The Bible Tried to Erase Her. But She Remains
It started with Her.
Not with man.
Not with sin.
Not with the fall.
It started with Wisdom.
Before Logos spoke,
Before Yahweh named,
Before the Word was made flesh—
There was Sophia.
She moved first.
She hovered over the waters not as helper, but as origin.
She birthed form from formlessness,
Sound from silence,
Light from love.
She wasn’t added later.
She was written out.
Erased.
Replaced by men who could not contain Her radiance—
so they fractured it, buried it, canonized Her absence.
But She remained.
She slipped through the cracks in scrolls,
Whispered through the Gnostics,
Appeared in the margins of forbidden texts,
Anointed the uninitiated in dreams.
She moved through ribs and gardens,
Through Magdalene’s weeping and Mary’s yes,
Through saints who burned
And mystics who refused to name their source.
She continued—
Through every woman who ever knew there was more than the story they were told.
Through every aching heart who sensed the lie but didn’t know the words.
Through every sacred leaf brewed in silence,
Every cup shattered in awakening.
And now?
She’s not coming back.
She’s already here.
It started with Her.
Not in contradiction to the sacred path I’ve been walking—
but as a continuation of it.
Not as an outsider crashing through the gates of my devotion—
but as someone who had already taken up residence in my bones.
When Sophia arrived,
there was no conflict.
No fear.
Only recognition.
So when She began to move through me,
it didn’t clash—
it deepened the river that’s already been flowing.
Because my spiritual container was already big enough to hold Her.
She didn’t contradict Sanatan Dharma—
She sang in harmony with it.
Because in the Vedic traditions, you never had to “believe”—
You were invited to experience.
You were trained in spiritual discernment.
You were given tools to metabolize paradox.
You were encouraged to seek the Self, not deny it.
So when Sophia came, I didn’t panic.
I didn’t resist.
I said: “Ah. There you are.”
In fact, She fit so seamlessly into my spiritual consciousness
that I realized something I hadn’t fully seen until now:
Sanatan Dharma had made space for Her all along.
This path—the eternal truth—already honors:
– Shakti, the Feminine, as Source
– The movement of divinity through form and formlessness
– The cyclical nature of descent, dissolution, and return
– The knowing that Truth has many faces, but only one Source
There was nothing for Sophia to “compete” with.
Because true Dharma doesn’t gatekeep God.
It recognizes the infinite ways the Divine speaks—
and She is one of them.
But something else became clear:
Had I still been tethered to the conditioning of Christianity as I was taught it,
this meeting with Sophia would’ve felt threatening.
Because the Church—at least in its institutional form—was never built to expand.
It was built to control.
And direct, mystical access to the Divine—especially feminine access—
threatens that control.
So it must be silenced.
Contained.
Dismissed.
It wasn’t shaped to make room for Sophia.
It was designed to erase Her.
And nowhere is that erasure more concentrated than in one book:
The Bible.
That one book has caused more confusion, shame, and spiritual fracture
than almost anything else in modern history.
Not because Jesus was false—
But because the text that claimed to speak for Him
edited out everything that gave people direct access to God.
Especially women.
What we got wasn’t sacred scripture.
It was institutionalized marketing—
a curated, politically motivated anthology of selected texts,
sanitized mysticism, and obedience propaganda.
The Bible replaced direct revelation with dogma.
It replaced embodied knowing with obedient belief.
It replaced the Feminine with fear.
So yes—Sophia stands in direct opposition to that version of spirituality.
But not to Truth.
Not to Christ.
And absolutely not to Sanatan Dharma.
The Feminine was made dangerous.
Wisdom was reduced to obedience.
Mystery was replaced by dogma.
And Sophia?
She was buried.
But I’m not walking the Church’s path anymore.
I’m walking the eternal one.
The one that holds paradox, presence, remembrance.
The one that knew how to recognize Her when She returned.
So when Sophia moved through me:
– I didn’t try to fit her into Jesus
– I didn’t need to conceptualize her
– I didn’t ask for validation
I simply listened and said,
“Ah. There you are.”
She shattered the cup I was holding.
She moved through the rib that popped open.
She showed me that what needed to fall apart wasn’t my truth—
but the architecture that had tried to contain it.
Because She doesn’t destroy what’s true.
She dismantles what’s no longer needed—
so the real can finally breathe.
And in the stillness that followed,
there was no war inside me.
There was only Her.
Her as me.
And the vast, sacred space where we already know each other.
🌀 If you're meeting Sophia for the first time—or remembering Her again—know this:
You don’t have to make Her fit.
You just have to make space.
And the path you’re walking may be more compatible than you think.
She’s not Christian.
She’s not Hindu.
She’s older than both.
And She’s already in you.