Jesus Wasn't Religious and Neither Am I

(AI re-creation of a recent Facebook post.)

    If you know me, really know me, then you already understand this: I’m not here to win a popularity contest. I’ve long been unbothered by whether people like me or agree with what I have to say. I'm not driven by applause, and I won’t be deterred by outrage. That’s what freedom of spirit looks like—and it’s the only way I can be honest.

    So let me speak plainly.

    I think about our Heavenly Father a lot. I reflect often on Jesus' ministry—not the sanitized version preached from some pulpits, but the raw, radical truth of it. And I remember a moment from my own story: I was three and a half years old, shattered and lifeless in the middle of Clifton Avenue in Logansport, Indiana. And yet, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, life returned to me.

    That’s why I believe in the Holy Trinity. Unshakably. Experientially. Not because a book told me to, but because the Spirit moved in me.

    But here’s where I draw the line: I do not believe the Bible is the literal word of God. I won’t even call it divinely inspired in the way many do. I see it as inspired, yes—but by a shared ideology, a human striving for meaning and morality. The early Church, steeped in politics and power, selected which texts supported their narrative and locked away the rest. Former Vatican insiders have said for decades that deeply spiritual teachings—texts that might have deepened our relationship with God—are hidden away beneath Rome.

    Why weren’t they included in the Bible? Because they didn’t serve religion’s agenda. Simple as that.

    And so I ask: when you think of Jesus, are you following His path—or someone else's interpretation of Him?

    Too many people today call themselves “Christian” while ignoring what Christ actually did. Did you study the Gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—or skip ahead to Acts and Revelation, where the church machine really kicks into gear?

    Jesus didn’t come to start a religion. He came to ignite a spiritual movement. He walked with sex workers and thieves. He showed love to the broken and rebuked the self-righteous. And yet today, those who most loudly wear His name often embrace judgment and exclusion while ignoring the marginalized.

    I’ve felt that rejection firsthand. I’m a trans woman. And I’ve been condemned by people who claim to follow the Prince of Peace. Not embraced. Not uplifted. Not loved.

    To those who weaponize faith against people like me, I’ll say this: Christ isn't in your cruelty. He’s in your neighbor. He’s in compassion. He’s in me. So think carefully about the crown you think you're wearing, and whether it bears thorns.

    If being “Christ-like” is the goal, maybe it’s time we all step back from the altar of religiosity and start walking again with the Teacher who flipped tables and washed feet.

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