MY REDEMPTION STORY(Spoiler: I Didn’t Need Saving)

The Day I Realized I Was Already Saved

I’ve never felt closer to Jesus than I do in this exact season of my life—and it didn’t happen in a cathedral, at an altar call, or after a carefully‑tallied tithe. It happened in my living room, barefoot, whispering a single, unpolished prayer:

“I need You.” No fanfare. No holy soundtrack swelling in the background. Just a presence so immediate and gentle it made my knees tremble. The next breath I took rewired every story I’d ever been told about salvation.

The Redemption Racket

The church brand I grew up with sold me a tale that went like this: God is angry, you are a sinner and not worthy, and someone has to die to balance the cosmic books.
That’s not love; that’s blackmail.

I call it the Redemption Racket—the theological pyramid scheme that profits from unworthiness. The fine print?
“You don’t qualify for unconditional love until blood has been shed.”

Yet the more I sat with Jesus, the more those seams ripped apart. He wasn’t pitching guilt-run religion. He was… mirroring union—showing humans how to walk around saturated in the Divine while still wearing skin.

A Word From the Real Gospel

“I came to show you that all of you are already divine.
That love may require sacrifice, but in and of itself is complete.
That presence is power.
That the Kingdom of Heaven is within you — and always has been.”

“If my life meant anything, let it be this:
You don’t need a savior.
You need to remember.”

“I didn’t die to cleanse your sins or prove your worth.
I lived to remind you of your holiness.
To remind you to love one another. To forgive.
Let that be what you remember of Me.”

What We Actually Need Saving From

We don’t need to be saved from sin.
We need to be saved from the lies the church told us.
Just like the ones society and government told us.
From the truths they took out on purpose —
the ones people were burned alive for remembering.

We need saving from:
– The shame economy.
– The belief that God is outside us.
– The business of religion that sells salvation like it’s a limited-time offer.
– The separation myth.
– The edits. The mistranslations. The centuries of spiritual colonialism.

We were never the problem.
The system was.

They erased the women.
Silenced the mystics.
Crushed the rebels.
Packaged the holy into pulpits and paywalls.

But the truth?
It never died.
It hid.
And now — it’s roaring back through every soul brave enough to say:

“I don’t need saving.
I need remembering.”

“The Kingdom is within me.”

“God never left.”

What They Did After They Killed Him

Jesus didn’t die for sin.
He died for challenging authority.
For disrupting the status quo.
For putting the power back in the hands of the people — to have a direct relationship with God.

But the crucifying didn’t stop with Jesus.

It continued.

They kept killing, burning, hanging anyone who dared to seek God differently.
Anyone who challenged the church’s monopoly on salvation.
Anyone who followed Jesus’ true teachings — not the ones that were cherry-picked, edited, and rewritten to serve power.

And they did it in his name.

How twisted is that?

They stole land.
They erased lineages.
They buried wisdom and called it heresy.
They turned holy rebellion into heretical threat.
They rewrote the Bible — then called it infallible.

They weaponized the Word.

So let’s call it what it is:
A spiritual hijacking.
A redemption racket.
A centuries-long campaign of control, all dressed up in holiness.

OH HELL. THIS IS PART OF IT TOO.

Jesus would’ve called bullshit.
On the branding of his name.
On the multi-million-dollar churches.
On the pulpits used for power instead of presence.

He already did.

He flipped tables.
He shattered illusions.
And if he walked in today?
They’d crucify him again —
for being too inclusive. Too free. Too unwilling to play their game.

So I’m flipping tables too.
I’m not staying quiet while the message is sold.
I’m not letting his name be used as a weapon.
I’m reclaiming it.
And I'm reclaiming mine in the process.

This is my redemption.
Not because someone died for me.
But because I reclaimed the Jesus I loved—
before they told me I was unworthy of him.
Before shame dressed itself up as gospel.
Before the church made me feel like I had to earn what was already mine.

Let that be what you remember of him.
Let that be what you remember of me.

Let the rest burn.
We rise.