Goodbye, Jesus.

I thought I knew you, but it turns out I mostly knew the version handed to me. You never set out to start a religion. You lived inside an expectation that God was coming soon, gathered people who believed something was happening, and somehow all of that hardened into a system that outlived you.

That part has always felt strange as hell to me.

You stepped outside Jewish tradition, created your own inner circle of twelve, and spoke as if you carried something uniquely urgent. Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. Either way, what followed grew far beyond whatever you intended. An entire religion formed that now claims to speak for you while often acting nothing like you.

That disconnect matters.

Your name has been used to control people. To scare them with eternity. To convince them they are broken and in need of fixing. People have been harmed, silenced, and killed while invoking you. That isn’t all on you, but it is part of the legacy attached to your name, and pretending otherwise is bullshit.

Some of the theology never made sense to me. The idea that humanity is cursed by default. The belief that a loving God required violence to forgive. The insistence that belief in the “right” story is the line between salvation and punishment. That system always felt deeply fucked up to me, no matter how nicely it was explained.

I’ve watched well-meaning leaders defend prophecy theatrics, miracle claims, and spiritual performances that feel completely detached from reality. I don’t think they’re evil. I think they’re human. But the system rewards certainty and punishes doubt, and that does real damage.

So I’m stepping out.

God, if you’re there, I’m sorry for handing so much authority to an idea of Jesus that couldn’t hold up under honest scrutiny. If you’re not there, I’m learning to be okay with that too. I don’t need all the answers anymore. I don’t need a structure to tell me how to be human.

What I do want to keep matters.

Jesus, thank you for the parts that helped me see beyond myself.

Thank you for “love your neighbor.”

Thank you for forgiveness.

Thank you for the reminder that enemies are usually just people I don’t understand yet.

Thank you for the friendships that came from that world. Some of those will last.

What I’m not thankful for are the assumptions.

The quiet judgments.

The prayers offered for a soul that isn’t broken.

The feeling that I have to walk on eggshells around people whose stability depends on my agreement.

That’s enough.

I’m done carrying what was never mine to hold.

I’m allowed to enjoy stories without surrendering my agency. I’m allowed to learn from traditions without belonging to them. I’m allowed to move on without replacing one certainty with another.

If God exists, I’m more drawn to the idea of a God who partners with humanity than one who demands allegiance. A God shaped by collective love feels closer to truth than one guarded by fear and control.

And if that’s all God ever is, I’m okay with that.

Goodbye, Jesus.

Goodbye to the version of you I thought existed.

Josh, it’s over.

You can move forward now.

Have peace.

Step out of the loop.

Live the life that’s actually here.

Thank you.

Jesus is dead.  I already said my peace earlier but I need to say good bye to the Jesus that I thought existed.