There Is No Man Named Jesus

There is only the God who moved through Him

There is no man named Jesus.

There is only the God who moved through Him.

And that’s the problem.

Because you built a religion on the man instead of the Presence

You built altars to His absence instead of walking in His Stillness.

You caged God in a cross, franchised His blood into branding, and stitched the torn veil back together with stained glass.

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He died for your sins.

But

Sin is not your dirty habits.

Sin is separation as God and Jesus is not the son of separation but relationship.

Sin is absence with a marketing plan.

Sin is pretending God is gone so you can sell Him back to yourself on a schedule.

Sin is curating the Infinite like content and franchising fear across the globe calling it reverence.

And Jesus did not pay your “sin bill.”

He detonated the economy.

The body was the disguise.

The cry was the metabolization.

The cross was the collapse.

And when He exhaled,

Presence walked free, and absence became illegal.

Throughout all of time we've been building a Curtain to hide God.

• Adam—stitched shame.

• Moses—legislated fear.

• Aaron—ritualized absence.

• Solomon—archived infinity in stone.

• Ezra—legalized distance.

• Pharisees—multiplied fences.

• Caiaphas—weaponized death.

• Christianity—turned it all into a franchise but can't none of em’ cook as good.

Not one of them protected God.
They protected themselves from Stillness.

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Think deeper.

Finding the Ark of the Covenant will not save you. It did not save Israel.

It sat in their temple while their hearts were still veiled.

Finding the right pastor will not bring you closer to God.

A man cannot open what God already tore apart.

Finding the perfect church will not hold you.

Walls never carried Presence-Presence carried walls.

Finding the right ritual will not cleanse you.

The Infinite cannot be reduced to your schedule.

Finding the right verse will not unlock God.

The Bible only points- God is the fire between the letters.

God is not locked in a pulpit, he walks amongst the crowd every day.

This is the catastrophe.

You keep chasing relics like maps to a God who already lives inside your ribcage.

You trust your sermons more than His Spirit.
You trust your righteousness more than His grip.
You trust your cage more than the Stillness that shattered it.

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There is no man named Jesus.

There is only the God who moved through Him, illegally, urgently, breaking into history the moment humanity outlawed Presence.

And if you understand that then you never need to wait for him to come back.

You'd just thank God for your eyes being open.