They Built a Religion Around Jesus, but He Was Trying to Free Us From One

Jesus didn’t come to start a religion. He didn’t ask for churches, rituals, or a global brand built around his name. He walked among the people, challenged authority, and spoke in parables that made people think for themselves. He wasn’t looking for blind devotion. He was offering a way out. A way to wake up.

Somewhere along the way, his message got buried under centuries of control, rewritten to fit institutions that had more interest in obedience than liberation. Today, people shout his name on national television, hold up signs at football games and in public areas, and declare that their personal relationship with him is the only path to salvation. But too often, it feels less like faith and more like a club. One where you are either in or out, accepted or lost, saved or damned. The tone can be aggressive, almost self-righteous, as if to say, we have it figured out, and if you don’t believe exactly as we do, you are on the outside.

Would Jesus recognize any of this as his own? Or would he shake his head, wondering how his teachings of love, justice, and awakening became reduced to slogans, exclusivity, and superiority?

The Matrix of Jesus’s Time

Jesus lived in a world ruled by religious legalism and imperial oppression. The Pharisees, the religious elite of Judaism, used the laws of Moses as a tool for control, turning faith into a rigid system of rules. The Roman Empire imposed its own rule from above, keeping people in line through fear and power. People were oppressed from both sides, caught between religious authorities who enforced strict laws and a brutal empire that ruled through violence. There was little freedom to question, challenge, or break away from these systems. Most people lived within them without question, accepting that this was just the way the world worked.

Then Jesus came along and disrupted everything. He healed people on the Sabbath, ate with those considered unworthy, and told the masses that the kingdom of God was not some distant promise. It was already within them. He refused to accept the structures that kept people spiritually asleep, exposing the illusion and offering something radical: freedom.

If we think about it in modern terms, Jesus was like a hacker in a dystopian world, like Neo in The Matrix. Imagine a society where everyone is plugged into a system, programmed from birth to believe that reality works in only one way. They are told what to believe, how to act, and what the rules are, never realizing they were written to keep them small. Jesus saw through it and tried to break the code, showing people that they were not just servants of a system. They were creators of their own reality.

This is why he put ideas into practice instead of just preaching them. He walked into the lives of those who had been cast aside. Lepers, prostitutes, tax collectors. They truly mattered, and Jesus treated them that way. He challenged the idea that purity was about external rules and showed that it was about what lived inside of you. That is why the powerful hated him. He was trying to wake people up to a different way of existing, not just gain followers as another preacher. A way of life where love, not fear, ruled their actions.

What Worship Gets Wrong

If Jesus returned today, he wouldn’t be seeking fame, television appearances, or public declarations of faith. He wouldn’t be impressed by how many people wear his name on their jerseys or hold up Bible verses at sports events. He would be looking at the way people live. How they treat one another, how they love, how they break free from systems designed to keep them small.

Yet, so much of modern Christianity centers around worship rather than awakening. It builds institutions instead of breaking them down. It asks for belief in Jesus’s name instead of embodiment of his message. It turns faith into a membership rather than a personal transformation.

There is also this idea of Jesus as a larger-than-life celebrity figure, wrapped in grand displays and dramatic imagery. People picture his return with blaring trumpets, golden thrones, and a spectacle so massive that the whole world stops in awe. But Jesus never walked the earth that way. He was born in a stable, spent time with fishermen and outcasts, and avoided the religious and political spotlight when he could. His power was never in the spectacle. It was in the quiet, simple truths he shared with those willing to listen.

Imagine if a doctor cured a deadly disease but instead of listening to his advice, people started worshiping the doctor himself. They built statues of him, held rallies in his honor, and repeated his name over and over but ignored the cure he offered. That is what has happened with Jesus. He showed people a way to heal themselves and wake up, but instead of following the way, most just repeat his name like a magic word.

This is why religious institutions thrive while true spiritual liberation remains rare. People have been conditioned to believe that devotion to Jesus’s identity is more important than living by his principles.

Jesus never asked to be worshipped. He asked people to love one another, seek truth, and free themselves from fear. Yet for many, worship feels more familiar than transformation. It is easier to sing songs, recite prayers, and declare faith than it is to live the message. Living it means challenging injustice, loving radically, and letting go of control and ego. This is why so many people find comfort in religious labels while still living in fear, judgment, and separation from others. They hold onto the symbol, but they never take the medicine.

Living the Awakening

What if worshiping Jesus and walking his path were not at odds, but part of a deeper journey? What if faith was not about proving belief, but about becoming more conscious, more compassionate, more alive?

It is natural to feel awe for Jesus. Many were taught that worship is the highest form of devotion, and that instinct makes sense. When something touches your heart, when something changes the way you see the world, there is a natural desire to honor it, to lift it up, to express gratitude. People feel that for Jesus, and that feeling is real. But when we look at his life, we see that he was never pointing to himself. He was pointing to something greater. It was never about him. It was about the message he carried. He spoke about love, about breaking free from fear, about stepping into a deeper understanding of life itself. He challenged people to see beyond rules, beyond structures, beyond labels. He was not asking to be placed on a throne. He was asking people to wake up.

If faith begins and ends with worship, something gets lost in the process. Worship can turn Jesus into a distant figure, admired but unreachable, a symbol more than a guide. His name becomes something to say rather than something to live. His presence becomes something to sing about rather than something to embody.

Faith is like any relationship. Imagine someone constantly talks about their partner, saying how much they love them, posting about them online, and making grand declarations of loyalty. But behind closed doors, they do not actually act with love. They do not listen, they do not support, they do not show up in the ways that matter. Their love is all talk. That is what faith has become for many. Loud declarations, but little practice.

Jesus came to remind people of their own power, not to be idolized. He came to pull back the curtain and show that the kingdom of God wasn’t some distant place but something already within them. He was tearing down walls, not building them to separate. And if he were here today, he wouldn’t be looking for followers. He would be looking for those ready to wake up. Naturally, many would still follow.

Because awakening was always the message. It was about opening our eyes to a deeper truth, living with love and compassion, and realizing that the divine has always been within us. His mesage was never about devotion. His words were not meant to build a religion. They were meant to reveal the truth that had been there all along. The truth that we are—

One people. One story. Many voices.

We belong.