I Was Wrong About New Age and Jesus

Rebranding the show made me go back and listen to an old episode called “New Age to Jesus.” In that episode, I confidently said you could pursue “Christ consciousness” without embracing a Bible-centered faith. Listening to it again was… humbling. I could hear the certainty in my voice, but my heart posture has changed a lot since then.

Back then, I saw the Bible and organized religion as control systems. I treated Jesus like a symbol — an archetype of higher awareness — instead of a living Savior. The more I actually read Scripture, prayed, and studied early Christian history, the more I realized how that old belief system kept me stuck in self-reliance. I thought I was evolving, but I was just carrying the burden in a prettier way. I didn’t feel rest — I felt pressure. Pressure to heal, ascend, manifest, and maintain some version of spiritual perfection. It looked like freedom, but it made me my own savior.

When Jesus is just a model for enlightenment, the pressure never leaves your shoulders. You still have to master your meditation, clear your energy, fix your beliefs, and raise your vibration. It sounds empowering — but it’s a spiritual treadmill dressed up in poetry.

Not only was I self-reliant, but I was wrong. Fundamentally, I was relying on my works to bring me heaven (heaven on earth, rather than heaven for eternity... through Christ we can have both). Ephesians 2:8-9 states that salvation is a gift of God's grace through faith, not from human works, so that no one can boast.

Romans 3:23 says, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” For years I thought that verse was heavy and condemning. Now I hear it as a deep exhale — because if falling short is universal, then salvation isn’t something we earn. It’s a gift. Grace didn’t erase my responsibility, but it completely reframed it. I still value integrity and self-awareness, but the foundation is forgiveness. I’m not climbing my way to God anymore — He came close. That truth moved me from performance to presence, from anxiety to assurance.

I also revisited one of my old talking points — the canon debate, especially around the Gospel of Mary Magdalene. I used to believe it was excluded because of patriarchy. What I found was far more nuanced. The surviving text is fragmentary, late, and not well-sourced, which means it doesn’t meet the same historical standards as the gospels we do have. Could Mary have written something? Maybe. But we don’t have verifiable evidence. That doesn’t erase women’s significance in Jesus’ ministry — it just explains how the canon was formed through communal discernment, with remarkable consistency and care. The deeper I studied, the less I saw conspiracy and the more I saw coherence.

Then came context. I used to say, “You can make the Bible say anything.” And that’s true — if you pull verses out of context. But when I started reading entire sections, tracing themes, and watching how God’s character stays the same from Genesis to Revelation, the supposed contradictions started to flatten. The Bible interprets the Bible. Compassion and order, mercy and justice — they’re not at odds when you read them together. That shift pulled me out of cherry-picking verses to fit a narrative and invited me to let Scripture shape me instead.

And then there’s obedience. I once thought it was a way to control people — especially women. Now, I see it as alignment, not oppression. It’s not about rule-following; it’s about your desires changing from the inside out. I didn’t force myself out of astrology or certain habits — the appetite for them just faded. It showed up in simple ways: calmer reactions, less striving, fewer bargains with myself. I’ve seen the same thing happen in others too. Real transformation isn’t about gritting your teeth — it’s about being changed from within. Joyful obedience isn’t pressure; it’s peace.

If I could sum it all up, I’d say this:
I moved from optimization to surrender.
From theory to relationship.
From suspicion to trust.

I still love nuance and deep questions. But I no longer need to be my own redeemer. I respect historical critique without letting it hollow out my hope. I honor personal growth without turning it into a ladder to heaven. And I’ve learned that real peace often comes after we stop negotiating with truth and finally yield to it.

So yes — I was wrong. And saying that didn’t shrink me; it finally set me free.