Revelation is the last book of the New Testament and is usually read as an apocalyptic vision of Christ’s victory, judgment, and the final renewal of all things. Different Christian traditions interpret its symbols and timing in very different ways.

Partial Preterism teaches that most of Revelation’s prophecies were fulfilled in the first century, especially in connection with the destruction of Jerusalem in AD 70, but it still expects Christ’s future return, resurrection, and final judgment.

Full Preterism goes further and says all of Revelation, including Christ’s return and the final judgment, was fulfilled in the past. That view is widely regarded as outside orthodox Christian belief because it denies a future bodily second coming.

Some Christians do not believe Revelation should be read as a literal prediction of future events at all. They may see it as highly symbolic, as a message to the first-century church, or as a book whose meaning is too uncertain to build an end-times system on.

The main theological reason orthodox Christians reject Full Preterism is that it denies a future bodily return of Christ, a future bodily resurrection, and a final judgment—all of which are central to historic Christian teaching and creedal Christianity. It also tends to reshape the Christian hope away from the renewal of the body and creation, which critics say conflicts with passages like 1 Corinthians 15 and the apostolic expectation of Christ’s coming.

Core doctrinal concerns

• Christ’s return: Full Preterism holds that the “coming” texts were fulfilled in the first century, whereas orthodox theology expects Christ to return visibly and publicly in the future.

• Resurrection: Critics argue that it turns the resurrection into a past or spiritual event, but the New Testament presents it as bodily and future.

• Final judgment: It removes the final, universal judgment from the end of history and relocates it to the past, which critics see as incompatible with the biblical storyline.

Why it is seen as serious

Many theologians treat Full Preterism as more than a minor eschatological difference because it affects Christology, anthropology, and the hope of salvation: what happens to Christ’s bodily reign, what it means for humans to be embodied creatures, and whether redemption includes the body. That is why some describe it as outside orthodox Christianity rather than just an alternate end-times view.

In simple terms

Partial preterists usually say, “some prophecy was fulfilled in AD 70, but the final return and resurrection are still future.” Full preterists say, “it is all past.” That final claim is what most Christians reject, because it appears to empty out the future hope the New Testament keeps pressing forward toward.

A note from my Facebook friend:

Joshua K Willett

For those who don’t know, I absolutely loathe the book of Revelation.

I’d just as soon set fire to every copy on earth, completely ridding the cosmos of the nonsense it contains. May the smoke of its destruction rise “forever & ever.”

Strong stance, I know... but most Christians assume that the Book of Revelation has always enjoyed universal acceptance within the Church. Historically, however, Revelation was one of the most disputed books in the New Testament.

Many respected church fathers questioned its authorship, omitted it from their lists of Scripture, or openly rejected it.

One of the earliest critics was Dionysius of Alexandria (3rd century). Although he respected the book and acknowledged that many believers valued it, he denied that it was written by the Apostle John:

“I could not venture to reject the book, as many brethren hold it in high esteem. But I do not regard it as the work of the apostle.”

Dionysius pointed to major differences in language and style between Revelation and the Gospel of John.

The church historian Eusebius of Caesarea preserved these criticisms and noted the ongoing controversy surrounding the book:

“Some reject the Apocalypse, while others rank it among the accepted books.”

Other influential fathers were also hesitant.

Cyril of Jerusalem omitted Revelation from his canonical list of New Testament books.

Gregory of Nazianzus, one of the greatest theologians of the fourth century, likewise excluded it from his catalog of Scripture.

Theodore of Mopsuestia appears to have rejected the book outright and denied its apostolic authority.

Even among those who accepted Revelation, many treated it with caution.

The churches of the Christian East often avoided using it in public worship, and figures such as John Chrysostom made little or no use of it in their preaching and theological writings.

The skepticism did not end with the early Church. During the Protestant Reformation, Martin Luther expressed profound doubts about Revelation.

In his 1522 Preface to the book, he famously wrote:

“My spirit cannot accommodate itself to this book.”

He then gave the reason for his hesitation:

“Christ is neither taught nor known in it.”

History demonstrates that doubts concerning the book are not a modern invention.

From Dionysius of Alexandria in the third century to Martin Luther in the sixteenth, respected Christian thinkers have questioned its authorship, challenged its authority, or regarded it with deep reservation.

Rejecting Revelation may be a minority position, but it has existed throughout much of Christian history.

If this position makes me appear even more heretical to some, then so be it.

But....

“Even if we or an angel from heaven should present to you a gospel contrary to what we have preached.....”.

Cheers.

From Howard Schreiber:

My take on Joshua’s Note:

The Bible (Galatians 1:8). It was written by the Apostle Paul to an early Christian church.

“The original message about Jesus is final. If anyone comes along and tries to change it—even if it’s me, or even if a literal angel flies down from heaven with a ‘new’ message—do not listen to them. They are wrong.”

• The main point: Stick to the original truth. Do not accept new versions or additions, no matter how important or supernatural the messenger seems. Joshua believes the Book of Revelation has a completely different, harsher message than the original, simple teachings of Jesus. By using this quote, he is basically saying: “The Book of Revelation goes against the original gospel, so I am ignoring it, exactly like Paul told us to do.”

Here are the most common biblical mix-ups:

1. “Money is the root of all evil”

• The actual verse: “For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.” (1 Timothy 6:10)

• The difference: The text doesn’t condemn wealth or currency itself; it warns against greed and the human obsession with accumulating it. Money is the tool; the love of it is the root.

2. “God helps those who help themselves”

• The actual verse: It doesn’t exist.

• The origin: This phrase was coined by English politician Algernon Sidney in 1698 and later popularized by Benjamin Franklin in his Poor Richard’s Almanac (1736). The overarching biblical narrative actually leans the opposite way, frequently emphasizing that God helps those who cannot help themselves.

3. “The lion shall lay down with the lamb”

• The actual verse: “The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat...” (Isaiah 11:6)

• The difference: This is a classic case of the Mandela Effect. While lions are mentioned later in the exact same passage (”the lion will eat straw like the ox”), it is the wolf that is paired with the lamb to symbolize a future era of perfect, unnatural peace.

4. “God will not give you more than you can handle”

• The actual verse: “And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.” (1 Corinthians 10:13)

• The difference: People often use this misquote to comfort someone going through grief, trauma, or tragedy. However, the actual verse is specifically about resisting the temptation to sin, not a promise about surviving life’s crushing hardships.

5. “This too shall pass” (Added)

• The actual verse: It doesn’t exist.

• The origin: Often mistakenly attributed to King Solomon, this is actually an ancient Persian adage. While it reflects a somewhat biblical worldview regarding the temporary nature of earthly struggles, you won’t find it anywhere in scripture.

6. “Pride goes before a fall”

• The actual verse: “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18)

• The difference: The popular misquote just mashes the beginning and end of the verse together. The original Hebrew poetry uses a parallel structure, matching “pride” with “destruction” and a “haughty spirit” with “a fall.”

7. “Cleanliness is next to godliness”

• The actual verse: It doesn’t exist.

• The origin: This phrase was popularized by the founder of Methodism, John Wesley, in a 1778 sermon. While the Old Testament contains extensive laws regarding physical purity, hygiene, and washing, this specific, catchy proverb is nowhere in the text.

8. “Hate the sin, love the sinner”

• The actual verse: It doesn’t exist.

• The origin: This is a paraphrase of a concept written by Saint Augustine in the 5th century. In his Letter 211, he instructed his followers to act “with love for mankind and hatred of sins.” Mahatma Gandhi later popularized the modern phrasing in 1929.

9. “Spare the rod, spoil the child” (Added)

• The actual verse: “Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them.” (Proverbs 13:24)

• The difference: While the concept of physical discipline is definitely in Proverbs, the exact rhyming phrase we use today comes from Samuel Butler’s 1662 satirical poem Hudibras.

10. “To thine own self be true” (Added)

• The actual verse: It doesn’t exist.

• The origin: Because it sounds vaguely like Old English wisdom literature, people frequently attribute this to Proverbs or Psalms. It is actually a line spoken by the character Polonius in William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

“My faith defines how I see the world; I see Christ in everything. I believe in God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—an all-powerful Creator who chose to meet us on our level. By sending His Son to be one of us, even for a short time. God spoke our language, replacing fear with understanding and showing us the way to salvation.

But believing doesn’t mean I have all the answers. I am a seeker on a spiritual journey, viewing my faith as an active pilgrimage rather than a static fortress. Living out this faith is a daily struggle, but my dedication is absolute. I hold tightly to the grace of a God who welcomes my questions, confident that He will never punish me for trying to understand Him better.”

The Human Fingerprints on a Divine Story

Part of being a seeker means looking at our sacred texts with fresh eyes, rather than letting familiar passages become stale or overlooked. It involves actively seeking new perspectives and challenging preconceived notions.

The Bible didn’t fall out of heaven all at once. Instead, it is the product of thousands of years of oral traditions, unknown numbers of writers, documents, editors, and biblical redactors. This meticulous curation, arranging, and editing is spread out over a span of multiple centuries—millennia, even. The authors came from vastly different cultural contexts and rarely shared the same theology.

Written between 2,000 and 3,000 years ago, the Bible is naturally filled with the localized knowledge and cultural norms of that period—some of which you and I rejected long ago. The text contains passages asserting that women are property, that homosexuals ought to be put to death, or that a child who talks back to his parents should be stoned at the gates of the city. To our modern moral compass, those ideas are absurd.

As the late Bishop John Shelby Spong famously noted:

“God is not a Christian, God is not a Jew, or a Muslim, or a Hindu, or a Buddhist. All of those are human systems that human beings have created to try to help us walk into the mystery of God. I honor my tradition; I walk through my tradition, but I don’t think my tradition defines God; I think it only points me to God.”

Theology is often a misnomer because it isn’t strictly the study of God; it’s the study of observations we have made about the world that have led us to ideas about God.

Expanding the Borders of the Kingdom

When we insist on rigid, exclusive doctrinal viewpoints, we end up distorting the very heart of the Gospel. Author Brian McLaren has lamented how conventional interpretations of verses like John 14:6 (”I am the way, the truth, and the life...”) force us to forget the actual way Jesus lived:

“Forget everything you’ve seen in me, the way I’ve lived and treated people, the way that I have accepted prostitutes and tax collectors, the way I have welcomed outsiders... Believe instead that God will reject everyone except people who share doctrinal viewpoints with me, because I won’t let anyone get to the Father unless they get by me first by joining my new religion.”

When the institutional church reduces a love story to an exclusive club manual, it makes you want to cry, groan, or scream. You know what’s wrong with conventional Christianity? Carl McColman captured it perfectly: It’s like learning that someone truly beautiful and wonderful has fallen in love with you—but all your mutual friends keep telling you how you must act or behave to be “worthy” of that love. All their advice, instructions, and demands create such a din that it’s easy to forget this was all about love to begin with.

I have reached a point where I stopped needing other religions to be wrong for mine to be right. If the gospel isn’t good news for everybody, then as Rob Bell famously argued in Love Wins, it isn’t good news for anybody. We need to be far more curious in our faith and less fearful.

Who said God is limited to Christians? That would be a puny God—a God I don’t believe in. Mine can create universes by simply declaring, “Let there be light.”

Radical Love and Radical Truth

Even from outside the faith, observers can see the staggering weight of what cosmic stakes actually mean. The illusion of safety shouldn’t make us casual. Consider what the illusionist and outspoken atheist Penn Jillette remarked about the urgency of true belief:

“I’ve always said that I don’t respect people who don’t proselytize. I don’t respect that at all. If you believe that there’s a heaven and a hell, and people could be going to hell or not getting eternal life, and you think that it’s not really worth telling them this because it would make it socially awkward... How much do you have to hate somebody to not proselytize? How much do you have to hate somebody to believe everlasting life is possible and not tell them?

I mean, if I believed, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that a truck was coming at you, and you didn’t believe that truck was coming... I would crawl over broken glass on my naked knees to tell you that.”

If we believe in a reality that urgently, it must manifest as radical love, not rigid judgment. Mother Teresa beautifully encouraged people to deepen their faith within their own traditions, famously telling people of different backgrounds to be the best versions of their own faiths—such as, “Be the best Protestant you can be,” etc. or “ She reminded us: “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”

The Core Frequency

I believe if the Apostle Paul had lived in the internet age—with immediate access to the teachings of Buddha, Lao Tzu, or the Dalai Lama—I believe he likely would have seen deep similarities in their messages. Instead of seeing them as rivals, he might have recognized in their common language of peace, compassion, non-striving, and stillness a faint reflection of the same divine Light already moving through all things.

As Aldous Huxley pointed out through his concept of the Perennial Philosophy, world religions are often different expressions of the same ultimate reality or divine source. All major traditions share a Golden Rule equivalent, making it arguably the most consistent moral thread in human history:

• The New Testament: “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

• Buddhism: “Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful.”

• Islam: “No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.”

The core frequency is identical. As Dr. Amy-Jill Levine suggests, it is like Jesus’s parables being played on different instruments in different keys. Even though they are presented differently, they ultimately harmonize to create a richer, fuller orchestra of divine truth. All the prophets were singing from the same songbook; they were just singing different parts.

Even our understanding of time shifts when we look closely. Fr. Richard Rohr notes that one mistake we often make is thinking of eternity as something that happens later, “out there” somewhere. But eternity, by definition, never starts or stops. We’re in eternity right now. The Kingdom of God is within our reach, in our midst, and within our hearts (Luke 17:21). Heaven and hell are here, every minute, depending on our choices. It has always been about heaven and earth becoming one.

Seeing Christ in the Suffering and the Small

This expansive view of Christ changes how we interact with the world—and how we endure its pain.

When Fr. Richard Rohr wrote his book The Universal Christ, he dedicated it to his fifteen-year-old Black Lab, Venus, whom he had to release to God. He wrote without apology or fear of heresy that Venus was also Christ for him, reminding us that the first incarnation of God is in Creation itself—that “God loves things by becoming them.”

Falling in love with a dog—or any part of this fragile creation—is a formula for heartbreak. But it is also a painful heart-opener.

It forces us to confront the heavy question: Why does God allow suffering? In his book Jesus Untangled, author Keith Giles tackles this “Big Enchilada” head-on. He notes that nothing forces a person to confront their true self like suffering; it turns our focus inward to face the parts of ourselves we would otherwise ignore.

While some theologians argue that perfect love is not coercive—meaning God doesn’t control or intervene directly but works behind the scenes to bring good out of tragedy—we have to be honest with ourselves. Keith Giles points out that most of the suffering in our world is entirely artificial. We have the resources right now to solve world hunger, war, famine, and systemic disease. We simply haven’t made them a priority.

Maybe instead of asking why God allows these things to happen, we should ask ourselves: Why do we allow this suffering to continue?

Jesus redefined righteousness not as external rule-following but as internal heart transformation, favoring the humble and merciful over the powerful. It is an upside-down Kingdom where the greatest among us are those who serve, and the first are last.

Humility Over Ego

Even with these convictions, the internal conflict remains real. I am often reminded of the Apostle Paul’s transparency in Romans 7:18: “For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out.” It validates the permanent struggle between our highest ideals and our flawed human nature.

To navigate this, we need immense humility. Author and pastor Francis Chan noted that we have largely lost a true sense of the holiness of God, which has allowed pride to grow and fester among us:

“Everyone seems to start out with the assumption that their opinion of a situation or of God is right, rather than recognizing that all of us have an incomplete, flawed knowledge of God. Without humility, we will never have unity.”

When we lose that humility, our ego takes over. As the teachers at Free to Be remind us, the ego is always at war with the Spirit of God. It focuses only on what is good for “me” and forgets what is good for us.

I may very well be too liberal for the Christians and too Christian for the liberals. But I am content to stay on the margins, walking this pilgrimage. As Zig Ziglar once said, “Don’t judge me by my past. I don’t live there anymore.” I’m moving forward, listening for the harmony, and trusting that the mystery is big enough to hold all of us who are simply trying to find our way home.

Most religious institutions present salvation as a complex transactional process—a checklist of specific dogmas to believe, rituals to perform, and external behaviors to maintain. Under this traditional lens, salvation is defined as an escape hatch: a way to be delivered from a literal, burning hell and to appease an angry, wrathful deity.

But when we strip away the fog of religious institutionalism, a profound distinction emerges between two entirely different concepts: experiencing universal salvation and identifying as an authentic Christian. One is an immediate, internal reality of being; the other is a historical, cognitive framework of believing.

1. The Reality of Salvation: Awakening from the Illusion of Separation

True spiritual reconstruction requires a radical redefinition of “salvation.” If God is fundamentally defined as pure, unconditional Love, then the traditional concept of divine wrath dissolves. We do not need to be saved from God; rather, we need to be awakened to our true nature in Him.

The entire message of Jesus centers on this shift from fear to union. Salvation is not a future destination reached after death; it is the immediate realization of absolute oneness here and now. As Jesus declared:

“The kingdom of God is within you.”

From this perspective, the ultimate human problem is not guilt, but delusion. We view reality through the distorted lens of the false self—the ego—which constructs a veil of separateness. In truth, there are no “others.” There is no separation between humanity, the Creator, or the cosmos. Love is simply the experiential reality of that unbroken cosmic union.

When asked how to inherit this kingdom, Jesus did not provide a complex theological treatise. His answer was dual yet singular: Love God and love your neighbor. In mystical terms, this is a mandate of being, not doing. It means living in conscious union with the Divine and union with humanity. That presence is the kingdom of heaven.

2. The Thief on the Cross: Salvation Without Theology

This raw, unitive definition of salvation is beautifully illustrated by the final moments of the thief crucified alongside Jesus in Luke’s Gospel. Facing execution, the man offers no complex confession of faith, undergoes no ritual, and possesses no systematic theology. He simply makes a heartfelt request:

“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” (Luke 23:42)

Jesus’s immediate response—“Today you will be with me in Paradise”—reveals that the entry point to salvation is devastatingly simple. It requires nothing more than instinctive, relational trust.

However, this encounter forces a critical question: Did this man die a Christian?

Logically, the answer must be no. The thief never joined a church, never received the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, never formulated a doctrine of the Trinity, and never even witnessed the resurrection. He was undeniably redeemed, but he lacked the historical and conceptual framework that defines a “Christian.”

This story isn’t in the other Gospels because they were emphasizing different aspects of the crucifixion. It is in Luke because it perfectly captures his central message: Jesus came to seek and to save the lost, up until his very last breath.

3. The Christian Identity: A Complex, Personal Ecosystem

This distinction reveals that it requires far less cognitive data to experience divine redemption than it does to align with historical Christianity. Because of this, answering what it means to be a Christian cannot be reduced to a simplistic, one-size-fits-all litmus test. It must be approached individually, on a case-by-case basis.

While salvation is an immediate awakening of the soul, maintaining an authentically Christian identity requires a conscious affirmation of specific historical facts and core theological tenets.

To map how these two realities interact, we can look at the progression from internal awareness to external identification:

Dimension

Universal Salvation (The Mystical)

The Christian Identity (The Covenantal)

Core Focus

Being: Awakening from the ego’s illusion of separation.

Believing: Affirming historical truths and Christ’s legacy.

Requirement

Heartfelt, relational trust and a surrender to Divine Love.

A cognitive framework, theological memory, and community tradition.

The Blueprint

The Thief on the Cross (Pure grace, zero doctrine).

The Post-Resurrection Church (Shared creed and structural faith).

The Timeline

Immediate: Accessible in the present moment (”Here and now”).

Historical: Rooted in the ongoing story of the New Covenant.

The Bottom Line

Ultimately, we must stop confusing theological literacy with spiritual rescue. Salvation is simple, relational, and universal—it is the shift from the false self to the true self, resting in the absolute reality that we have never been separated from the Love of God.

But walking out an authentically Christian life is a secondary, more complex calling. It is the art of taking that immediate, mystical union and anchoring it within a specific historical tradition, a shared language, and a deliberate theological framework. You do not need theology to be saved by the King, but you do need theology to consciously build His kingdom on earth.

Why Man Makes Faith So Hard: Rescuing the Great Commandment

The history of Christianity is often told through the lens of institutional schisms and doctrinal debates. But the most dangerous breakdown of faith doesn’t happen in cathedrals or synods (church business meetings); it happens in the quiet, psychological shift of the individual heart. We have moved from a faith that demands our everything to a faith that serves our “self,” diluted by a sea of options that have made the simple impossible to find.

The Foundation

Matthew 22:37–40 (NIV):

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

It seems simple and straightforward. Who could have a problem with this? And yet, we have spent centuries burying these words under layers of complexity.

The Paradox of Plenty: How Multiplicity Thins the Message

Today, there are tens of thousands of denominations, each claiming a unique corner of the truth. While this is often framed as “religious freedom,” it has contributed to a profound “thinning” of the Great Commandment. When a single message—Love God, Love People—is refracted through ten thousand different lenses, the light loses its heat.

We have forgotten the ancient resonance of the Shema: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” In the original context of the Great Commandment, there was an understanding that because there is only one God, there is only one ultimate direction for our affection. There are no “other” gods, no “other” versions of truth, and no “other” ways to be human than through love.

By creating endless “other” versions of Christianity, we have made faith a consumer product. We shop for the denomination that fits our politics, our music taste, or our social comfort. In doing so, we don’t find God; we find a mirror. The thinning occurs because we are no longer being formed by a singular, demanding truth; we are being catered to by a fragmented religious marketplace.

The Sovereign Self: God as an Accessory

This structural thinning mirrors a psychological one. We have placed the “Self” at the center and invited God to orbit our needs.

• The Vending Machine Theology: We treat faith as a transaction. We tithe and attend services as spiritual currency, expecting a return. When the “return”—an answered prayer or a comfortable life—doesn’t manifest, we “penalize” God by turning away.

• The Scriptural Mirror: We search the Bible not to be transformed, but to be validated. We search for a scriptural basis for our existing desires, using the Word of God as an accessory to justify our own anger or lifestyle choices.

Rescuing the Commandment: The Great Simplification

To rescue the Great Commandment, we must engage in a radical “Deconstruction” of the Ego. This is not just about peeling back church tradition; it is about peeling back the layers of our own selfishness. It is about returning to the reality that because there is only one God, there is only one priority.

The command to love your neighbor as yourself was never meant to be filtered through a denominational lens. It was meant to be an outward-facing explosion of compassion. When we ask, “Does my church allow me to love this person?” we have already lost the thread.

Conclusion: Faith Wasn’t Meant to Be This Hard

We have spent two thousand years building walls, writing manuals, and splintering into factions. We have created a “machinery” of religion so heavy and complex that it exhausts the very people it was meant to give rest. We carry the burden of “in-groups,” the weight of performance, and the anxiety of choosing the “right” brand of faith among thousands.

But the Great Commandment remains, standing outside of our denominations and our ego-driven demands. It is a recognition that we are fallen, self-centered creatures who desperately need divine grace to see past our own reflection.

The “rescue” begins when we stop using God to build our own kingdoms and start losing ourselves in His. When we strip away the thousands of “others” we have created and return to the One, we find a beautiful, radical simplicity. We find that we can stop striving, stop performing, and simply love.

The Bottom Line

If this life were only about knowing God, it would be a life well lived. We’ve spent 2,000 years making religion a heavy, exhausting burden of rules and divisions. The beauty of the Great Commandment is its accessibility; it strips away the need for advanced degrees or institutional hierarchy to understand the core of the faith.

It suggests that while the world is complex and religious history is fractured, the path forward is singular and clear. Faith wasn’t meant to be as hard as we have made it; it was meant to be as deep as we are willing to love.

Robert Coello

I’ve been watching something play out again and again, and if I’m honest, I’ve been part of it too at times. People arguing theology like it’s a competition, like getting it right earns them a higher seat at the table. And I just don’t see Jesus in it.

Somewhere along the way, we started believing the goal was to be correct instead of being present, loving, and awake. We build our frameworks, our doctrines, our interpretations, and then defend them like they are God Himself. But they’re not. They’re our understanding of God, and those are not the same thing.

When I read the life of Jesus, I don’t see Him trying to win theological debates. I see Him walking away from them. When the religious leaders tried to trap Him, He didn’t sit there proving He was right. He responded with a question, a story, or silence. When asked about taxes, He didn’t launch into doctrine. He said, give to Caesar what is Caesar’s. When the woman caught in adultery was brought to Him, He didn’t quote the law to win. He bent down, wrote in the dirt, and said, let the one without sin throw the first stone. When Pilate questioned Him, He barely spoke. Even on the cross, He wasn’t proving a point. He was forgiving people who didn’t understand what they were doing. That doesn’t look like someone trying to be right. That looks like someone who simply is.

Let’s be real. Most of us are not scholars in Hebrew, Greek, or Aramaic. We’re reading translations of translations filtered through culture, denomination, and personal bias, yet we argue as if we sat in the room when it was written. We cling to our version of truth as if it were the final word and look down on anyone who sees it differently. That’s not wisdom. That’s insecurity dressed up as certainty.

If I really sit with it, the need to be right usually comes from something deeper. Control. Fear. Identity. If I’m right, then I’m safe. If I’m right, then I belong. If I’m right, then I matter. So when someone challenges my theology, it doesn’t feel like a discussion; it feels like a threat. That’s when people dig in, argue, and if you don’t agree, they block you, dismiss you, or label you. Not because they’ve found the truth, but because they’re protecting something.

Show me where Jesus said make sure your theology is airtight before you love people. He didn’t. He said love God and love people. No ivory towers. No flexing your interpretation. Just love. What if the goal was never to be right? What if the goal was to be real, present, and transformed? Because the people who are most at peace and most connected to God are not the ones arguing the loudest. They’re the ones who don’t need to.

Re:set Reflection
What if letting go of the need to be right is the very thing that brings you closer to truth?

• Inclusivity vs. Exclusivity: Traditionally, the Church has taught Extra Ecclesiam nulla salus (”Outside the Church there is no salvation”). This statement by Francis leans much closer to Universalism or Pluralism, suggesting that the Divine is accessible regardless of the specific “language” or dogma one uses.

• The “Language” Metaphor: By comparing religions to languages, he’s suggesting that while the “grammar” (rituals/laws) might differ, the “meaning” (God/Love) is the same.

• Theological Pushback: Predictably, this has ruffled feathers among traditionalists who argue it contradicts the unique salvific role of Jesus. However, for those in the deconstruction space, it’s seen as a refreshing move toward a more global, humble theology.

After rewatching Norman Maclean’s A River Runs Through It, I was reminded of Ram Dass and his quote, “We’re all just walking each other home.” Maclean shows that time, loss, and nature are all part of a larger current that carries us forward. Ram Dass reminds us that we do not travel alone, but help one another along the way toward wholeness, love, and divine presence.

That made me think of the Road to Emmaus: “We come to see that the Blackfoot River and the Road to Emmaus are one and the same path.” In that sense, life is not just movement through ordinary time, but a spiritual journey in which God is already present, even when we do not recognize Him. What looks like a simple walk, a conversation, or a season of confusion may actually be the place where grace opens our eyes.

Maclean gives us the river as a symbol of time, memory, and reconciliation. Ram Dass gives us the companionship of the journey. Jesus gives us the revelation that the road itself is holy. Together, they suggest that our lives are not random episodes, but a guided pilgrimage back to the Universal Oneness.

If Jesus were to summarize this “spiritual map” of the river, the transformation, and the walk home, his comment might sound like a modern parable, stripping away the academic labels to get to the heart of the Father:

“The river you see is the life I give, flowing from the beginning to the end of all things. Do not fear the rocks or the rapids; they are not there to stop you, but to shape your soul for the Kingdom. And as you travel, do not try to outpace one another or walk in pride. Just stay close. For in the end, there is no ‘you’ and ‘me’—there is only the One who loves you. Gently now, just keep walking each other home.

At first glance, Robert Fulghum’s “Kindergarten Rules” and Richard Rohr’s “Universal Christ“ seem worlds apart—one belongs in a colorful classroom, the other in a deep theological library. But if we look closer, we find they are describing the exact same reality. To “be aware of wonder” in a Styrofoam cup is the beginning of recognizing that all of matter is “Christ-soaked.”

The Theology of the “Mess”

Fulghum’s fifth rule, “Clean up your own mess,”—is often the hardest for adults to follow. In a “Christ-soaked” world, we realize that our “messes” are never just ours; they affect the whole body of creation. Whether it is environmental destruction or a harsh word spoken in anger, the Universal Christ reminds us that we are all connected. To clean up our mess is an act of reconciliation, a way of restoring the divine pattern that was there from the beginning.

The Sacramental Cookie

When Fulghum notes that “warm cookies and cold milk are good for you,” he is touching on the heart of the Incarnation. We often try to find God in abstract ideas or distant heavens, but the Christ is found in the physical. A cookie is not just sugar and flour; it is a manifestation of the Earth’s goodness, a small “sacrament” of comfort. If we can see the holiness in a snack, we are well on our way to seeing the Christ in a sunset, a glass of wine, or a stranger’s smile.

The Paschal Mystery of the Goldfish

Rule fifteen is the most sobering: “Goldfish and hamsters... they all die. So do we.” This is the “Pattern of the Cross” written into the very fabric of nature. Everything that is born will eventually fall away. But in the lens of the Universal Christ, death is never the final word. Just as the “roots go down and the plant goes up,” the divine DNA ensures that life is constantly being transformed, not ended. We see this in the changing seasons and in the way the love we have for our pets, they continues to shape us long after they are gone.

The Final Commandment: LOOK

Fulghum ends with the word “LOOK.” This is the ultimate call to contemplation. Most of the world’s confusion regarding Jesus and the Christ comes from a failure to truly look. We look at the “finger” (the historical Jesus) instead of the “moon” (the Universal Christ) he is pointing toward.

To “Look” is to move past our labels of “secular” and “sacred.” It is to realize that the traffic we watch out for, the hands we hold, and the nap we take are all part of a single, holy, “Christ-soaked” journey.

A Checklist for the “Second Half of Life”

If you are trying to live out this Universal Christology in your daily life, you might use these Kindergarten rules as your guide:

• Practice Presence: “Wash your hands” and “Flush “let go of the past so you can be fully here.

• Practice Wonder: Look at the “seeds” in your life and admit you don’t know how or why they grow.

• Practice Connection: “Hold hands and stick together.” No one goes to God alone, and we need to walk each other home,

If you have forgotten

― Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten
1. Share everything.
2. Play fair.
3. Don’t hit people.
4. Put things back where you found them.
5. CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS.
6. Don’t take things that aren’t yours.
7. Say you’re SORRY when you HURT somebody.
8. Wash your hands before you eat.
9. Flush.
10. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.
11. Live a balanced life - learn some and drink some, draw some and paint some, and sing and dance and play and work every day some.
12. Take a nap every afternoon.
13. When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.
14. Be aware of wonder. Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup: The roots go down, and the plant goes up, and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.
15. Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup - they all die. So do we.
16. And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books and the first word you learned - the biggest word of all - LOOK.”

To Close, “Which of the ‘Kindergarten Rules’ do you find the hardest to follow as an adult? For me, it’s often ‘Cleaning up my own mess’s—especially the internal ones. I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.”

Let’s explore the tension between “Tribal Religion” and “Internal Truth.” As we navigate the ancient landscape of the Bible—from the official Canon to the secret Gnostic library—we eventually hit a modern wall: Who is “in” and who is “out”?

This post dives into the infamous “Gandhi in Hell” debate to help us decide if we are following a system of labels or a path of transformation.

The Gated Community. We often treat the “Kingdom of God” like a gated community. In my recent look at the Gospel of Thomas, we found a Jesus who says the Kingdom is “inside you and all around you.” Yet, traditional religion often insists on keeping the door locked.

This tension exploded when an art exhibit at Rob Bell’s church featured a quote by Gandhi, prompting a member to leave a note saying: “Reality check: Gandhi’s in hell.”

The Tribal vs. The Transformational Writer Rob Asghar notes that religious leaders often use “us versus them” tribalism to build power:

“Humans have a tribalistic nature... many people enjoy the notion that the ‘out group’ will burn in hell.”

But Rob Bell, in his book Love Wins, argues that this “flat-earth” view of salvation ignores the actual character of God. Bell suggests the biblical message is a “dizzying and confounding mix” that points toward a much more generous reality. Asghar summarizes the conflict perfectly:

“The critics of Bell are modern Pharisees, holding biblical authority up as an idol without caring much for the character of the biblical message.”

The “Inner Kingdom” Connection. If we view Jesus as an Esoteric teacher rather than a tribal recruiter, the question shifts. It’s no longer about whether Gandhi signed the right membership card, but whether he woke up to the divine light.

Asghar concludes that many modern leaders are “traitors to Jesus” because they prefer the safety of a belief system over the risk of actual transformation:

“Jesus didn’t want fans. He wanted participants. He didn’t say, ‘Admire me.’ He said, ‘Follow me.’”

Final Thought & Discussion: If the Kingdom is an internal “Aha!” moment (Gnosis) rather than a border crossing, can anyone truly be “out”? If we take the mystic view seriously, we realize the ultimate truth: There are no others.

What do you think? Is God the gatekeeper of a private club, or the source of a light that shines in everyone, regardless of their “religious” label?

The Gospel of Thomas is best described as a collection of esoteric wisdom that sits on the fence of Gnosticism. It is fundamentally esoteric because it presents itself as a "book of riddles," opening with the claim that only those who find the secret interpretation of its sayings will escape death. While it was discovered alongside famous Gnostic texts at Nag Hammadi, many scholars argue it lacks the complex "space-age" mythology—such as an evil creator god or cosmic battles—found in true Gnostic systems. Instead, it offers a "Gnostic-lite" or mystical approach, focusing on Gnosis (internal knowledge) as the realization that the Divine Light is not in a distant heaven, but is a present reality already hidden within the seeker.

The Greatest Commandment

In Matthew 22 (Verses 34–40), a lawyer asks Jesus which commandment is the most important. Jesus replies by boiling the entire religion down to two inseparable commands:

1. “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.”

2. “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

Jesus concludes by saying, “All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” This means that every other rule and religious obligation depends on these two things. If you aren’t doing the second part—loving your neighbor—you cannot truly claim to be doing the first part—loving God.

The Follow-Up: “Who is my neighbor?”

In the Gospel of Luke (Chapter 10), a similar exchange happens. When told to love his neighbor, a lawyer tries to find a loophole. He asks Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” essentially hoping for a list of people he is not required to love.

Instead of giving a definition, Jesus tells the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

The Parable (Luke 10:30–35)

Jesus describes a Jewish man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho who is attacked, beaten, and left half-dead on the road.

• The Religious Leaders: A Priest and a Levite both see the dying man. Despite being religious leaders, they cross to the other side of the street to avoid helping him.

• The Samaritan: Finally, a Samaritan comes by. In this culture, Jews and Samaritans were bitter enemies who despised each other. Yet, the Samaritan feels compassion. He bandages the man’s wounds, carries him to safety, and pays for his recovery.

The New Definition

After the story, Jesus asks the lawyer: “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The lawyer replies, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus simply says, “Go and do likewise.”

The Meaning: The lawyer was looking for a limit—a boundary line to define who he could ignore. Jesus flipped the script. He changed the question from “Who qualifies as my neighbor?” to “To whom can I become a neighbor?”

The story proves that a “neighbor” is not defined by geography, race, or religion. A neighbor is anyone who shows mercy to someone in need.

I will be the first to say, “ I don’t get it,” but I don’t get a lot of things! And just as important, who am I to judge?

Let’s preface this highly debated topic with the famous scene from the “Bible Lesson” from The West Wing.

Key Context

The Argument: The President’s point was not to mock the Bible, but to dismantle the “cafeteria-style” religion where one picks and chooses which ancient laws to enforce (like those against homosexuality) while ignoring others that are inconvenient or absurd in a modern context (like not wearing mixed fabrics or eating shellfish).

In this scene, President Josiah Bartlet (played by Martin Sheen) confronts a conservative talk radio host named Dr. Jenna Jacobs (a character modeled after Dr. Laura Schlessinger) at a White House reception.

After Dr. Jacobs asserts that homosexuality is an “abomination” because the Bible says so (citing Leviticus 18:22), Bartlet uses a series of other Old Testament laws to point out the inconsistency of selective literalism.

While same-sex behavior was certainly visible in the ancient world, the modern understanding of sexual orientation was not. Regarding the Gospels, you are correct: Jesus is never recorded speaking about the topic. Most New Testament references to the subject come from Paul's letters, not from Jesus's words.

The Big Picture

Jesus never spoke about same-sex behavior. The New Testament mentions it only in Paul's letters. To understand what Paul meant, we have to look at the original Greek words and the culture of the first century, rather than modern English translations.

General Historical & Biblical Facts

• Silence of Jesus: There is no recorded instance of Jesus speaking about same-sex behavior in the Gospels.

• Pauline Focus: All New Testament references to this topic are found in the letters of Paul, not the teachings of Christ.

• No Modern Concept of Orientation: The 1st-century world understood sexual acts, but had no concept of “sexual orientation” (a modern psychological understanding of innate attraction).

• The “Vice List” Format: Paul utilized a common ancient literary device called a “vice list” to contrast a “lawless” life with a life in Christ.

Linguistic Facts (The Greek Terms)

• Arsenokoitai (1 Cor 6:9; 1 Tim 1:10):

• A compound word literally meaning “male-bedders.”

• Extremely rare in ancient literature; likely coined by Paul or borrowed from Jewish slang.

• Linked linguistically to the Greek translation of Leviticus (the Septuagint).

• Malakoi (1 Cor 6:9):

• Literally means “soft.”

• Used broadly in antiquity for men who were lazy, cowardly, or lacked self-discipline.

• Only modern translations equate this exclusively with sexual orientation.

• “Against Nature” (Physis):

In Romans 1, Paul uses the Stoic term physis, which often referred to established social order and hierarchy rather than biological mechanics.

Cultural & Contextual Facts

• Predominant Models: Same-sex activity in Paul’s Roman context almost exclusively involved power imbalances: master/slave, pederasty (man/boy), or prostitution.

• Absence of Marriage Model: There was no cultural model for committed, equal-status, same-sex covenantal marriage in the 1st-century Mediterranean world.

• [Moral Associations: Paul grouped these terms with “economic vices” like greed, swindling, and theft, leading some scholars to believe he was targeting exploitative behavior.

Interpretive Facts

• The Universal View: Holds that Paul intended a blanket prohibition of same-sex acts for all people and all times, rooted in Old Testament law.

• The Contextual View: Holds that Paul was condemning specific, abusive Roman practices (excessive lust and exploitation) rather than loving, mutual relationships.

• Spirit vs. Letter: A “Relationship over Dogma” approach prioritizes the “Spirit of the Law” (loving God and neighbor) as the primary lens for interpreting difficult ancient texts.

The Bible can be seen as a guide rather than a rigid academic exercise. In this view, the “Spirit” of the law—loving God and neighbor—takes precedence over specific ancient Greek words that have been interpreted in many different ways over 2,000 years.

Most of us walk around assuming we’re “good people.” We don’t rob banks, we don’t kill anyone, and we try to be decent to everyone we meet or when we put a dollar in a donation jar, walking away patting ourselves on the back, because I‘m a good person. We assume that’s enough for God.

But “good” is a subjective human standard—and it’s a moving target.

God’s standard isn’t about being “good enough” on a grading curve; it’s about perfection and wholeness. The gap between my best behavior and the Divine is too wide to bridge with just good deeds. As the scriptures say, even our best attempts can look like “filthy rags” (Isaiah 64:6). when compared to the magnitude of God’s glory.

That sounds harsh, but it’s actually the setup for the best news in history: We don’t have to bridge that gap ourselves.

Salvation isn’t a reward for the righteous; it’s a gift for the guilty. You can’t earn it, which means you can finally put down the exhausting burden of trying to be “good enough.” Heaven isn’t full of people who earned their spot. It’s full of people who trusted the One who paid their way.

Are We Good, or Just Lucky? We often assume a “good Christian” is just someone who is polite, votes a certain way, and follows the rules. But C.S. Lewis challenged this, reminding us that “niceness” is often just biology or good upbringing, not spiritual fruit.

Here is the uncomfortable truth I’ve wrestled with: I know plenty of atheists, Buddhists, and agnostics who are kinder, more patient, and more generous than many Christians I know. Some people are just naturally wonderful. That is a gift of genetics or parenting, not necessarily the Holy Spirit. (C.S. Lewis)

The “Christian Nation” Paradox If we look at our culture, the evidence is pretty damning. In a country that loudly claims to be a “Christian Nation,” the behavior we see is often arrogant, unloving, and deeply hypocritical. We are failing the simplest test of our faith: to “do everything in love” (1 Corinthians 16:14).

So, if being a Christian doesn’t automatically make you “nicer” than your neighbor, what is the point?

The Difference is the Source. The answer is humility/Ego. When we ask, “How can bad people get into heaven?” we conveniently leave ourselves out of the “bad people” group. We assume we have the ID card to get in, while everyone else is trespassing. (C.S. Lewis)

But the Gospel flips this. It admits that I have no goodness of my own to trade for God’s love. I don’t do good works to get God’s attention; I do them because God has already turned His attention toward me.

I love the analogy of the greenhouse: The roof of a greenhouse doesn’t attract the sun because it is bright. It becomes bright because the sun is shining on it.

I am not the source of the light. I am just the glass. And I become “good“ only when I let Him shine through.

If you’ve been living under the crushing weight of trying to perform your way into heaven, let me invite you to put that burden down today. It isn’t yours to carry. Trust in what Jesus has already done, rather than what you are trying to do.

So, to close, stop trying to be the source of the light. It’s exhausting, and it doesn’t work.

In spiritual discourse, the terms “religion” and “faith” are often used interchangeably, yet they represent two fundamentally distinct aspects of the human experience. One is a structure; the other is a force. One is a map; the other is the journey.

To understand the modern spiritual landscape, we must distinguish between the two and examine why critics such as the late Bishop John Shelby Spong have argued that one often chokes the life out of the other.

The Distinction: Structure vs. Spirit

At its core, Religion can be defined as the hardware. It is the organized system of beliefs, rituals, and institutions designed to preserve and propagate a tradition. It is generally characterized by:

• External Structure: Fixed doctrines, liturgies, and hierarchies.

• Group Identity: Membership in a community (the church, the synagogue, the temple).

• preservation: The goal is often to maintain the “truth” of the past and hand it down to the future.

Faith, on the other hand, is the software. It is the dynamic, internal state of trust and connection with the Divine. It is generally characterized by:

• Internal Conviction: A personal relationship with God or a higher power that exists within the heart, often independent of external validation.

• Fluidity: It evolves based on personal experience, suffering, and epiphany.

• Transformation: The goal is personal growth, resilience, and a deeper understanding of love.

A helpful analogy is that Religion is the Cup, and Faith is the Water. The cup (religion) provides a necessary structure for holding and sharing water. Without it, the water (faith) is difficult to grasp or pass on to others. However, a cup without water is just a dry vessel—an empty ritual. And, as critics point out, sometimes the cup becomes so thick and ornate that you can no longer get to the water at all.

The Critique: When Religion Becomes Control

It is at this intersection—where the institution overtakes the individual experience—that Spong leveled his most famous critiques. Spong, a progressive theologian, argued that while faith is liberating, organized religion often devolves into a “guilt-producing control business.”

He stated that institutional religion, particularly in its more rigid forms, relies on a cycle of “Sin and Rescue” to maintain power over its adherents. He identified three primary mechanisms of this control:

1. The Weaponization of the Afterlife Spong argued that the church amplified the concepts of Heaven and Hell primarily as behavioral management tools. Hell acts as the “stick” to scare people into subservience, while Heaven is the “carrot” to reward compliance. If you remove the fear of eternal punishment, the institution loses its primary leverage over human behavior.

2. The Manufacturing of Sickness. To sell a cure, you must first convince the patient they are sick. Spong criticized the doctrine of “Original Sin” (the idea that humans are born broken) as a psychological trap. By convincing people that they are inherently unworthy, the church positions itself as the sole dispenser of the medicine (salvation). This creates a dependency that keeps believers in a state of spiritual immaturity.

3. Spiritual Childhood vs. Adulthood “The church doesn’t like people to grow up,” Spong famously said, “because you can’t control grownups.” He argued that true faith is not about being “born again” (reverting to a child) but about growing up—taking responsibility for oneself, one’s neighbors, and the world.

The Synthesis: Moving from Compliance to Compassion

If religion is the rigid container and faith is the living water, the challenge of the modern believer is to ensure the container does not become a cage.

Spong did not advocate for the destruction of faith, but for its rescue from systems of control. He proposed a “religionless Christianity”—a faith that moves away from the tribalism of dogma and toward the universality of love.

The transition from religion to faith is a move from external compliance to internal transformation. It is the shift from asking “Am I following the rules correctly?” to asking “Am I loving well?”

As Spong summarized in his mantra for a mature faith:

“God is not a Christian, God is not a Jew, or a Muslim, or a Hindu, or a Buddhist. All of those are human systems that human beings have created to help us walk into the mystery of God. I honor my tradition, I walk through my tradition, but I don’t believe my tradition defines God; I think it only points me to God.”

The goal, then, is not to escape religion entirely, but to ensure that our structures serve our spirit, empowering us to—in Spong’s words.”

Live fully, love wastefully, and be all that we can be.”

To understand the depth of Christian spirituality, we must first correct a common misunderstanding: “Christ” is not Jesus’s last name.

Author Richard Rohr points out that we have confused a title with a surname. I agree, and I see Christ in everything!

1. The Title, Not the Name The word “Christ” functions like the word “King” or “President.” It is a designation of role, not identity.

2. The Translation Chain

• Greek: It comes from the word Christos, which means “The Anointed One.”

• Hebrew: This is the direct translation of the Hebrew word Mashiach (Messiah).

3. The Meaning When we say “Jesus Christ,” we are not just identifying a person; we are making a claim. We are saying that Jesus is the long-awaited King and Deliverer promised in the ancient prophecies to restore humanity.

But it goes deeper than just a title. In the lens of the Universal Christ, “The Anointed One” refers to the presence of God infusing all of creation. It is the ‘Divine DNA’ that connects every living thing and the force of love that pulls the universe toward unity.

The Distinction: The Person vs. The Mystery

To grasp this, we must distinguish between the container and the content:

• Jesus is the Person. He was the historical man who lived in Palestine 2,000 years ago, limited by time and space.

• Christ is the Mystery. This is the universal “blueprint” or “template” for reality that has existed since the very beginning of time.

Jesus is the specific example; Christ is the eternal process of God manifesting in matter.

How This Changes Everything

When we view the world through this lens, our understanding of faith expands in four profound ways:

1. Christ as Cosmic Reality (The “Logos”) Progressives view Christ as the Logos (the Word/Pattern) mentioned in John 1. Christ is the “glue” that holds the universe together (Colossians 1:17).

• The Implication: The physical world isn’t “fallen” or “evil”; it is the first body of God. Nature, science, and the cosmos are all filled with the Christ presence.

2. Jesus as the “Face” of the Christ If the Universal Christ is the invisible electricity, Jesus is the lamp that showed us exactly what that electricity looks like when it lights up a human life.

• The Goal: We don’t worship Jesus because he is a “magical exception” to humanity. We follow him because he is the perfect example of what humanity looks like when it is fully aligned with God’s love. The goal is not just to worship him, but to imitate him—to let the Christ come alive in us.

3. Christ as Solidarity (The Justice Angle) This theology moves faith from the sanctuary to the streets. Christ is defined as the divine presence found specifically in the marginalized and the suffering.

• The Action: In Matthew 25, Jesus says, “Whatever you did for the least of these, you did for me.” This means the Christ is the hungry person, the imprisoned person, and the outsider. You don’t find Christ just in a church service; you find Christ by standing with those who are excluded.

4. Christ as Your “True Self” Finally, drawing on mystics like Thomas Merton, we realize that “Christ” is the name for the deepest part of your own soul.

• The Transformation: Salvation isn’t about getting “saved” from hell; it is about waking up to your True Self—the part of you that is already one with God, loved, and whole—and letting go of the False Self (the ego, status, and division).

In Short

To “believe in Christ” doesn’t mean agreeing to a list of dogmas about a virgin birth or blood atonement. It means trusting that the universe is benevolent and participating in the flow of love and justice that Jesus modeled.

The Bible: A Library, Not a Fax from Heaven

To understand the Bible, we must first understand the vehicle. A common misconception is that the Bible is a single book dropped from the sky—a “fax from Heaven,” perfect and untouched. But the reality is far more complex and far more human.

The Bible is not a single book written by a single author at a single time. It is a library of 66 books written by over 40 authors—shepherds, kings, fishermen, doctors, and prophets—spanning roughly 1,500 years. It was written on three continents (Asia, Africa, and Europe) and in three languages (Hebrew, Aramaic, and Greek).

Most importantly, for the first several centuries, there was no printing press, no cloud storage, and often no written text at all. These stories were passed down orally—around campfires in the desert, in royal courts in Jerusalem, and in house churches in Rome. When they were finally written, they were laboriously copied by hand on rotting papyrus or animal skins by scribes working by candlelight.

God did not write a single page of the Bible. The words came through men—deeply flawed men—and were written, rewritten, translated, and argued over for centuries. When you understand this process, the “contradictions” stop looking like mistakes and start looking like human thumbprints on a divine artifact.

The “Thumbprints” of Humanity

We often judge the Bible by the standards of modern history, expecting journalistic accuracy and scientific precision. But the authors lived in the Late Bronze and Iron Ages. They wrote epic mythology to build national identity, not to preserve statistical data.

Here is how the human transmission process explains the “facts” often cited against the Bible:

1. Internal Contradictions (The Result of Oral Tradition) Because accounts were preserved orally for generations, details often shifted depending on who was telling the story.

• The Death of Judas: Matthew (writing for Jews) says Judas hanged himself. Luke (writing for Gentiles) says he fell and burst open. Without a central news agency to “fact check,” the early church preserved both oral traditions side-by-side.

• The Census Incitement: In 2 Samuel, God incites David to count the people. In 1 Chronicles, written centuries later after the exile, Satan incites David. This isn’t a typo; it’s a theological update. After exposure to Persian ideas during the exile, the Israelites could no longer attribute “evil” actions directly to Yahweh, so they updated the story to reflect a developed understanding of God.

2. Historical Discrepancies (Ancient Genre)

• The Exodus Numbers: The text claims 2 million people left Egypt. Logistically, this column would stretch for hundreds of miles. In ancient Semitic literature, numbers were often hyperbolic, used to show greatness rather than a literal headcount. The story was amplified over centuries to demonstrate God’s power.

• The Census of Quirinius: Luke claims a global census forced Jesus’s parents to travel. Writing 80 years later, Luke likely conflated different historical events to make a theological point: Jesus, not Caesar, is the true King of the world.

3. Scientific Divergence (A Pre-Scientific Worldview)

• Cosmology: Genesis describes a “firmament”—a solid dome holding back water. This was the standard “science” of the Babylonians and Egyptians. God communicated to the ancients within their understanding of the universe. The point was to say who created the world, not how.

• Creation Orders: The Bible contains two creation stories (Genesis 1 and 2) with different timelines. The editors of the Torah didn’t try to smooth these out; they respected both the high poetic hymn and the earthy folktale, placing them side-by-side.

4. Textual Instability We do not have the “original” writings. We have copies of copies.

• Scribal Errors: A scribe in the 3rd century might accidentally skip a line or “correct” grammar.

• Later Additions: Famous passages like the ending of Mark (16:9–20) and the Woman Caught in Adultery do not appear in our oldest manuscripts. These were likely popular oral stories that scribes felt were “too good to lose,” so they eventually pasted them into the text centuries later.

The Evolving Revelation

Perhaps the most difficult “contradiction” is the moral tension between the Old and New Testaments. The Bible records a trajectory of humanity's gradual learning of who God is. It moves from a tribal war deity in the Iron Age—smashing enemies and commanding genocide—to the universal Father revealed in the Roman Era.

If you view the Bible as a “flat” book where every page is equal, this is a disaster. But if you view it as a progressive revelation, it makes perfect sense. The Old Testament shows humanity’s search for God, projecting their own violence onto Him. Jesus arrives to correct the picture. “You have heard it said... but I tell you...” (Matthew 5). Jesus shows God as He actually is.

Jesus Over the Book

This brings us to the most critical point: The Bible is not God.

Jesus was born, lived, and died as a Jew in Judea. The Bible as we know it did not exist when Jesus lived. It wasn’t compiled until hundreds of years later, literally voted on by bishops and politicians in a room who decided what made the cut.

Jesus never said, “Read my book.” He said, “Follow me.”

His gospel was not about denominations, brick-and-mortar churches, or arguing over dogmas. He was talking about the church in the heart of men. Jesus taught us to “be like little children.” Kids don’t need theological degrees; they need simple truth. The gospel was meant to be clear, freeing, and alive—not weaponized by the “woke left” or the “stone-casting right.”

Christians often avoid this history because it destroys the idea that the Bible is flawless. But we have turned the book into an idol. We must stop worshipping the paper and ink and start listening to the Truth behind it.

Summary: From Inerrancy to Incarnation

These facts do not disprove the Bible; they humanize it. They shift our view from Inerrancy (a perfect encyclopedia) to Incarnation (God speaking through the messy, limited, evolving cultures of real people).

The miracle isn’t that the Bible has no errors; the miracle is that God used such a human process to communicate divine truth. If the Bible is valuable, it is because it is human. And if it is human, then the point was never the pages; it was the Person.

A history book gives you information. The Bible gives you wisdom, and wisdom is found by wrestling. You haven’t lost the Bible; you’ve just stopped worshipping it and started worshipping the God it points to. That is a much safer place to be.

Follow Him, and be free.

He was such a good dog, loved so much by our family. I am choosing Richard Rohr forTiro’s eulogy.

Richard Rohr, a Franciscan friar, seeing “Christ” in his dog (famously his black lab, Venus) wasn’t about the dog being a deity. It was about his belief in Universal Christology—the idea that the physical world is the first “Bible” and that everything in it is a thumbprint of the Creator.

It teaches us that we can learn about God’s character by observing the unconditional love of a pet just as easily as reading a sermon.

Rohr teaches that “Christ” is much more than the historical person of Jesus. He argues that the first time God “became flesh” was at the moment of the Big Bang. Therefore, all matter is “Christ-soaked.” * The Application: If everything that exists is a physical manifestation of God’s thoughts, then a dog, a tree, or a person all carry that same divine energy.

The Connection: If a dog can “be” its most authentic self without religious rules, it proves that the Divine Spirit is already there. It’s “baked in,” not “added on” later.

Rohr says we often miss God because we are looking for a “spirit” in the clouds. He argues that if you can’t see the divine in the particular (the wag of a tail, the wet nose, the breathing of a living creature), you will never see it in the universal.

In the simplest terms, “Jesus” is the person, but “The Christ” is the light that fills everything.

Inheriting Your Faith

The concept of “inheriting your faith” is a powerful way to describe what sociologists call religious socialization. It is the process by which a family’s spiritual DNA is mapped onto the next generation, often before a child has the cognitive tools to evaluate it. This inheritance happens through several deeply embedded layers of human development and social structure.

1. The Power of Early “Imprinting.”

During early childhood, the brain is essentially a sponge for cultural norms. Because children rely entirely on their parents for survival, they are biologically wired to mirror their parents’ worldviews.

• Normalizing the Sacred: When a child grows up seeing prayer, ritual, or church attendance as a standard part of the weekly routine, like brushing their teeth, it becomes part of their base reality.

• Pre-Critical Thinking: These beliefs are often installed before a child develops formal operational thought (the ability to think abstractly and question logic), making the “inheritance” feel like a foundational truth rather than a choice.

2. Faith as “Cultural Glue.”

Religion is rarely just a set of abstract ideas; it is a communal identity. For many families, “inheriting” a faith is actually about inheriting a tribe.

• Social Costs: Questioning the family faith can feel like questioning the family itself. The inheritance is maintained because walking away might mean losing a sense of belonging or causing a rift with loved ones.

• Rituals and Milestones: Faith provides the script for life’s biggest moments—births, weddings, and deaths. By participating in these, the next generation stays tethered to the tradition.

3. The “Zip Code” Factor

Sociologists call this propinquity. We tend to inherit the faith of our parents because we are raised in an environment of schools, neighborhoods, and social circles that reinforce those specific beliefs.

• Echo Chambers: If the majority of people in your immediate world believe the same thing, there is no cognitive dissonance. The inheritance is never challenged because there are no competing claims for “the truth” in your daily life.

4. Emotional Safety and Fear

Faith often carries an emotional inheritance of security.

• Avoiding Existential Anxiety: Parents often pass down faith as a protective tool to help their children navigate the fear of death or the “unknown.”

• The Weight of Tradition: There is a sense of honor in carrying the torch of one’s ancestors. To many, “deconstructing” feels like an act of betrayal toward the parents or grandparents who found deep meaning in those same pews.

The “Lightbulb” of Deconstruction

The “lightbulb moment” is the transition from an inherited faith to an examined faith. It starts with a simple, jarring realization: If I had been born in India or China, what are the chances I would believe exactly what I do now? If your parents had worshipped a different God, you likely would have too.

When that hit me, I had to ask: Why is one religion “right” and all others “wrong”? I realized people believed it simply because it was the water they swam in. Immediately, the light bulb went off..

As I constructed and deconstructed my faith, the fear vanished. When people are traditional Christians, they don’t fear the “Hells” of other religions, and they don’t fear mine. Once I saw that, I realized there was no reason to fear any Hell at all. I don’t think I “thought my way out” through my own brilliance; rather, I recognized that my roots weren’t as deep as others. I went to public school and wasn’t at church five days a week. For those whose entire social safety net is the church, questioning is terrifying. I am thankful it was easier for me to walk away and allow myself to ask these questions.

The Second Half of Life

Richard Rohr speaks about this as moving from the “First Half of Life,” which is about the containers, the rules, and building an identity, to the “Second Half of Life,” which is about the contents of the container and finding the Universal Christ in all things.

Today, I believe the Christ story, but I see Him in everything. To me, the true miracle is an all-powerful God sending His Son to be with us, speak our language for even a little while, just so we wouldn’t have to be afraid of Him anymore.

To Close, in the same way, the Bible’s view of salvation and punishment should be understood in terms of what was known and unknown at the time. If Paul had been able to access the wisdom of the Buddha and Lao Tzu online, and if he had been able to see the Dalai Lama on a speaking tour, I suspect he would have found common ground with those figures and framed his message of redemption accordingly.

Not having been exposed to God or any form of faith until later in my life led to years of searching for how to get a “chip” in the faith game. Which led to studying all types of scripture, attending different houses of worship, listening to podcasts, participating in multiple Bible study groups, and spending hundreds of hours in online theological studies over the years, which have helped shape my faith. I believe the story of Christ; I am a follower of Jesus Christ. Jesus never asked us to worship Him, but to imitate Him / be like Him. I see Christ in everything, i.e., The Universal Christ (Richard Rohr).

I have become hesitant about telling people that I am a Christian. Not because I’m ashamed of Jesus, but because of those who have claimed to believe in Jesus and yet seem uninterested in acting like him and using his name for their own personal gain. Christians have been the source of immense suffering in our society. I know prefer the term “Follower of Christ”.

I believe in the Holy Trinity (God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit). The concept of an all-mighty, all-powerful God sending His only begotten Son to earth (even for just a little while) to be with us, to be one of us, to teach us through His actions, and specifically miracles. Jesus taught important lessons about faith, kindness, and God’s ability to make great things from our most humble offerings. While teaching us, there are “No Others “and to “love one another”.

My faith includes respecting others' beliefs and following the “Golden Rule”. Love God with all your heart and treat others with the same way you want to be treated. When any religious discussion becomes closed-minded or “tribal” and insists on having all the correct answers or defining the rules regarding getting into Heaven or going to Hell. I find myself unable to participate in any type of mean-spirited religious fundamentalist-type discussions, or when the discussion becomes the need to prove their religion is the only truth. I define Fundamentalism as the inability to admit that one might be wrong. Fundamentalism or any closed system that cannot admit questioning, discussion, or critique. I find God’s grace in my search for understanding and believe there is more value in questioning than in the absolutes. People need to be more curious in their faith, and I am not all that concerned about what you believe, but why you believe it.

Finally, understanding that the Kingdom of God is within you changed everything for me. Once, on being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God would come, Jesus replied, “The coming of the kingdom of God is not something that can be observed, nor will people say, ‘Here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ because the kingdom of God is in your midst.” (Luke 17:21). There is plenty of Heaven and Hell out there on earth right now on. Stop worrying about where it is up there or down there! Unwrap the gift that is already inside you, engage now!

People have been blessed with free will, which includes the ability to choose whatever faith they wish to follow. The Bible is not a personal message to the reader; it’s a collection of specific messages preserved for Christians by Christians through the ages. A mix of history, myth, metaphor, and poetry. While understanding that any good theologian can make the Bible sound, anyway they choose, and that lots of people have read the Bible in ways that justify oppression rather than promote love and justice.

We’ve spent our lives anchored to the idea that being a Christian means possessing a clear set of beliefs regarding Jesus Christ. Plagued with assumptions that we can’t still be called Christian, and if we don’t offer quick (and correct) answers. The only problem is that true spirituality and faith in God are relational. Not Intellectual.

I don’t think faith is something you can lose. I find great comfort in letting go of the need to be right. Imagine what it might feel like to be unburdened from the idea that you must know the truth about God.

Christianity has been its unrelenting insistence on a bad-cop God. There is no angry, wrathful, bloodthirsty god, God so holy and pure that very idea of your presence screams abomination. God’s essence consists entirely and purely of love.

The Bible is the inspired Word of God, or “God-breathed”. It unfolds as a divine love story between the Creator, God, and the object of his love, humankind. In the pages of the Bible, we learn of God’s interactions with humans.

The revelation for me was that once I got outside of organized religion, I was able to see with new eyes and a new heart. I think Christianity, especially in its “over-organized” form, has some real problems.

All my spiritual heroes have pushed the theological boundaries of their day ( Stan Mitchell, Rob Bell, Richard Rohr, John Shelby Sponge, C.S. Lewis, Bart Ehrman, Colby Martin, Viktor E. Frankl, Keith Giles, Brian McLaren– to name a few and you will hear them throughout my writings.

They all seem to be at their best when they were making very comfortable Christians very uncomfortable.

To close, it is an exciting and refreshing experience, not to reconstruct my faith, but to construct my faith from scratch. I have documented what I have learned and experienced over the years during this awesome spiritual journey. I am gratified to find that there are many others who are on the same faith journey with me, which is never-ending.

This faith journey that drives me is also my labor of love, and what I am meant to pursue with the rest of my time on this earth.