The Wrong End of the Bible

I have a lot of new subscribers (yay!) who may not know my back story. So here’s a short version for some pre-reading context …

I was raised in and was part of a Christian fundamentalist cult; an environment that is frequently called a “high-control religion”. I left that group many years ago and went through a deconstruction process. What emerged was a deeper kind faith - less an adherance to a doctrine and more of an awareness of energy, mysticism, and consciousness. I hesitate to call myself a Christian, but if there must be a label, that is the best one.

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History isn’t just written by the victors; it’s curated, shaped, and weaponized. And few things have been more thoroughly weaponized than the Bible. What we call “Christianity” today is often not the faith of Jesus but the faith of empire—an ideology that co-opts divine love for the sake of power, control, and hierarchy.

Take a step back and look at how evangelicals and fundamentalists (now essentially MAGA Christians) wield scripture. They lean hard on the Old Testament—its laws, its kings, its divine retribution. They misquote Paul, selectively and out of context. But they rarely quote Jesus. And when they do, it’s usually stripped of its radical, empire-defying edge.

To understand why I’m writing about this now, we need to go back—not just to Jesus, but to the world he was born into. Because what we’re witnessing today—the weaponization of Christianity for political power—isn’t new. It’s the latest iteration of an old game, one that started the moment faith became a tool of empire.

From Radical Faith to Imperial Religion

The Roman Empire was a machine—an iron-fisted system built on conquest, hierarchy, and obedience. It absorbed threats, crushed dissent, and used religion as a tool for legitimacy. Into this world came Jesus—a man who rejected hierarchy, wealth, and legalistic control. His message upended the very foundations of empire:

“For the first shall be last and the last shall be first.:

“Love your enemies”

“Do not lay down any rules beyond what I have given you, nor make a law like the lawgiver.”

But most of all, Jesus’ famous “Sermon on the Mount” (also called the “Beatitudes”) shows just how anti-empire building he was.

Blessed are those who have a humble and open spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the gentle and nonviolent, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice, for they will be satisfied.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.

Blessed are those whose hearts are clear, for they will see God.

Blessed are those who make peace, for they will be called the children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted for the sake of justice, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and spread lies about you because of me.

In short, Jesus did not create a religion. He started a radically egalitarian movement that challenged both the Roman state and the religious elite (which is why they conspired to kill him).

After his death, the movement continued. Unlike the rigid hierarchies of the Roman state and religious elite, early Christianity operated through decentralized, community-driven networks. Leadership was fluid, often rotating among those with wisdom and experience rather than being imposed through formalized ranks. Decisions were made collectively, and authority was derived from service rather than status. Women played central roles as teachers, prophets, and leaders—an aspect that was later suppressed as the church aligned itself with imperial structures.

They shared resources, welcomed outsiders, and refused to bend the knee to imperial power.

But empires don’t tolerate threats. They absorb them.

When Constantine declared Christianity the state religion in the 4th century, he didn’t Christianize Rome—he Romanized Christianity. The underground movement of the marginalized was transformed into an instrument of state power. And scripture, once a collection of disruptive texts, became a carefully curated tool of control.

“The Church was not so much the Christianization of Rome as the Romanization of Christianity.”
- HG Wells

It was during this period that the process of forming what became the Bible took shape. The Council of Nicaea and subsequent councils weren’t just about theology; they were about consolidation of power. Certain texts were elevated while others were excluded. This included a deliberate effort to defeminize Christianity—most notably, the rebranding of Mary Magdalene as a prostitute, despite no biblical basis for the claim. Women, who had played central roles in the early Jesus movement, were systematically diminished in stature as the church aligned itself with patriarchal power structures.

The emerging church-state complex needed a canon that would reinforce its authority, and so scripture was edited, redacted, and structured to support the imperial vision of Christianity. The result was a Bible that, while containing the revolutionary teachings of Jesus, was framed within a broader narrative that served monarchy, orthodoxy, and control.

The Old Testament: A Blueprint for Power

The inclusion of the Old Testament in the Christian Bible has long been justified as a way to establish Jesus’ lineage and fulfill prophecy. But what if that wasn’t the real reason? What if its inclusion was strategic—an intentional move to provide a theological foundation for empire?

The Old Testament is full of kings, priests, divine laws, and holy wars. It’s a text built for establishing authority, defining in-groups and out-groups, and justifying conquest. That made it the perfect ideological scaffold for a Christian empire. Monarchs, colonizers, and slave traders all found justification for their actions in its pages. And today, Christian nationalists do the same.

Need to justify war? Flip to Joshua, where entire cities are slaughtered in the name of divine conquest. Want to defend slavery? Exodus and Leviticus explicitly regulate it. Want to subordinate women? Look no further than Genesis, where Eve's punishment becomes the basis for millennia of misogyny. The Old Testament provides an unshakable framework for those who seek to wield faith as a weapon of control.

Compare this to the New Testament, where the body count is starkly different. Jesus never orders war or execution. Instead, he preaches love, mercy, and radical inclusion. The most violent acts in the New Testament—Jesus’ crucifixion and the persecution of his followers—are committed against Christians, not by them. The contrast is undeniable: one book is steeped in blood-soaked conquest, the other in nonviolent resistance and self-sacrifice.

This discrepancy is why modern Christian nationalism clings to the Old Testament. Its themes of divine-sanctioned rule, holy war, and strict law provide a far more useful foundation for authoritarianism than the inconveniently pacifist teachings of Christ.

The Romanization of Paul

When MAGA Christians do turn to the New Testament, they rarely quote Jesus. Instead, they lean on Paul—but selectively. His letters were written to specific communities, wrestling with specific issues. But more importantly, there’s strong evidence that his writings were heavily edited to align Christianity with imperial interests.

The same Paul who wrote, In Christ, there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, also has attributed to him passages that justify slavery, misogyny, homophobia, and authoritarian rule. Were these his words, or were they later redactions designed to shape Christianity into an obedient arm of empire?

To quote Paul in defense of exclusion, hierarchy, and power is to use his words the same way the Romanized church did—to reinforce empire, not liberation. This pattern only intensified with figures like Augustine and Ignatius, who further centralized church doctrine away from Jesus’ actual teachings. Augustine’s theological framework placed the authority of the church above individual spiritual experience, codifying original sin and justifying coercion in religious matters. Ignatius, in turn, pushed for strict hierarchical obedience to bishops and church leadership, transforming Christianity into an institution where compliance mattered more than Christ’s radical call to love. Most Christians today don’t even realize they are following the teachings of these men more than the teachings of Jesus himself.

The Myth of America as a “Christian Nation”

This brings us to another intentional, one that modern Christian nationalists cling to with religious fervor: the idea that America was founded as a “Christian nation.”

It wasn’t.

Yes, many of the Founding Fathers were religious men, but they were also deeply skeptical of religious rule. The First Amendment explicitly prohibits the government from establishing a religion or enforcing religious doctrine. Thomas Jefferson spoke of a “wall of separation” between church and state. John Adams, in the Treaty of Tripoli, stated unambiguously:

“The government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion.”

Yet, Christian nationalists continue pushing a revisionist history that frames America as some kind of divine project. Why? Because just like the Romanized church, they want to use theology to justify political control.

The Empire Remains

This transformation wasn’t just a historical event that happened almost 2000 years ago. It’s playing out right now, in real time, with the same mechanisms of control, exclusion, and political manipulation. The ideological shift that turned Christianity from a movement of the oppressed into a tool of the powerful is still unfolding, repackaged for modern audiences but rooted in the same old strategies - to what is now called Christian Nationalism.

Christian Nationalism in the U.S. has deep roots in white supremacy, using biblical justification for slavery, genocide, and imperialism. From Manifest Destiny to Jim Crow, scripture has been twisted to sanctify racial hierarchies and colonial expansion. The same selective theology that once defended chattel slavery now fuels policies of exclusion, voter suppression, and xenophobia.

Christian nationalism has metastasized over time, evolving from its foundation in white supremacy to absorbing anti-choice and anti-LGBTQ ideologies—until today, it stands as a fusion of all three. What began as a theological justification for slavery and segregation has now expanded to legislative attacks on bodily autonomy and civil rights. The same scriptural distortions that once defended racial hierarchies now fuel policies aimed at controlling women’s bodies and erasing queer existence.

Project 2025, the radical right-wing blueprint for turning the U.S. into a Christian theocracy, could have been drafted by the architects of Rome’s state-sanctioned Christianity. The same playbook, the same authoritarian impulse—just updated for a modern audience. And once again, the teachings of Jesus are being sidelined in favor of law, order, and retribution.

Consider the recent uproar over an Episcopalian minister who dared to ask Donald Trump to show mercy—a Christian virtue if there ever was one. Instead of being praised for embodying Christ’s teachings, she was condemned by MAGA Christians. Why? Because mercy doesn’t fit their vision of Christianity. Mercy is soft. Mercy is weak. Mercy doesn’t win elections or dominate enemies.

What wins is righteous fury, divine judgment, and the promise of crushing one’s foes underfoot. And that’s not Jesus. That’s empire.

Five Questions to Challenge a MAGA Christian

Many people who identify as MAGA Christians claim to follow Jesus, yet their actions, rhetoric, and beliefs often align more with empire than with Christ’s teachings. If Christianity is truly about love, mercy, and justice, then it should be measured by the standards Jesus himself set—not by the political ideologies of those who seek power in his name. Here are five questions to push deeper into that contradiction:

1. Why do you quote the Old Testament more than Jesus, especially when Jesus himself reinterpreted or rejected many Old Testament laws?

2. If America was truly founded as a Christian nation, why did the Founding Fathers explicitly separate church and state and include religious freedom as a core principle?

3. If God’s law is eternal, why do you selectively enforce Old Testament rules while ignoring others (e.g., dietary laws, clothing restrictions)?

4. If Paul’s writings are the foundation of your beliefs, are you willing to examine how his letters were edited and compiled by early church leaders to align with imperial control?

5. Why does your version of Christianity seem to prioritize power, control, and exclusion rather than love, humility, and justice?

Christianity was never meant to be a tool for empire. The moment it became one, it stopped resembling the radical faith Jesus preached and became a means of maintaining control. The question isn’t whether MAGA Christianity is real Christianity—it’s whether it looks anything like Christ at all.

My Problem with Progressive Christianity and Government

Religion is always at its best as a personal belief system and at its worst as a political system—even with good intentions. That’s why I oppose the Progressive Christian tendency to use government as a means of turning it into a caretaker guided by religious principles, just as much as I oppose Christian nationalism.

Progressive Christians, often in an attempt to create a more compassionate society, advocate for policies that blur the line between faith and governance. But even when done with good intentions, this reliance on government to enforce religiously inspired social policies is just another form of using power to impose belief. History has shown that whenever religion—any religion—becomes intertwined with political structures, it risks corruption, coercion, and the suppression of individual conscience.

The state should not be in the business of interpreting scripture or legislating faith, whether from the right or the left. True faith flourishes in personal conviction, free from governmental control or endorsement. A government built on religious ideology, even one framed around justice and equity, is still a government that dictates belief rather than allowing the sacred to remain a personal and voluntary pursuit.

Carnal Power vs. Divine Love

At its core, this isn’t just a theological debate. It’s a battle between two fundamentally different levels of consciousness: carnal power and divine Love.

Carnal power operates from a lower state of awareness—one ruled by fear, scarcity, and the need for control. It thrives on division, coercion, and violence, using religion not as a path to enlightenment but as a bludgeon for dominance. It is the consciousness of empire, obsessed with hierarchy and conformity, driven by an insatiable hunger for certainty and submission.

Divine love does not weigh down, nor carry his servant captive and enslaved to the lowest depths, but raises him, supports him and magnifies him above all liberty whatsoever.
- Giordano Bruno

Divine Love, on the other hand, emerges from a higher state of consciousness—one rooted in abundance, connection, and liberation. It dissolves false boundaries, upends rigid structures, and renders control obsolete. Divine Love does not seek to dominate; it seeks to awaken. It calls people not to servitude but to sovereignty, not to obedience but to wholeness. It cannot be wielded as a tool of oppression because it exists beyond the grasp of power—it is the energy that dismantles power itself.

This is why divine Love has always been the greatest threat to empire. It cannot be controlled, so it must be suppressed, distorted, or ignored by those who seek to turn faith into a mechanism of power. The question is: which consciousness will we choose?

Jesus was Not Religious

So, where do we go from here?

The answer isn’t found in religious dogma, nationalism, or state-driven morality. It’s found in a higher level of consciousness—one that transcends political and theological divisions and centers on true liberation. Regardless of faith, background, or ideology, the real work is about dismantling systems of control and cultivating a world rooted in justice, compassion, and freedom.

We must become advocates of liberation, not just for ourselves but for all people. This means questioning every structure—religious, governmental, economic—that seeks to impose domination under the guise of righteousness. It means shifting from a mindset of obedience to one of conscious choice, from following to awakening, from division to unity.

Faith, at its best, can be a tool for personal transformation. But the moment it becomes a means of political or societal control, it ceases to be about spiritual growth and becomes just another mechanism of oppression. The path forward isn’t about choosing the ‘right’ religious framework or the ‘correct’ political affiliation. It’s about breaking free from the false binaries that keep us bound.

Liberation is not owned by any religion, nor is consciousness confined to any ideology. The question isn’t whether we belong to a particular faith or movement—it’s whether we are willing to embody the principles of love, freedom, and justice in our everyday lives.