God & Religion

Two Thousand Years Ago

Christianity formed itself around the very teaching that warned religion it would not know God. The Apostles lived in direct intimacy with God and spoke from encounter, not institution. What followed was not continuity, but substitution.

We rarely consider what the crucifixion truly meant for the human story with God. It was not merely the death of light, but the moment religion chose structure over depth, authority over presence. God was rejected not by outsiders or unbelievers, but by those most certain they already knew Him.

The Pharisees and high priests could not recognize the Messiah standing before them because their knowing had hardened into form. Their faith had become identity, their obedience had become image. The teaching was never about conformity to society or preservation of order; it was about depth, about loosening the grip of the world to find God within it.

Religion, over time, rooted itself in matter: in hierarchy, control, and representation. It organized belief where relationship had once lived. And it was this elevation of form, this highest rank of religious certainty, that crucified God’s Son. Not the lost, not the searching, not the broken, but those who believed they possessed God already.

The tragedy was not ignorance. It was certainty without depth.

Through the unraveling of the veil we’ve built, and the quiet rising of the Soul, we find substance for leaving this world to God. It’s a walk that leads us from the many to the one, opening doors no one else sees or knows. It’s the way of life and the only way towards Christ. 

Abraham

Abraham shows us that the individual stands alone with God, and that the Soul knows more than the mind can ever reason. When God asked Abraham to offer his son Isaac, the command defied logic, practice, and moral certainty. By every measure of the mind, it could have appeared false, even demonic. Nothing about it fit the frameworks of reason or safety.

Yet Abraham did not seek consensus. He did not run to Sarah or to Lot for interpretation or reassurance. He did not place the question in the hands of the world. He knew God, not because the command made sense, but because the knowing did not come from thought. The mind can generate countless stories, but the Soul knows God.

Abraham’s descendants are said to be as numerous as the stars not because of lineage, but because God saw something deeper: that beyond every belief system, narrative, or fear the mind can produce, the human being will still know Him. The mind may wander through many explanations and ideologies, but the Soul does not forget its source.

No belief, disbelief, or structure of thought can ultimately deflect God. Even when the mind is divided, living within polytheism, atheism, or contradiction, a deeper thread remains intact. That thread knows God before language, before certainty, and before identity.

What Abraham reveals is not obedience, but recognition. Not reason, but relationship. And it is this deeper knowing that continues to live in every human being, regardless of the stories the mind tells about reality.

Abram has descendants as numerous as the stars because God saw with Abraham that no matter what a human mind thinks, we will always know Him. 

Moses

Moses was found on the Nile River during a time of great persecution. The Egyptian Pharaoh, fearing the growing strength of the Israelites, had ordered the death of all newborn Hebrew boys. In an act of faith and desperation, Moses’ mother placed him in a basket and set him afloat on the river.

It was Pharaoh’s daughter who discovered him. She took him in, and Moses was raised in the heart of Egyptian royalty, surrounded by wealth, power, and a culture steeped in polytheism.  At one point, Egyptian society worshipped more than two thousand gods, with rituals and temples woven into every aspect of life.

Moses was educated in all the wisdom of Egypt, yet his calling would lead him far beyond it into the breaking of everything he was taught. His life is the anchor of every individual who has lived in a catastrophe or through something that tries to shape them, but a deeper calling within is calling. 

When God spoke to Moses at the burning bush, Moses became monotheistic. The Israelites had been enslaved in Egypt for 430 years. As a young man, Moses discovered he had been adopted. The life of luxury and status he had known was not his true origin. His brother and sister, whom he believed to be slaves, were in fact his family. And the people he had seen as slaves were his people.

The story of Moses freeing the Israelites is, at its core, about an individual living with God and acquiring depth through that relationship. Everything in the story of our lives at the time God enters our lives is used. Our feet are on the ground, moving through a story that has already been existing,  living in something when He chooses us. 

Moses’ life lived full circle, walking through his shadows with God, going back to Egypt, a place where he had murdered a taskmaster. We’re not living a normal life when we are with God. It’s outside of society’s ideas of a good life. God doesn’t live by our ideas or wants. He is working in our light for depth and substance, placing our existence in another level of the world. 

Buddha

Every human life is a pilgrimage, not toward belief, but toward depth. God accompanies every Soul, whether His name is known or not, whether He is spoken or resisted. This deeper walk always leads somewhere the mainstream path does not.

Siddhartha Gautama, known as the Buddha, lived according to this deeper blueprint of God’s design: to lose the life shaped by the world in order to find a truer one within him. His journey was not a religious template, but a universal movement of the Soul toward substance. Siddhartha never spoke of a Creator, yet he moved within God’s design, guided by an inward fire that rose beyond doctrine, ritual, or title.

Born into royalty, he was cocooned in luxury and power. His father walled him off from sickness, aging, and death, believing comfort would secure destiny. But one night, Siddhartha slipped beyond the palace gates and entered a hidden quarter of the city. There he saw the sick groaning, the elderly bent by time, and the dying waiting in silence. The shock shattered the protected world he had known. That rupture awakened compassion, not as philosophy, but as an urgent need to understand why human beings suffer.

The light that opens depth does not belong to this world. It comes from beyond it.

As Siddhartha’s compassion deepened, his choices changed. He walked away from royalty, luxury, power, and even a newborn son, not out of rejection, but out of obedience to an inward call he could no longer silence. He entered the life of an ascetic, stripping existence to its edges, yet even severe discipline felt hollow. So he turned again, traveling inward past all extremes, until beneath a quiet tree he awakened to a light that neither title nor ritual could bestow.

Buddha’s life reveals that enlightenment is woven into the fabric of life itself, independent of authority or institution. The papacy, bishops, cardinals, rabbis, or imams may claim proximity to God, yet none can replace the depth Siddhartha reached by following the fire of his Soul alone. God’s presence does not depend on belief. It moves as an unseen current, guiding each life toward deeper light. We do not need to name that current for it to carry us; we only need to follow where it leads.

This turning is the walk with God, even when carried under another name.

Enlightened movements arise only through the letting go of the world we inhabit in order to receive another light altogether. Siddhartha did not know God as doctrine. He did not speak of Christ, Spirit, or divine authority. He did not yet distinguish between thought and consciousness, or soul and spirit. It was not the time in human living for such language to appear.

Yet he walked far enough into surrender—far enough into depth—to receive light in Christ beyond the world’s patterns. What he touched was not a contradiction to God, but proximity. He entered as far as human consciousness could then go, and what he received prepared the way for a deeper illumination still to come.

This path does not align with mainstream understanding or societal expectations. It invites the relinquishment of everything familiar,security, roles, and beliefs, in exchange for something infinitely richer. It is a solitary path, not because we are abandoned, but because no one else can walk it for us.

Beneath every thought and memory lies a deeper knowing, a quiet wellspring of truth. At a sacred moment in each life, a hidden door opens, offering the chance to step beyond matter into light.

God is with every human being, regardless of their idea of self, reality, or Him. Sooner or later, every Soul makes its way to God not by doctrine, not by authority, but by depth.

Beneath every thought and memory lies a deeper knowing a quiet wellspring of truth. At a sacred moment in each life, that hidden door cracks open, offering the chance to step beyond matter into light.