest times, that those walls of oppression would come crashing down, just like they did back then. Family, it’s there. It’s all there. You just have to listen with a deeper ear.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

Now let’s talk about something that’s been on my mind, family. Have you ever wondered why the slave masters allowed these spirituals to be sung? I mean, think about it—they controlled so many aspects of life, but these songs? They were permitted, even encouraged at times.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

See, the oppressors, they thought the music was just, you know, entertainment, a way to pacify. They believed it was harmless, just a way for the enslaved to blow off steam and keep working. What they didn’t realize, though, was the depth, the power, the intention behind those melodies.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

Family, these weren’t just emotional ballads or work songs. These were Scriptures in disguise. Prayers slipped into the rhythm. Teachings of the Torah woven right into the harmony. When they sang spirituals like “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” or “Steal Away,” they were passing down the faith, keeping the Torah alive, whether it was in secret or in plain sight. Every lyric had meaning, and that meaning brought hope, brought resilience.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

And when you look closer, it’s clear our ancestors were brilliant, absolutely brilliant. They used what their captors couldn’t understand, couldn’t decode. While the slave masters might’ve clapped along, thinking it was all innocent, our people were singing their souls out to Yah. They were strategizing escapes, praying under their breath, teaching their children the Scriptures, all under the veil of what looked like a song.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

But isn’t that just like Yah? Using what the enemy intends for harm and flipping it into something eternal, something that preserves His people? That’s the wisdom of Yashar’el, family, that’s the spirit of resilience the Most High placed within us. And those songs—they were living proof that the spirit of Yashar’el couldn’t be broken, no matter what they tried to do.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

Family, let’s go deeper now. When our ancestors sang these spirituals, they weren’t just singing to survive another day. No, no. These songs, they carried an identity. They carried a prophecy. They carried Yashar’el.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

You see, in the midst of all that bondage, all that pain, our identity was being preserved. It wasn’t erased. It wasn’t stolen. It was carried forward in every melody, every word, every cry for deliverance. No matter how much they tried to strip it away, it was protected, hidden in plain sight.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

When they sang songs like “Oh, Freedom” or “Deep River,” they weren’t just, you know, dreaming of physical liberation. They were prophesying. They were declaring who they were, crying out to Yah, affirming the covenant we hold with the Most High. These were like, like markers, you know? Signposts for the generations to come, reminding us—reminding us that we’re Yashar’el.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

And think about this, family. Even in the darkest times, the power of Yahuah—it never abandoned us. Those songs were His way of keeping us connected. It’s like—how can I explain it—it’s like a vine that grows through the cracks of oppression. They couldn’t see it, couldn’t stop it, but it flourished, it thrived, all because Yah decreed it would.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

Family, these weren’t just slave songs. No, they were Psalms. Psalms sung in exile, cries that reached the heavens, words that rose up to Yah Himself. These melodies carried truth. They carried prophecy. They carried our identity as Yashar’el, even when the world tried to bury it.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

And now, we stand here today as living proof that those cries didn’t go unanswered. Yahuah heard them. He preserved us. We are not lost—we have never been lost. Every note, every lyric, every tear cried out in those songs—it’s a thread in the tapestry that binds us to who we truly are.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

Family, Yashar’el has been preserved. The spirit, the covenant, the identity—it’s all alive, alive in each and every one of us. And as we carry this forward, we walk in the prophecy, in the promise of Yahuah. We are the Remnant. We are what’s been kept for this time. So, let’s rise, knowing—knowing that He who preserved us then is still leading us now.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

I’m Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji. This has been The Remnant Awakens. Until next time, family, shalom.

Pierre Alexandre Nissi Lidji

See you on the next episode!.