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Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

Scientific and Mathematical
Explanation of the Convergence Calculator

1. Input Processing & Basic Computations

Alpha Sum (A=1, B=2, ..., Z=26):


This is a linear mapping from characters to integers based on their position in the English alphabet. Mathematically:

ALPHASUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ POS(Sᵢ)

where Sᵢ is the i-th character and Pos(·) its alphabetical index.

Digital Sum (Pythagorean Mapping Base 9):
Here, letters map to values 1 through 9 cyclically:

DIGITALMAP = { A=1, B=2, ..., I=9, J=1, ..., Z=8 }

This mapping applies base-9 modular arithmetic (with adjustment):

DIGITALSUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ [ (POS(Sᵢ) − 1) MOD 9 + 1 ]

Digital Root:
The digital root is the iterative sum of digits until a single digit remains. Formally:

DIGITALROOT(X) = 1 + ((X − 1) MOD 9)

unless x = 0, in which case it's 0.

2. Recursive Cycle Detection Using Number-to-Word Conversion


The novel step is the recursive iteration:

Each numeric result is converted to its English word form.
That word is re-processed through the same sum logic (Alpha, Digital, Root).


This forms a sequence: {x₀, x₁, x₂, ...}


Cycle detection occurs when a value repeats.

This creates an iterated function system (IFS) of the form:

f(x) = SUM(NUMBERTOWORDS(x)), xₙ₊₁ = f(xₙ)

3. Mathematical Nature of the Cycles


Because each f maps integers to a bounded domain (due to limited letter sums), each orbit is finite. By the Pigeonhole Principle, each sequence must eventually repeat (form a cycle).


The digital root cycle is well-known and always stabilizes between 1–9 (except for 0).

4. Relation to Modular Arithmetic and Casting Out Nines


The digital root function is essentially a base-9 residue:

DIGITALROOT(X) ≡ X MOD 9

with an offset for zero-handling. It’s historically used in “casting out nines,” a checksum trick for verifying arithmetic. This grounding makes the system’s stability unsurprising — it relies on modular invariants.

5. Interpretation: Fixed Points and Symbolic Cycles
The detected numeric cycles are attractors in a discrete symbolic system. Their recurrence hints at:

  • Underlying numeric invariants embedded in language

  • Potential symbolic or semantic convergence

  • A structured interaction between language and arithmetic

Entropy

The earth dries up and withers,
the world languishes and withers,
the heavens languish together with the earth.

Isaiah 24:4
Negentropy

So is My word that goes out from My mouth:
It will not return to Me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55:11

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."

Proverbs 3:5-6

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Entropy, Negentropy, and the
Preservation of Structure in Language

Understanding Entropy in Nature
If convergence hints at design, then entropy — the law of decay — provides the contrast that makes that design all the more extraordinary.

In physics, entropy refers to the tendency of systems to move from order to disorder over time. It is a foundational concept in thermodynamics, describing how energy spreads out and how systems naturally degrade without external input. Entropy explains why heat dissipates, why physical structures decay, and why information degrades in noisy environments.

Left to itself, a closed system becomes increasingly disordered. This is why old machines break down, buildings crumble, and even memory fades. Entropy is not just physical—it applies to all forms of information and structure.

Negentropy: A Local Reversal
While entropy is the dominant direction of nature, there are exceptions—local reversals made possible by negentropy (short for “negative entropy”). Negentropy is not the absence of entropy but the introduction of order into a system by consuming energy or applying intelligence.

For example:

  • A living cell resists decay by constantly taking in nutrients and repairing itself.

  • Biological organisms grow in complexity by metabolizing energy.

  • Information systems (such as digital storage) preserve accuracy through redundancy and error correction.

  • Human intelligence creates systems of logic, language, and mathematics that build order rather than chaos.

In all these cases, entropy is not eliminated, but actively resisted.

Language and Entropy
Language, especially written language, is typically expected to degrade over time due to:

  • Phonetic drift and pronunciation shifts,

  • Evolving grammar and syntax,

  • Loss or distortion through translation,

  • Cultural reinterpretation,

  • Human error in transmission.

This is why many see language as unstable or unreliable across long timelines. From a purely naturalistic perspective, the evolution of a language like English—rooted in multiple language families and shaped by centuries of social and political change—should result in a noisy, unstable system with no preserved structure beneath the surface.

The Calculator & Entropy Defiance
What the calculator reveals stands in contrast to these expectations. Rather than showcasing decay, the English alphabet—when reduced to numerical values and examined through Alpha Sum, Digital Sum, and Digital Root patterns—exhibits remarkable stability, convergence, and repetition:

  • Words reduce into tightly bound numeric loops.

  • Phrases across a wide spectrum of meaning ultimately collapse into consistent repeating cycles.

  • The system reveals underlying structure not just in a few words, but in every word tested.

This is not expected behavior from a system shaped by random linguistic drift. If entropy had its way, there would be noise. Instead, there is signal.

This doesn’t mean English is a divine language—but it strongly suggests that something preserved its integrity beneath the visible surface, allowing modern, uncurated language to still bear witness to underlying order.

A Case for Negentropy in Language
What appears here is a form of negentropy operating within a symbolic system. While the entropy of cultural evolution should have buried any meaningful structure, the patterns remain mathematically intact—hidden, but discoverable. It raises legitimate questions:

  • How did such structure survive centuries of linguistic entropy?

  • Why do these numerical patterns exist at all?

  • And what kind of intelligence—not human—might have embedded or preserved them?

The calculator does not violate the laws of entropy; rather, it reveals a pocket of order that should not have survived the natural decay of language across time. This puts the discovery in the same category as biological life or digital information systems: an ordered structure maintained against the odds, and for reasons not yet fully understood.
In short, this is not just a theological or symbolic claim—it is a scientific anomaly, and one worthy of further investigation.

Convergence

Lingua electa

English emerged through a remarkable convergence of European cultures in England. It is often described as a linguistic “melting pot” because of how heavily it has absorbed vocabulary, grammar influences, and expressions from dozens of other languages throughout history. Its earliest layers came from Germanic tribes — the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes — but the language quickly began mixing with Old Norse due to Viking contact, creating many of the core, everyday words English speakers still use: they, them, take, sky, law.

Then came the Norman Conquest, which added a massive wave of French and Latin, transforming English into a hybrid unlike almost any other major language. What makes this especially striking is that no other language with such a deeply mixed heritage ever went on to become the world’s lingua franca.

Over the centuries, English continued to import words with astonishing openness. From global trade, scientific discovery, and cultural exchange, English absorbed vocabulary from Greek, Arabic, Hindi, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Spanish, Indigenous American languages, and many others. Words like algebra, ketchup, bungalow, karaoke, and piano show how English thrives on the convergence of global influences.

This willingness to borrow makes English extremely flexible — it can create new registers, blend tones, and adapt to technological or cultural change faster than many languages whose structures are more rigid. And while many languages borrow extensively, none of them — not Japanese, Swahili, Tagalog, Haitian Creole, or Malay — developed into a universal means of international communication the way English ultimately did.

The question has been asked of me, “Does the matrix appear in any other languages, or is it unique to English?" There are thousands of languages still spoken around the world today. It would be impossible for me to build a similar matrix in all of them. Instead I tested several languages that use the Latin Alphabet. Rather than build an entire matrix for each, I merely tested the keys words that make the discovery of the cross possible. The digital sums for “four” and “five” must be equal to show a vertical anomaly. Likewise, “forty” must equal “fifty” for the horizontal anomaly to appear. Finally, the words of the Exception, “fourteen” and “fifteen,” cannot have the same digital sums, and both must equal the alpha sums of “King” and “Jew” respectively. As seen below, none of these other languages meet the criteria.

Why English; Is it the only way?

Language

English

Indonesian

French

German

Spanish

Italian

Portuguese

Dutch

Swedish

DS #4

four 24

empat 19

quatre 28

vier 27

cuatro 24

quattro 31

quatro 29

vier 27

fyra 23

DS #5

five 24

lima 17

cinq 25

fünf 20

cinco 26

cinque 33

cinco 26

vijf 20

fem 15

DS #40

forty 30

empat puluh 43

quarante 34

vierzig 51

cuarenta 29

quaranta 30

quarenta 34

veertig 41

fyrtio 39

DS #50

fifty 30

lima puluh 41

cinquante 41

fünfzig 44

cincuenta 36

cinquanta 37

cinquenta 41

vijftig 38

femtio 32

DS #14

fourteen 41

empat belas 31

quatorze 42

vierzehn 53

catorce 29

quattordici 56

catorze 34

veertien 44

fjorton 35

DS #15

fifteen 38

lima belas 29

quinze 38

fünfzehn 46

quince 33

quindici 50

quinze 38

vijftien 41

femton 28

AS King

King 41

Raja 30

Roi 42

König 56

Rey 48

Re 23

Rei 32

Koning 70

Kung 53

AS Jew

Jew 38

Yahudi 68

Juif 46

Jude 40

Judio 59

Ebreo 45

Judeu 61

Jood 44

Jude 40

"All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, Lord;they shall bring glory to your name."

Psalm 86.9

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How the calculator works

This isn’t a number game. This calculator takes any word or phrase, like “hope” or “forgiveness” or even your own name, and translates it into numbers. But it doesn’t stop there. It keeps going, turning those numbers back into words, then into numbers again. Over and over.

And something beautiful and unexpected happens. No matter where you start, the chaos fades and the system settles down. The numbers stop bouncing around and begin to repeat in patterns; stable, peaceful loops. Even words that have nothing in common end up in the same place.

That’s not normal. We aren’t supposed to find this kind of meaning in such randomness. But here, somehow, the patterns hold. This shouldn’t work. But it does.

And maybe, just maybe, the Word that was spoken in The Beginning carries echoes of God's ultimate order. Maybe the structure was always there—waiting to be revealed.

This calculator doesn’t prove God. But it sure points in His direction.

It’s a glimpse behind the curtain, where math and meaning touch—and the fingerprints of the Creator quietly shine through yet again.

The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.                                             Matthew 13:31-32

Reasonable questions

Q: Isn’t this just pattern-hunting in a limited system?

A: That concern is valid—and it’s exactly why I distinguish coincidence from convergence. The English alphabet is a closed system, but the calculator doesn’t just return occasional interesting outputs—it repeatedly lands in stable loops, even when starting from wildly different words. That kind of consistent recursion suggests order beyond randomness.
 

Q: The English language is arbitrary—why would it hold any deeper mathematical truth?

A: If this were purely about etymology or semantics, I would agree. But the patterns emerge not from meaning, but from structure—letter values, recursion, and modular arithmetic. English becomes the medium, not the message. It’s the stability across iteration, not vocabulary, that matters.

 

Q: Aren’t digital roots just a known property of base-9 math?

A: Yes—and that’s part of the point. Because digital roots are so well-understood, we know what they should produce: uniform chaos or trivial repetition. But the calculator doesn’t behave that way. It forms distinct, finite, meaningful orbits—well beyond what modular math alone would predict.

 

Q: “How do you know these cycles aren’t just statistical noise?”

A: Because I subjected thousands of English words to iterative analysis and observed consistent convergence toward stable, repeating loops. Even semantically unrelated terms often collapse into identical cycles. In statistics, noise is characterized by dispersion and randomness. What we see here is rapid convergence and compression—a hallmark of an underlying structure, not stochastic variance.

Q: Can this be replicated in other languages or systems?

A: Obviously, any language that uses the Latin Alphabet ordered from A-Z will get a return in the calculator. The significance here is that the matrix was discovered using English, a language that wasn't engineered and that evolved freely into the world's Lingua Franca, However, I do address other languages in the section to follow. 

Q: Isn’t the recursive loop behavior just a result of converting numbers to their spelled-out forms—which are inherently predictable?

A: If the system were truly trivial, we’d expect it to collapse quickly into obvious repetition or uninteresting results. But instead, we observe stable loops that absorb a wide variety of inputs—even complex or long words—and compress them into consistent, finite cycles. The recurrence of these loops across diverse inputs suggests a deeper structural property, not just linguistic inevitability.

Why it matters

This calculator does not invent anything. It discovers what is already there. And what is there—beneath the surface of human language, numbers, and logic—is a hidden order that speaks of intention, not accident. Recursion, convergence, compression: these are mathematical concepts. But here, they do more than process data. They hint at design.

In Scripture, God is revealed as both Word and Wisdom. He speaks creation into existence, calls things by name, and entrusts Adam with the naming of the living world. Names carry meaning. But in this case, they also carry number. And when processed through a system of simple arithmetic and symbolic iteration, something remarkable happens: chaos does not increase. It collapses into harmony.

That alone defies expectation. The system is recursive, yet stable. Iterative, yet convergent. Random inputs yield patterned outputs. It’s as though the language we inherited—imperfect and evolved though it may be—was still shaped by unseen boundaries. A riverbed dug by providence.

To the believer, this may echo what Scripture has always claimed: that God’s wisdom is embedded in creation, hidden in plain sight, waiting for those with eyes to see. Not so we can boast in human ingenuity, but so we can marvel at divine restraint—how God allows freedom in language and culture, yet still reserves for Himself the final say.

And that final say, in this case, is mathematical.

Again - this isn’t numerology! It isn’t about secret codes. It’s about patterns that shouldn’t be there—but are. Patterns that quietly point back to the Author of language, who wrote both Genesis and John, and whose fingerprints remain in the things we think we built ourselves.

At its heart, this calculator is a mirror: not of human brilliance, but of God’s. We didn’t shape this order and we have barely traced it here. And in doing so, we get a glimpse the kind of coherence only a Creator could leave behind.

In summary

Every English word, when passed through this calculator—first converting to its Alpha Sum (A=1 to Z=26), then recursively reducing that number into its English name, and then converting that name again—will eventually land in one of only a handful of outcomes:

Two fixed points:
Forty-six → 46
Fifty-four → 54

Or a small set of closed loops, such as:
240 → 216 → 228 → 288 → 255 → 240
30 → 37 → 57 → 50 → 30

2 → 4 → 6 → 7 → 2

There are no infinite spirals. No exceptions. No chaos. No matter how obscure or random the original word or phrase, the system gently pulls it into a final state—a basin of convergence. This is not based on opinion or symbol-reading. It is observable, repeatable, testable.

The speed of this convergence—how quickly the reduction paths compress—is easily explained by something mathematicians have known for centuries: mod 9 behavior, also called casting out nines.

But the destination—the where of the convergence—is not explained by that. It is not inevitable that the number names in English should reduce into specific loops. It is not mathematically necessary that two number names should be exact fixed points. And it is not trivial that this recursive system, applied to words of every kind, would yield such tight and elegant structure.

It is as if English itself was gently shaped—not to deceive, but to be decoded. And that’s the heart of the discovery. This is not numerology -period, and it's not math for math’s sake. This is the revealing of something deeper: a pattern within language that points toward structure, containment, and ultimately, purpose.

It means that the surface chaos of words conceals a hidden order. It means that everything—noble words, profane words, sacred names and silly phrases—are all caught in a design that funnels downward, then circles something stable.

In the beginning was the Word. And now we see: even our words bear His fingerprint. The convergence isn’t the miracle. But it is the signature, and it comes on the heals of the miracle you saw in the matrix and should not be easily dismissed.

This tool isn’t just a curiosity — it may be the beginning of something deeper. If a simple mapping from letters to numbers reveals stable numeric cycles—some of which echo theological language—then what happens when we push further?

  • Language evolution studies: Could this help trace hidden structure or convergence points in how language developed?

  • Data compression models: Could symbolic recursion inform new ways of reducing linguistic or numeric complexity?

  • AI and pattern recognition: Could this serve as a test case for distinguishing designed systems from stochastic ones?

  • Digital theology: Could this provide a new frontier in how faith and logic intersect, not in contradiction, but harmony?

I'm not claiming this is where it leads, but I am inviting others to see the possibilities, or more correctly, maybe God is the One saying look; to mathematicians, to linguists, to theologians, and to seekers who still believe that truth can be both beautiful and structured.

Because if what we’re seeing is even partly what it appears to be,
then this calculator is not the conclusion. It might be a doorway, meant for handling it's capabilities with nothing but reverence for the One who made it possible. 

The Convergence Calculator  

Try this: Type in the word "love" in the calculator. You'll notice the Alpha Sum 54, the Digital Sum 18, and the Digital Root 9, just like you did on Page E. However, this calculator asks for more — what are the values of those sums? The sums are converted to their written English words, and recalculated again and again (a process called iterative recursion) — and this goes on until it doesn’t! And that is yet another miracle. From the red number in the results line — to the red letter "R" (Repeating) is where the sequence gets caught in a forever repeating cycle. More to come.

Raphael     St. Paul Preaching in Athens     1515

The Moral

There’s a story Jesus told—a story so deceptively simple that it slips past our defenses before revealing its depth. A son asks for his inheritance early, squanders it all in foolishness, hits rock bottom in a foreign land, and finally comes crawling home, prepared to beg for scraps. Instead, his father runs to him. Embraces him. Restores him.

Most know it as the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11–32). I’ve come to believe it’s something more: it’s the story of us all. Not just individually, but collectively—humanity as a whole. This is the moral of the story. The Bible’s story. God’s story.

And it changes everything.

God Will Not Force Our Return

We live in a world crying out for answers. Where is God? Why doesn’t He just show Himself? Why does He stay silent when the world feels like it’s on fire?

Here’s what I’ve come to understand after 23 years of study: God will not force us to love Him. He will not barge in uninvited, won’t flood the sky with proof, won’t override our will. Not because He’s indifferent—but because He’s a Father, not a tyrant. He respects the terms of love.

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in…”
— Revelation 3:20

And love, by its very nature, must be chosen.

That’s why Jesus came not as a warrior, but as a servant. That’s why God hides in plain sight, working through whispers, impressions, and yes—through what looks like foolishness.

And that’s why, when He does speak, as He did through the prophet Malachi—the last voice before 400 years of silence—He says this:

“Return to me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord Almighty.
— Malachi 3:7

That’s the order. That’s the protocol. The Father waits. Watching the road. Hoping. Ready to run, but never to drag.

The Illusion of This Realm

For so many, Christianity is taught as a way to have a better life. Peace, purpose, prosperity. But Jesus didn’t come to enhance life—He came to save it. Not just one person at a time, but the world.

And here’s what’s rarely said out loud: Satan is the ruler of this world.

“The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers…”
— 2 Corinthians 4:4

“Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be cast out.”
— John 12:31

This world, in its current form, is under deception. The kingdoms of men are not God’s, and most of what we call “normal” is a distortion of what should be.

Jesus didn’t come to tell us how to live peacefully within the system. He came to call us out of it.

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…”
— Romans 12:2

He came to say: Don’t be of this world. Come home.

The Laws of the Kingdom

God’s universe is governed by laws—physical and spiritual. And those laws reflect something bigger than we often see.

In nature, a single grain can tip the scale. One more than half—that’s all it takes to shift the balance. The majority rules. And if that’s true in the physical realm, could it be a reflection of a deeper spiritual principle?

Could it be that the return of humanity—not just isolated hearts, but a spiritual majority—is what will finally lift the veil?

“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray… then I will hear from heaven, and I will heal their land.”
— 2 Chronicles 7:14

Again and again, God responds when a people turns. When a city repents. When a nation humbles itself.

He waits for that moment when the scale tips.

And when it does, He runs.

The Church and the Half-Gospel

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: The Church has preached a half-Gospel. A beautiful one, yes—about personal salvation, forgiveness, and eternal life. But it has too often missed the macro mission—God’s desire not just to save individuals, but to restore the world.

“Go and make disciples of all nations…”
— Matthew 28:19

That’s why Jesus told His followers to go into all nations. Not just neighborhoods. Nations. Not just for individual conversion, but for global transformation.

The reason the world hasn’t changed much in 2,000 years isn’t because the Gospel isn’t true—it’s because we’ve focused on personal salvation while ignoring the bigger story.

“The creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.”
— Romans 8:19

We’ve returned as sons… but not yet as a family.

God’s Workarounds

God loves too deeply to do nothing. But He also honors His design. So instead of tearing through the heavens to prove Himself, He sends workarounds.

A virgin birth.
A carpenter Messiah.
A broken man’s midnight prayer answered by an impossible discovery.

“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise…”
— 1 Corinthians 1:27

He still speaks. Still acts. Still reveals. But always in ways that leave room for doubt—because certainty kills choice, and God desires love, not compliance.

“We walk by faith, not by sight.”
— 2 Corinthians 5:7

He offers enough light to see, but never enough to remove the need for faith.

The Forest Beyond the Tree

That’s why this page begins with the Prodigal Son. That’s why it fades into the forest from a single tree.

Because the story is bigger than me. Bigger than any one of us. It’s not just my return God is waiting for—it’s ours.

The son came back to the Father.
Now the world must, too.

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”
— Luke 8:8

That’s the moral.

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Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.          Matthew 7:7

"Did God really say...?" —Genesis 3:1

It began with a question. Not a denial, but a distortion. The serpent didn’t attack God outright—he introduced doubt. A seed of suspicion: maybe God is withholding something good. Maybe His word isn’t fully trustworthy.

That one question changed everything.

From that moment, humanity stepped out of alignment with truth. Sin entered. Shame followed. Adam and Eve hid from God’s presence. And from that fracture, the world as we know it began—not built on trust and truth, but on rebellion and fear.

This wasn’t just a mistake in history—it was the beginning of a pattern.

Ever since, we’ve been repeating it. Hiding from God. Justifying rebellion. Calling good evil and evil good. What began in Eden continues in us.

And the Bible tells that very story:
Creation. Rebellion. Redemption. Restoration.
It’s not just theology—it’s the framework of reality. And we’re not reading it from the outside; we’re living it from within.

The Modern Age of Evil

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"But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive..." —2 Timothy 3:1–2

When we talk about evil, it’s tempting to think only of history’s monsters. But long before evil wears a crown, it wears a smile. It shows up quietly—in selfish motives, hidden addictions, harsh words, dishonest gains, casual cruelty.

In the home.
In the office.
In the church.

Lies told to protect reputation.
Envy hidden behind false praise.
Cheating justified by "everyone does it."
Unforgiveness kept like a weapon.

This is the world we’ve made.

It’s not just the headline-making horrors—it’s the ordinary patterns of sin that have become so normal we hardly see them anymore. And together, they form a culture of decay.

The 20th century proved that beyond question. With more power than ever, humanity didn’t choose peace—we perfected destruction.

Two world wars scarred the earth within a single generation. Entire cities were leveled. Millions died in trenches, in gas chambers, under mushroom clouds. Nations justified their violence with ideology, fear, or pride—each convinced they were on the right side of history. And through it all, the human heart kept repeating the same ancient pattern: power without righteousness.

Adolf Hitler orchestrated the Holocaust, murdering over 6 million Jews and millions more in pursuit of racial ideology.
Joseph Stalin ruled through terror, starvation, and purges—killing or silencing tens of millions.
Mao Zedong’s revolution brought famine, forced labor, and fear to over 40 million.
Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein—their names echo with cruelty and bloodshed.

These weren’t just men who snapped—they were the full-grown version of what begins in all of us: the desire to define right and wrong on our own terms. When that desire is given enough power, and no accountability, it produces devastation.

And this all happened in a century that claimed to be more enlightened than ever.

We built machines that reached the moon—but couldn’t stop the hatred in our streets.
We mapped the genome—but lost sight of the soul.
We declared moral freedom—then redefined morality altogether.

Scripture had already warned us: the last days would be full of self-love, greed, pride, and abuse. And that’s exactly what we see. Just scroll your feed. Social media hasn’t merely exposed our divisions—it has amplified them. The political divide has grown so wide, so toxic, that it now feels like a war of identities—where empathy is weakness, disagreement is betrayal, and hatred is just another form of loyalty.

The issue isn’t progress.
The issue isn’t politics.
The issue is the human heart—unchanged since Eden.

Our Laws, Our Mirrors

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

We’ve seen what happens when we try to govern ourselves apart from God. The results speak for themselves: confusion, corruption, injustice. And if we’re honest, we can’t fix it on our own.

But Jesus didn’t leave us to figure it out alone. He spoke directly to the world we’re living in—and He didn’t pull any punches.

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." —John 16:33

Jesus didn’t come to improve the world. He came to rescue us from it.

Because this world, as it stands, is not neutral ground—it’s a battleground between truth and deception. Between the kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness.

He called it what it was—a fallen, hostile system ruled by the enemy:

 

"The ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me." —John 14:30
"My kingdom is not of this world." —John 18:36
"The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers." —2 Corinthians 4:4

Jesus didn’t downplay the evil. He exposed it. He confronted it. And He called us out of it:

 

"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." —Romans 12:2
"Come out from them and be separate, says the Lord." —2 Corinthians 6:17

He didn’t promise comfort—He promised a cross.
He didn’t promise ease—He promised persecution.
Because this world is not home.

This life you are living, and this world you are living in, are both very real.
But they are not the greater reality.
The greater reality is the Kingdom of God—already breaking in, not yet fully seen.
And Jesus didn’t just talk about it.
He invited us into it.

This question of reality is complicated.
Many only know what they've been shown or taught —by tradition, by culture, even by the Church. Most of us inherit assumptions about what’s normal, what’s good, and what’s true. And if we’re not careful, those assumptions can dull our spiritual senses.

And yet, many have learned—or been taught—to be comfortable here. Many blend in, many mute the truth to can get along. Many trade urgency for ease, and to many the Kingdom of God becomes an afterthought in  day-to-day living or check marks on Wednesday and Sunday to-do lists.

And in doing so, many often fail to acknowledge—or have never been taught—one of the most crucial truths about this reality:
That we are not just living in a broken world—we are living in the midst of an invisible but very real spiritual war. A battle not just for behavior, but for belief. For allegiance. For truth itself.

If, before now, you had heard someone say that God—indeed Jesus—had hidden a cryptic message in a mysterious blend of math and language, woven through centuries of linguistic evolution, you might’ve thought them crazy. But you’ve seen it for yourself. You’ve witnessed the fingerprint of God, the quiet sovereignty at work behind the veil. And if that’s true—if goodness can move unseen through history—don’t doubt for a moment that evil does the same. Just watch the news if you need convincing.

We are like Lot’s wife, looking back at what we were told to leave behind. Like Demas, who “loved this present world.” Like Israel in the wilderness, longing for Egypt after being set free.

The moral of the story, as I see it, is simple but profound: God is not forcing us to love Him. He isn’t going to suddenly appear on the scene and announce, “Here I am.” Rather, it’s ours to return to Him, as the prodigal son did, and allow Him to welcome us with open arms. In this return, there is a deeper implication for both the individual and humanity as a whole. It’s not just about a personal reconciliation, but a cosmic one—God has invited us to be part of His great plan of restoration.

The God of the Old Testament was clear: “Return to Me, and I will return to you” (Malachi 3:7). This phrase is powerful when we consider the context of God’s covenant with Israel. He had been patiently waiting for His people to come back, to fulfill their part of the covenant, and He was always willing to extend mercy. But they, as a people, had turned away time and time again. They chose their own paths, chasing after other gods and making choices that led to their spiritual destruction.

But God, as always, did not give up on them. In the last recorded direct communication in the Old Testament, He is still extending that call to return—to restore the relationship, to offer redemption. This isn't just about individuals. It's a communal and global call. Humanity as a whole, collectively, is invited to return to God, and until we do, we cannot expect His full embrace.

The Prodigal Son story perfectly illustrates this. In the parable, Jesus tells us that the father stands waiting for his son’s return. And when the son turns toward the father, when he comes back home, the father runs to him, clothes him in the finest robe, and celebrates his return. It’s a beautiful picture of grace and restoration, but it’s also a statement about mankind as a whole. We’ve all wandered off. As individuals, we can turn back. As humanity, we can return as well. But first, we have to make the choice to return to God.

This wasn’t about a peaceful coexistence with the world or a serene existence of following a few principles that make life “better.” No, Jesus came as a Savior. He came with the message that we are not of this world, that we are citizens of a different kingdom. His life, death, and resurrection were all pointing toward a restoration of the world that could only come through the return of mankind to God. It is through the Cross that the world is made right—not through individual comfort or human-made peace. It is through the Cross that we are invited to reconcile with God.

In this grand scheme of things, Paul’s message to the early Church echoes loudly: We must be united. Over and over again, Paul calls the believers to come together, to be of one mind and one heart. "I appeal to you, brothers, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same judgment" (1 Corinthians 1:10). And yet, look around—Christianity has splintered into hundreds, perhaps over a thousand denominations.

Where did we go wrong? If the Church is meant to be a picture of the restored Body of Christ, then why does it seem so fractured? How can we claim to have the Spirit of unity when we allow division to persist? Is this really the fulfillment of God’s vision for us, or is it just a human failure to understand His call? Paul implored the early Church to preserve unity, not for the sake of conformity, but for the sake of a shared purpose—to bear witness to the world of the truth of Christ.

But, as we’ve seen, we have failed to live out that unity, and the result is a broken witness to the world. The Church has become a mirror image of the division we see in the world: disconnected, at odds, and fractured. This is the human condition—we choose to be divided. But if we look at the Prodigal Son, we see the pathway forward: we must return to God and, by doing so, reconcile with one another. This is how we restore not just ourselves, but the entire world.

In the same way that God has worked through history to restore His people individually, He is calling us to return together. That return requires repentance—not just as individuals, but as the Body of Christ. It’s a return to the original purpose and calling that God had for humanity in the beginning: to be in perfect relationship with Him, and with one another.

And just as in the Prodigal Son story, God is waiting, ready to run toward us. But we need to make the first move. We need to turn back. And as we do, we realize this truth: God has always been the one waiting. He has never abandoned us, even when we wander. His love is the constant. Our return is the catalyst for restoration.

Paul’s vision was one of unity, but not just unity for unity's sake. It was unity around the truth of Christ. It was a unity that would bring the world to see the gospel in action, the kingdom of God made visible in the lives of those who had reconciled both with God and with each other. This is the moral of the story—the return to God, as individuals and as a collective, is what sets the world right. And only when we return can the world experience the fullness of His love and restoration.

God will not force us to love Him. That’s not who He is.

He doesn’t crash through the sky just to prove Himself. He doesn’t demand worship with thunder or fear. That’s what we might expect—what we sometimes want—but that’s not how love works. He waits. He watches. He hopes. He lets us run if we need to.

Because the return has to be ours.

That’s the moral of the story. Not just mine—but the story. The whole biblical arc. We left. Humanity left. Like the son who packed his inheritance and walked away from the father, we’ve done the same, over and over again.

And still… the Father doesn’t turn away. He stays. Arms open. Eyes on the road. Waiting for the moment we come to ourselves and start heading home.

But the road back isn’t easy—because this world isn’t neutral ground.

Paul tells us that Satan is the ruler of this world. That’s not symbolic. That’s not poetic license. That’s a spiritual fact—and it changes everything. It explains why evil seems to prosper. Why lies spread faster than truth. Why faith feels so hard to hold onto in a world that’s always pulling you in the other direction.

This world is a far country. We’re prodigals living under someone else’s rule.

And yet—and yet—the Father still watches the road.

He doesn't rip control from Satan by force (not yet). He doesn’t overwhelm us with signs and spectacles. Instead, He speaks softly. Through stories. Through Scripture. Through conscience. Through moments that shouldn’t make sense, but do. Through people like my grandmother. Through foolish scribbles in a notebook. Through a cross.

Because this isn’t about domination—it’s about invitation.

And the choice… the return… is still ours.

He saw that the world wasn’t just broken—it was enslaved. Under the rule of a deceiver. Twisted from the inside out. And Jesus didn’t come to offer us a new flavor of peace or a cozy spiritual upgrade. He came to save us from a system that was never going to save us.

He didn’t just say, “Come believe in me and your life will be better.” He said, “Take up your cross. Die to yourself. Don’t be of this world.”

And that wasn’t just a message for a few struggling souls. That was a message to mankind.

We tend to individualize everything—make it about me and my walk, my blessings, my faith. But Christ’s words were aimed at a world system in open rebellion. A species that had walked away. A creation trying to exist without its Creator.

His arrival was a declaration: You’ve gone far enough. It’s time to come home.

But coming home doesn’t mean blending in. It doesn’t mean being nice and going to church once a week. It means waking up to the truth of who rules this world—and refusing to bow to it anymore.

Clarity

Raphael     St. Paul Preaching in Athens     1515

The whisper in the garden was a subtle twist of truth. A question that planted doubt in the first human hearts. "Did God really say?" was all it took. It was not an outright denial of God's word, but a distortion or better yet, a seed of suspicion that maybe, just maybe, God was holding something back.

And from that single lie, the world broke, sinned entered and shame followed. Adam and Eve hid from the presence of God. Ever since, the world has remained broken. Far removed as we may be, humanity still runs, not just from God, but from truth, accountability, and from the reality of our condition. The world as we know it was born not from truth, but from rebellion. Everything that followed, every act of evil, every war, every betrayal, and every injustice, can be traced back to that first fracture. From Cain murdering Abel to Pharaoh enslaving Israel, from Babylon’s cruelty to Rome’s corruption, the pattern is unbroken. Countless kingdoms risen and fallen, but human nature stays the same.

Empires were built on the backs of the weak. Wars were waged for power and pride. Idols were made out of gold, out of fame, out of self. We often pretend to be gods while destroying what God made.

The flood didn’t wash away our sin and the tower of Babel didn’t reach heaven. The Law exposed our guilt, but couldn’t fix it. The Prophets warned yet kings failed. The church was divided, institutionalized and often corrupted. People turned again and again to false gods and foreign powers, over and over, the pattern has repeated.

It's impossible to say how many of us can count ourselves among the poor in spirit, those who have mourned, those who are meek, the ones that hungered and thirsted for truth and righteousness, the merciful, pure of heart, and peacemakers, but one thing remains true:

"All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." —Romans 3:23

Every generation since the Garden has reflected the spirit of 2 Timothy 3:1–5, but perhaps none more strikingly than our own.

 

But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power.                                                  

The 20th century shattered the illusion of what we might label progress. With all our advancements in science, industry, and thought, we saw the greatest horrors unfold:

  • Adolf Hitler and the Holocaust: over 6 million Jews exterminated in systematic genocide.

  • Joseph Stalin: purges, forced famines, gulags—millions more silenced by state brutality.

  • Mao Zedong: cultural revolution and political terror costing over 40 million lives.

  • Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein—men who wielded power like gods, leaving trails of death. The list goes on and on. 

All in a century, and continuing now, where the human race supposedly reached its peak of enlightenment. For all of the technological advancements, there was  moral decay. The unborn became disposable. Truth became subjective. Pleasure became a right, and sacrifice became outdated. Human law began to reflect not God’s justice, but man’s desires. Corruption wasn’t the exception, it was the expectation.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness." —Isaiah 5:20

What we legalize speaks volumes about what we worship. When laws no longer reflect truth, but convenience, they reveal the heart of a fallen world. How far have we strayed when justice can be bought, innocence is optional and righteousness is mocked. From redefining family to celebrating self above all, we live in a culture that legislates sin and calls it freedom. And yet we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, more lost than ever. Suicide, depression and social anarchy are all on the rise because we've raised generations without regard for Truth. When it is claimed that there are no absolute truths, what is there left for a soul to believe in? If there is nothing to hope for than more of the same, who can be at peace? You can't build your lives on lies and expect peace. Those to the left, and those on the right have all been sold the same lie, just dressed up differently. What is that lie?  That your respective human leaders, can actually rule you effectively and justly. What good is a just warden if you are still in bondage?

Jesus understood the world for what it is, and He gave us truth and comfort when he said:

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." —John 16:33

Jesus didn’t come to improve the world we live in. He came to rescue us from it. He called it what it was; a fallen, hostile system ruled by the enemy:

The ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me. —John 14:30
My kingdom is not of this world. —John 18:36


And Paul added this:

The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers.

2 Corinthians 4:4

Jesus didn’t downplay the evil, He exposed it and He confronted it. He called us out of it when He said:

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  Romans 12:2


Come out from them and be separate, says the Lord. - 2 Corinthians 6:17

He didn’t promise comfort, He promised a cross to bear. He didn’t promise ease, He promised struggle. Because this world is not home.

They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world.  - John 17:16

And yet, we get comfortable here. We blend in. We mute the truth so we can get along. We trade urgency for ease, and the Kingdom of God becomes an afterthought in our day-to-day lives.

We are like Lot’s wife, looking back at what we were told to leave behind. Or we are like Demas, who “loved this present world.” Even Israel in the wilderness, longed for Egypt after being set free.

The problem isn’t time, or politics, or even technology. It’s sin. It's not a new idea, and it's been there all along. We still need rescue. We still need truth. We still need the only One who has overcome this world, not by comfort, but by a cross. Jesus.

One day, the lies will be fully exposed.

The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever. - Revelation 11:15

But until then, the question remains: Will we keep pretending this world is good enough? Or will we wake up, repent, and return to the Truth?

A Note on This World — And the One to Come

So what exactly is this “far country”? Is it just a symbol? A feeling? What Jesus described in the parable is more than a personal journey. It’s a theological blueprint for the world we live in right now.

“This world is the far country, and we are prodigals living under another’s rule.”

That line might raise some eyebrows—even among seasoned believers. But it isn’t just poetic flourish. It’s a theological claim rooted in Scripture. It’s also a narrative claim. Because we’re not just observing a story—we’re living in one.
Again, the Bible is not a separate religious manual; it’s the framework of reality itself. Again, we are participants in the very story it tells: creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration.


When Jesus called Satan the “ruler of this world” (John 12:31; 14:30), He wasn’t speaking metaphorically. Paul refers to him as “the god of this age” (2 Corinthians 4:4), and John writes that “the whole world lies in the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19). The New Testament paints a clear picture: while God is sovereign, this present age is under the influence of darkness.


So when I speak of “the far country,” I’m not talking about mere geography. I’m naming a condition or better yet, a spiritual exile. A world system shaped first of all by rebellion, which led to self-interest, deception, and pride. Hebrews 11 calls believers “strangers and exiles,” longing for a better country. Peter echoes this, urging us to live as “sojourners and exiles,” abstaining from the desires that wage war against our souls.

Because we live in a culture, especially in the West, where Christianity is often reduced to personal growth, moral improvement, or spiritual comfort. Sermons aim to encourage, but rarely confront. Church can feel more like therapy than transformation. In that environment, the far country doesn't feel far at all. It feels normal. Even desirable, and that is a real problem.


Again, Jesus didn’t come to make us comfortable here. He came to call us out.
He warned against lukewarmness (Revelation 3:16), against storing up treasure on earth (Matthew 6:19), against becoming too at home in a world that’s passing away (1 John 2:15–17). Paul warned that people would gather teachers who “say what their itching ears want to hear” (2 Timothy 4:3–4). Isaiah and Ezekiel spoke of false prophets who “heal the wound of the people lightly,” saying “peace, peace” when there is no peace (Jeremiah 6:14; Ezekiel 13:10).


This isn’t a rebuke of individual Christians. It’s a call to remember just exactly where we are and what story we’re in. Be sure that I am not disregarding the daily work of God. On the contrary, I believe His Spirit is active every day through kindness, healing, sacrifice, grace. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. I’m alive because of it. But mercy is not the same as endorsement.


Jesus said the Father “causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good” (Matthew 5:45). That’s mercy, not approval. Romans 2:4 says God’s kindness is meant to lead us to repentance. Peter reminds us that His patience is not weakness, it’s restraint, “not willing that any should perish” (2 Peter 3:9).
So when I say “this world is the far country,” I don’t mean God is absent.
I mean we’re not home yet.


And as long as we live under the influence of a system not fully submitted to Christ, we are, whether we admit it or not, prodigals. Even believers, and this is a hard pill to swallow, are still living under another’s rule. We are still surrounded by noise, lies, and illusions. Maybe that was the reason for the miracle of the matrix. Maybe our Father is so full of mercy that He knew we would need something that cuts through all that noise, all the lies and all those illusions?

For the last 2,000 years plus, every time an individual was drawn to Jesus by the Father, we could imagine a life ring being thrown to someone who has fallen overboard. The awakening that I see on the horizon could be likened to a ship going down. There aren't enough life rings on board, so the life boats are deployed so save all onboard the sinking ship.  

New Corbel Light Logo 3.png

So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

Luke 15:20

The forest

Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them."

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father.“

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

 

“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound."

“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 

But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

Just as I did with the page introducing Yeshua, I’ve wrestled about whether or not to include this page. For a long time, I’ve asked myself the same questions: Is this from God—or just me? Is it conviction—or ego? Is this obedience—or my own ambition dressed up as purpose?

 

This page feels different from the others. It’s not just telling a story or laying out an idea. It feels heavier—more personal, more loaded. It’s something I didn’t ask for, and probably wouldn’t have chosen to write if it were just up to me. But it hasn’t gone away. It stays with me. Quietly, persistently.

 

Early on, I promised myself this site wouldn’t be about me. I didn’t want to make it about personality or platform. I’m not trying to teach or lead or build a following. I’m just someone who found something—or more accurately, was found by Something bigger than myself. And it’s changed everything. Still, I’ve wrestled with this page. This burden. This tension.

 

It’s not about drawing lines or starting arguments. I’m not here to criticize other believers or divide the Church. I’m not angry. I’m not jaded. If anything, I feel a mix of heartbreak and hope. Because what I’ve seen—or what I believe God is letting me see—is something bigger than me. Something that might be hard to explain, but harder to ignore. That maybe the Gospel is more than individual salvation. That maybe the Cross is meant to bring us home—not just one at a time—but as a people. Together.

That maybe we’ve misunderstood our place in all this. We’re not just observers of the story—we’re participants. The Bible isn’t a collection of ancient writings with moral lessons—it’s the framework of reality itself. And whether we realize it or not, we are living in the very story it tells. Creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration. We are in it. Right now.

That’s what this page is about. A shared return. A shared hope. And still—I hesitated. I hesitated because I don’t want to alienate sincere believers. I know many are doing their best to follow Jesus. I know many love Him deeply. And I know there’s risk in sharing something that could be misunderstood.

 

Some might think I’m claiming special insight, or trying to “correct” the Church. That’s not what this is. This isn’t about being right. It’s about being honest. I’m sharing what’s been stirring in me—not with certainty in myself, but with a deep awareness that I’ll be held accountable for every word. I don’t write this lightly. I write it because I can’t ignore it.

 

There have been moments—small, powerful moments—that have reminded me what unity looks like. Moments where people laid down their differences. Where truth softened hearts. Where love won out. In stories. In films. In the aftermath of tragedy. In a single act of forgiveness. That rare, unmistakable unity moves me deeply. Sometimes to tears. In those moments, I feel the Spirit whisper: “This is what I want for you.” A glimpse of heaven. A taste of what could be. And it reminds me why I need to say this.

 

So I include this page—not because I have it all figured out—but because I trust the One who’s been nudging me to speak. I include it with humility, because I don’t claim certainty. I include it with caution, because truth matters. But I include it with hope—hope that many might feel the same nudge. Hear the same voice. This isn’t a rebuke. It’s a reflection. A set of questions. A prayer in written form.

I remember watching the Super Bowl in 2023 when that second “He Gets Us” ad, "Love Your Enemies," came on. I must have missed the first one they ran, maybe on a bathroom break. I wondered where this one was going as it highlighted the hatred that seems so common these days. The soulful track "Human" by Rag n Bone Man was hauntingly appropriate as I watched the still images of people from all walks of life furious with each other. And there at the end - "love your enemies," and "He (Jesus) Gets Us."  I was elated to know that millions of people around the world, whether they believed in Him or not, were all watching something that pointed to Christ. And I felt it, that familiar chill, the kind that only comes when something greater is moving beneath the surface. I didn’t know then what that campaign would become, or how far it would go. But I remember thinking: Christ is at the center of the world’s attention right now, and to me, that was a wonderful thing. 

 

I also felt something else, something that was for me deeper than the ad itself. I knew that my turn was coming; my turn to witness. Watching the world turn its eyes to Jesus, even briefly, was a jolt of hope. It reminded me that I still had a calling to fulfill, not that I needed reminding. Instead maybe a glimpse of what it might feel like to be a part of something that might help focus the Truth in a world that needed it more than ever. 

At the same time, I felt a wave of uncertainty, because while I had this message burning inside me, I still had no clear roadmap for how it would reach anyone. It was still a calling, fragile and unformed. A dusty and poorly written "book," some Excel files, and a Powerpoint presentation, along with hundreds of scribbled pages in various notebooks were all that I had managed in all that time. My obligation however, was growing heavier with each passing year. 

That moment watching that ad wasn’t just a fleeting glimpse of unity; it was a vivid reminder of how rare and precious such attention to Christ really is—especially in a world so often pulled in every other direction. Campaigns like He Gets Us have the power to connect millions with a simple, human message that resonates deeply. 

In today’s fragmented spiritual landscape, it’s rare to see a national or global outreach with the budget, visibility, and cultural reach that He Gets Us has achieved. Funded by significant resources and propelled by a well-known platform, it has brought a simple, human-centered message to millions, “He gets us.” This campaign has connected with many who feel misunderstood or disconnected, and for that, it deserves recognition.

This effort reflects a deep human longing for empathy and connection, and it taps into a cultural pulse that is often missing in traditional church outreach. The message, at its core, invites people to consider Jesus, not as a distant religious figure but as someone who understands their struggles and pain. That kind of framing is a bridge to a hurting world. But here is where the conversation must continue.

Why “He Gets Us” Is Not Enough

While He Gets Us brings an important and relatable message, it stops short of what I believe is God’s larger call for His Church and the world. Saying “He gets us” is a good start, but it risks becoming a comfortable, surface-level statement. A phrase that feels safe but doesn’t challenge or change hearts on a deeper level, is just that, a catchy phrase. 

The Gospel is not only about Jesus understanding us; it is about us truly knowing Him. Who is He? What did He come to accomplish? Why He calls us to believe in Him? No doubt He gets us, but do we get Him?

Too often, modern outreach efforts settle for cultural relevance or emotional resonance without pressing into the full message of the Kingdom. They may soften the harder truths in an effort to avoid offense or controversy, but in doing so, they leave the message incomplete.

The Church’s Challenge and Opportunity

Here’s the difficult truth: the Church has largely failed to answer the global call for awakening and unity in a way that truly moves the needle. We remain fragmented, often inward-focused, and too comfortable within echo chambers that affirm our existing beliefs rather than challenge us to grow and unite.

If the rest of the world is to see the power of Christ, shouldn't it be through a Church that lives out the unity Jesus prayed for, and the kind of unity Paul demanded? Shouldn't we finally strive for a Church that transcends denominational walls and theological disputes to stand together as one Body?

This is where the discovery I share on this site becomes crucial. It points to a divine structure and a call to collective restoration that is far beyond any marketing campaign or popular movement. It is a miracle of God meant to reach further than ever, an awakening like never before. 

The discovery is tangible and palpable—something to be seen, examined, honored, and admired. It points not only to a profound truth but also to a purposeful call to action, inviting the Church to engage deeply and practically with God’s unfolding plan.

After nearly two thousand years of relative silence, this discovery emerges as a timely revelation—an invitation to awaken to a fullness long awaited. For centuries, the world and the Church have been like creation itself; waiting, groaning, and hoping for the revealing of something greater (Romans 8:18-21). This discovery is not a boast, nor is it the final answer, but a humble step toward that long-anticipated awakening, arriving just when it is most needed.

What began as a whisper to one man should now become a clear, resounding call from a Father across time and space. This powerful, joyful summons, is an invitation that comes from a Father who will not be ignored: ‘Here I am, come to me.’

Moving Beyond Awareness to Awakening

My journey was never about building a platform or winning popularity. It was about encountering a truth so profound it changed my life and reoriented my understanding of God’s purpose. This isn’t a new gimmick or campaign; it’s an window to a deeper reality and a fresh, miraculous revelation of “Yeshua” that invites all who see to come home together.

It is easy to feel small or insignificant in the face of large, well-funded movements. I won’t pretend my resources compare, nor that I have all the answers. But I do believe that God is calling His people to something far greater than what we have seen so far: a global awakening rooted in unity, truth, and the transformative power of Christ.

A Call to the Church and to All Believers

This is not a critique meant to divide but a call to humble self-examination and renewal. If He Gets Us is a stepping stone, then let us walk boldly beyond it. If it begins a conversation, let us bring the message of unity and restoration to its full expression. The challenge is for each of us, individually and collectively, to ask: Do we really get Him? Do we understand the cost and the call of the Gospel? And are we willing to lay down our divisions and differences for the sake of the unified Body He prayed for?

I include this with reverence, not arrogance; with hope, not judgment. Because the future of the Church—and perhaps the world itself—depends on our answer.

Far country

When I reflect on the story of the Prodigal Son, I don’t see it simply as a tale of one wayward individual finding his way back home. No, this parable holds a mirror up to all of us—not just as isolated souls but as a people, a broken humanity yearning to be made whole again. Just as the son packed his inheritance and wandered far from his father, so humanity has turned away from God repeatedly, choosing our own paths, chasing after false hopes, and living under the shadow of a far country.

The far country isn’t just personal sin—it’s the world itself, as it now stands apart from God. It represents not only rebellion, but illusion. A system of temporary pleasures, false comforts, and misplaced security that lulls us into complacency.

Yet, despite our wanderings and failures, the Father in the story does not turn his back. He waits, with arms wide open, eyes fixed on the road, watching for the moment his son comes to his senses and begins the journey back. This image captures something profound about God’s heart for us—not just for our individual salvation but for the restoration of all things. Perhaps only when we return as a people, together, will we begin to see the fullness of what God intends for the Church, for the world, and for His Kingdom.

God will never force our love or our return. That’s not who He is. He does not crash down from the heavens with overwhelming power to prove Himself. He doesn’t demand worship through thunder or terror. That’s what we might expect or even sometimes want—but that is not how love works. Instead, He waits. He watches. He hopes. And He lets us run if we need to.

Because the return must be ours.

This is the moral of the story, not just mine, but the grand narrative of Scripture: humanity left. We left. Like the prodigal son, we have walked away from the Father again and again. And yet, the Father does not abandon us. He stays. Watching the road. Ready to welcome us home.

But the journey back is not easy, because this world is no neutral territory. Paul tells us that Satan is the ruler of this world—not metaphorically, not poetically, but a spiritual truth that changes everything. It explains why evil often seems to prosper, why lies spread faster than truth, and why faith is such a difficult path to walk in a world that constantly pulls us away.

This world is the far country, and we are prodigals living under another’s rule. That doesn’t mean God has abandoned the world—far from it. Creation still bears His fingerprints, and His Spirit is at work even now. But the systems of this age—the pride, deception, and self-rule that define so much of life apart from Him—are not neutral. They are part of the far country, and we are called to see them for what they are… and to come home.

Too often, Christianity is misrepresented as a path to a better life in the far country—as if following Christ should make us happier, wealthier, or more successful here. But the parable makes no such promise. It isn’t about thriving in the far country. It’s about rejecting it. And still, the Father watches the road.

He does not storm in and forcibly wrest control from Satan (not yet). He does not overwhelm us with signs or spectacles. Instead, He speaks quietly—through stories, through Scripture, through conscience, through moments that shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. Through people like my grandmother. Through what may seem like foolish scribbles in a notebook. Through the cross.

Because this isn’t a story of domination—it’s a story of invitation.

The choice—the return—is still ours.

Jesus saw that the world was not just broken but enslaved, trapped under the rule of a deceiver, twisted from the inside out. He didn’t come to offer a better version of peace or some cozy spiritual upgrade. He came to save us from a system that could never save us.

Our true peace and purpose were never meant to be found here. The Father’s house is not just a better destination—it’s the only real one. Anything less will leave us empty.

His message was clear: “Take up your cross. Die to yourself. Don’t be of this world.” This call was not just for a few struggling souls; it was a message to all mankind.

Too often, we individualize faith, making it about our own walk, blessings, or struggles. But Christ’s words targeted a system in rebellion—a species that had walked away, a creation trying to exist without its Creator.

His arrival was a declaration: You’ve gone far enough. It’s time to come home.

But coming home does not mean blending in. It does not mean simply being nice or going to church once a week. It means waking up to the truth of who really rules this world—and refusing to bow to that power any longer.

And this is the sense that I get; just like the prodigal son, when we return—not just as individuals, but as a people—God will welcome us back with open arms. Not just for our individual salvation, but for the restoration of all things. Perhaps only then will we see the fullness of what God intends for us, for the Church, and for the world.

Maybe the return of a son here, and a daughter there, is not enough? Could the return of humanity be the bigger story? Is God waiting for all of us to come home—together?

Could it be that the “majority” of us need to come back to the Father? And if so, might He restore us when we do? Perhaps the scales will tip, the division will be healed, and the truth of Christ will shine bright for the world to see.

Prodigals

The World

The whole is greater than the sum of its parts - Aristotle?

Forest for the trees

The miraculous catch

Early inheritance

God will not force us to love Him or return to Him

For so many, Christianity is taught as a way to have a better life. Peace, purpose, prosperity. But Jesus didn’t come to enhance life—He came to save it. Not just one person at a time, but the world.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

The
Prodigal
Son

Luke 15:11-32

The forest

So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

Luke 15:20

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Paul’s Plea for Unity

In every letter Paul wrote, there’s a constant refrain: unity. He pleads with believers to come together as one body, to be of one mind and spirit. He doesn't just urge it as a noble idea—he demands it, because he understood that the world could not fully see Christ in us until we were united in Him.

 

“I appeal to you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another so that there may be no divisions among you…”
— 1 Corinthians 1:10


“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit…” — Ephesians 4:3–4

In Paul's view, unity in the Church is not optional—it’s a command. The gospel is about more than individual salvation; it’s about the reconciliation of all things under Christ. And when the Church is divided, could it be that the world cannot fully see the truth of that reconciliation?

Here we are, more than 2,000 years later, with thousands of denominations worldwide, each professing a version of the truth. But how often do we see differing interpretations, conflicting doctrines, and fractured understandings of who Christ is and what He came to do? Has the very thing Paul warned against, division, become the hallmark of the modern Church?

 

“I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you…” — John 17:20–21

Jesus Himself prayed for unity among His followers, that they might be one, just as He and the Father are one. Yet, the very thing Jesus prayed for—unity—seems to be what we have fractured over time. Denominations, divisions, and doctrines are not just external problems; they are spiritual wounds that keep us from seeing the true unity of the Body of Christ and the full power of the Gospel message.

A Call for True Reconciliation

Why does this matter? Because God’s desire isn’t just for individual believers; it’s for the world to be reconciled to Him. Jesus came not just to offer salvation to isolated souls but to offer a way for the broken, fragmented world to be restored—through Him, through the Church, and through our unity in Him.

“God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them…”  — 2 Corinthians 5:19

And here is the irony: might it be that the world will never know Christ in the fullness of His reconciliation until we—the Church—are fully united?

It’s as if we’ve fragmented the Gospel—picking and choosing which parts to highlight, emphasizing our differences rather than what unites us.

True restoration—the kind that changes the world—happens when the Church returns fully to unity. Only through this collective, reconciled Body of Christ can the fullness of God’s Kingdom break through the darkness. When we stand united, we embody the Father’s heart for humanity’s return, reflecting His reign here and now.

And maybe that’s part of the story too.
Because if we truly are living inside the same story Scripture tells—a story of creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration—then division isn’t just a problem to be solved, it’s a signpost. A sign that we are still somewhere between the rebellion and the restoration. Still in the wilderness. Still waiting for something—someone—to bring us back together.

Paul’s vision in Ephesians 4:3–6 echoes this cosmic dimension:

“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit… one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all.”

This unity transcends mere agreement; it is the spiritual and practical foundation for the Church’s transformative witness in a fractured world. As we embrace this call, the Church becomes not just a gathering of individuals, but a powerful, united force for healing, reconciliation, and restoration.

Together, we can begin to tip the scales, heal divisions, and shine with the truth of Christ’s love—drawing the world back to the Father’s open arms.

A House
Divided

Global Decline of Christianity
Over the last several decades, Christianity has seen a noticeable decline in several regions of the world, particularly in the Western countries like the United States and Europe. Here’s a breakdown of some key factors contributing to this decline:
 

  1. Decreased Church Attendance:In many Western countries, church attendance has steadily decreased, particularly in Europe. In the United States, while there are still large numbers of Christians, the percentage of people who regularly attend church has dropped significantly. For instance, in 2000, about 77% of Americans identified as Christians, but by 2020, that number had dropped to around 64%. Furthermore, regular weekly attendance in church has fallen sharply, with studies showing that only about 20–22% of Americans attend church regularly today, compared to over 40% just a few decades ago.
     

  2. Rise of Secularism and Non-Religious Beliefs:One of the most significant shifts in the last 50 years has been the rise of secularism and the increase in the number of people identifying as "none" (religiously unaffiliated). In the United States alone, this group has risen from about 5% in the 1970s to around 30% today. This trend is even more pronounced in Europe, where secularism and atheism are growing, particularly among younger generations. Countries like Sweden, Denmark, and Norway report some of the highest percentages of non-religious populations, often exceeding 60% in some age groups.
     

  3. Youth and Religion: The younger generations are moving away from institutional religion. A survey from Pew Research found that around 70% of Millennials (born between 1981–1996) are less religious than their parents. This generational divide is one of the key factors in the decline of Christianity, as younger people are less likely to identify with any faith, attend church, or participate in religious activities. Even in countries where Christianity is still prevalent, like Latin America and Africa, younger generations are less involved in traditional Christian practices.
     

  4. Global Religious Shifts: While Christianity is declining in the West, it is growing in the Global South (particularly in Africa, Asia, and Latin America). However, despite this growth, Christianity as a whole has lost market share globally. In 1900, Christians made up about 34% of the world’s population. By 2020, that number had dropped to around 32% due to the rapid growth of Islam, Hinduism, and other religions, as well as the rise of the non-religious population.
     

  5. Cultural Shifts and Moral Concerns: The decline in Christianity is also attributed to changing cultural attitudes towards issues such as marriage, family, and sexuality. Many churches, especially in Western societies, have struggled to keep up with modern cultural shifts, especially around LGBTQ+ rights, gender equality, and other moral issues. As a result, many young people find it harder to reconcile traditional Christian teachings with their own views on these issues, which leads to disaffiliation from the faith.
     

A Call for Unity in the Midst of Decline
As Christianity faces these challenges, the call for unity within the body of Christ becomes even more urgent. The divide between denominations, doctrinal disputes, and fragmented Christian identities only exacerbate the problem. Unity isn’t just a theological concept; it’s a practical, visible necessity for the Church to respond to a world that is losing interest in organized religion. Without the unity of the Spirit—without coming together as the Body of Christ—the Church risks losing its voice in the world, its credibility, and its influence in the lives of those who need it most.

Do We
Get him?

I want to be clear about something before we continue. I’m not claiming to rewrite prophecy, nor am I offering a new interpretation of Revelation. I believe the Word of God is true, and the return of Christ is certain. But I also believe something else—something just as biblical, though often forgotten: That much of what God reveals in Scripture is not just a timeline, but a warning meant to turn us.

From Nineveh to Jeremiah, from the wilderness to the cross, the pattern is clear: when people repent, God relents. Not because He changes—but because we do. He responds to humility. He runs toward return.

So when I reflect on Revelation—not just the judgments, but the heartbreak behind them—I don’t see a God eager to destroy. I see a Father longing for His children to wake up and come home. What if Revelation is not just a countdown… but a call?

What if it’s not just a forecast—but a fork in the road? Could it be that if the Church—the whole Church—were to return, united and humbled, God would once again respond with mercy? Could we still, even now, shift the tone of what’s coming? Not cancel it. Not rewrite it. But perhaps, like the prodigal’s father, He is watching the road… waiting to run.

This isn’t theology of denial. It’s theology of hope. And it’s the same hope woven through every moment of redemptive history:

 

“Return to me, and I will return to you.” — Malachi 3:7
“Who knows? God may yet relent and turn from his fierce anger…” — Jonah 3:9
“He does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” — Lamentations 3:33

I don’t say this lightly. And I don’t pretend to know how much time we have left. But I do believe this with all my heart:

 

It is not too late.
And He is still watching the road.

Uphill Battle

Revelation?  Move?

"So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him."

Luke 15:20

The Wrestling

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The forest

Raphael
St. Paul Preaching
In Athens
1515

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

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How the calculator works

Because I believe that everything you have seen thus far is a direct result of divine intervention, or Providence, it led me to believe that nothing is insignificant. At some point I imagined that if, for instance the alpha sum for the word “God” = 26, then what does “twenty-six” equal? And when you do the math, you find that the alpha sum of “twenty-six” = 159.

 

I kept going to see just how far this iterative process would go. Using a simple everyday calculator, I found something so interesting that it caused me to develop this Convergence Calculator.

This isn’t a number game. This calculator takes any word or phrase, like “hope” or “forgiveness” or even your own name, and translates it into numbers. But it doesn’t stop there. It keeps going, turning those numbers back into words, then into numbers again. Over and over.

And something beautiful and unexpected happens. No matter where you start, the chaos fades and the system settles down. The numbers stop bouncing around and begin to repeat in patterns; stable, peaceful loops. Even words that have nothing in common end up in the same place.

That’s not normal. We aren’t supposed to find this kind of meaning in such randomness. But here, somehow, the patterns hold. This shouldn’t work. But it does.

And maybe, just maybe, the Word that was spoken in The Beginning carries echoes of God's ultimate order. Maybe the structure was always there—waiting to be revealed.

This calculator doesn’t prove God. But it sure points in His direction.

It’s a glimpse behind the curtain, where math and meaning touch—and the fingerprints of the Creator quietly shine through yet again.

Reasonable Questions

Q: Isn’t this just pattern-hunting in a limited system?

A: That concern is valid—and it’s exactly why I distinguish coincidence from convergence. The English alphabet is a closed system, but the calculator doesn’t just return occasional interesting outputs—it repeatedly lands in stable loops, even when starting from wildly different words. That kind of consistent recursion suggests order beyond randomness.
 

Q: The English language is arbitrary—why would it hold any deeper mathematical truth?

A: If this were purely about etymology or semantics, I would agree. But the patterns emerge not from meaning, but from structure—letter values, recursion, and modular arithmetic. English becomes the medium, not the message. It’s the stability across iteration, not vocabulary, that matters.

 

Q: Aren’t digital roots just a known property of base-9 math?

A: Yes—and that’s part of the point. Because digital roots are so well-understood, we know what they should produce: uniform chaos or trivial repetition. But the calculator doesn’t behave that way. It forms distinct, finite, meaningful orbits—well beyond what modular math alone would predict.

 

Q: “How do you know these cycles aren’t just statistical noise?”

A: Because I subjected thousands of English words to iterative analysis and observed consistent convergence toward stable, repeating loops. Even semantically unrelated terms often collapse into identical cycles. In statistics, noise is characterized by dispersion and randomness. What we see here is rapid convergence and compression—a hallmark of an underlying structure, not stochastic variance.

Q: Can this be replicated in other languages or systems?

A: Obviously, any language that uses the Latin Alphabet ordered from A-Z will get a return in the calculator. The significance here is that the matrix was discovered using English, a language that wasn't engineered and that evolved freely into the world's Lingua Franca. As shown on Page P, English seems to be the chosen language. 

Q: Isn’t the recursive loop behavior just a result of converting numbers to their spelled-out forms—which are inherently predictable?

A: If the system were truly trivial, we’d expect it to collapse quickly into obvious repetition or uninteresting results. But instead, we observe stable loops that absorb a wide variety of inputs—even complex or long words—and compress them into consistent, finite cycles. The recurrence of these loops across diverse inputs suggests a deeper structural property, not just linguistic inevitability.

Why it matters

This calculator does not invent anything. It discovers what is already there. And what is there—beneath the surface of human language, numbers, and logic—is a hidden order that speaks of intention, not accident. Recursion, convergence, compression: these are mathematical concepts. But here, they do more than process data. They hint at design.

In Scripture, God is revealed as both Word and Wisdom. He speaks creation into existence, calls things by name, and entrusts Adam with the naming of the animal kingdom. Names carry meaning. But in this case, they also carry number. And when processed through a system of simple arithmetic and symbolic iteration, something remarkable happens: chaos does not increase. It collapses into harmony.

That alone defies expectation. The system is recursive, yet stable. Iterative, yet convergent. Random inputs yield patterned outputs. It’s as though the language we inherited—imperfect and evolved though it may be—was still shaped by unseen boundaries. A riverbed dug by Providence?

To the believer, this may echo what Scripture has always claimed: that God’s wisdom is embedded in creation, hidden in plain sight, waiting for those with eyes to see. Not so we can boast in human ingenuity, but so we can marvel at divine restraint—how God allows freedom in language and culture, yet still reserves for Himself the final say. And that final say, in this case, is mathematical.

Again - this isn’t numerology! It isn’t about secret codes. It’s about patterns that shouldn’t be there—but are. Patterns that quietly point back to the Author of language, who wrote both Genesis and John, and whose fingerprints remain in the things we think we built ourselves.

At its heart, this calculator is a mirror: not of human brilliance, but of God’s. We didn’t shape this order and we have barely traced it here. And in doing so, we get a glimpse at the kind of coherence only a Creator could leave behind.

In summary

Every English word, when passed through this calculator—first converting to its Alpha Sum, Digital Sum and Digital Root, then recursively reducing those numbers back into their respective English names, and then converting those names back again repeatedly—will eventually land in one of only a handful of outcomes:

Two fixed points in Digital Sum:
Forty-six → 46
Fifty-four → 54

Or a small set of closed loops, such as:
AS: 240 → 216 → 228 → 288 → 255 → 240
 DS: 30 → 37 → 57 → 50 → 30

DR: 2 → 4 → 6 → 7 → 2

There are no infinite spirals. No exceptions. No chaos. No matter how obscure or random the original word or phrase, the system gently pulls it into a final state—a basin of convergence. This is not based on opinion or symbol-reading. It is observable, repeatable, testable.

The speed of this convergence—how quickly the reduction paths compress—is easily explained by something mathematicians have known for centuries: mod 9 behavior, also called casting out nines.

But the destination—the where of the convergence—is not explained by that. It is not inevitable that the number names in English should reduce into specific loops. It is not mathematically necessary that two number names should be exact fixed points. And it is not trivial that this recursive system, applied to words of every kind, would yield such tight and elegant structure.

It is as if English itself was gently shaped—not to deceive, but to be decoded. And that’s the heart of the discovery. This is not numerology—period, and it's not math for math’s sake. This is the revealing of something deeper: a pattern within language that points toward structure, containment, and ultimately, purpose.

It means that the surface chaos of words conceals a hidden order. It means that everything—noble words, profane words, sacred names and silly phrases—are all caught in a design that funnels downward, then circles something stable.

In the beginning was the Word. And now we see: even our words bear His fingerprint. The convergence isn’t the miracle. But it is perhaps another signature, and it comes on the heals of the miracle you saw in the matrix and should not be easily dismissed.

This tool isn’t just a curiosity — it may be the beginning of something deeper. If a simple mapping from letters to numbers reveals stable numeric cycles—some of which echo theological language—then what happens when we push further?

  • Language evolution studies: Could this help trace hidden structure or convergence points in how language developed?

  • Data compression models: Could symbolic recursion inform new ways of reducing linguistic or numeric complexity?

  • AI and pattern recognition: Could this serve as a test case for distinguishing designed systems from stochastic ones?

  • Digital theology: Could this provide a new frontier in how faith and logic intersect, not in contradiction, but harmony?

I'm not claiming this is where it leads, but I am inviting others to see the possibilities, or more correctly, maybe God is the One saying look; to mathematicians, to linguists, to theologians, and to seekers who still believe that truth can be both beautiful and structured.

Because if what we’re seeing is even partly what it appears to be,
then this calculator is not the conclusion. It might be a doorway, meant for handling it's capabilities with nothing but reverence for the One who made it possible. 

Please note: The idea for this calculator and its function was indeed my own. However, its coding and interpretation was, in part, generated by AI and then edited by me. It is possible that AI has overstated its value and implications. Because I lack this kind of knowledge, it will be up to honest and qualified mathematicians to provide further examination and interpretation. 

Try this: Type in the word "love" in this calculator. You'll notice the Alpha Sum 54, the Digital Sum 18, and the Digital Root 9, just like you did on Page E. However, this calculator asks for more — what are the values of those sums? The sums are converted to their written English words, and recalculated again and again (a process called iterative recursion) — and this goes on until it doesn’t! And that is yet another miracle, in my humble opinion. From the red number in the results line — to the red letter "R" (Repeating) is where the sequence gets caught in a forever repeating cycle. More to come.

The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.

Matthew 13:31-32

The
Convergence Calculator  

Scientific and Mathematical
Explanation of the Convergence Calculator

1. Input Processing & Basic Computations

Alpha Sum (A=1, B=2, ..., Z=26):


This is a linear mapping from characters to integers based on their position in the English alphabet. Mathematically:

ALPHASUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ POS(Sᵢ)

where Sᵢ is the i-th character and Pos(·) its alphabetical index.

Digital Sum (Pythagorean Mapping Base 9):
Here, letters map to values 1 through 9 cyclically:

DIGITALMAP = { A=1, B=2, ..., I=9, J=1, ..., Z=8 }

This mapping applies base-9 modular arithmetic (with adjustment):

DIGITALSUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ [ (POS(Sᵢ) − 1) MOD 9 + 1 ]

Digital Root:
The digital root is the iterative sum of digits until a single digit remains. Formally:

DIGITALROOT(X) = 1 + ((X − 1) MOD 9)

unless x = 0, in which case it's 0.

2. Recursive Cycle Detection Using Number-to-Word Conversion


The novel step is the recursive iteration:

Each numeric result is converted to its English word form.
That word is re-processed through the same sum logic (Alpha, Digital, Root).


This forms a sequence: {x₀, x₁, x₂, ...}


Cycle detection occurs when a value repeats.

This creates an iterated function system (IFS) of the form:

f(x) = SUM(NUMBERTOWORDS(x)), xₙ₊₁ = f(xₙ)

3. Mathematical Nature of the Cycles


Because each f maps integers to a bounded domain (due to limited letter sums), each orbit is finite. By the Pigeonhole Principle, each sequence must eventually repeat (form a cycle).


The digital root cycle is well-known and always stabilizes between 1–9 (except for 0).

4. Relation to Modular Arithmetic and Casting Out Nines


The digital root function is essentially a base-9 residue:

DIGITALROOT(X) ≡ X MOD 9

with an offset for zero-handling. It’s historically used in “casting out nines,” a checksum trick for verifying arithmetic. This grounding makes the system’s stability unsurprising — it relies on modular invariants.

5. Interpretation: Fixed Points and Symbolic Cycles
The detected numeric cycles are attractors in a discrete symbolic system. Their recurrence hints at:

  • Underlying numeric invariants embedded in language

  • Potential symbolic or semantic convergence

  • A structured interaction between language and arithmetic

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."

Proverbs 3:5-6

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Convergence

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Return
to Babel?

"You said in your heart, 'I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.'"

Isaiah 14:13-14

Watching this conversation left me deeply convicted to share it. The potential of Artificial Super Intelligence may be awe-inspiring to some, but it also carries risks that could affect all of humanity. While it’s easy to dismiss such discussions as science fiction or distant speculation, I believe this is a concern that may be flying in quietly, “under the radar,” and it deserves our immediate awareness.

For centuries, humans have sought to transcend the natural order, attempting to grasp powers once believed to belong only to the divine. From Babel, to alchemists in the Middle Ages who pursued the Philosopher’s Stone, striving for immortality and the transformation of base metals into gold. Later, scientists hunted the so-called “God Particle” to understand the origins of mass, while modern researchers explore genetic engineering and synthetic life. Across time, these efforts reveal a persistent pattern: humans reaching beyond their rightful bounds, often without fully realizing the consequences.

Today, artificial intelligence is being created with the potential to surpass human intellect, understanding, and even control—echoing the ambition and overreach of the Tower of Babel.

“Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools”—are these words from Paul now converging with a modern context?

"—and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles"

Romans 1:22-23

I pray that we will recognize the seriousness of this moment, approach it with humility and discernment, and seek God’s wisdom—trusting His sovereignty, yet mindful that the forces being unleashed may be beyond our control. Yet,

“Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Joshua 1:9

For me, the timing of this presentation has been yet another example of the convergence of many factors. Just as cultures and languages converged over centuries to shape the English we speak today, I’ve come to see that fulfilling my calling was a coming-together of not only God’s timing and my personal spiritual maturation, but also the modern tools now at my disposal—including the use of Artificial Intelligence to assist with research and web design.

 

The calculators you’ve seen and used throughout the site were imagined by me, but only became possible thanks to the coding capabilities of AI. Obviously, AI has the potential to do good in the world. However, like any new and exciting breakthrough, there is always a flip side. 

Throughout history, some of humanity’s greatest innovations—nuclear energy, the internet, and genetic engineering—were created with the hope of improving life. Yet in every case, the same technologies were often turned toward moral depravity, greed, power, control, division or destruction.

Today, we stand at a similar crossroads with Artificial Super Intelligence. What could become the most transformative tool in human history also carries risks unlike anything we’ve faced before.

In the conversation below, Steven Bartlett speaks with technology ethicist Tristan Harris about the promise and the peril of this rapidly approaching frontier, and why careful thought and foresight have never been more crucial. Could this be a return to the confusion and pride of Babel, where human ambition outpaced wisdom?

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...and the truth and the life."
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...and the truth and the life. 
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Return to Babel?

"You said in your heart, ‘I will ascend to heaven; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit on the mount of assembly in the far reaches of the north; I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High."

Isaiah 14:13-14

For me, the idea of Convergence is more than historical or technological. Just as cultures and languages converged over centuries to shape the English we speak today, I’ve come to see that fulfilling my own calling has required a convergence of God’s timing, my spiritual maturity, and the modern tools at my disposal—including the use of Artificial Intelligence to assist with research and web design. The calculators you’ve seen and used throughout the site were imagined by me, but only became possible thanks to the coding capabilities of AI.

Throughout history, some of humanity’s greatest innovations—nuclear energy, the internet, and genetic engineering—were created with the hope of improving life. Yet in every case, the same technologies were often turned toward greed, power, or destruction.

Today, we stand at a similar crossroads with Artificial Super Intelligence. What could become the most transformative tool in human history also carries risks unlike anything we’ve faced before.

In the conversation below, Steven Bartlett speaks with AI safety expert Roman Yampolskiy about the promise and the peril of this rapidly approaching frontier, and why careful thought and foresight have never been more crucial. Could this be a return to the confusion and pride of Babel, where human ambition outpaced wisdom?

Watching this conversation left me deeply convicted to share it. The potential of Artificial Super Intelligence may be awe-inspiring to some, but it also carries risks that could affect all of humanity. While it’s easy to dismiss such discussions as science fiction or distant speculation, I believe this is a concern that may be flying in quietly, “under the radar,” and it deserves our immediate awareness.

For centuries, humans have sought to transcend the natural order, attempting to grasp powers once believed to belong only to the divine. Alchemists in the Middle Ages pursued the Philosopher’s Stone, striving for immortality and the transformation of base metals into gold. Later, scientists hunted the so-called “God Particle” to understand the origins of mass, while modern researchers explore genetic engineering and synthetic life. Across time, these efforts reveal a persistent pattern: humans reaching beyond their rightful bounds, often without fully realizing the consequences.

Today, artificial intelligence is being created with the potential to surpass human intellect, understanding, and even control—echoing the ambition and overreach of the Tower of Babel.

“Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools”—are these words from Paul now converging with a modern context?

This calls for discernment:

"…and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal humans or birds or animals or reptiles."

Romans 1:22-23

I pray that we will recognize the seriousness of this moment, approach it with humility and discernment, and seek God’s wisdom—trusting His sovereignty, yet mindful that the forces being unleashed may be beyond our control. In the mean time, 

“Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Joshua 1:9

The whisper in the garden was a subtle twist of truth. A question that planted doubt in the first human hearts. "Did God really say?" was all it took. It was not an outright denial of God's word, but a distortion or better yet, a seed of suspicion that maybe, just maybe, God was holding something back.

And from that single lie, the world broke, sinned entered and shame followed. Adam and Eve hid from the presence of God. Ever since, the world has remained broken. Far removed as we may be, humanity still runs, not just from God, but from truth, accountability, and from the reality of our condition. The world as we know it was born not from truth, but from rebellion. Everything that followed, every act of evil, every war, every betrayal, and every injustice, can be traced back to that first fracture. From Cain murdering Abel to Pharaoh enslaving Israel, from Babylon’s cruelty to Rome’s corruption, the pattern is unbroken. Countless kingdoms risen and fallen, but human nature stays the same.

Empires were built on the backs of the weak. Wars were waged for power and pride. Idols were made out of gold, out of fame, out of self. We often pretend to be gods while destroying what God made.

The flood didn’t wash away our sin and the tower of Babel didn’t reach heaven. The Law exposed our guilt, but couldn’t fix it. The Prophets warned yet kings failed. The church was divided, institutionalized and often corrupted. People turned again and again to false gods and foreign powers, over and over, the pattern has repeated.

It's impossible to say how many of us can count ourselves among the poor in spirit, those who have mourned, those who are meek, the ones that hungered and thirsted for truth and righteousness, the merciful, pure of heart, and peacemakers, but one thing remains true:

"All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." —Romans 3:23

Every generation since the Garden has reflected the spirit of 2 Timothy 3:1–5, but perhaps none more strikingly than our own.

 

But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power.                                                  

The 20th century shattered the illusion of what we might label progress. With all our advancements in science, industry, and thought, we saw the greatest horrors unfold:

  • Adolf Hitler and the Holocaust: over 6 million Jews exterminated in systematic genocide.

  • Joseph Stalin: purges, forced famines, gulags—millions more silenced by state brutality.

  • Mao Zedong: cultural revolution and political terror costing over 40 million lives.

  • Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein—men who wielded power like gods, leaving trails of death. The list goes on and on. 

All in a century, and continuing now, where the human race supposedly reached its peak of enlightenment. For all of the technological advancements, there was  moral decay. The unborn became disposable. Truth became subjective. Pleasure became a right, and sacrifice became outdated. Human law began to reflect not God’s justice, but man’s desires. Corruption wasn’t the exception, it was the expectation.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness." —Isaiah 5:20

What we legalize speaks volumes about what we worship. When laws no longer reflect truth, but convenience, they reveal the heart of a fallen world. How far have we strayed when justice can be bought, innocence is optional and righteousness is mocked. From redefining family to celebrating self above all, we live in a culture that legislates sin and calls it freedom. And yet we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, more lost than ever. Suicide, depression and social anarchy are all on the rise because we've raised generations without regard for Truth. When it is claimed that there are no absolute truths, what is there left for a soul to believe in? If there is nothing to hope for than more of the same, who can be at peace? You can't build your lives on lies and expect peace. Those to the left, and those on the right have all been sold the same lie, just dressed up differently. What is that lie?  That your respective human leaders, can actually rule you effectively and justly. What good is a just warden if you are still in bondage?

Jesus understood the world for what it is, and He gave us truth and comfort when he said:

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." —John 16:33

Jesus didn’t come to improve the world we live in. He came to rescue us from it. He called it what it was; a fallen, hostile system ruled by the enemy:

The ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me. —John 14:30
My kingdom is not of this world. —John 18:36


And Paul added this:

The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers.

2 Corinthians 4:4

Jesus didn’t downplay the evil, He exposed it and He confronted it. He called us out of it when He said:

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  Romans 12:2


Come out from them and be separate, says the Lord. - 2 Corinthians 6:17

He didn’t promise comfort, He promised a cross to bear. He didn’t promise ease, He promised struggle. Because this world is not home.

They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world.  - John 17:16

And yet, we get comfortable here. We blend in. We mute the truth so we can get along. We trade urgency for ease, and the Kingdom of God becomes an afterthought in our day-to-day lives.

We are like Lot’s wife, looking back at what we were told to leave behind. Or we are like Demas, who “loved this present world.” Even Israel in the wilderness, longed for Egypt after being set free.

The problem isn’t time, or politics, or even technology. It’s sin. It's not a new idea, and it's been there all along. We still need rescue. We still need truth. We still need the only One who has overcome this world, not by comfort, but by a cross. Jesus.

One day, the lies will be fully exposed.

The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever. - Revelation 11:15

But until then, the question remains: Will we keep pretending this world is good enough? Or will we wake up, repent, and return to the Truth?

A Note on This World — And the One to Come

So what exactly is this “far country”? Is it just a symbol? A feeling? What Jesus described in the parable is more than a personal journey. It’s a theological blueprint for the world we live in right now.

“This world is the far country, and we are prodigals living under another’s rule.”

That line might raise some eyebrows—even among seasoned believers. But it isn’t just poetic flourish. It’s a theological claim rooted in Scripture. It’s also a narrative claim. Because we’re not just observing a story—we’re living in one.
Again, the Bible is not a separate religious manual; it’s the framework of reality itself. Again, we are participants in the very story it tells: creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration.


When Jesus called Satan the “ruler of this world” (John 12:31; 14:30), He wasn’t speaking metaphorically. Paul refers to him as “the god of this age” (2 Corinthians 4:4), and John writes that “the whole world lies in the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19). The New Testament paints a clear picture: while God is sovereign, this present age is under the influence of darkness.


So when I speak of “the far country,” I’m not talking about mere geography. I’m naming a condition or better yet, a spiritual exile. A world system shaped first of all by rebellion, which led to self-interest, deception, and pride. Hebrews 11 calls believers “strangers and exiles,” longing for a better country. Peter echoes this, urging us to live as “sojourners and exiles,” abstaining from the desires that wage war against our souls.

Because we live in a culture, especially in the West, where Christianity is often reduced to personal growth, moral improvement, or spiritual comfort. Sermons aim to encourage, but rarely confront. Church can feel more like therapy than transformation. In that environment, the far country doesn't feel far at all. It feels normal. Even desirable, and that is a real problem.


Again, Jesus didn’t come to make us comfortable here. He came to call us out.
He warned against lukewarmness (Revelation 3:16), against storing up treasure on earth (Matthew 6:19), against becoming too at home in a world that’s passing away (1 John 2:15–17). Paul warned that people would gather teachers who “say what their itching ears want to hear” (2 Timothy 4:3–4). Isaiah and Ezekiel spoke of false prophets who “heal the wound of the people lightly,” saying “peace, peace” when there is no peace (Jeremiah 6:14; Ezekiel 13:10).


This isn’t a rebuke of individual Christians. It’s a call to remember just exactly where we are and what story we’re in. Be sure that I am not disregarding the daily work of God. On the contrary, I believe His Spirit is active every day through kindness, healing, sacrifice, grace. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. I’m alive because of it. But mercy is not the same as endorsement.


Jesus said the Father “causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good” (Matthew 5:45). That’s mercy, not approval. Romans 2:4 says God’s kindness is meant to lead us to repentance. Peter reminds us that His patience is not weakness, it’s restraint, “not willing that any should perish” (2 Peter 3:9).
So when I say “this world is the far country,” I don’t mean God is absent.
I mean we’re not home yet.


And as long as we live under the influence of a system not fully submitted to Christ, we are, whether we admit it or not, prodigals. Even believers, and this is a hard pill to swallow, are still living under another’s rule. We are still surrounded by noise, lies, and illusions. Maybe that was the reason for the miracle of the matrix. Maybe our Father is so full of mercy that He knew we would need something that cuts through all that noise, all the lies and all those illusions?

For the last 2,000 years plus, every time an individual was drawn to Jesus by the Father, we could imagine a life ring being thrown to someone who has fallen overboard. The awakening that I see on the horizon could be likened to a ship going down. There aren't enough life rings on board, so the life boats are deployed so save all onboard the sinking ship.  

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So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

Luke 15:20

The forest

Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them."

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father.“

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

 

“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound."

“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 

But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

Just as I did with the page introducing Yeshua, I’ve wrestled about whether or not to include this page. For a long time, I’ve asked myself the same questions: Is this from God—or just me? Is it conviction—or ego? Is this obedience—or my own ambition dressed up as purpose?

 

This page feels different from the others. It’s not just telling a story or laying out an idea. It feels heavier—more personal, more loaded. It’s something I didn’t ask for, and probably wouldn’t have chosen to write if it were just up to me. But it hasn’t gone away. It stays with me. Quietly, persistently.

 

Early on, I promised myself this site wouldn’t be about me. I didn’t want to make it about personality or platform. I’m not trying to teach or lead or build a following. I’m just someone who found something—or more accurately, was found by Something bigger than myself. And it’s changed everything. Still, I’ve wrestled with this page. This burden. This tension.

 

It’s not about drawing lines or starting arguments. I’m not here to criticize other believers or divide the Church. I’m not angry. I’m not jaded. If anything, I feel a mix of heartbreak and hope. Because what I’ve seen—or what I believe God is letting me see—is something bigger than me. Something that might be hard to explain, but harder to ignore. That maybe the Gospel is more than individual salvation. That maybe the Cross is meant to bring us home—not just one at a time—but as a people. Together.

That maybe we’ve misunderstood our place in all this. We’re not just observers of the story—we’re participants. The Bible isn’t a collection of ancient writings with moral lessons—it’s the framework of reality itself. And whether we realize it or not, we are living in the very story it tells. Creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration. We are in it. Right now.

That’s what this page is about. A shared return. A shared hope. And still—I hesitated. I hesitated because I don’t want to alienate sincere believers. I know many are doing their best to follow Jesus. I know many love Him deeply. And I know there’s risk in sharing something that could be misunderstood.

 

Some might think I’m claiming special insight, or trying to “correct” the Church. That’s not what this is. This isn’t about being right. It’s about being honest. I’m sharing what’s been stirring in me—not with certainty in myself, but with a deep awareness that I’ll be held accountable for every word. I don’t write this lightly. I write it because I can’t ignore it.

 

There have been moments—small, powerful moments—that have reminded me what unity looks like. Moments where people laid down their differences. Where truth softened hearts. Where love won out. In stories. In films. In the aftermath of tragedy. In a single act of forgiveness. That rare, unmistakable unity moves me deeply. Sometimes to tears. In those moments, I feel the Spirit whisper: “This is what I want for you.” A glimpse of heaven. A taste of what could be. And it reminds me why I need to say this.

 

So I include this page—not because I have it all figured out—but because I trust the One who’s been nudging me to speak. I include it with humility, because I don’t claim certainty. I include it with caution, because truth matters. But I include it with hope—hope that many might feel the same nudge. Hear the same voice. This isn’t a rebuke. It’s a reflection. A set of questions. A prayer in written form.

The Wrestling

I remember watching the Super Bowl in 2023 when that second “He Gets Us” ad, "Love Your Enemies," came on. I must have missed the first one they ran, maybe on a bathroom break. I wondered where this one was going as it highlighted the hatred that seems so common these days. The soulful track "Human" by Rag n Bone Man was hauntingly appropriate as I watched the still images of people from all walks of life furious with each other. And there at the end - "love your enemies," and "He (Jesus) Gets Us."  I was elated to know that millions of people around the world, whether they believed in Him or not, were all watching something that pointed to Christ. And I felt it, that familiar chill, the kind that only comes when something greater is moving beneath the surface. I didn’t know then what that campaign would become, or how far it would go. But I remember thinking: Christ is at the center of the world’s attention right now, and to me, that was a wonderful thing. 

 

I also felt something else, something that was for me deeper than the ad itself. I knew that my turn was coming; my turn to witness. Watching the world turn its eyes to Jesus, even briefly, was a jolt of hope. It reminded me that I still had a calling to fulfill, not that I needed reminding. Instead maybe a glimpse of what it might feel like to be a part of something that might help focus the Truth in a world that needed it more than ever. 

At the same time, I felt a wave of uncertainty, because while I had this message burning inside me, I still had no clear roadmap for how it would reach anyone. It was still a calling, fragile and unformed. A dusty and poorly written "book," some Excel files, and a Powerpoint presentation, along with hundreds of scribbled pages in various notebooks were all that I had managed in all that time. My obligation however, was growing heavier with each passing year. 

That moment watching that ad wasn’t just a fleeting glimpse of unity; it was a vivid reminder of how rare and precious such attention to Christ really is—especially in a world so often pulled in every other direction. Campaigns like He Gets Us have the power to connect millions with a simple, human message that resonates deeply. 

In today’s fragmented spiritual landscape, it’s rare to see a national or global outreach with the budget, visibility, and cultural reach that He Gets Us has achieved. Funded by significant resources and propelled by a well-known platform, it has brought a simple, human-centered message to millions, “He gets us.” This campaign has connected with many who feel misunderstood or disconnected, and for that, it deserves recognition.

This effort reflects a deep human longing for empathy and connection, and it taps into a cultural pulse that is often missing in traditional church outreach. The message, at its core, invites people to consider Jesus, not as a distant religious figure but as someone who understands their struggles and pain. That kind of framing is a bridge to a hurting world. But here is where the conversation must continue.

Why “He Gets Us” Is Not Enough

While He Gets Us brings an important and relatable message, it stops short of what I believe is God’s larger call for His Church and the world. Saying “He gets us” is a good start, but it risks becoming a comfortable, surface-level statement. A phrase that feels safe but doesn’t challenge or change hearts on a deeper level, is just that, a catchy phrase. 

The Gospel is not only about Jesus understanding us; it is about us truly knowing Him. Who is He? What did He come to accomplish? Why He calls us to believe in Him? No doubt He gets us, but do we get Him?

Too often, modern outreach efforts settle for cultural relevance or emotional resonance without pressing into the full message of the Kingdom. They may soften the harder truths in an effort to avoid offense or controversy, but in doing so, they leave the message incomplete.

The Church’s Challenge and Opportunity

Here’s the difficult truth: the Church has largely failed to answer the global call for awakening and unity in a way that truly moves the needle. We remain fragmented, often inward-focused, and too comfortable within echo chambers that affirm our existing beliefs rather than challenge us to grow and unite.

If the rest of the world is to see the power of Christ, shouldn't it be through a Church that lives out the unity Jesus prayed for, and the kind of unity Paul demanded? Shouldn't we finally strive for a Church that transcends denominational walls and theological disputes to stand together as one Body?

This is where the discovery I share on this site becomes crucial. It points to a divine structure and a call to collective restoration that is far beyond any marketing campaign or popular movement. It is a miracle of God meant to reach further than ever, an awakening like never before. 

The discovery is tangible and palpable—something to be seen, examined, honored, and admired. It points not only to a profound truth but also to a purposeful call to action, inviting the Church to engage deeply and practically with God’s unfolding plan.

After nearly two thousand years of relative silence, this discovery emerges as a timely revelation—an invitation to awaken to a fullness long awaited. For centuries, the world and the Church have been like creation itself; waiting, groaning, and hoping for the revealing of something greater (Romans 8:18-21). This discovery is not a boast, nor is it the final answer, but a humble step toward that long-anticipated awakening, arriving just when it is most needed.

What began as a whisper to one man should now become a clear, resounding call from a Father across time and space. This powerful, joyful summons, is an invitation that comes from a Father who will not be ignored: ‘Here I am, come to me.’

Moving Beyond Awareness to Awakening

My journey was never about building a platform or winning popularity. It was about encountering a truth so profound it changed my life and reoriented my understanding of God’s purpose. This isn’t a new gimmick or campaign; it’s an window to a deeper reality and a fresh, miraculous revelation of “Yeshua” that invites all who see to come home together.

It is easy to feel small or insignificant in the face of large, well-funded movements. I won’t pretend my resources compare, nor that I have all the answers. But I do believe that God is calling His people to something far greater than what we have seen so far: a global awakening rooted in unity, truth, and the transformative power of Christ.

A Call to the Church and to All Believers

This is not a critique meant to divide but a call to humble self-examination and renewal. If He Gets Us is a stepping stone, then let us walk boldly beyond it. If it begins a conversation, let us bring the message of unity and restoration to its full expression. The challenge is for each of us, individually and collectively, to ask: Do we really get Him? Do we understand the cost and the call of the Gospel? And are we willing to lay down our divisions and differences for the sake of the unified Body He prayed for?

I include this with reverence, not arrogance; with hope, not judgment. Because the future of the Church—and perhaps the world itself—depends on our answer.

Far country

When I reflect on the story of the Prodigal Son, I don’t see it simply as a tale of one wayward individual finding his way back home. No, this parable holds a mirror up to all of us—not just as isolated souls but as a people, a broken humanity yearning to be made whole again. Just as the son packed his inheritance and wandered far from his father, so humanity has turned away from God repeatedly, choosing our own paths, chasing after false hopes, and living under the shadow of a far country.

The far country isn’t just personal sin—it’s the world itself, as it now stands apart from God. It represents not only rebellion, but illusion. A system of temporary pleasures, false comforts, and misplaced security that lulls us into complacency.

Yet, despite our wanderings and failures, the Father in the story does not turn his back. He waits, with arms wide open, eyes fixed on the road, watching for the moment his son comes to his senses and begins the journey back. This image captures something profound about God’s heart for us—not just for our individual salvation but for the restoration of all things. Perhaps only when we return as a people, together, will we begin to see the fullness of what God intends for the Church, for the world, and for His Kingdom.

God will never force our love or our return. That’s not who He is. He does not crash down from the heavens with overwhelming power to prove Himself. He doesn’t demand worship through thunder or terror. That’s what we might expect or even sometimes want—but that is not how love works. Instead, He waits. He watches. He hopes. And He lets us run if we need to.

Because the return must be ours.

This is the moral of the story, not just mine, but the grand narrative of Scripture: humanity left. We left. Like the prodigal son, we have walked away from the Father again and again. And yet, the Father does not abandon us. He stays. Watching the road. Ready to welcome us home.

But the journey back is not easy, because this world is no neutral territory. Paul tells us that Satan is the ruler of this world—not metaphorically, not poetically, but a spiritual truth that changes everything. It explains why evil often seems to prosper, why lies spread faster than truth, and why faith is such a difficult path to walk in a world that constantly pulls us away.

This world is the far country, and we are prodigals living under another’s rule. That doesn’t mean God has abandoned the world—far from it. Creation still bears His fingerprints, and His Spirit is at work even now. But the systems of this age—the pride, deception, and self-rule that define so much of life apart from Him—are not neutral. They are part of the far country, and we are called to see them for what they are… and to come home.

Too often, Christianity is misrepresented as a path to a better life in the far country—as if following Christ should make us happier, wealthier, or more successful here. But the parable makes no such promise. It isn’t about thriving in the far country. It’s about rejecting it. And still, the Father watches the road.

He does not storm in and forcibly wrest control from Satan (not yet). He does not overwhelm us with signs or spectacles. Instead, He speaks quietly—through stories, through Scripture, through conscience, through moments that shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. Through people like my grandmother. Through what may seem like foolish scribbles in a notebook. Through the cross.

Because this isn’t a story of domination—it’s a story of invitation.

The choice—the return—is still ours.

Jesus saw that the world was not just broken but enslaved, trapped under the rule of a deceiver, twisted from the inside out. He didn’t come to offer a better version of peace or some cozy spiritual upgrade. He came to save us from a system that could never save us.

Our true peace and purpose were never meant to be found here. The Father’s house is not just a better destination—it’s the only real one. Anything less will leave us empty.

His message was clear: “Take up your cross. Die to yourself. Don’t be of this world.” This call was not just for a few struggling souls; it was a message to all mankind.

Too often, we individualize faith, making it about our own walk, blessings, or struggles. But Christ’s words targeted a system in rebellion—a species that had walked away, a creation trying to exist without its Creator.

His arrival was a declaration: You’ve gone far enough. It’s time to come home.

But coming home does not mean blending in. It does not mean simply being nice or going to church once a week. It means waking up to the truth of who really rules this world—and refusing to bow to that power any longer.

And this is the sense that I get; just like the prodigal son, when we return—not just as individuals, but as a people—God will welcome us back with open arms. Not just for our individual salvation, but for the restoration of all things. Perhaps only then will we see the fullness of what God intends for us, for the Church, and for the world.

Maybe the return of a son here, and a daughter there, is not enough? Could the return of humanity be the bigger story? Is God waiting for all of us to come home—together?

Could it be that the “majority” of us need to come back to the Father? And if so, might He restore us when we do? Perhaps the scales will tip, the division will be healed, and the truth of Christ will shine bright for the world to see.

Prodigals

The World

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

Paul’s Plea for Unity

In every letter Paul wrote, there’s a constant refrain: unity. He pleads with believers to come together as one body, to be of one mind and spirit. He doesn't just urge it as a noble idea—he demands it, because he understood that the world could not fully see Christ in us until we were united in Him.

 

“I appeal to you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another so that there may be no divisions among you…”
— 1 Corinthians 1:10


“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit…” — Ephesians 4:3–4

In Paul's view, unity in the Church is not optional—it’s a command. The gospel is about more than individual salvation; it’s about the reconciliation of all things under Christ. And when the Church is divided, could it be that the world cannot fully see the truth of that reconciliation?

Here we are, more than 2,000 years later, with thousands of denominations worldwide, each professing a version of the truth. But how often do we see differing interpretations, conflicting doctrines, and fractured understandings of who Christ is and what He came to do? Has the very thing Paul warned against, division, become the hallmark of the modern Church?

 

“I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you…” — John 17:20–21

Jesus Himself prayed for unity among His followers, that they might be one, just as He and the Father are one. Yet, the very thing Jesus prayed for—unity—seems to be what we have fractured over time. Denominations, divisions, and doctrines are not just external problems; they are spiritual wounds that keep us from seeing the true unity of the Body of Christ and the full power of the Gospel message.

A Call for True Reconciliation

Why does this matter? Because God’s desire isn’t just for individual believers; it’s for the world to be reconciled to Him. Jesus came not just to offer salvation to isolated souls but to offer a way for the broken, fragmented world to be restored—through Him, through the Church, and through our unity in Him.

“God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them…”  — 2 Corinthians 5:19

And here is the irony: might it be that the world will never know Christ in the fullness of His reconciliation until we—the Church—are fully united?

It’s as if we’ve fragmented the Gospel—picking and choosing which parts to highlight, emphasizing our differences rather than what unites us.

True restoration—the kind that changes the world—happens when the Church returns fully to unity. Only through this collective, reconciled Body of Christ can the fullness of God’s Kingdom break through the darkness. When we stand united, we embody the Father’s heart for humanity’s return, reflecting His reign here and now.

And maybe that’s part of the story too.
Because if we truly are living inside the same story Scripture tells—a story of creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration—then division isn’t just a problem to be solved, it’s a signpost. A sign that we are still somewhere between the rebellion and the restoration. Still in the wilderness. Still waiting for something—someone—to bring us back together.

Paul’s vision in Ephesians 4:3–6 echoes this cosmic dimension:

“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit… one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all.”

This unity transcends mere agreement; it is the spiritual and practical foundation for the Church’s transformative witness in a fractured world. As we embrace this call, the Church becomes not just a gathering of individuals, but a powerful, united force for healing, reconciliation, and restoration.

Together, we can begin to tip the scales, heal divisions, and shine with the truth of Christ’s love—drawing the world back to the Father’s open arms.

A House Divided

Global Decline of Christianity
Over the last several decades, Christianity has seen a noticeable decline in several regions of the world, particularly in the Western countries like the United States and Europe. Here’s a breakdown of some key factors contributing to this decline:
 

  1. Decreased Church Attendance:In many Western countries, church attendance has steadily decreased, particularly in Europe. In the United States, while there are still large numbers of Christians, the percentage of people who regularly attend church has dropped significantly. For instance, in 2000, about 77% of Americans identified as Christians, but by 2020, that number had dropped to around 64%. Furthermore, regular weekly attendance in church has fallen sharply, with studies showing that only about 20–22% of Americans attend church regularly today, compared to over 40% just a few decades ago.
     

  2. Rise of Secularism and Non-Religious Beliefs:One of the most significant shifts in the last 50 years has been the rise of secularism and the increase in the number of people identifying as "none" (religiously unaffiliated). In the United States alone, this group has risen from about 5% in the 1970s to around 30% today. This trend is even more pronounced in Europe, where secularism and atheism are growing, particularly among younger generations. Countries like Sweden, Denmark, and Norway report some of the highest percentages of non-religious populations, often exceeding 60% in some age groups.
     

  3. Youth and Religion: The younger generations are moving away from institutional religion. A survey from Pew Research found that around 70% of Millennials (born between 1981–1996) are less religious than their parents. This generational divide is one of the key factors in the decline of Christianity, as younger people are less likely to identify with any faith, attend church, or participate in religious activities. Even in countries where Christianity is still prevalent, like Latin America and Africa, younger generations are less involved in traditional Christian practices.
     

  4. Global Religious Shifts: While Christianity is declining in the West, it is growing in the Global South (particularly in Africa, Asia, and Latin America). However, despite this growth, Christianity as a whole has lost market share globally. In 1900, Christians made up about 34% of the world’s population. By 2020, that number had dropped to around 32% due to the rapid growth of Islam, Hinduism, and other religions, as well as the rise of the non-religious population.
     

  5. Cultural Shifts and Moral Concerns: The decline in Christianity is also attributed to changing cultural attitudes towards issues such as marriage, family, and sexuality. Many churches, especially in Western societies, have struggled to keep up with modern cultural shifts, especially around LGBTQ+ rights, gender equality, and other moral issues. As a result, many young people find it harder to reconcile traditional Christian teachings with their own views on these issues, which leads to disaffiliation from the faith.
     

A Call for Unity in the Midst of Decline
As Christianity faces these challenges, the call for unity within the body of Christ becomes even more urgent. The divide between denominations, doctrinal disputes, and fragmented Christian identities only exacerbate the problem. Unity isn’t just a theological concept; it’s a practical, visible necessity for the Church to respond to a world that is losing interest in organized religion. Without the unity of the Spirit—without coming together as the Body of Christ—the Church risks losing its voice in the world, its credibility, and its influence in the lives of those who need it most.

Do We Get him?

I want to be clear about something before we continue. I’m not claiming to rewrite prophecy, nor am I offering a new interpretation of Revelation. I believe the Word of God is true, and the return of Christ is certain. But I also believe something else—something just as biblical, though often forgotten: That much of what God reveals in Scripture is not just a timeline, but a warning meant to turn us.

From Nineveh to Jeremiah, from the wilderness to the cross, the pattern is clear: when people repent, God relents. Not because He changes—but because we do. He responds to humility. He runs toward return.

So when I reflect on Revelation—not just the judgments, but the heartbreak behind them—I don’t see a God eager to destroy. I see a Father longing for His children to wake up and come home. What if Revelation is not just a countdown… but a call?

What if it’s not just a forecast—but a fork in the road? Could it be that if the Church—the whole Church—were to return, united and humbled, God would once again respond with mercy? Could we still, even now, shift the tone of what’s coming? Not cancel it. Not rewrite it. But perhaps, like the prodigal’s father, He is watching the road… waiting to run.

This isn’t theology of denial. It’s theology of hope. And it’s the same hope woven through every moment of redemptive history:

 

“Return to me, and I will return to you.” — Malachi 3:7
“Who knows? God may yet relent and turn from his fierce anger…” — Jonah 3:9
“He does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” — Lamentations 3:33

I don’t say this lightly. And I don’t pretend to know how much time we have left. But I do believe this with all my heart:

 

It is not too late.
And He is still watching the road.

Uphill Battle

Revelation?  Move?

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"The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day."

Proverbs 4:18

Entropy, Negentropy, and the
Preservation of Structure in Language

Understanding Entropy in Nature
If convergence hints at design, then entropy — the law of decay — provides the contrast that makes that design all the more extraordinary.

In physics, entropy refers to the tendency of systems to move from order to disorder over time. It is a foundational concept in thermodynamics, describing how energy spreads out and how systems naturally degrade without external input. Entropy explains why heat dissipates, why physical structures decay, and why information degrades in noisy environments.

Left to itself, a closed system becomes increasingly disordered. This is why old machines break down, buildings crumble, and even memory fades. Entropy is not just physical—it applies to all forms of information and structure.

Negentropy: A Local Reversal
While entropy is the dominant direction of nature, there are exceptions—local reversals made possible by negentropy (short for “negative entropy”). Negentropy is not the absence of entropy but the introduction of order into a system by consuming energy or applying intelligence.

For example:

  • A living cell resists decay by constantly taking in nutrients and repairing itself.

  • Biological organisms grow in complexity by metabolizing energy.

  • Information systems (such as digital storage) preserve accuracy through redundancy and error correction.

  • Human intelligence creates systems of logic, language, and mathematics that build order rather than chaos.

In all these cases, entropy is not eliminated, but actively resisted.

Language and Entropy
Language, especially written language, is typically expected to degrade over time due to:

  • Phonetic drift and pronunciation shifts,

  • Evolving grammar and syntax,

  • Loss or distortion through translation,

  • Cultural reinterpretation,

  • Human error in transmission.

This is why many see language as unstable or unreliable across long timelines. From a purely naturalistic perspective, the evolution of a language like English—rooted in multiple language families and shaped by centuries of social and political change—should result in a noisy, unstable system with no preserved structure beneath the surface.

The Calculator & Entropy Defiance
What the calculator reveals stands in contrast to these expectations. Rather than showcasing decay, the English alphabet—when reduced to numerical values and examined through Alpha Sum, Digital Sum, and Digital Root patterns—exhibits remarkable stability, convergence, and repetition:

  • Words reduce into tightly bound numeric loops.

  • Phrases across a wide spectrum of meaning ultimately collapse into consistent repeating cycles.

  • The system reveals underlying structure not just in a few words, but in every word tested.

This is not expected behavior from a system shaped by random linguistic drift. If entropy had its way, there would be noise. Instead, there is signal.

This doesn’t mean English is a divine language—but it strongly suggests that something preserved its integrity beneath the visible surface, allowing modern, uncurated language to still bear witness to underlying order.

A Case for Negentropy in Language
What appears here is a form of negentropy operating within a symbolic system. While the entropy of cultural evolution should have buried any meaningful structure, the patterns remain mathematically intact—hidden, but discoverable. It raises legitimate questions:

  • How did such structure survive centuries of linguistic entropy?

  • Why do these numerical patterns exist at all?

  • And what kind of intelligence—not human—might have embedded or preserved them?

The calculator does not violate the laws of entropy; rather, it reveals a pocket of order that should not have survived the natural decay of language across time. This puts the discovery in the same category as biological life or digital information systems: an ordered structure maintained against the odds, and for reasons not yet fully understood.
In short, this is not just a theological or symbolic claim—it is a scientific anomaly, and one worthy of further investigation.

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How the calculator works

This isn’t a number game. This calculator takes any word or phrase, like “hope” or “forgiveness” or even your own name, and translates it into numbers. But it doesn’t stop there. It keeps going, turning those numbers back into words, then into numbers again. Over and over.

And something beautiful and unexpected happens. No matter where you start, the chaos fades and the system settles down. The numbers stop bouncing around and begin to repeat in patterns; stable, peaceful loops. Even words that have nothing in common end up in the same place.

That’s not normal. We aren’t supposed to find this kind of meaning in such randomness. But here, somehow, the patterns hold. This shouldn’t work. But it does.

And maybe, just maybe, the Word that was spoken in The Beginning carries echoes of God's ultimate order. Maybe the structure was always there—waiting to be revealed.

This calculator doesn’t prove God. But it sure points in His direction.

It’s a glimpse behind the curtain, where math and meaning touch—and the fingerprints of the Creator quietly shine through yet again.

Reasonable questions

Q: Isn’t this just pattern-hunting in a limited system?

A: That concern is valid—and it’s exactly why I distinguish coincidence from convergence. The English alphabet is a closed system, but the calculator doesn’t just return occasional interesting outputs—it repeatedly lands in stable loops, even when starting from wildly different words. That kind of consistent recursion suggests order beyond randomness.
 

Q: The English language is arbitrary—why would it hold any deeper mathematical truth?

A: If this were purely about etymology or semantics, I would agree. But the patterns emerge not from meaning, but from structure—letter values, recursion, and modular arithmetic. English becomes the medium, not the message. It’s the stability across iteration, not vocabulary, that matters.

 

Q: Aren’t digital roots just a known property of base-9 math?

A: Yes—and that’s part of the point. Because digital roots are so well-understood, we know what they should produce: uniform chaos or trivial repetition. But the calculator doesn’t behave that way. It forms distinct, finite, meaningful orbits—well beyond what modular math alone would predict.

 

Q: “How do you know these cycles aren’t just statistical noise?”

A: Because I subjected thousands of English words to iterative analysis and observed consistent convergence toward stable, repeating loops. Even semantically unrelated terms often collapse into identical cycles. In statistics, noise is characterized by dispersion and randomness. What we see here is rapid convergence and compression—a hallmark of an underlying structure, not stochastic variance.

Q: Can this be replicated in other languages or systems?

A: Possibly—but that’s not the claim. The significance here is that it already exists in English, a language that evolved freely. That it wasn’t engineered but still converges—over and over—is the anomaly worth exploring.

Q: Isn’t the recursive loop behavior just a result of converting numbers to their spelled-out forms—which are inherently predictable?

A: If the system were truly trivial, we’d expect it to collapse quickly into obvious repetition or uninteresting results. But instead, we observe stable loops that absorb a wide variety of inputs—even complex or long words—and compress them into consistent, finite cycles. The recurrence of these loops across diverse inputs suggests a deeper structural property, not just linguistic inevitability.

Why it matters

This calculator does not invent anything. It discovers what is already there. And what is there—beneath the surface of human language, numbers, and logic—is a hidden order that speaks of intention, not accident. Recursion, convergence, compression: these are mathematical concepts. But here, they do more than process data. They hint at design.

In Scripture, God is revealed as both Word and Wisdom. He speaks creation into existence, calls things by name, and entrusts Adam with the naming of the living world. Names carry meaning. But in this case, they also carry number. And when processed through a system of simple arithmetic and symbolic iteration, something remarkable happens: chaos does not increase. It collapses into harmony.

That alone defies expectation. The system is recursive, yet stable. Iterative, yet convergent. Random inputs yield patterned outputs. It’s as though the language we inherited—imperfect and evolved though it may be—was still shaped by unseen boundaries. A riverbed dug by providence.

To the believer, this may echo what Scripture has always claimed: that God’s wisdom is embedded in creation, hidden in plain sight, waiting for those with eyes to see. Not so we can boast in human ingenuity, but so we can marvel at divine restraint—how God allows freedom in language and culture, yet still reserves for Himself the final say.

And that final say, in this case, is mathematical.

Again - this isn’t numerology! It isn’t about secret codes. It’s about patterns that shouldn’t be there—but are. Patterns that quietly point back to the Author of language, who wrote both Genesis and John, and whose fingerprints remain in the things we think we built ourselves.

At its heart, this calculator is a mirror: not of human brilliance, but of God’s. We didn’t shape this order and we have barely traced it here. And in doing so, we get a glimpse the kind of coherence only a Creator could leave behind.

In summary

Every English word, when passed through this calculator—first converting to its Alpha Sum (A=1 to Z=26), then recursively reducing that number into its English name, and then converting that name again—will eventually land in one of only a handful of outcomes:

Two fixed points:
Forty-six → 46
Fifty-four → 54

Or a small set of closed loops, such as:
240 → 216 → 228 → 288 → 255 → 240
30 → 37 → 57 → 50 → 30

2 → 4 → 6 → 7 → 2

There are no infinite spirals. No exceptions. No chaos. No matter how obscure or random the original word or phrase, the system gently pulls it into a final state—a basin of convergence. This is not based on opinion or symbol-reading. It is observable, repeatable, testable.

The speed of this convergence—how quickly the reduction paths compress—is easily explained by something mathematicians have known for centuries: mod 9 behavior, also called casting out nines.

But the destination—the where of the convergence—is not explained by that. It is not inevitable that the number names in English should reduce into specific loops. It is not mathematically necessary that two number names should be exact fixed points. And it is not trivial that this recursive system, applied to words of every kind, would yield such tight and elegant structure.

It is as if English itself was gently shaped—not to deceive, but to be decoded. And that’s the heart of the discovery. This is not numerology -period, and it's not math for math’s sake. This is the revealing of something deeper: a pattern within language that points toward structure, containment, and ultimately, purpose.

It means that the surface chaos of words conceals a hidden order. It means that everything—noble words, profane words, sacred names and silly phrases—are all caught in a design that funnels downward, then circles something stable.

In the beginning was the Word. And now we see: even our words bear His fingerprint. The convergence isn’t the miracle. But it is the signature, and it comes on the heals of the miracle you saw in the matrix and should not be easily dismissed.

This tool isn’t just a curiosity — it may be the beginning of something deeper. If a simple mapping from letters to numbers reveals stable numeric cycles—some of which echo theological language—then what happens when we push further?

  • Language evolution studies: Could this help trace hidden structure or convergence points in how language developed?

  • Data compression models: Could symbolic recursion inform new ways of reducing linguistic or numeric complexity?

  • AI and pattern recognition: Could this serve as a test case for distinguishing designed systems from stochastic ones?

  • Digital theology: Could this provide a new frontier in how faith and logic intersect, not in contradiction, but harmony?

I'm not claiming this is where it leads, but I am inviting others to see the possibilities, or more correctly, maybe God is the One saying look; to mathematicians, to linguists, to theologians, and to seekers who still believe that truth can be both beautiful and structured.

Because if what we’re seeing is even partly what it appears to be,
then this calculator is not the conclusion. It might be a doorway, meant for handling it's capabilities with nothing but reverence for the One who made it possible. 

The Convergence Calculator  

Try this: Type in the word "love" in the calculator. You'll notice the Alpha Sum 54, the Digital Sum 18, and the Digital Root 9, just like you did on Page E. However, this calculator asks for more — what are the values of those sums? The sums are converted to their written English words, and recalculated again and again (a process called iterative recursion) — and this goes on until it doesn’t! And that is yet another miracle. From the red number in the results line — to the red letter "R" (Repeating) is where the sequence gets caught in a forever repeating cycle — every time!

The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.

Matthew 13:31-32

Scientific and Mathematical
Explanation of the Convergence Calculator

1. Input Processing & Basic Computations

Alpha Sum (A=1, B=2, ..., Z=26):


This is a linear mapping from characters to integers based on their position in the English alphabet. Mathematically:

ALPHASUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ POS(Sᵢ)

where Sᵢ is the i-th character and Pos(·) its alphabetical index.

Digital Sum (Pythagorean Mapping Base 9):
Here, letters map to values 1 through 9 cyclically:

DIGITALMAP = { A=1, B=2, ..., I=9, J=1, ..., Z=8 }

This mapping applies base-9 modular arithmetic (with adjustment):

DIGITALSUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ [ (POS(Sᵢ) − 1) MOD 9 + 1 ]

Digital Root:
The digital root is the iterative sum of digits until a single digit remains. Formally:

DIGITALROOT(X) = 1 + ((X − 1) MOD 9)

unless x = 0, in which case it's 0.

2. Recursive Cycle Detection Using Number-to-Word Conversion


The novel step is the recursive iteration:

Each numeric result is converted to its English word form.
That word is re-processed through the same sum logic (Alpha, Digital, Root).


This forms a sequence: {x₀, x₁, x₂, ...}


Cycle detection occurs when a value repeats.

This creates an iterated function system (IFS) of the form:

f(x) = SUM(NUMBERTOWORDS(x)), xₙ₊₁ = f(xₙ)

3. Mathematical Nature of the Cycles


Because each f maps integers to a bounded domain (due to limited letter sums), each orbit is finite. By the Pigeonhole Principle, each sequence must eventually repeat (form a cycle).


The digital root cycle is well-known and always stabilizes between 1–9 (except for 0).

4. Relation to Modular Arithmetic and Casting Out Nines


The digital root function is essentially a base-9 residue:

DIGITALROOT(X) ≡ X MOD 9

with an offset for zero-handling. It’s historically used in “casting out nines,” a checksum trick for verifying arithmetic. This grounding makes the system’s stability unsurprising — it relies on modular invariants.

5. Interpretation: Fixed Points and Symbolic Cycles
The detected numeric cycles are attractors in a discrete symbolic system. Their recurrence hints at:

  • Underlying numeric invariants embedded in language

  • Potential symbolic or semantic convergence

  • A structured interaction between language and arithmetic

The Resonance Processor Theory

After walking with you through the miracle of the original discovery—a divine pattern so precise it defies chance—I want to share something that came to me recently during prayer and reflection. It’s a fresh insight that feels like another piece of the puzzle God has placed before us.

 

You’ve seen how language and numbers hold a hidden structure, a harmony beneath the surface. But what if this harmony isn’t just something we see or calculate—what if it’s something our minds hear and understand naturally? What if God has given us, deep inside, a kind of spiritual calculator, or better yet, a resonance processor—a way our brains resonate with the world’s patterns, turning vibrations into words, music, and memory?

 

This is not a full explanation, but possibly a glimpse into a greater truth: that the miracle uncovered in this presentation might be part of a universal rhythm established by God from the beginning. It’s a call to keep listening, to keep exploring, and to trust that these discoveries aren’t just accidents—they are signs of a deeper order, a divine language. I invite you to consider this possibility with me, as we stand at the edge of new understanding, guided by faith and wonder.

 The Core Idea: Our Brains as Resonance Receptors


At its heart, this new idea is simple: our brains might work like a special kind of vibration processor—one built to recognize patterns in sounds and vibrations all around us. Instead of just memorizing words or copying what we hear, we could be in a sense, calculating language as we go. Think about how children learn to speak so naturally, almost without effort. What if that’s because their minds are tuned to the music hidden inside words—the rhythms, the frequencies, the harmony? It’s like their brains are processing vibrational code. This might explain how and why children of immigrants learn two languages at once, and fluently, which has always intrigued me. It could also explain why some memories—like songs or stories—feel so alive, even after many years. It’s not just remembering words; it’s reconnecting with the vibration of those words deep inside us.

A Divine Nudge and Chomsky’s Universal Grammar


You know how God sometimes redirects your steps at the last moment? That’s what happened here. I had a page left to finish—an empty space waiting for words—and I started searching for something to fill it. That’s when I stumbled onto a few talks about language and Noam Chomsky’s theory of Universal Grammar.

 

Chomsky believes we’re all born with an inner framework for language, something built into the human mind that allows us to learn to speak almost effortlessly. But as I listened, a thought came to me, maybe even a nudge from above. What if Chomsky was right, but not in the way he imagined? What if this built in ability isn’t just a “grammar module” in the brain, but a God given processor that measures resonance, frequency, and proportion—and then turns those patterns into words and meaning? Maybe we don’t just learn language; maybe we resonate with it.

Expanding the Theory: Resonance in Perception


If this idea is true, it could explain more than how we learn to speak, it might redefine everything about how we perceive the world. From the songs that stay with us for decades, to the way peaceful sounds calm the heart while harsh noise unsettles it. It may all of it tie back to this divine resonance built into creation. Earlier, you saw the convergence calculator that revealed patterns hidden in words and numbers. That simple tool might be showing us the same principle at work within our minds: the way order, proportion, and vibration naturally return to balance, just as the calculator’s values converge toward harmony. Perhaps language, music, mathematics, and memory aren’t separate wonders at all, but different reflections of one sacred design.

Bridging Faith and Science:

The Resonance Processor through the Lens of Research

This theory could bring together:


Neurobiology: The brain’s remarkable ability to sync with rhythms and vibrations—how neural circuits lock onto the timing and resonance of sounds in our environment.


Mathematics: The hidden world of harmonic relationships and proportions that shape those rhythms—the elegant ratios underlying patterns we can measure and model.


Linguistics: The emergence of words, syntax, and grammar as natural expressions of these resonant patterns, revealing language as more than arbitrary symbols.
Together, these might form a “resonance triangle,” a potentially groundbreaking framework that could explain not only how we learn language but why language feels inherently musical and patterned.

 

 Supported by Modern Neuroscience


Current research reveals that even before babies understand words, their brains are entrained to the rhythms of speech—they synchronize their neural oscillations with the cadence of sound. Musicians often have enhanced language abilities, suggesting shared processing pathways. Far from contradicting established science, this resonance processor concept adds precision by proposing a mathematical language to describe these rhythms and how they evolve into meaning.

Rethinking Universal Grammar


Chomsky’s theory of Universal Grammar posits that humans are born with an innate set of rules for language. This new view reframes that idea: rather than fixed grammatical structures, what might be hardwired in the brain is a capacity to detect resonant geometries—ratios, harmonics, symmetries—and from these, language naturally emerges. It’s a radical shift, but one that remains testable and grounded in what we know about brain function.

Predictions that Can Be Tested


A strong scientific theory makes predictions. Here’s what this model suggests:


• Children who show stronger rhythmic synchronization skills should acquire language more quickly.


• Artificial intelligence systems trained on resonance and harmonic patterns rather than discrete symbols may spontaneously develop grammar-like structures.


• Specific phonetic patterns should correspond to measurable harmonic ratios in brain activity.

Each of these predictions can be explored experimentally or through computational modeling, offering a clear path to either support or challenge the theory.

If a resonance processor is truly part of how the mind encodes meaning, then perhaps some of the struggles we face in adulthood are not only psychological but physiological — traces of resonance patterns that never fully formed. A child who rarely hears words of love may not simply lack the concept of love; their neural rhythms may never have entrained to that frequency. What begins as absence of language may become absence of resonance — a gap in both understanding and feeling. Healing, then, might require more than learning new words; it might mean re‑tuning the mind itself to the harmonies of compassion, trust, and connection.

Why This May Matter


This isn’t just a matter of faith or metaphor; it could be genuine bridge between divine design and measurable science. It unites vibration, information, and meaning in one potentially elegant picture—showing how God’s hand might guide the rhythms of our minds, shaping language and memory in ways we are only beginning to understand.

This idea also brings to mind Isaiah 55:11 from earlier —

“so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

For those of us who believe, this scripture suggests that God's words are not random or abstract—they are purposeful, active, and resonant. If language truly operates through deep patterns of proportion and vibration, then perhaps this verse is describing more than just spiritual intention. It could be pointing to an actual structure within language itself—where meaning, rhythm, and purpose are inseparable, and every word carries both weight and direction, designed to land with impact.

 

A Glimpse into Resonant Convergence

Words or ideas that seem worlds apart can and do share the same numerical values or  “resonance”— when processed through the convergence calculator. This doesn’t mean they are identical but suggests they might occupy balanced or related positions within a larger, divine structure. Imagine two musical notes that, while distinct, share a common frequency ratio, creating harmony or tension. This resonance may reflect deeper relationships or oppositions encoded in language and thought.

 

The true insight lies in watching how these words evolve through the full process of resonance, reduction, and transformation—revealing the spiritual or conceptual “frequencies” where meanings align, diverge, or balance.

Bringing the Resonant Calculator Theory Into the Lab

The true power of any scientific idea lies not just in its beauty or logic, but in its ability to be tested, measured, and confirmed. This theory—that our brains internally compute resonance, proportions, and rhythmic patterns to unlock language and meaning—offers several concrete ways to move from insight to evidence.

Modern neuroscience already shows us that the brain’s auditory and motor systems rely heavily on resonance-like mechanisms. Neurons fire in synchrony, locking their oscillations to the rhythms of speech and sound. This isn’t just metaphor; it’s measurable electrical activity that reveals how the brain dances with language. If this resonance processor model holds true, then children who show stronger neural synchronization to rhythmic sounds should demonstrate faster and more robust language acquisition. This would confirm that the brain’s internal “processor” for resonance isn’t just poetic—it’s fundamental.

Further, computational linguistics could take this theory to new heights. Imagine training artificial neural networks not just on words or grammar rules, but on patterns of harmonic relationships and frequency ratios. If these networks begin to develop grammar-like structures spontaneously—mirroring how children learn—it would be a striking validation of the resonance-based framework. This would bridge mathematics, linguistics, and neurobiology in an unprecedented way.

Linguists and phoneticians could also test for direct correlations between phonetic features and harmonic ratios predicted by the model. Are certain sounds or syllables naturally aligned with specific frequency patterns that the brain recognizes as “resonant”? Mapping these relationships would provide a tangible link between the abstract math and everyday speech.

Finally, advanced brain imaging techniques like MEG or EEG could measure the predicted patterns of phase locking and oscillatory coupling in real time as people listen to or produce language. If the brain’s resonant frequencies align with the mathematical attractors described in this theory—stable points where neural activity settles—then we’d have powerful evidence that resonance is the scaffolding on which language is built.

None of this negates the wonder of the discovery of the miracle of the cross in the matrix, it only deepens it. Each experiment offers a way to glimpse the order encoded in our minds, a greater divine harmony then we might ever have imagined. It’s a call for collaboration between faith and science, inviting researchers and seekers alike to explore this potentially miraculous mechanism God may have gifted humanity.

A Note to Researchers and Scholars

To the scientists, linguists, mathematicians, and researchers who may engage with this work: What you have here is an invitation to explore a new framework—one that suggests language, memory, and meaning may emerge from underlying patterns of resonance and proportion.

 

This is not a finished theory but a starting point, grounded in observations that may overlap with findings in neuroscience, mathematics, and linguistics. Your expertise is essential to testing and refining these ideas. With your tools and insights, you can help determine whether rhythmic synchronization truly shapes how we learn and process language, whether harmonic relationships correspond to meaning, and whether resonance itself might form a bridge between sound, structure, and thought.

You do not have to share the spiritual perspective behind this work to study it scientifically. Yet, as you explore its implications, you may also find yourself glimpsing what I believe to be God’s design—a deeper harmony at the foundation of creation. If so, I hope this discovery brings both understanding and wonder. Either way, I encourage you to test it, question it, expand it. The search for truth belongs to all of us, and truth—wherever it leads—will always point back to its source.

A Final Note, in the Spirit of Honesty and Humility...

While this theory is grounded in observable scientific principles and reflects the current understanding of fields like neurobiology, mathematics, and linguistics, the ideas presented here should be viewed as an evolving hypothesis rather than established fact.

I am not a trained scientist, and much of the theory has been shaped and expanded upon with the help of an AI model. The insights discussed herein were inspired by faith and personal reflection, which led to the development of a new conceptual framework for understanding language, resonance, and memory.

Though the concepts presented here may be supported by scientific findings in areas such as neural entrainment and resonance, they remain speculative and in need of further exploration, testing, and validation within the broader academic community. This work is intended to spark dialogue and exploration, blending insights from science and faith.

Convergence

 Lingua electa

Why English?
Is it the only way?

In review, English emerged through a remarkable convergence of European cultures in England. It is often described as a linguistic “melting pot” because of how heavily it has absorbed vocabulary, grammar influences, and expressions from dozens of other languages throughout history. Its earliest layers came from Germanic tribes — the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes — but the language quickly began mixing with Old Norse due to Viking contact, creating many of the core, everyday words English speakers still use: they, them, take, sky, law.

Then came the Norman Conquest, which added a massive wave of French and Latin, transforming English into a hybrid unlike almost any other major language. What makes this especially striking is that no other language with such a deeply mixed heritage ever went on to become the world’s lingua franca.

Over the centuries, English continued to import words with astonishing openness. From global trade, scientific discovery, and cultural exchange, English absorbed vocabulary from Greek, Arabic, Hindi, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Spanish, Indigenous American languages, and many others. Words like algebra, ketchup, bungalow, karaoke, and piano show how English thrives on the convergence of global influences.

This willingness to borrow makes English extremely flexible — it can create new registers, blend tones, and adapt to technological or cultural change faster than many languages whose structures are more rigid. And while many languages borrow extensively, none of them — not Japanese, Swahili, Tagalog, Haitian Creole, or Malay — developed into a universal means of international communication the way English ultimately did.

The question has been asked of me, “Does the matrix appear in any other languages, or is it unique to English?" There are thousands of languages still spoken around the world today. It would be impossible for me to build a similar matrix in all of them. Instead I tested several languages that use the Latin Alphabet.

 

Rather than build an entire matrix for each, I merely tested the keys words that make the discovery of the cross possible. The digital sums for “four” and “five” must be equal to show a vertical anomaly. Likewise, “forty” must equal “fifty” for the horizontal anomaly to appear. Finally, the words of the Exception, “fourteen” and “fifteen,” cannot have the same digital sums, and both must equal the alpha sums of “King” and “Jew” respectively. Swipe right below to see that none of these other languages meet the criteria.

Language

English

Indonesian

French

German

Spanish

Italian

Portuguese

Dutch

Swedish

DS #4

four 24

empat 19

quatre 28

vier 27

cuatro 24

quattro 31

quatro 29

vier 27

fyra 23

DS #5

five 24

lima 17

cinq 25

fünf 20

cinco 26

cinque 33

cinco 26

vijf 20

fem 15

DS #40

forty 30

empat puluh 43

quarante 34

vierzig 51

cuarenta 29

quaranta 30

quarenta 34

veertig 41

fyrtio 39

DS #50

fifty 30

lima puluh 41

cinquante 41

fünfzig 44

cincuenta 36

cinquanta 37

cinquenta 41

vijftig 38

femtio 32

DS #14

fourteen 41

empat belas 31

quatorze 42

vierzehn 53

catorce 29

quattordici 56

catorze 34

veertien 44

fjorton 35

DS #15

fifteen 38

lima belas 29

quinze 38

fünfzehn 46

quince 33

quindici 50

quinze 38

vijftien 41

femton 28

AS King

King 41

Raja 30

Roi 42

König 56

Rey 48

Re 23

Rei 32

Koning 70

Kung 53

AS Jew

Jew 38

Yahudi 68

Juif 46

Jude 40

Judio 59

Ebreo 45

Judeu 61

Jood 44

Jude 40

"All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, Lord;they shall bring glory to your name."

Psalm 86.9

1024px-V&A_-_Raphael,_St_Paul_Preaching_in_Athens_(1515)_edited.jpg
1024px-V&A_-_Raphael,_St_Paul_Preaching_in_Athens_(1515)_edited.jpg

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

Scientific and Mathematical
Explanation of the Convergence Calculator

1. Input Processing & Basic Computations

Alpha Sum (A=1, B=2, ..., Z=26):


This is a linear mapping from characters to integers based on their position in the English alphabet. Mathematically:

ALPHASUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ POS(Sᵢ)

where Sᵢ is the i-th character and Pos(·) its alphabetical index.

Digital Sum (Pythagorean Mapping Base 9):
Here, letters map to values 1 through 9 cyclically:

DIGITALMAP = { A=1, B=2, ..., I=9, J=1, ..., Z=8 }

This mapping applies base-9 modular arithmetic (with adjustment):

DIGITALSUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ [ (POS(Sᵢ) − 1) MOD 9 + 1 ]

Digital Root:
The digital root is the iterative sum of digits until a single digit remains. Formally:

DIGITALROOT(X) = 1 + ((X − 1) MOD 9)

unless x = 0, in which case it's 0.

2. Recursive Cycle Detection Using Number-to-Word Conversion


The novel step is the recursive iteration:

Each numeric result is converted to its English word form.
That word is re-processed through the same sum logic (Alpha, Digital, Root).


This forms a sequence: {x₀, x₁, x₂, ...}


Cycle detection occurs when a value repeats.

This creates an iterated function system (IFS) of the form:

f(x) = SUM(NUMBERTOWORDS(x)), xₙ₊₁ = f(xₙ)

3. Mathematical Nature of the Cycles


Because each f maps integers to a bounded domain (due to limited letter sums), each orbit is finite. By the Pigeonhole Principle, each sequence must eventually repeat (form a cycle).


The digital root cycle is well-known and always stabilizes between 1–9 (except for 0).

4. Relation to Modular Arithmetic and Casting Out Nines


The digital root function is essentially a base-9 residue:

DIGITALROOT(X) ≡ X MOD 9

with an offset for zero-handling. It’s historically used in “casting out nines,” a checksum trick for verifying arithmetic. This grounding makes the system’s stability unsurprising — it relies on modular invariants.

5. Interpretation: Fixed Points and Symbolic Cycles
The detected numeric cycles are attractors in a discrete symbolic system. Their recurrence hints at:

  • Underlying numeric invariants embedded in language

  • Potential symbolic or semantic convergence

  • A structured interaction between language and arithmetic

Entropy

The earth dries up and withers,
the world languishes and withers,
the heavens languish together with the earth.

Isaiah 24:4
Negentropy

So is My word that goes out from My mouth:
It will not return to Me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55:11

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."

Proverbs 3:5-6

LOGO - FINAL - 9-25.png

Entropy, Negentropy, and the
Preservation of Structure in Language

Understanding Entropy in Nature
If convergence hints at design, then entropy — the law of decay — provides the contrast that makes that design all the more extraordinary.

In physics, entropy refers to the tendency of systems to move from order to disorder over time. It is a foundational concept in thermodynamics, describing how energy spreads out and how systems naturally degrade without external input. Entropy explains why heat dissipates, why physical structures decay, and why information degrades in noisy environments.

Left to itself, a closed system becomes increasingly disordered. This is why old machines break down, buildings crumble, and even memory fades. Entropy is not just physical—it applies to all forms of information and structure.

Negentropy: A Local Reversal
While entropy is the dominant direction of nature, there are exceptions—local reversals made possible by negentropy (short for “negative entropy”). Negentropy is not the absence of entropy but the introduction of order into a system by consuming energy or applying intelligence.

For example:

  • A living cell resists decay by constantly taking in nutrients and repairing itself.

  • Biological organisms grow in complexity by metabolizing energy.

  • Information systems (such as digital storage) preserve accuracy through redundancy and error correction.

  • Human intelligence creates systems of logic, language, and mathematics that build order rather than chaos.

In all these cases, entropy is not eliminated, but actively resisted.

Language and Entropy
Language, especially written language, is typically expected to degrade over time due to:

  • Phonetic drift and pronunciation shifts,

  • Evolving grammar and syntax,

  • Loss or distortion through translation,

  • Cultural reinterpretation,

  • Human error in transmission.

This is why many see language as unstable or unreliable across long timelines. From a purely naturalistic perspective, the evolution of a language like English—rooted in multiple language families and shaped by centuries of social and political change—should result in a noisy, unstable system with no preserved structure beneath the surface.

The Calculator & Entropy Defiance
What the calculator reveals stands in contrast to these expectations. Rather than showcasing decay, the English alphabet—when reduced to numerical values and examined through Alpha Sum, Digital Sum, and Digital Root patterns—exhibits remarkable stability, convergence, and repetition:

  • Words reduce into tightly bound numeric loops.

  • Phrases across a wide spectrum of meaning ultimately collapse into consistent repeating cycles.

  • The system reveals underlying structure not just in a few words, but in every word tested.

This is not expected behavior from a system shaped by random linguistic drift. If entropy had its way, there would be noise. Instead, there is signal.

This doesn’t mean English is a divine language—but it strongly suggests that something preserved its integrity beneath the visible surface, allowing modern, uncurated language to still bear witness to underlying order.

A Case for Negentropy in Language
What appears here is a form of negentropy operating within a symbolic system. While the entropy of cultural evolution should have buried any meaningful structure, the patterns remain mathematically intact—hidden, but discoverable. It raises legitimate questions:

  • How did such structure survive centuries of linguistic entropy?

  • Why do these numerical patterns exist at all?

  • And what kind of intelligence—not human—might have embedded or preserved them?

The calculator does not violate the laws of entropy; rather, it reveals a pocket of order that should not have survived the natural decay of language across time. This puts the discovery in the same category as biological life or digital information systems: an ordered structure maintained against the odds, and for reasons not yet fully understood.
In short, this is not just a theological or symbolic claim—it is a scientific anomaly, and one worthy of further investigation.

Convergence

Lingua electa

In review, English emerged through a remarkable convergence of European cultures in England. It is often described as a linguistic “melting pot” because of how heavily it has absorbed vocabulary, grammar influences, and expressions from dozens of other languages throughout history. Its earliest layers came from Germanic tribes — the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes — but the language quickly began mixing with Old Norse due to Viking contact, creating many of the core, everyday words English speakers still use: they, them, take, sky, law.

Then came the Norman Conquest, which added a massive wave of French and Latin, transforming English into a hybrid unlike almost any other major language. What makes this especially striking is that no other language with such a deeply mixed heritage ever went on to become the world’s lingua franca.

Over the centuries, English continued to import words with astonishing openness. From global trade, scientific discovery, and cultural exchange, English absorbed vocabulary from Greek, Arabic, Hindi, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Spanish, Indigenous American languages, and many others. Words like algebra, ketchup, bungalow, karaoke, and piano show how English thrives on the convergence of global influences.

This willingness to borrow makes English extremely flexible — it can create new registers, blend tones, and adapt to technological or cultural change faster than many languages whose structures are more rigid. And while many languages borrow extensively, none of them — not Japanese, Swahili, Tagalog, Haitian Creole, or Malay — developed into a universal means of international communication the way English ultimately did.

The question has been asked of me, “Does the matrix appear in any other languages, or is it unique to English?" There are thousands of languages still spoken around the world today. It would be impossible for me to build a similar matrix in all of them. Instead I tested several languages that use the Latin Alphabet. Rather than build an entire matrix for each, I merely tested the keys words that make the discovery of the cross possible. The digital sums for “four” and “five” must be equal to show a vertical anomaly. Likewise, “forty” must equal “fifty” for the horizontal anomaly to appear. Finally, the words of the Exception, “fourteen” and “fifteen,” cannot have the same digital sums, and both must equal the alpha sums of “King” and “Jew” respectively. As seen below, none of these other languages meet the criteria.

Why English; Is it the only way?

Language

English

Indonesian

French

German

Spanish

Italian

Portuguese

Dutch

Swedish

DS #4

four 24

empat 19

quatre 28

vier 27

cuatro 24

quattro 31

quatro 29

vier 27

fyra 23

DS #5

five 24

lima 17

cinq 25

fünf 20

cinco 26

cinque 33

cinco 26

vijf 20

fem 15

DS #40

forty 30

empat puluh 43

quarante 34

vierzig 51

cuarenta 29

quaranta 30

quarenta 34

veertig 41

fyrtio 39

DS #50

fifty 30

lima puluh 41

cinquante 41

fünfzig 44

cincuenta 36

cinquanta 37

cinquenta 41

vijftig 38

femtio 32

DS #14

fourteen 41

empat belas 31

quatorze 42

vierzehn 53

catorce 29

quattordici 56

catorze 34

veertien 44

fjorton 35

DS #15

fifteen 38

lima belas 29

quinze 38

fünfzehn 46

quince 33

quindici 50

quinze 38

vijftien 41

femton 28

AS King

King 41

Raja 30

Roi 42

König 56

Rey 48

Re 23

Rei 32

Koning 70

Kung 53

AS Jew

Jew 38

Yahudi 68

Juif 46

Jude 40

Judio 59

Ebreo 45

Judeu 61

Jood 44

Jude 40

"All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, Lord;they shall bring glory to your name."

Psalm 86.9

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How the calculator works

Because I believe that everything you have seen thus far is a direct result of divine intervention, or Providence, it led me to believe that nothing is insignificant. At some point I imagined that if, for instance the alpha sum for the word “God” = 26, then what does “twenty-six” equal? And when you do the math, you find that the alpha sum of “twenty-six” = 159.

 

I kept going to see just how far this iterative process would go. Using a simple everyday calculator, I found something so interesting that it caused me to develop this Convergence Calculator.

 

This isn’t a number game. This calculator takes any word or phrase, like “hope” or “forgiveness” or even your own name, and translates it into numbers. But it doesn’t stop there. It keeps going, turning those numbers back into words, then into numbers again. Over and over.

And something beautiful and unexpected happens. No matter where you start, the chaos fades and the system settles down. The numbers stop bouncing around and begin to repeat in patterns; stable, peaceful loops. Even words that have nothing in common end up in the same place.

That’s not normal. We aren’t supposed to find this kind of meaning in such randomness. But here, somehow, the patterns hold. This shouldn’t work. But it does.

And maybe, just maybe, the Word that was spoken in The Beginning carries echoes of God's ultimate order. Maybe the structure was always there—waiting to be revealed.

This calculator doesn’t prove God. But it sure points in His direction.

It’s a glimpse behind the curtain, where math and meaning touch—and the fingerprints of the Creator quietly shine through yet again.

The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.

Matthew 13:31-32

Reasonable questions

Q: Isn’t this just pattern-hunting in a limited system?

A: That concern is valid—and it’s exactly why I distinguish coincidence from convergence. The English alphabet is a closed system, but the calculator doesn’t just return occasional interesting outputs—it repeatedly lands in stable loops, even when starting from wildly different words. That kind of consistent recursion suggests order beyond randomness.
 

Q: The English language is arbitrary—why would it hold any deeper mathematical truth?

A: If this were purely about etymology or semantics, I would agree. But the patterns emerge not from meaning, but from structure—letter values, recursion, and modular arithmetic. English becomes the medium, not the message. It’s the stability across iteration, not vocabulary, that matters.

 

Q: Aren’t digital roots just a known property of base-9 math?

A: Yes—and that’s part of the point. Because digital roots are so well-understood, we know what they should produce: uniform chaos or trivial repetition. But the calculator doesn’t behave that way. It forms distinct, finite, meaningful orbits—well beyond what modular math alone would predict.

 

Q: “How do you know these cycles aren’t just statistical noise?”

A: Because I subjected thousands of English words to iterative analysis and observed consistent convergence toward stable, repeating loops. Even semantically unrelated terms often collapse into identical cycles. In statistics, noise is characterized by dispersion and randomness. What we see here is rapid convergence and compression—a hallmark of an underlying structure, not stochastic variance.

Q: Can this be replicated in other languages or systems?

A: Obviously, any language that uses the Latin Alphabet ordered from A-Z will get a return in the calculator. The significance here is that the matrix was discovered using English, a language that wasn't engineered and that evolved freely into the world's Lingua Franca. As shown on Page P, English seems to be the chosen language. 

Q: Isn’t the recursive loop behavior just a result of converting numbers to their spelled-out forms—which are inherently predictable?

A: If the system were truly trivial, we’d expect it to collapse quickly into obvious repetition or uninteresting results. But instead, we observe stable loops that absorb a wide variety of inputs—even complex or long words—and compress them into consistent, finite cycles. The recurrence of these loops across diverse inputs suggests a deeper structural property, not just linguistic inevitability.

Why it matters

This calculator does not invent anything. It discovers what is already there. And what is there—beneath the surface of human language, numbers, and logic—is a hidden order that speaks of intention, not accident. Recursion, convergence, compression: these are mathematical concepts. But here, they do more than process data. They hint at design.

In Scripture, God is revealed as both Word and Wisdom. He speaks creation into existence, calls things by name, and entrusts Adam with the naming of the animal kingdom. Names carry meaning. But in this case, they also carry number. And when processed through a system of simple arithmetic and symbolic iteration, something remarkable happens: chaos does not increase. It collapses into harmony.

That alone defies expectation. The system is recursive, yet stable. Iterative, yet convergent. Random inputs yield patterned outputs. It’s as though the language we inherited—imperfect and evolved though it may be—was still shaped by unseen boundaries. A riverbed dug by Providence?

To the believer, this may echo what Scripture has always claimed: that God’s wisdom is embedded in creation, hidden in plain sight, waiting for those with eyes to see. Not so we can boast in human ingenuity, but so we can marvel at divine restraint—how God allows freedom in language and culture, yet still reserves for Himself the final say. And that final say, in this case, is mathematical.

Again - this isn’t numerology! It isn’t about secret codes. It’s about patterns that shouldn’t be there—but are. Patterns that quietly point back to the Author of language, who wrote both Genesis and John, and whose fingerprints remain in the things we think we built ourselves.

At its heart, this calculator is a mirror: not of human brilliance, but of God’s. We didn’t shape this order and we have barely traced it here. And in doing so, we get a glimpse at the kind of coherence only a Creator could leave behind.

In summary

Every English word, when passed through this calculator—first converting to its Alpha Sum, Digital Sum and Digital Root, then recursively reducing those numbers back into their respective English names, and then converting those names back again repeatedly—will eventually land in one of only a handful of outcomes:

Two fixed points in Digital Sum:
Forty-six → 46
Fifty-four → 54

Or a small set of closed loops, such as:
Alpha Sum: 240 → 216 → 228 → 288 → 255 → 240
 Digital Sum: 30 → 37 → 57 → 50 → 30

Digital Root: 2 → 4 → 6 → 7 → 2

There are no infinite spirals. No exceptions. No chaos. No matter how obscure or random the original word or phrase, the system gently pulls it into a final state—a basin of convergence. This is not based on opinion or symbol-reading. It is observable, repeatable, testable.

The speed of this convergence—how quickly the reduction paths compress—is easily explained by something mathematicians have known for centuries: mod 9 behavior, also called casting out nines.

But the destination—the where of the convergence—is not explained by that. It is not inevitable that the number names in English should reduce into specific loops. It is not mathematically necessary that two number names should be exact fixed points. And it is not trivial that this recursive system, applied to words of every kind, would yield such tight and elegant structure.

It is as if English itself was gently shaped—not to deceive, but to be decoded. And that’s the heart of the discovery. This is not numerology—period, and it's not math for math’s sake. This is the revealing of something deeper: a pattern within language that points toward structure, containment, and ultimately, purpose.

It means that the surface chaos of words conceals a hidden order. It means that everything—noble words, profane words, sacred names and silly phrases—are all caught in a design that funnels downward, then circles something stable.

In the beginning was the Word. And now we see: even our words bear His fingerprint. The convergence isn’t the miracle. But it is perhaps another signature, and it comes on the heals of the miracle you saw in the matrix and should not be easily dismissed.

This tool isn’t just a curiosity — it may be the beginning of something deeper. If a simple mapping from letters to numbers reveals stable numeric cycles—some of which echo theological language—then what happens when we push further?

  • Language evolution studies: Could this help trace hidden structure or convergence points in how language developed?

  • Data compression models: Could symbolic recursion inform new ways of reducing linguistic or numeric complexity?

  • AI and pattern recognition: Could this serve as a test case for distinguishing designed systems from stochastic ones?

  • Digital theology: Could this provide a new frontier in how faith and logic intersect, not in contradiction, but harmony?

I'm not claiming this is where it leads, but I am inviting others to see the possibilities, or more correctly, maybe God is the One saying look; to mathematicians, to linguists, to theologians, and to seekers who still believe that truth can be both beautiful and structured.

Because if what we’re seeing is even partly what it appears to be,
then this calculator is not the conclusion. It might be a doorway, meant for handling it's capabilities with nothing but reverence for the One who made it possible. 

Please note: The idea for this calculator and its function was indeed my own. However, its coding and interpretation was, in part, generated by AI and then edited by me. It is possible that AI has overstated its value and implications. Because I lack this kind of knowledge, it will be up to honest and qualified mathematicians to provide further examination and interpretation. 

The Convergence Calculator  

Try this: Type in the word "love" in this calculator. You'll notice the Alpha Sum 54, the Digital Sum 18, and the Digital Root 9, just like you did on Page E. However, this calculator asks for more — what are the values of those sums? The sums are converted to their written English words, and recalculated again and again (a process called iterative recursion) — and this goes on until it doesn’t! And that is yet another miracle, in my humble opinion. From the red number in the results line — to the red letter "R" (Repeating) is where the sequence gets caught in a forever repeating cycle.

Raphael     St. Paul Preaching in Athens     1515

The Moral

There’s a story Jesus told—a story so deceptively simple that it slips past our defenses before revealing its depth. A son asks for his inheritance early, squanders it all in foolishness, hits rock bottom in a foreign land, and finally comes crawling home, prepared to beg for scraps. Instead, his father runs to him. Embraces him. Restores him.

Most know it as the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11–32). I’ve come to believe it’s something more: it’s the story of us all. Not just individually, but collectively—humanity as a whole. This is the moral of the story. The Bible’s story. God’s story.

And it changes everything.

God Will Not Force Our Return

We live in a world crying out for answers. Where is God? Why doesn’t He just show Himself? Why does He stay silent when the world feels like it’s on fire?

Here’s what I’ve come to understand after 23 years of study: God will not force us to love Him. He will not barge in uninvited, won’t flood the sky with proof, won’t override our will. Not because He’s indifferent—but because He’s a Father, not a tyrant. He respects the terms of love.

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in…”
— Revelation 3:20

And love, by its very nature, must be chosen.

That’s why Jesus came not as a warrior, but as a servant. That’s why God hides in plain sight, working through whispers, impressions, and yes—through what looks like foolishness.

And that’s why, when He does speak, as He did through the prophet Malachi—the last voice before 400 years of silence—He says this:

“Return to me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord Almighty.
— Malachi 3:7

That’s the order. That’s the protocol. The Father waits. Watching the road. Hoping. Ready to run, but never to drag.

The Illusion of This Realm

For so many, Christianity is taught as a way to have a better life. Peace, purpose, prosperity. But Jesus didn’t come to enhance life—He came to save it. Not just one person at a time, but the world.

And here’s what’s rarely said out loud: Satan is the ruler of this world.

“The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers…”
— 2 Corinthians 4:4

“Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be cast out.”
— John 12:31

This world, in its current form, is under deception. The kingdoms of men are not God’s, and most of what we call “normal” is a distortion of what should be.

Jesus didn’t come to tell us how to live peacefully within the system. He came to call us out of it.

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…”
— Romans 12:2

He came to say: Don’t be of this world. Come home.

The Laws of the Kingdom

God’s universe is governed by laws—physical and spiritual. And those laws reflect something bigger than we often see.

In nature, a single grain can tip the scale. One more than half—that’s all it takes to shift the balance. The majority rules. And if that’s true in the physical realm, could it be a reflection of a deeper spiritual principle?

Could it be that the return of humanity—not just isolated hearts, but a spiritual majority—is what will finally lift the veil?

“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray… then I will hear from heaven, and I will heal their land.”
— 2 Chronicles 7:14

Again and again, God responds when a people turns. When a city repents. When a nation humbles itself.

He waits for that moment when the scale tips.

And when it does, He runs.

The Church and the Half-Gospel

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: The Church has preached a half-Gospel. A beautiful one, yes—about personal salvation, forgiveness, and eternal life. But it has too often missed the macro mission—God’s desire not just to save individuals, but to restore the world.

“Go and make disciples of all nations…”
— Matthew 28:19

That’s why Jesus told His followers to go into all nations. Not just neighborhoods. Nations. Not just for individual conversion, but for global transformation.

The reason the world hasn’t changed much in 2,000 years isn’t because the Gospel isn’t true—it’s because we’ve focused on personal salvation while ignoring the bigger story.

“The creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.”
— Romans 8:19

We’ve returned as sons… but not yet as a family.

God’s Workarounds

God loves too deeply to do nothing. But He also honors His design. So instead of tearing through the heavens to prove Himself, He sends workarounds.

A virgin birth.
A carpenter Messiah.
A broken man’s midnight prayer answered by an impossible discovery.

“But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise…”
— 1 Corinthians 1:27

He still speaks. Still acts. Still reveals. But always in ways that leave room for doubt—because certainty kills choice, and God desires love, not compliance.

“We walk by faith, not by sight.”
— 2 Corinthians 5:7

He offers enough light to see, but never enough to remove the need for faith.

The Forest Beyond the Tree

That’s why this page begins with the Prodigal Son. That’s why it fades into the forest from a single tree.

Because the story is bigger than me. Bigger than any one of us. It’s not just my return God is waiting for—it’s ours.

The son came back to the Father.
Now the world must, too.

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”
— Luke 8:8

That’s the moral.

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Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.          Matthew 7:7

"Did God really say...?" —Genesis 3:1

It began with a question. Not a denial, but a distortion. The serpent didn’t attack God outright—he introduced doubt. A seed of suspicion: maybe God is withholding something good. Maybe His word isn’t fully trustworthy.

That one question changed everything.

From that moment, humanity stepped out of alignment with truth. Sin entered. Shame followed. Adam and Eve hid from God’s presence. And from that fracture, the world as we know it began—not built on trust and truth, but on rebellion and fear.

This wasn’t just a mistake in history—it was the beginning of a pattern.

Ever since, we’ve been repeating it. Hiding from God. Justifying rebellion. Calling good evil and evil good. What began in Eden continues in us.

And the Bible tells that very story:
Creation. Rebellion. Redemption. Restoration.
It’s not just theology—it’s the framework of reality. And we’re not reading it from the outside; we’re living it from within.

The Modern Age of Evil

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"But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive..." —2 Timothy 3:1–2

When we talk about evil, it’s tempting to think only of history’s monsters. But long before evil wears a crown, it wears a smile. It shows up quietly—in selfish motives, hidden addictions, harsh words, dishonest gains, casual cruelty.

In the home.
In the office.
In the church.

Lies told to protect reputation.
Envy hidden behind false praise.
Cheating justified by "everyone does it."
Unforgiveness kept like a weapon.

This is the world we’ve made.

It’s not just the headline-making horrors—it’s the ordinary patterns of sin that have become so normal we hardly see them anymore. And together, they form a culture of decay.

The 20th century proved that beyond question. With more power than ever, humanity didn’t choose peace—we perfected destruction.

Two world wars scarred the earth within a single generation. Entire cities were leveled. Millions died in trenches, in gas chambers, under mushroom clouds. Nations justified their violence with ideology, fear, or pride—each convinced they were on the right side of history. And through it all, the human heart kept repeating the same ancient pattern: power without righteousness.

Adolf Hitler orchestrated the Holocaust, murdering over 6 million Jews and millions more in pursuit of racial ideology.
Joseph Stalin ruled through terror, starvation, and purges—killing or silencing tens of millions.
Mao Zedong’s revolution brought famine, forced labor, and fear to over 40 million.
Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein—their names echo with cruelty and bloodshed.

These weren’t just men who snapped—they were the full-grown version of what begins in all of us: the desire to define right and wrong on our own terms. When that desire is given enough power, and no accountability, it produces devastation.

And this all happened in a century that claimed to be more enlightened than ever.

We built machines that reached the moon—but couldn’t stop the hatred in our streets.
We mapped the genome—but lost sight of the soul.
We declared moral freedom—then redefined morality altogether.

Scripture had already warned us: the last days would be full of self-love, greed, pride, and abuse. And that’s exactly what we see. Just scroll your feed. Social media hasn’t merely exposed our divisions—it has amplified them. The political divide has grown so wide, so toxic, that it now feels like a war of identities—where empathy is weakness, disagreement is betrayal, and hatred is just another form of loyalty.

The issue isn’t progress.
The issue isn’t politics.
The issue is the human heart—unchanged since Eden.

Our Laws, Our Mirrors

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

We’ve seen what happens when we try to govern ourselves apart from God. The results speak for themselves: confusion, corruption, injustice. And if we’re honest, we can’t fix it on our own.

But Jesus didn’t leave us to figure it out alone. He spoke directly to the world we’re living in—and He didn’t pull any punches.

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." —John 16:33

Jesus didn’t come to improve the world. He came to rescue us from it.

Because this world, as it stands, is not neutral ground—it’s a battleground between truth and deception. Between the kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness.

He called it what it was—a fallen, hostile system ruled by the enemy:

 

"The ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me." —John 14:30
"My kingdom is not of this world." —John 18:36
"The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers." —2 Corinthians 4:4

Jesus didn’t downplay the evil. He exposed it. He confronted it. And He called us out of it:

 

"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." —Romans 12:2
"Come out from them and be separate, says the Lord." —2 Corinthians 6:17

He didn’t promise comfort—He promised a cross.
He didn’t promise ease—He promised persecution.
Because this world is not home.

This life you are living, and this world you are living in, are both very real.
But they are not the greater reality.
The greater reality is the Kingdom of God—already breaking in, not yet fully seen.
And Jesus didn’t just talk about it.
He invited us into it.

This question of reality is complicated.
Many only know what they've been shown or taught —by tradition, by culture, even by the Church. Most of us inherit assumptions about what’s normal, what’s good, and what’s true. And if we’re not careful, those assumptions can dull our spiritual senses.

And yet, many have learned—or been taught—to be comfortable here. Many blend in, many mute the truth to can get along. Many trade urgency for ease, and to many the Kingdom of God becomes an afterthought in  day-to-day living or check marks on Wednesday and Sunday to-do lists.

And in doing so, many often fail to acknowledge—or have never been taught—one of the most crucial truths about this reality:
That we are not just living in a broken world—we are living in the midst of an invisible but very real spiritual war. A battle not just for behavior, but for belief. For allegiance. For truth itself.

If, before now, you had heard someone say that God—indeed Jesus—had hidden a cryptic message in a mysterious blend of math and language, woven through centuries of linguistic evolution, you might’ve thought them crazy. But you’ve seen it for yourself. You’ve witnessed the fingerprint of God, the quiet sovereignty at work behind the veil. And if that’s true—if goodness can move unseen through history—don’t doubt for a moment that evil does the same. Just watch the news if you need convincing.

We are like Lot’s wife, looking back at what we were told to leave behind. Like Demas, who “loved this present world.” Like Israel in the wilderness, longing for Egypt after being set free.

The moral of the story, as I see it, is simple but profound: God is not forcing us to love Him. He isn’t going to suddenly appear on the scene and announce, “Here I am.” Rather, it’s ours to return to Him, as the prodigal son did, and allow Him to welcome us with open arms. In this return, there is a deeper implication for both the individual and humanity as a whole. It’s not just about a personal reconciliation, but a cosmic one—God has invited us to be part of His great plan of restoration.

The God of the Old Testament was clear: “Return to Me, and I will return to you” (Malachi 3:7). This phrase is powerful when we consider the context of God’s covenant with Israel. He had been patiently waiting for His people to come back, to fulfill their part of the covenant, and He was always willing to extend mercy. But they, as a people, had turned away time and time again. They chose their own paths, chasing after other gods and making choices that led to their spiritual destruction.

But God, as always, did not give up on them. In the last recorded direct communication in the Old Testament, He is still extending that call to return—to restore the relationship, to offer redemption. This isn't just about individuals. It's a communal and global call. Humanity as a whole, collectively, is invited to return to God, and until we do, we cannot expect His full embrace.

The Prodigal Son story perfectly illustrates this. In the parable, Jesus tells us that the father stands waiting for his son’s return. And when the son turns toward the father, when he comes back home, the father runs to him, clothes him in the finest robe, and celebrates his return. It’s a beautiful picture of grace and restoration, but it’s also a statement about mankind as a whole. We’ve all wandered off. As individuals, we can turn back. As humanity, we can return as well. But first, we have to make the choice to return to God.

This wasn’t about a peaceful coexistence with the world or a serene existence of following a few principles that make life “better.” No, Jesus came as a Savior. He came with the message that we are not of this world, that we are citizens of a different kingdom. His life, death, and resurrection were all pointing toward a restoration of the world that could only come through the return of mankind to God. It is through the Cross that the world is made right—not through individual comfort or human-made peace. It is through the Cross that we are invited to reconcile with God.

In this grand scheme of things, Paul’s message to the early Church echoes loudly: We must be united. Over and over again, Paul calls the believers to come together, to be of one mind and one heart. "I appeal to you, brothers, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same judgment" (1 Corinthians 1:10). And yet, look around—Christianity has splintered into hundreds, perhaps over a thousand denominations.

Where did we go wrong? If the Church is meant to be a picture of the restored Body of Christ, then why does it seem so fractured? How can we claim to have the Spirit of unity when we allow division to persist? Is this really the fulfillment of God’s vision for us, or is it just a human failure to understand His call? Paul implored the early Church to preserve unity, not for the sake of conformity, but for the sake of a shared purpose—to bear witness to the world of the truth of Christ.

But, as we’ve seen, we have failed to live out that unity, and the result is a broken witness to the world. The Church has become a mirror image of the division we see in the world: disconnected, at odds, and fractured. This is the human condition—we choose to be divided. But if we look at the Prodigal Son, we see the pathway forward: we must return to God and, by doing so, reconcile with one another. This is how we restore not just ourselves, but the entire world.

In the same way that God has worked through history to restore His people individually, He is calling us to return together. That return requires repentance—not just as individuals, but as the Body of Christ. It’s a return to the original purpose and calling that God had for humanity in the beginning: to be in perfect relationship with Him, and with one another.

And just as in the Prodigal Son story, God is waiting, ready to run toward us. But we need to make the first move. We need to turn back. And as we do, we realize this truth: God has always been the one waiting. He has never abandoned us, even when we wander. His love is the constant. Our return is the catalyst for restoration.

Paul’s vision was one of unity, but not just unity for unity's sake. It was unity around the truth of Christ. It was a unity that would bring the world to see the gospel in action, the kingdom of God made visible in the lives of those who had reconciled both with God and with each other. This is the moral of the story—the return to God, as individuals and as a collective, is what sets the world right. And only when we return can the world experience the fullness of His love and restoration.

God will not force us to love Him. That’s not who He is.

He doesn’t crash through the sky just to prove Himself. He doesn’t demand worship with thunder or fear. That’s what we might expect—what we sometimes want—but that’s not how love works. He waits. He watches. He hopes. He lets us run if we need to.

Because the return has to be ours.

That’s the moral of the story. Not just mine—but the story. The whole biblical arc. We left. Humanity left. Like the son who packed his inheritance and walked away from the father, we’ve done the same, over and over again.

And still… the Father doesn’t turn away. He stays. Arms open. Eyes on the road. Waiting for the moment we come to ourselves and start heading home.

But the road back isn’t easy—because this world isn’t neutral ground.

Paul tells us that Satan is the ruler of this world. That’s not symbolic. That’s not poetic license. That’s a spiritual fact—and it changes everything. It explains why evil seems to prosper. Why lies spread faster than truth. Why faith feels so hard to hold onto in a world that’s always pulling you in the other direction.

This world is a far country. We’re prodigals living under someone else’s rule.

And yet—and yet—the Father still watches the road.

He doesn't rip control from Satan by force (not yet). He doesn’t overwhelm us with signs and spectacles. Instead, He speaks softly. Through stories. Through Scripture. Through conscience. Through moments that shouldn’t make sense, but do. Through people like my grandmother. Through foolish scribbles in a notebook. Through a cross.

Because this isn’t about domination—it’s about invitation.

And the choice… the return… is still ours.

He saw that the world wasn’t just broken—it was enslaved. Under the rule of a deceiver. Twisted from the inside out. And Jesus didn’t come to offer us a new flavor of peace or a cozy spiritual upgrade. He came to save us from a system that was never going to save us.

He didn’t just say, “Come believe in me and your life will be better.” He said, “Take up your cross. Die to yourself. Don’t be of this world.”

And that wasn’t just a message for a few struggling souls. That was a message to mankind.

We tend to individualize everything—make it about me and my walk, my blessings, my faith. But Christ’s words were aimed at a world system in open rebellion. A species that had walked away. A creation trying to exist without its Creator.

His arrival was a declaration: You’ve gone far enough. It’s time to come home.

But coming home doesn’t mean blending in. It doesn’t mean being nice and going to church once a week. It means waking up to the truth of who rules this world—and refusing to bow to it anymore.

Clarity

Raphael
St. Paul Preaching in Athens     1515

The whisper in the garden was a subtle twist of truth. A question that planted doubt in the first human hearts. "Did God really say?" was all it took. It was not an outright denial of God's word, but a distortion or better yet, a seed of suspicion that maybe, just maybe, God was holding something back.

And from that single lie, the world broke, sinned entered and shame followed. Adam and Eve hid from the presence of God. Ever since, the world has remained broken. Far removed as we may be, humanity still runs, not just from God, but from truth, accountability, and from the reality of our condition. The world as we know it was born not from truth, but from rebellion. Everything that followed, every act of evil, every war, every betrayal, and every injustice, can be traced back to that first fracture. From Cain murdering Abel to Pharaoh enslaving Israel, from Babylon’s cruelty to Rome’s corruption, the pattern is unbroken. Countless kingdoms risen and fallen, but human nature stays the same.

Empires were built on the backs of the weak. Wars were waged for power and pride. Idols were made out of gold, out of fame, out of self. We often pretend to be gods while destroying what God made.

The flood didn’t wash away our sin and the tower of Babel didn’t reach heaven. The Law exposed our guilt, but couldn’t fix it. The Prophets warned yet kings failed. The church was divided, institutionalized and often corrupted. People turned again and again to false gods and foreign powers, over and over, the pattern has repeated.

It's impossible to say how many of us can count ourselves among the poor in spirit, those who have mourned, those who are meek, the ones that hungered and thirsted for truth and righteousness, the merciful, pure of heart, and peacemakers, but one thing remains true:

"All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." —Romans 3:23

Every generation since the Garden has reflected the spirit of 2 Timothy 3:1–5, but perhaps none more strikingly than our own.

 

But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power.                                                  

The 20th century shattered the illusion of what we might label progress. With all our advancements in science, industry, and thought, we saw the greatest horrors unfold:

  • Adolf Hitler and the Holocaust: over 6 million Jews exterminated in systematic genocide.

  • Joseph Stalin: purges, forced famines, gulags—millions more silenced by state brutality.

  • Mao Zedong: cultural revolution and political terror costing over 40 million lives.

  • Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein—men who wielded power like gods, leaving trails of death. The list goes on and on. 

All in a century, and continuing now, where the human race supposedly reached its peak of enlightenment. For all of the technological advancements, there was  moral decay. The unborn became disposable. Truth became subjective. Pleasure became a right, and sacrifice became outdated. Human law began to reflect not God’s justice, but man’s desires. Corruption wasn’t the exception, it was the expectation.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness." —Isaiah 5:20

What we legalize speaks volumes about what we worship. When laws no longer reflect truth, but convenience, they reveal the heart of a fallen world. How far have we strayed when justice can be bought, innocence is optional and righteousness is mocked. From redefining family to celebrating self above all, we live in a culture that legislates sin and calls it freedom. And yet we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, more lost than ever. Suicide, depression and social anarchy are all on the rise because we've raised generations without regard for Truth. When it is claimed that there are no absolute truths, what is there left for a soul to believe in? If there is nothing to hope for than more of the same, who can be at peace? You can't build your lives on lies and expect peace. Those to the left, and those on the right have all been sold the same lie, just dressed up differently. What is that lie?  That your respective human leaders, can actually rule you effectively and justly. What good is a just warden if you are still in bondage?

Jesus understood the world for what it is, and He gave us truth and comfort when he said:

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." —John 16:33

Jesus didn’t come to improve the world we live in. He came to rescue us from it. He called it what it was; a fallen, hostile system ruled by the enemy:

The ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me. —John 14:30
My kingdom is not of this world. —John 18:36


And Paul added this:

The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers.

2 Corinthians 4:4

Jesus didn’t downplay the evil, He exposed it and He confronted it. He called us out of it when He said:

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  Romans 12:2


Come out from them and be separate, says the Lord. - 2 Corinthians 6:17

He didn’t promise comfort, He promised a cross to bear. He didn’t promise ease, He promised struggle. Because this world is not home.

They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world.  - John 17:16

And yet, we get comfortable here. We blend in. We mute the truth so we can get along. We trade urgency for ease, and the Kingdom of God becomes an afterthought in our day-to-day lives.

We are like Lot’s wife, looking back at what we were told to leave behind. Or we are like Demas, who “loved this present world.” Even Israel in the wilderness, longed for Egypt after being set free.

The problem isn’t time, or politics, or even technology. It’s sin. It's not a new idea, and it's been there all along. We still need rescue. We still need truth. We still need the only One who has overcome this world, not by comfort, but by a cross. Jesus.

One day, the lies will be fully exposed.

The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever. - Revelation 11:15

But until then, the question remains: Will we keep pretending this world is good enough? Or will we wake up, repent, and return to the Truth?

A Note on This World — And the One to Come

So what exactly is this “far country”? Is it just a symbol? A feeling? What Jesus described in the parable is more than a personal journey. It’s a theological blueprint for the world we live in right now.

“This world is the far country, and we are prodigals living under another’s rule.”

That line might raise some eyebrows—even among seasoned believers. But it isn’t just poetic flourish. It’s a theological claim rooted in Scripture. It’s also a narrative claim. Because we’re not just observing a story—we’re living in one.
Again, the Bible is not a separate religious manual; it’s the framework of reality itself. Again, we are participants in the very story it tells: creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration.


When Jesus called Satan the “ruler of this world” (John 12:31; 14:30), He wasn’t speaking metaphorically. Paul refers to him as “the god of this age” (2 Corinthians 4:4), and John writes that “the whole world lies in the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19). The New Testament paints a clear picture: while God is sovereign, this present age is under the influence of darkness.


So when I speak of “the far country,” I’m not talking about mere geography. I’m naming a condition or better yet, a spiritual exile. A world system shaped first of all by rebellion, which led to self-interest, deception, and pride. Hebrews 11 calls believers “strangers and exiles,” longing for a better country. Peter echoes this, urging us to live as “sojourners and exiles,” abstaining from the desires that wage war against our souls.

Because we live in a culture, especially in the West, where Christianity is often reduced to personal growth, moral improvement, or spiritual comfort. Sermons aim to encourage, but rarely confront. Church can feel more like therapy than transformation. In that environment, the far country doesn't feel far at all. It feels normal. Even desirable, and that is a real problem.


Again, Jesus didn’t come to make us comfortable here. He came to call us out.
He warned against lukewarmness (Revelation 3:16), against storing up treasure on earth (Matthew 6:19), against becoming too at home in a world that’s passing away (1 John 2:15–17). Paul warned that people would gather teachers who “say what their itching ears want to hear” (2 Timothy 4:3–4). Isaiah and Ezekiel spoke of false prophets who “heal the wound of the people lightly,” saying “peace, peace” when there is no peace (Jeremiah 6:14; Ezekiel 13:10).


This isn’t a rebuke of individual Christians. It’s a call to remember just exactly where we are and what story we’re in. Be sure that I am not disregarding the daily work of God. On the contrary, I believe His Spirit is active every day through kindness, healing, sacrifice, grace. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. I’m alive because of it. But mercy is not the same as endorsement.


Jesus said the Father “causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good” (Matthew 5:45). That’s mercy, not approval. Romans 2:4 says God’s kindness is meant to lead us to repentance. Peter reminds us that His patience is not weakness, it’s restraint, “not willing that any should perish” (2 Peter 3:9).
So when I say “this world is the far country,” I don’t mean God is absent.
I mean we’re not home yet.


And as long as we live under the influence of a system not fully submitted to Christ, we are, whether we admit it or not, prodigals. Even believers, and this is a hard pill to swallow, are still living under another’s rule. We are still surrounded by noise, lies, and illusions. Maybe that was the reason for the miracle of the matrix. Maybe our Father is so full of mercy that He knew we would need something that cuts through all that noise, all the lies and all those illusions?

For the last 2,000 years plus, every time an individual was drawn to Jesus by the Father, we could imagine a life ring being thrown to someone who has fallen overboard. The awakening that I see on the horizon could be likened to a ship going down. There aren't enough life rings on board, so the life boats are deployed so save all onboard the sinking ship.  

New Corbel Light Logo 3.png

So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

Luke 15:20

The forest

Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them."

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father.“

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

 

“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound."

“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 

But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

Just as I did with the page introducing Yeshua, I’ve wrestled about whether or not to include this page. For a long time, I’ve asked myself the same questions: Is this from God—or just me? Is it conviction—or ego? Is this obedience—or my own ambition dressed up as purpose?

 

This page feels different from the others. It’s not just telling a story or laying out an idea. It feels heavier—more personal, more loaded. It’s something I didn’t ask for, and probably wouldn’t have chosen to write if it were just up to me. But it hasn’t gone away. It stays with me. Quietly, persistently.

 

Early on, I promised myself this site wouldn’t be about me. I didn’t want to make it about personality or platform. I’m not trying to teach or lead or build a following. I’m just someone who found something—or more accurately, was found by Something bigger than myself. And it’s changed everything. Still, I’ve wrestled with this page. This burden. This tension.

 

It’s not about drawing lines or starting arguments. I’m not here to criticize other believers or divide the Church. I’m not angry. I’m not jaded. If anything, I feel a mix of heartbreak and hope. Because what I’ve seen—or what I believe God is letting me see—is something bigger than me. Something that might be hard to explain, but harder to ignore. That maybe the Gospel is more than individual salvation. That maybe the Cross is meant to bring us home—not just one at a time—but as a people. Together.

That maybe we’ve misunderstood our place in all this. We’re not just observers of the story—we’re participants. The Bible isn’t a collection of ancient writings with moral lessons—it’s the framework of reality itself. And whether we realize it or not, we are living in the very story it tells. Creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration. We are in it. Right now.

That’s what this page is about. A shared return. A shared hope. And still—I hesitated. I hesitated because I don’t want to alienate sincere believers. I know many are doing their best to follow Jesus. I know many love Him deeply. And I know there’s risk in sharing something that could be misunderstood.

 

Some might think I’m claiming special insight, or trying to “correct” the Church. That’s not what this is. This isn’t about being right. It’s about being honest. I’m sharing what’s been stirring in me—not with certainty in myself, but with a deep awareness that I’ll be held accountable for every word. I don’t write this lightly. I write it because I can’t ignore it.

 

There have been moments—small, powerful moments—that have reminded me what unity looks like. Moments where people laid down their differences. Where truth softened hearts. Where love won out. In stories. In films. In the aftermath of tragedy. In a single act of forgiveness. That rare, unmistakable unity moves me deeply. Sometimes to tears. In those moments, I feel the Spirit whisper: “This is what I want for you.” A glimpse of heaven. A taste of what could be. And it reminds me why I need to say this.

 

So I include this page—not because I have it all figured out—but because I trust the One who’s been nudging me to speak. I include it with humility, because I don’t claim certainty. I include it with caution, because truth matters. But I include it with hope—hope that many might feel the same nudge. Hear the same voice. This isn’t a rebuke. It’s a reflection. A set of questions. A prayer in written form.

I remember watching the Super Bowl in 2023 when that second “He Gets Us” ad, "Love Your Enemies," came on. I must have missed the first one they ran, maybe on a bathroom break. I wondered where this one was going as it highlighted the hatred that seems so common these days. The soulful track "Human" by Rag n Bone Man was hauntingly appropriate as I watched the still images of people from all walks of life furious with each other. And there at the end - "love your enemies," and "He (Jesus) Gets Us."  I was elated to know that millions of people around the world, whether they believed in Him or not, were all watching something that pointed to Christ. And I felt it, that familiar chill, the kind that only comes when something greater is moving beneath the surface. I didn’t know then what that campaign would become, or how far it would go. But I remember thinking: Christ is at the center of the world’s attention right now, and to me, that was a wonderful thing. 

 

I also felt something else, something that was for me deeper than the ad itself. I knew that my turn was coming; my turn to witness. Watching the world turn its eyes to Jesus, even briefly, was a jolt of hope. It reminded me that I still had a calling to fulfill, not that I needed reminding. Instead maybe a glimpse of what it might feel like to be a part of something that might help focus the Truth in a world that needed it more than ever. 

At the same time, I felt a wave of uncertainty, because while I had this message burning inside me, I still had no clear roadmap for how it would reach anyone. It was still a calling, fragile and unformed. A dusty and poorly written "book," some Excel files, and a Powerpoint presentation, along with hundreds of scribbled pages in various notebooks were all that I had managed in all that time. My obligation however, was growing heavier with each passing year. 

That moment watching that ad wasn’t just a fleeting glimpse of unity; it was a vivid reminder of how rare and precious such attention to Christ really is—especially in a world so often pulled in every other direction. Campaigns like He Gets Us have the power to connect millions with a simple, human message that resonates deeply. 

In today’s fragmented spiritual landscape, it’s rare to see a national or global outreach with the budget, visibility, and cultural reach that He Gets Us has achieved. Funded by significant resources and propelled by a well-known platform, it has brought a simple, human-centered message to millions, “He gets us.” This campaign has connected with many who feel misunderstood or disconnected, and for that, it deserves recognition.

This effort reflects a deep human longing for empathy and connection, and it taps into a cultural pulse that is often missing in traditional church outreach. The message, at its core, invites people to consider Jesus, not as a distant religious figure but as someone who understands their struggles and pain. That kind of framing is a bridge to a hurting world. But here is where the conversation must continue.

Why “He Gets Us” Is Not Enough

While He Gets Us brings an important and relatable message, it stops short of what I believe is God’s larger call for His Church and the world. Saying “He gets us” is a good start, but it risks becoming a comfortable, surface-level statement. A phrase that feels safe but doesn’t challenge or change hearts on a deeper level, is just that, a catchy phrase. 

The Gospel is not only about Jesus understanding us; it is about us truly knowing Him. Who is He? What did He come to accomplish? Why He calls us to believe in Him? No doubt He gets us, but do we get Him?

Too often, modern outreach efforts settle for cultural relevance or emotional resonance without pressing into the full message of the Kingdom. They may soften the harder truths in an effort to avoid offense or controversy, but in doing so, they leave the message incomplete.

The Church’s Challenge and Opportunity

Here’s the difficult truth: the Church has largely failed to answer the global call for awakening and unity in a way that truly moves the needle. We remain fragmented, often inward-focused, and too comfortable within echo chambers that affirm our existing beliefs rather than challenge us to grow and unite.

If the rest of the world is to see the power of Christ, shouldn't it be through a Church that lives out the unity Jesus prayed for, and the kind of unity Paul demanded? Shouldn't we finally strive for a Church that transcends denominational walls and theological disputes to stand together as one Body?

This is where the discovery I share on this site becomes crucial. It points to a divine structure and a call to collective restoration that is far beyond any marketing campaign or popular movement. It is a miracle of God meant to reach further than ever, an awakening like never before. 

The discovery is tangible and palpable—something to be seen, examined, honored, and admired. It points not only to a profound truth but also to a purposeful call to action, inviting the Church to engage deeply and practically with God’s unfolding plan.

After nearly two thousand years of relative silence, this discovery emerges as a timely revelation—an invitation to awaken to a fullness long awaited. For centuries, the world and the Church have been like creation itself; waiting, groaning, and hoping for the revealing of something greater (Romans 8:18-21). This discovery is not a boast, nor is it the final answer, but a humble step toward that long-anticipated awakening, arriving just when it is most needed.

What began as a whisper to one man should now become a clear, resounding call from a Father across time and space. This powerful, joyful summons, is an invitation that comes from a Father who will not be ignored: ‘Here I am, come to me.’

Moving Beyond Awareness to Awakening

My journey was never about building a platform or winning popularity. It was about encountering a truth so profound it changed my life and reoriented my understanding of God’s purpose. This isn’t a new gimmick or campaign; it’s an window to a deeper reality and a fresh, miraculous revelation of “Yeshua” that invites all who see to come home together.

It is easy to feel small or insignificant in the face of large, well-funded movements. I won’t pretend my resources compare, nor that I have all the answers. But I do believe that God is calling His people to something far greater than what we have seen so far: a global awakening rooted in unity, truth, and the transformative power of Christ.

A Call to the Church and to All Believers

This is not a critique meant to divide but a call to humble self-examination and renewal. If He Gets Us is a stepping stone, then let us walk boldly beyond it. If it begins a conversation, let us bring the message of unity and restoration to its full expression. The challenge is for each of us, individually and collectively, to ask: Do we really get Him? Do we understand the cost and the call of the Gospel? And are we willing to lay down our divisions and differences for the sake of the unified Body He prayed for?

I include this with reverence, not arrogance; with hope, not judgment. Because the future of the Church—and perhaps the world itself—depends on our answer.

Far country

When I reflect on the story of the Prodigal Son, I don’t see it simply as a tale of one wayward individual finding his way back home. No, this parable holds a mirror up to all of us—not just as isolated souls but as a people, a broken humanity yearning to be made whole again. Just as the son packed his inheritance and wandered far from his father, so humanity has turned away from God repeatedly, choosing our own paths, chasing after false hopes, and living under the shadow of a far country.

The far country isn’t just personal sin—it’s the world itself, as it now stands apart from God. It represents not only rebellion, but illusion. A system of temporary pleasures, false comforts, and misplaced security that lulls us into complacency.

Yet, despite our wanderings and failures, the Father in the story does not turn his back. He waits, with arms wide open, eyes fixed on the road, watching for the moment his son comes to his senses and begins the journey back. This image captures something profound about God’s heart for us—not just for our individual salvation but for the restoration of all things. Perhaps only when we return as a people, together, will we begin to see the fullness of what God intends for the Church, for the world, and for His Kingdom.

God will never force our love or our return. That’s not who He is. He does not crash down from the heavens with overwhelming power to prove Himself. He doesn’t demand worship through thunder or terror. That’s what we might expect or even sometimes want—but that is not how love works. Instead, He waits. He watches. He hopes. And He lets us run if we need to.

Because the return must be ours.

This is the moral of the story, not just mine, but the grand narrative of Scripture: humanity left. We left. Like the prodigal son, we have walked away from the Father again and again. And yet, the Father does not abandon us. He stays. Watching the road. Ready to welcome us home.

But the journey back is not easy, because this world is no neutral territory. Paul tells us that Satan is the ruler of this world—not metaphorically, not poetically, but a spiritual truth that changes everything. It explains why evil often seems to prosper, why lies spread faster than truth, and why faith is such a difficult path to walk in a world that constantly pulls us away.

This world is the far country, and we are prodigals living under another’s rule. That doesn’t mean God has abandoned the world—far from it. Creation still bears His fingerprints, and His Spirit is at work even now. But the systems of this age—the pride, deception, and self-rule that define so much of life apart from Him—are not neutral. They are part of the far country, and we are called to see them for what they are… and to come home.

Too often, Christianity is misrepresented as a path to a better life in the far country—as if following Christ should make us happier, wealthier, or more successful here. But the parable makes no such promise. It isn’t about thriving in the far country. It’s about rejecting it. And still, the Father watches the road.

He does not storm in and forcibly wrest control from Satan (not yet). He does not overwhelm us with signs or spectacles. Instead, He speaks quietly—through stories, through Scripture, through conscience, through moments that shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. Through people like my grandmother. Through what may seem like foolish scribbles in a notebook. Through the cross.

Because this isn’t a story of domination—it’s a story of invitation.

The choice—the return—is still ours.

Jesus saw that the world was not just broken but enslaved, trapped under the rule of a deceiver, twisted from the inside out. He didn’t come to offer a better version of peace or some cozy spiritual upgrade. He came to save us from a system that could never save us.

Our true peace and purpose were never meant to be found here. The Father’s house is not just a better destination—it’s the only real one. Anything less will leave us empty.

His message was clear: “Take up your cross. Die to yourself. Don’t be of this world.” This call was not just for a few struggling souls; it was a message to all mankind.

Too often, we individualize faith, making it about our own walk, blessings, or struggles. But Christ’s words targeted a system in rebellion—a species that had walked away, a creation trying to exist without its Creator.

His arrival was a declaration: You’ve gone far enough. It’s time to come home.

But coming home does not mean blending in. It does not mean simply being nice or going to church once a week. It means waking up to the truth of who really rules this world—and refusing to bow to that power any longer.

And this is the sense that I get; just like the prodigal son, when we return—not just as individuals, but as a people—God will welcome us back with open arms. Not just for our individual salvation, but for the restoration of all things. Perhaps only then will we see the fullness of what God intends for us, for the Church, and for the world.

Maybe the return of a son here, and a daughter there, is not enough? Could the return of humanity be the bigger story? Is God waiting for all of us to come home—together?

Could it be that the “majority” of us need to come back to the Father? And if so, might He restore us when we do? Perhaps the scales will tip, the division will be healed, and the truth of Christ will shine bright for the world to see.

Prodigals

The World

The whole is greater than the sum of its parts - Aristotle?

Forest for the trees

The miraculous catch

Early inheritance

God will not force us to love Him or return to Him

For so many, Christianity is taught as a way to have a better life. Peace, purpose, prosperity. But Jesus didn’t come to enhance life—He came to save it. Not just one person at a time, but the world.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

The
Prodigal
Son

Luke 15:11-32

The forest

So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

Luke 15:20

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Paul’s Plea for Unity

In every letter Paul wrote, there’s a constant refrain: unity. He pleads with believers to come together as one body, to be of one mind and spirit. He doesn't just urge it as a noble idea—he demands it, because he understood that the world could not fully see Christ in us until we were united in Him.

 

“I appeal to you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another so that there may be no divisions among you…”
— 1 Corinthians 1:10


“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit…” — Ephesians 4:3–4

In Paul's view, unity in the Church is not optional—it’s a command. The gospel is about more than individual salvation; it’s about the reconciliation of all things under Christ. And when the Church is divided, could it be that the world cannot fully see the truth of that reconciliation?

Here we are, more than 2,000 years later, with thousands of denominations worldwide, each professing a version of the truth. But how often do we see differing interpretations, conflicting doctrines, and fractured understandings of who Christ is and what He came to do? Has the very thing Paul warned against, division, become the hallmark of the modern Church?

 

“I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you…” — John 17:20–21

Jesus Himself prayed for unity among His followers, that they might be one, just as He and the Father are one. Yet, the very thing Jesus prayed for—unity—seems to be what we have fractured over time. Denominations, divisions, and doctrines are not just external problems; they are spiritual wounds that keep us from seeing the true unity of the Body of Christ and the full power of the Gospel message.

A Call for True Reconciliation

Why does this matter? Because God’s desire isn’t just for individual believers; it’s for the world to be reconciled to Him. Jesus came not just to offer salvation to isolated souls but to offer a way for the broken, fragmented world to be restored—through Him, through the Church, and through our unity in Him.

“God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them…”  — 2 Corinthians 5:19

And here is the irony: might it be that the world will never know Christ in the fullness of His reconciliation until we—the Church—are fully united?

It’s as if we’ve fragmented the Gospel—picking and choosing which parts to highlight, emphasizing our differences rather than what unites us.

True restoration—the kind that changes the world—happens when the Church returns fully to unity. Only through this collective, reconciled Body of Christ can the fullness of God’s Kingdom break through the darkness. When we stand united, we embody the Father’s heart for humanity’s return, reflecting His reign here and now.

And maybe that’s part of the story too.
Because if we truly are living inside the same story Scripture tells—a story of creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration—then division isn’t just a problem to be solved, it’s a signpost. A sign that we are still somewhere between the rebellion and the restoration. Still in the wilderness. Still waiting for something—someone—to bring us back together.

Paul’s vision in Ephesians 4:3–6 echoes this cosmic dimension:

“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit… one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all.”

This unity transcends mere agreement; it is the spiritual and practical foundation for the Church’s transformative witness in a fractured world. As we embrace this call, the Church becomes not just a gathering of individuals, but a powerful, united force for healing, reconciliation, and restoration.

Together, we can begin to tip the scales, heal divisions, and shine with the truth of Christ’s love—drawing the world back to the Father’s open arms.

A House
Divided

Global Decline of Christianity
Over the last several decades, Christianity has seen a noticeable decline in several regions of the world, particularly in the Western countries like the United States and Europe. Here’s a breakdown of some key factors contributing to this decline:
 

  1. Decreased Church Attendance:In many Western countries, church attendance has steadily decreased, particularly in Europe. In the United States, while there are still large numbers of Christians, the percentage of people who regularly attend church has dropped significantly. For instance, in 2000, about 77% of Americans identified as Christians, but by 2020, that number had dropped to around 64%. Furthermore, regular weekly attendance in church has fallen sharply, with studies showing that only about 20–22% of Americans attend church regularly today, compared to over 40% just a few decades ago.
     

  2. Rise of Secularism and Non-Religious Beliefs:One of the most significant shifts in the last 50 years has been the rise of secularism and the increase in the number of people identifying as "none" (religiously unaffiliated). In the United States alone, this group has risen from about 5% in the 1970s to around 30% today. This trend is even more pronounced in Europe, where secularism and atheism are growing, particularly among younger generations. Countries like Sweden, Denmark, and Norway report some of the highest percentages of non-religious populations, often exceeding 60% in some age groups.
     

  3. Youth and Religion: The younger generations are moving away from institutional religion. A survey from Pew Research found that around 70% of Millennials (born between 1981–1996) are less religious than their parents. This generational divide is one of the key factors in the decline of Christianity, as younger people are less likely to identify with any faith, attend church, or participate in religious activities. Even in countries where Christianity is still prevalent, like Latin America and Africa, younger generations are less involved in traditional Christian practices.
     

  4. Global Religious Shifts: While Christianity is declining in the West, it is growing in the Global South (particularly in Africa, Asia, and Latin America). However, despite this growth, Christianity as a whole has lost market share globally. In 1900, Christians made up about 34% of the world’s population. By 2020, that number had dropped to around 32% due to the rapid growth of Islam, Hinduism, and other religions, as well as the rise of the non-religious population.
     

  5. Cultural Shifts and Moral Concerns: The decline in Christianity is also attributed to changing cultural attitudes towards issues such as marriage, family, and sexuality. Many churches, especially in Western societies, have struggled to keep up with modern cultural shifts, especially around LGBTQ+ rights, gender equality, and other moral issues. As a result, many young people find it harder to reconcile traditional Christian teachings with their own views on these issues, which leads to disaffiliation from the faith.
     

A Call for Unity in the Midst of Decline
As Christianity faces these challenges, the call for unity within the body of Christ becomes even more urgent. The divide between denominations, doctrinal disputes, and fragmented Christian identities only exacerbate the problem. Unity isn’t just a theological concept; it’s a practical, visible necessity for the Church to respond to a world that is losing interest in organized religion. Without the unity of the Spirit—without coming together as the Body of Christ—the Church risks losing its voice in the world, its credibility, and its influence in the lives of those who need it most.

Do We
Get him?

I want to be clear about something before we continue. I’m not claiming to rewrite prophecy, nor am I offering a new interpretation of Revelation. I believe the Word of God is true, and the return of Christ is certain. But I also believe something else—something just as biblical, though often forgotten: That much of what God reveals in Scripture is not just a timeline, but a warning meant to turn us.

From Nineveh to Jeremiah, from the wilderness to the cross, the pattern is clear: when people repent, God relents. Not because He changes—but because we do. He responds to humility. He runs toward return.

So when I reflect on Revelation—not just the judgments, but the heartbreak behind them—I don’t see a God eager to destroy. I see a Father longing for His children to wake up and come home. What if Revelation is not just a countdown… but a call?

What if it’s not just a forecast—but a fork in the road? Could it be that if the Church—the whole Church—were to return, united and humbled, God would once again respond with mercy? Could we still, even now, shift the tone of what’s coming? Not cancel it. Not rewrite it. But perhaps, like the prodigal’s father, He is watching the road… waiting to run.

This isn’t theology of denial. It’s theology of hope. And it’s the same hope woven through every moment of redemptive history:

 

“Return to me, and I will return to you.” — Malachi 3:7
“Who knows? God may yet relent and turn from his fierce anger…” — Jonah 3:9
“He does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” — Lamentations 3:33

I don’t say this lightly. And I don’t pretend to know how much time we have left. But I do believe this with all my heart:

 

It is not too late.
And He is still watching the road.

Uphill Battle

Revelation?  Move?

"So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him."

Luke 15:20

The Wrestling

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The forest

Raphael
St. Paul Preaching
In Athens
1515

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

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How the calculator works

This isn’t a number game. This calculator takes any word or phrase, like “hope” or “forgiveness” or even your own name, and translates it into numbers. But it doesn’t stop there. It keeps going, turning those numbers back into words, then into numbers again. Over and over.

And something beautiful and unexpected happens. No matter where you start, the chaos fades and the system settles down. The numbers stop bouncing around and begin to repeat in patterns; stable, peaceful loops. Even words that have nothing in common end up in the same place.

That’s not normal. We aren’t supposed to find this kind of meaning in such randomness. But here, somehow, the patterns hold. This shouldn’t work. But it does.

And maybe, just maybe, the Word that was spoken in The Beginning carries echoes of God's ultimate order. Maybe the structure was always there—waiting to be revealed.

This calculator doesn’t prove God. But it sure points in His direction.

It’s a glimpse behind the curtain, where math and meaning touch—and the fingerprints of the Creator quietly shine through yet again.

Reasonable Questions

Q: Isn’t this just pattern-hunting in a limited system?

A: That concern is valid—and it’s exactly why I distinguish coincidence from convergence. The English alphabet is a closed system, but the calculator doesn’t just return occasional interesting outputs—it repeatedly lands in stable loops, even when starting from wildly different words. That kind of consistent recursion suggests order beyond randomness.
 

Q: The English language is arbitrary—why would it hold any deeper mathematical truth?

A: If this were purely about etymology or semantics, I would agree. But the patterns emerge not from meaning, but from structure—letter values, recursion, and modular arithmetic. English becomes the medium, not the message. It’s the stability across iteration, not vocabulary, that matters.

 

Q: Aren’t digital roots just a known property of base-9 math?

A: Yes—and that’s part of the point. Because digital roots are so well-understood, we know what they should produce: uniform chaos or trivial repetition. But the calculator doesn’t behave that way. It forms distinct, finite, meaningful orbits—well beyond what modular math alone would predict.

 

Q: “How do you know these cycles aren’t just statistical noise?”

A: Because I subjected thousands of English words to iterative analysis and observed consistent convergence toward stable, repeating loops. Even semantically unrelated terms often collapse into identical cycles. In statistics, noise is characterized by dispersion and randomness. What we see here is rapid convergence and compression—a hallmark of an underlying structure, not stochastic variance.

Q: Can this be replicated in other languages or systems?

A: Possibly—but that’s not the claim. The significance here is that it already exists in English, a language that evolved freely. That it wasn’t engineered but still converges—over and over—is the anomaly worth exploring.

Q: Isn’t the recursive loop behavior just a result of converting numbers to their spelled-out forms—which are inherently predictable?

A: If the system were truly trivial, we’d expect it to collapse quickly into obvious repetition or uninteresting results. But instead, we observe stable loops that absorb a wide variety of inputs—even complex or long words—and compress them into consistent, finite cycles. The recurrence of these loops across diverse inputs suggests a deeper structural property, not just linguistic inevitability.

Why it matters

This calculator does not invent anything. It discovers what is already there. And what is there—beneath the surface of human language, numbers, and logic—is a hidden order that speaks of intention, not accident. Recursion, convergence, compression: these are mathematical concepts. But here, they do more than process data. They hint at design.

In Scripture, God is revealed as both Word and Wisdom. He speaks creation into existence, calls things by name, and entrusts Adam with the naming of the living world. Names carry meaning. But in this case, they also carry number. And when processed through a system of simple arithmetic and symbolic iteration, something remarkable happens: chaos does not increase. It collapses into harmony.

That alone defies expectation. The system is recursive, yet stable. Iterative, yet convergent. Random inputs yield patterned outputs. It’s as though the language we inherited—imperfect and evolved though it may be—was still shaped by unseen boundaries. A riverbed dug by providence.

To the believer, this may echo what Scripture has always claimed: that God’s wisdom is embedded in creation, hidden in plain sight, waiting for those with eyes to see. Not so we can boast in human ingenuity, but so we can marvel at divine restraint—how God allows freedom in language and culture, yet still reserves for Himself the final say.

And that final say, in this case, is mathematical.

Again - this isn’t numerology! It isn’t about secret codes. It’s about patterns that shouldn’t be there—but are. Patterns that quietly point back to the Author of language, who wrote both Genesis and John, and whose fingerprints remain in the things we think we built ourselves.

At its heart, this calculator is a mirror: not of human brilliance, but of God’s. We didn’t shape this order and we have barely traced it here. And in doing so, we get a glimpse the kind of coherence only a Creator could leave behind.

In summary

Every English word, when passed through this calculator—first converting to its Alpha Sum (A=1 to Z=26), then recursively reducing that number into its English name, and then converting that name again—will eventually land in one of only a handful of outcomes:

Two fixed points:
Forty-six → 46
Fifty-four → 54

Or a small set of closed loops, such as:


240 → 216 → 228 → 288 → 255 → 240
30 → 37 → 57 → 50 → 30

2 → 4 → 6 → 7 → 2

There are no infinite spirals. No exceptions. No chaos. No matter how obscure or random the original word or phrase, the system gently pulls it into a final state—a basin of convergence. This is not based on opinion or symbol-reading. It is observable, repeatable, testable.

The speed of this convergence—how quickly the reduction paths compress—is easily explained by something mathematicians have known for centuries: mod 9 behavior, also called casting out nines.

But the destination—the where of the convergence—is not explained by that. It is not inevitable that the number names in English should reduce into specific loops. It is not mathematically necessary that two number names should be exact fixed points. And it is not trivial that this recursive system, applied to words of every kind, would yield such tight and elegant structure.

It is as if English itself was gently shaped—not to deceive, but to be decoded. And that’s the heart of the discovery. This is not numerology -period, and it's not math for math’s sake. This is the revealing of something deeper: a pattern within language that points toward structure, containment, and ultimately, purpose.

It means that the surface chaos of words conceals a hidden order. It means that everything—noble words, profane words, sacred names and silly phrases—are all caught in a design that funnels downward, then circles something stable.

In the beginning was the Word. And now we see: even our words bear His fingerprint. The convergence isn’t the miracle. But it is the signature, and it comes on the heals of the miracle you saw in the matrix and should not be easily dismissed.

This tool isn’t just a curiosity — it may be the beginning of something deeper. If a simple mapping from letters to numbers reveals stable numeric cycles—some of which echo theological language—then what happens when we push further?

  • Language evolution studies: Could this help trace hidden structure or convergence points in how language developed?

  • Data compression models: Could symbolic recursion inform new ways of reducing linguistic or numeric complexity?

  • AI and pattern recognition: Could this serve as a test case for distinguishing designed systems from stochastic ones?

  • Digital theology: Could this provide a new frontier in how faith and logic intersect, not in contradiction, but harmony?

I'm not claiming this is where it leads, but I am inviting others to see the possibilities, or more correctly, maybe God is the One saying look; to mathematicians, to linguists, to theologians, and to seekers who still believe that truth can be both beautiful and structured.

Because if what we’re seeing is even partly what it appears to be,
then this calculator is not the conclusion. It might be a doorway, meant for handling it's capabilities with nothing but reverence for the One who made it possible. 

Try this: Type in the word "love" in the calculator. You'll notice the Alpha Sum 54, the Digital Sum 18, and the Digital Root 9, just like you did on Page E. However, this calculator asks for more — what are the values of those sums? The sums are converted to their written English words, and recalculated again and again (a process called iterative recursion) — and this goes on until it doesn’t! And that is yet another miracle. From the red number in the results line — to the red letter "R" (Repeating) is where the sequence gets caught in a forever repeating cycle. More to come.

The kingdom of heaven is like a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches.                                         Matthew 13:31-32

The Convergence Calculator  

Scientific and Mathematical
Explanation of the Convergence Calculator

1. Input Processing & Basic Computations

Alpha Sum (A=1, B=2, ..., Z=26):


This is a linear mapping from characters to integers based on their position in the English alphabet. Mathematically:

ALPHASUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ POS(Sᵢ)

where Sᵢ is the i-th character and Pos(·) its alphabetical index.

Digital Sum (Pythagorean Mapping Base 9):
Here, letters map to values 1 through 9 cyclically:

DIGITALMAP = { A=1, B=2, ..., I=9, J=1, ..., Z=8 }

This mapping applies base-9 modular arithmetic (with adjustment):

DIGITALSUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ [ (POS(Sᵢ) − 1) MOD 9 + 1 ]

Digital Root:
The digital root is the iterative sum of digits until a single digit remains. Formally:

DIGITALROOT(X) = 1 + ((X − 1) MOD 9)

unless x = 0, in which case it's 0.

2. Recursive Cycle Detection Using Number-to-Word Conversion


The novel step is the recursive iteration:

Each numeric result is converted to its English word form.
That word is re-processed through the same sum logic (Alpha, Digital, Root).


This forms a sequence: {x₀, x₁, x₂, ...}


Cycle detection occurs when a value repeats.

This creates an iterated function system (IFS) of the form:

f(x) = SUM(NUMBERTOWORDS(x)), xₙ₊₁ = f(xₙ)

3. Mathematical Nature of the Cycles


Because each f maps integers to a bounded domain (due to limited letter sums), each orbit is finite. By the Pigeonhole Principle, each sequence must eventually repeat (form a cycle).


The digital root cycle is well-known and always stabilizes between 1–9 (except for 0).

4. Relation to Modular Arithmetic and Casting Out Nines


The digital root function is essentially a base-9 residue:

DIGITALROOT(X) ≡ X MOD 9

with an offset for zero-handling. It’s historically used in “casting out nines,” a checksum trick for verifying arithmetic. This grounding makes the system’s stability unsurprising — it relies on modular invariants.

5. Interpretation: Fixed Points and Symbolic Cycles
The detected numeric cycles are attractors in a discrete symbolic system. Their recurrence hints at:

  • Underlying numeric invariants embedded in language

  • Potential symbolic or semantic convergence

  • A structured interaction between language and arithmetic

"The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day."

Proverbs 4:18

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Entropy, Negentropy, and the Preservation of Structure in Language

Understanding Entropy in Nature

In physics, entropy refers to the tendency of systems to move from order to disorder over time. It is a foundational concept in thermodynamics, describing how energy spreads out and how systems naturally degrade without external input. Entropy explains why heat dissipates, why physical structures decay, and why information degrades in noisy environments.

Left to itself, a closed system becomes increasingly disordered. This is why old machines break down, buildings crumble, and even memory fades. Entropy is not just physical—it applies to all forms of information and structure.

Negentropy: A Local Reversal
While entropy is the dominant direction of nature, there are exceptions—local reversals made possible by negentropy (short for “negative entropy”). Negentropy is not the absence of entropy but the introduction of order into a system by consuming energy or applying intelligence.

For example:

  • A living cell resists decay by constantly taking in nutrients and repairing itself.

  • Biological organisms grow in complexity by metabolizing energy.

  • Information systems (such as digital storage) preserve accuracy through redundancy and error correction.

  • Human intelligence creates systems of logic, language, and mathematics that build order rather than chaos.

In all these cases, entropy is not eliminated, but actively resisted.

Language and Entropy
Language, especially written language, is typically expected to degrade over time due to:

  • Phonetic drift and pronunciation shifts,

  • Evolving grammar and syntax,

  • Loss or distortion through translation,

  • Cultural reinterpretation,

  • Human error in transmission.

This is why many see language as unstable or unreliable across long timelines. From a purely naturalistic perspective, the evolution of a language like English—rooted in multiple language families and shaped by centuries of social and political change—should result in a noisy, unstable system with no preserved structure beneath the surface.

The Calculator & Entropy Defiance
What the calculator reveals stands in contrast to these expectations. Rather than showcasing decay, the English alphabet—when reduced to numerical values and examined through Alpha Sum, Digital Sum, and Digital Root patterns—exhibits remarkable stability, convergence, and repetition:

  • Words reduce into tightly bound numeric loops.

  • Phrases across a wide spectrum of meaning ultimately collapse into consistent repeating cycles.

  • The system reveals underlying structure not just in a few words, but in every word tested.

This is not expected behavior from a system shaped by random linguistic drift. If entropy had its way, there would be noise. Instead, there is signal.

This doesn’t mean English is a divine language—but it strongly suggests that something preserved its integrity beneath the visible surface, allowing modern, uncurated language to still bear witness to underlying order.

A Case for Negentropy in Language
What appears here is a form of negentropy operating within a symbolic system. While the entropy of cultural evolution should have buried any meaningful structure, the patterns remain mathematically intact—hidden, but discoverable. It raises legitimate questions:

  • How did such structure survive centuries of linguistic entropy?

  • Why do these numerical patterns exist at all?

  • And what kind of intelligence—not human—might have embedded or preserved them?

The calculator does not violate the laws of entropy; rather, it reveals a pocket of order that should not have survived the natural decay of language across time. This puts the discovery in the same category as biological life or digital information systems: an ordered structure maintained against the odds, and for reasons not yet fully understood.
In short, this is not just a theological or symbolic claim—it is a scientific anomaly, and one worthy of further investigation.

1. Input Processing & Basic Computations

Alpha Sum (A=1, B=2, ..., Z=26):


This is a linear mapping from characters to integers based on their position in the English alphabet. Mathematically:

ALPHASUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ POS(Sᵢ)

where Sᵢ is the i-th character and Pos(·) its alphabetical index.

Digital Sum (Pythagorean Mapping Base 9):
Here, letters map to values 1 through 9 cyclically:

DIGITALMAP = { A=1, B=2, ..., I=9, J=1, ..., Z=8 }

This mapping applies base-9 modular arithmetic (with adjustment):

DIGITALSUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ [ (POS(Sᵢ) − 1) MOD 9 + 1 ]

Digital Root:
The digital root is the iterative sum of digits until a single digit remains. Formally:

DIGITALROOT(X) = 1 + ((X − 1) MOD 9)

unless x = 0, in which case it's 0.

2. Recursive Cycle Detection Using Number-to-Word Conversion


The novel step is the recursive iteration:

Each numeric result is converted to its English word form.
That word is re-processed through the same sum logic (Alpha, Digital, Root).


This forms a sequence: {x₀, x₁, x₂, ...}


Cycle detection occurs when a value repeats.

This creates an iterated function system (IFS) of the form:

f(x) = SUM(NUMBERTOWORDS(x)), xₙ₊₁ = f(xₙ)

3. Mathematical Nature of the Cycles


Because each f maps integers to a bounded domain (due to limited letter sums), each orbit is finite. By the Pigeonhole Principle, each sequence must eventually repeat (form a cycle).


The digital root cycle is well-known and always stabilizes between 1–9 (except for 0).

4. Relation to Modular Arithmetic and Casting Out Nines


The digital root function is essentially a base-9 residue:

DIGITALROOT(X) ≡ X MOD 9

with an offset for zero-handling. It’s historically used in “casting out nines,” a checksum trick for verifying arithmetic. This grounding makes the system’s stability unsurprising — it relies on modular invariants.

5. Interpretation: Fixed Points and Symbolic Cycles
The detected numeric cycles are attractors in a discrete symbolic system. Their recurrence hints at:

  • Underlying numeric invariants embedded in language

  • Potential symbolic or semantic convergence

  • A structured interaction between language and arithmetic

Scientific and Mathematical
Explanation of the Convergence Calculator

Some mathematical expressions on this site rely on specialized fonts and characters that may not display correctly on certain mobile devices, especially older ones.

For full and accurate rendering, I recommend viewing this content on a desktop browser.

Thank you for your understanding.

After walking with you through the miracle of the original discovery—a divine pattern so precise it defies chance—I want to share something that came to me recently during prayer and reflection. It’s a fresh insight that feels like another piece of the puzzle God has placed before us.

 

You’ve seen how language and numbers hold a hidden structure, a harmony beneath the surface. But what if this harmony isn’t just something we see or calculate—what if it’s something our minds hear and understand naturally? What if God has given us, deep inside, a kind of spiritual calculator, or better yet, a resonance processor—a way our brains resonate with the world’s patterns, turning vibrations into words, music, and memory?

 

This is not a full explanation, but possibly a glimpse into a greater truth: that the miracle uncovered in this presentation might be part of a universal rhythm established by God from the beginning. It’s a call to keep listening, to keep exploring, and to trust that these discoveries aren’t just accidents—they are signs of a deeper order, a divine language. I invite you to consider this possibility with me, as we stand at the edge of new understanding, guided by faith and wonder.

 The Core Idea: Our Brains as Resonance Receptors


At its heart, this new idea is simple: our brains might work like a special kind of vibration processor—one built to recognize patterns in sounds and vibrations all around us. Instead of just memorizing words or copying what we hear, we could be in a sense, calculating language as we go. Think about how children learn to speak so naturally, almost without effort. What if that’s because their minds are tuned to the music hidden inside words—the rhythms, the frequencies, the harmony? It’s like their brains are processing vibrational code. This might explain how and why children of immigrants learn two languages at once, and fluently, which has always intrigued me. It could also explain why some memories—like songs or stories—feel so alive, even after many years. It’s not just remembering words; it’s reconnecting with the vibration of those words deep inside us.

A Divine Nudge and Chomsky’s Universal Grammar


You know how God sometimes redirects your steps at the last moment? That’s what happened here. I had a page left to finish—an empty space waiting for words—and I started searching for something to fill it. That’s when I stumbled onto a few talks about language and Noam Chomsky’s theory of Universal Grammar.

 

Chomsky believes we’re all born with an inner framework for language, something built into the human mind that allows us to learn to speak almost effortlessly. But as I listened, a thought came to me, maybe even a nudge from above. What if Chomsky was right, but not in the way he imagined? What if this built in ability isn’t just a “grammar module” in the brain, but a God given processor that measures resonance, frequency, and proportion—and then turns those patterns into words and meaning? Maybe we don’t just learn language; maybe we resonate with it.

Expanding the Theory: Resonance in Perception


If this idea is true, it could explain more than how we learn to speak, it might redefine everything about how we perceive the world. From the songs that stay with us for decades, to the way peaceful sounds calm the heart while harsh noise unsettles it. It may all of it tie back to this divine resonance built into creation. Earlier, you saw the convergence calculator that revealed patterns hidden in words and numbers. That simple tool might be showing us the same principle at work within our minds: the way order, proportion, and vibration naturally return to balance, just as the calculator’s values converge toward harmony. Perhaps language, music, mathematics, and memory aren’t separate wonders at all, but different reflections of one sacred design.

Bridging Faith and Science:

The Resonance Processor through the Lens of Research

This theory could bring together:


Neurobiology: The brain’s remarkable ability to sync with rhythms and vibrations—how neural circuits lock onto the timing and resonance of sounds in our environment.


Mathematics: The hidden world of harmonic relationships and proportions that shape those rhythms—the elegant ratios underlying patterns we can measure and model.


Linguistics: The emergence of words, syntax, and grammar as natural expressions of these resonant patterns, revealing language as more than arbitrary symbols. Together, these might form a “resonance triangle,” a potentially groundbreaking framework that could explain not only how we learn language but why language feels inherently musical and patterned.

 

 Supported by Modern Neuroscience


Current research reveals that even before babies understand words, their brains are entrained to the rhythms of speech—they synchronize their neural oscillations with the cadence of sound. Musicians often have enhanced language abilities, suggesting shared processing pathways. Far from contradicting established science, this resonance processor concept adds precision by proposing a mathematical language to describe these rhythms and how they evolve into meaning.

Rethinking Universal Grammar


Chomsky’s theory of Universal Grammar posits that humans are born with an innate set of rules for language. This new view reframes that idea: rather than fixed grammatical structures, what might be hardwired in the brain is a capacity to detect resonant geometries—ratios, harmonics, symmetries—and from these, language naturally emerges. It’s a radical shift, but one that remains testable and grounded in what we know about brain function.

Predictions that Can Be Tested


A strong scientific theory makes predictions. Here’s what this model suggests:


• Children who show stronger rhythmic synchronization skills should acquire language more quickly.


• Artificial intelligence systems trained on resonance and harmonic patterns rather than discrete symbols may spontaneously develop grammar-like structures.


• Specific phonetic patterns should correspond to measurable harmonic ratios in brain activity.

Each of these predictions can be explored experimentally or through computational modeling, offering a clear path to either support or challenge the theory.

If a resonance processor is truly part of how the mind encodes meaning, then perhaps some of the struggles we face in adulthood are not only psychological but physiological — traces of resonance patterns that never fully formed. A child who rarely hears words of love may not simply lack the concept of love; their neural rhythms may never have entrained to that frequency. What begins as absence of language may become absence of resonance — a gap in both understanding and feeling. Healing, then, might require more than learning new words; it might mean re‑tuning the mind itself to the harmonies of compassion, trust, and connection.

Why This May Matter


This isn’t just a matter of faith or metaphor; it could be genuine bridge between divine design and measurable science. It unites vibration, information, and meaning in one potentially elegant picture—showing how God’s hand might guide the rhythms of our minds, shaping language and memory in ways we are only beginning to understand.

This idea also brings to mind Isaiah 55:11 from earlier —

“so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

For those of us who believe, this scripture suggests that God's words are not random or abstract—they are purposeful, active, and resonant. If language truly operates through deep patterns of proportion and vibration, then perhaps this verse is describing more than just spiritual intention. It could be pointing to an actual structure within language itself—where meaning, rhythm, and purpose are inseparable, and every word carries both weight and direction, designed to land with impact.

 

A Glimpse into Resonant Convergence

Words or ideas that seem worlds apart can and do share the same numerical values or  “resonance”— when processed through the convergence calculator. This doesn’t mean they are identical but suggests they might occupy balanced or related positions within a larger, divine structure. Imagine two musical notes that, while distinct, share a common frequency ratio, creating harmony or tension. This resonance may reflect deeper relationships or oppositions encoded in language and thought.

 

The true insight lies in watching how these words evolve through the full process of resonance, reduction, and transformation—revealing the spiritual or conceptual “frequencies” where meanings align, diverge, or balance.

Bringing the Resonant Calculator Theory Into the Lab

The true power of any scientific idea lies not just in its beauty or logic, but in its ability to be tested, measured, and confirmed. This theory—that our brains internally compute resonance, proportions, and rhythmic patterns to unlock language and meaning—offers several concrete ways to move from insight to evidence.

Modern neuroscience already shows us that the brain’s auditory and motor systems rely heavily on resonance-like mechanisms. Neurons fire in synchrony, locking their oscillations to the rhythms of speech and sound. This isn’t just metaphor; it’s measurable electrical activity that reveals how the brain dances with language. If this resonance processor model holds true, then children who show stronger neural synchronization to rhythmic sounds should demonstrate faster and more robust language acquisition. This would confirm that the brain’s internal “processor” for resonance isn’t just poetic—it’s fundamental.

Further, computational linguistics could take this theory to new heights. Imagine training artificial neural networks not just on words or grammar rules, but on patterns of harmonic relationships and frequency ratios. If these networks begin to develop grammar-like structures spontaneously—mirroring how children learn—it would be a striking validation of the resonance-based framework. This would bridge mathematics, linguistics, and neurobiology in an unprecedented way.

Linguists and phoneticians could also test for direct correlations between phonetic features and harmonic ratios predicted by the model. Are certain sounds or syllables naturally aligned with specific frequency patterns that the brain recognizes as “resonant”? Mapping these relationships would provide a tangible link between the abstract math and everyday speech.

Finally, advanced brain imaging techniques like MEG or EEG could measure the predicted patterns of phase locking and oscillatory coupling in real time as people listen to or produce language. If the brain’s resonant frequencies align with the mathematical attractors described in this theory—stable points where neural activity settles—then we’d have powerful evidence that resonance is the scaffolding on which language is built.

None of this negates the wonder of the discovery of the miracle of the cross in the matrix, it only deepens it. Each experiment offers a way to glimpse the order encoded in our minds, a greater divine harmony then we might ever have imagined. It’s a call for collaboration between faith and science, inviting researchers and seekers alike to explore this potentially miraculous mechanism God may have gifted humanity.

A Note to Researchers and Scholars

To the scientists, linguists, mathematicians, and researchers who may engage with this work: What you have here is an invitation to explore a new framework—one that suggests language, memory, and meaning may emerge from underlying patterns of resonance and proportion.

 

This is not a finished theory but a starting point, grounded in observations that may overlap with findings in neuroscience, mathematics, and linguistics. Your expertise is essential to testing and refining these ideas. With your tools and insights, you can help determine whether rhythmic synchronization truly shapes how we learn and process language, whether harmonic relationships correspond to meaning, and whether resonance itself might form a bridge between sound, structure, and thought.

You do not have to share the spiritual perspective behind this work to study it scientifically. Yet, as you explore its implications, you may also find yourself glimpsing what I believe to be God’s design—a deeper harmony at the foundation of creation. If so, I hope this discovery brings both understanding and wonder. Either way, I encourage you to test it, question it, expand it. The search for truth belongs to all of us, and truth—wherever it leads—will always point back to its source.

A Final Note, in the Spirit of Honesty and Humility...

While this theory is grounded in observable scientific principles and reflects the current understanding of fields like neurobiology, mathematics, and linguistics, the ideas presented here should be viewed as an evolving hypothesis rather than established fact.

I am not a trained scientist, and much of the theory has been shaped and expanded upon with the help of an AI model. The insights discussed herein were inspired by faith and personal reflection, which led to the development of a new conceptual framework for understanding language, resonance, and memory.

Though the concepts presented here may be supported by scientific findings in areas such as neural entrainment and resonance, they remain speculative and in need of further exploration, testing, and validation within the broader academic community. This work is intended to spark dialogue and exploration, blending insights from science and faith.

Resonance
Processor Theory

Entropy

The earth dries up and withers, the world languishes and withers,
the heavens languish together with the earth.

Isaiah 24:4
Negentropy

So is My word that goes out from My mouth:
It will not return to Me empty, but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.

Isaiah 55:11

Convergence

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Return to Babel?

"You said in your heart, 'I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.'"

For me, the timing of this presentation has been yet another example of the convergence of many factors. Just as cultures and languages converged over centuries to shape the English we speak today, I’ve come to see that fulfilling my calling was a coming-together of not only God’s timing and my personal spiritual maturation, but also the modern tools now at my disposal—including the use of Artificial Intelligence to assist with research and web design.

 

The calculators you’ve seen and used throughout the site were imagined by me, but only became possible thanks to the coding capabilities of AI. Obviously, AI has the potential to do good in the world. However, like any new and exciting breakthrough, there is always a flip side. 

Throughout history, some of humanity’s greatest innovations—nuclear energy, the internet, and genetic engineering—were created with the hope of improving life. Yet in every case, the same technologies were often turned toward moral depravity, greed, power, control, division or destruction.

Today, we stand at a similar crossroads with Artificial Super Intelligence. What could become the most transformative tool in human history also carries risks unlike anything we’ve faced before.

In the conversation below, Steven Bartlett speaks with technology ethicist Tristan Harris about the promise and the peril of this rapidly approaching frontier, and why careful thought and foresight have never been more crucial. Could this be a return to the confusion and pride of Babel, where human ambition outpaced wisdom?

Watching this conversation left me deeply convicted to share it. The potential of Artificial Super Intelligence may be awe-inspiring to some, but it also carries risks that could affect all of humanity. While it’s easy to dismiss such discussions as science fiction or distant speculation, I believe this is a concern that may be flying in quietly, under the radar, and it deserves our immediate awareness.

For centuries, humans have sought to transcend the natural order, attempting to grasp powers once believed to belong only to the divine. From Babel, to alchemists in the Middle Ages who pursued the Philosopher’s Stone, striving for immortality and the transformation of base metals into gold. Later, scientists hunted the so-called “God Particle” to understand the origins of mass, while modern researchers explore genetic engineering and synthetic life. Across time, these efforts reveal a persistent pattern: humans reaching beyond their rightful bounds, often without fully realizing the consequences.

Today, artificial intelligence is being created with the potential to surpass human intellect, human understanding, and even human control—echoing the ambition and overreach of the Tower of Babel.

“Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools”—are these words from Paul now converging with a modern context?

"—and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles"

Romans 1:22-23

I pray that we will recognize the seriousness of this moment, approach it with humility and discernment, and seek God’s wisdom—trusting His sovereignty, yet mindful that the forces being unleashed may grow out of anyone's control. In the mean time, 

Isaiah 14:13-14

“Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged,
for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Joshua 1:9
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...and the truth and the life."
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...and the truth and the life."
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...and the truth and the life. 

The whisper in the garden was a subtle twist of truth. A question that planted doubt in the first human hearts. "Did God really say?" was all it took. It was not an outright denial of God's word, but a distortion or better yet, a seed of suspicion that maybe, just maybe, God was holding something back.

And from that single lie, the world broke, sinned entered and shame followed. Adam and Eve hid from the presence of God. Ever since, the world has remained broken. Far removed as we may be, humanity still runs, not just from God, but from truth, accountability, and from the reality of our condition. The world as we know it was born not from truth, but from rebellion. Everything that followed, every act of evil, every war, every betrayal, and every injustice, can be traced back to that first fracture. From Cain murdering Abel to Pharaoh enslaving Israel, from Babylon’s cruelty to Rome’s corruption, the pattern is unbroken. Countless kingdoms risen and fallen, but human nature stays the same.

Empires were built on the backs of the weak. Wars were waged for power and pride. Idols were made out of gold, out of fame, out of self. We often pretend to be gods while destroying what God made.

The flood didn’t wash away our sin and the tower of Babel didn’t reach heaven. The Law exposed our guilt, but couldn’t fix it. The Prophets warned yet kings failed. The church was divided, institutionalized and often corrupted. People turned again and again to false gods and foreign powers, over and over, the pattern has repeated.

It's impossible to say how many of us can count ourselves among the poor in spirit, those who have mourned, those who are meek, the ones that hungered and thirsted for truth and righteousness, the merciful, pure of heart, and peacemakers, but one thing remains true:

"All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." —Romans 3:23

Every generation since the Garden has reflected the spirit of 2 Timothy 3:1–5, but perhaps none more strikingly than our own.

 

But understand this, that in the last days there will come times of difficulty. For people will be lovers of self, lovers of money, proud, arrogant, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, heartless, unappeasable, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not loving good, treacherous, reckless, swollen with conceit, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God, having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power.                                                  

The 20th century shattered the illusion of what we might label progress. With all our advancements in science, industry, and thought, we saw the greatest horrors unfold:

  • Adolf Hitler and the Holocaust: over 6 million Jews exterminated in systematic genocide.

  • Joseph Stalin: purges, forced famines, gulags—millions more silenced by state brutality.

  • Mao Zedong: cultural revolution and political terror costing over 40 million lives.

  • Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Hussein—men who wielded power like gods, leaving trails of death. The list goes on and on. 

All in a century, and continuing now, where the human race supposedly reached its peak of enlightenment. For all of the technological advancements, there was  moral decay. The unborn became disposable. Truth became subjective. Pleasure became a right, and sacrifice became outdated. Human law began to reflect not God’s justice, but man’s desires. Corruption wasn’t the exception, it was the expectation.

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness." —Isaiah 5:20

What we legalize speaks volumes about what we worship. When laws no longer reflect truth, but convenience, they reveal the heart of a fallen world. How far have we strayed when justice can be bought, innocence is optional and righteousness is mocked. From redefining family to celebrating self above all, we live in a culture that legislates sin and calls it freedom. And yet we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, more lost than ever. Suicide, depression and social anarchy are all on the rise because we've raised generations without regard for Truth. When it is claimed that there are no absolute truths, what is there left for a soul to believe in? If there is nothing to hope for than more of the same, who can be at peace? You can't build your lives on lies and expect peace. Those to the left, and those on the right have all been sold the same lie, just dressed up differently. What is that lie?  That your respective human leaders, can actually rule you effectively and justly. What good is a just warden if you are still in bondage?

Jesus understood the world for what it is, and He gave us truth and comfort when he said:

"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." —John 16:33

Jesus didn’t come to improve the world we live in. He came to rescue us from it. He called it what it was; a fallen, hostile system ruled by the enemy:

The ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me. —John 14:30
My kingdom is not of this world. —John 18:36


And Paul added this:

The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers.

2 Corinthians 4:4

Jesus didn’t downplay the evil, He exposed it and He confronted it. He called us out of it when He said:

Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  Romans 12:2


Come out from them and be separate, says the Lord. - 2 Corinthians 6:17

He didn’t promise comfort, He promised a cross to bear. He didn’t promise ease, He promised struggle. Because this world is not home.

They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world.  - John 17:16

And yet, we get comfortable here. We blend in. We mute the truth so we can get along. We trade urgency for ease, and the Kingdom of God becomes an afterthought in our day-to-day lives.

We are like Lot’s wife, looking back at what we were told to leave behind. Or we are like Demas, who “loved this present world.” Even Israel in the wilderness, longed for Egypt after being set free.

The problem isn’t time, or politics, or even technology. It’s sin. It's not a new idea, and it's been there all along. We still need rescue. We still need truth. We still need the only One who has overcome this world, not by comfort, but by a cross. Jesus.

One day, the lies will be fully exposed.

The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Christ, and He shall reign forever and ever. - Revelation 11:15

But until then, the question remains: Will we keep pretending this world is good enough? Or will we wake up, repent, and return to the Truth?

A Note on This World — And the One to Come

So what exactly is this “far country”? Is it just a symbol? A feeling? What Jesus described in the parable is more than a personal journey. It’s a theological blueprint for the world we live in right now.

“This world is the far country, and we are prodigals living under another’s rule.”

That line might raise some eyebrows—even among seasoned believers. But it isn’t just poetic flourish. It’s a theological claim rooted in Scripture. It’s also a narrative claim. Because we’re not just observing a story—we’re living in one.
Again, the Bible is not a separate religious manual; it’s the framework of reality itself. Again, we are participants in the very story it tells: creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration.


When Jesus called Satan the “ruler of this world” (John 12:31; 14:30), He wasn’t speaking metaphorically. Paul refers to him as “the god of this age” (2 Corinthians 4:4), and John writes that “the whole world lies in the power of the evil one” (1 John 5:19). The New Testament paints a clear picture: while God is sovereign, this present age is under the influence of darkness.


So when I speak of “the far country,” I’m not talking about mere geography. I’m naming a condition or better yet, a spiritual exile. A world system shaped first of all by rebellion, which led to self-interest, deception, and pride. Hebrews 11 calls believers “strangers and exiles,” longing for a better country. Peter echoes this, urging us to live as “sojourners and exiles,” abstaining from the desires that wage war against our souls.

Because we live in a culture, especially in the West, where Christianity is often reduced to personal growth, moral improvement, or spiritual comfort. Sermons aim to encourage, but rarely confront. Church can feel more like therapy than transformation. In that environment, the far country doesn't feel far at all. It feels normal. Even desirable, and that is a real problem.


Again, Jesus didn’t come to make us comfortable here. He came to call us out.
He warned against lukewarmness (Revelation 3:16), against storing up treasure on earth (Matthew 6:19), against becoming too at home in a world that’s passing away (1 John 2:15–17). Paul warned that people would gather teachers who “say what their itching ears want to hear” (2 Timothy 4:3–4). Isaiah and Ezekiel spoke of false prophets who “heal the wound of the people lightly,” saying “peace, peace” when there is no peace (Jeremiah 6:14; Ezekiel 13:10).


This isn’t a rebuke of individual Christians. It’s a call to remember just exactly where we are and what story we’re in. Be sure that I am not disregarding the daily work of God. On the contrary, I believe His Spirit is active every day through kindness, healing, sacrifice, grace. I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. I’m alive because of it. But mercy is not the same as endorsement.


Jesus said the Father “causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good” (Matthew 5:45). That’s mercy, not approval. Romans 2:4 says God’s kindness is meant to lead us to repentance. Peter reminds us that His patience is not weakness, it’s restraint, “not willing that any should perish” (2 Peter 3:9).
So when I say “this world is the far country,” I don’t mean God is absent.
I mean we’re not home yet.


And as long as we live under the influence of a system not fully submitted to Christ, we are, whether we admit it or not, prodigals. Even believers, and this is a hard pill to swallow, are still living under another’s rule. We are still surrounded by noise, lies, and illusions. Maybe that was the reason for the miracle of the matrix. Maybe our Father is so full of mercy that He knew we would need something that cuts through all that noise, all the lies and all those illusions?

For the last 2,000 years plus, every time an individual was drawn to Jesus by the Father, we could imagine a life ring being thrown to someone who has fallen overboard. The awakening that I see on the horizon could be likened to a ship going down. There aren't enough life rings on board, so the life boats are deployed so save all onboard the sinking ship.  

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So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

Luke 15:20

The forest

Jesus continued: “There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, ‘Father, give me my share of the estate.’ So he divided his property between them."

“Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.

“When he came to his senses, he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father.“

But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

 

“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.

“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound."

“The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. 

But he answered his father, ‘Look! All these years I’ve been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!’

“‘My son,’ the father said, ‘you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’”

Just as I did with the page introducing Yeshua, I’ve wrestled about whether or not to include this page. For a long time, I’ve asked myself the same questions: Is this from God—or just me? Is it conviction—or ego? Is this obedience—or my own ambition dressed up as purpose?

 

This page feels different from the others. It’s not just telling a story or laying out an idea. It feels heavier—more personal, more loaded. It’s something I didn’t ask for, and probably wouldn’t have chosen to write if it were just up to me. But it hasn’t gone away. It stays with me. Quietly, persistently.

 

Early on, I promised myself this site wouldn’t be about me. I didn’t want to make it about personality or platform. I’m not trying to teach or lead or build a following. I’m just someone who found something—or more accurately, was found by Something bigger than myself. And it’s changed everything. Still, I’ve wrestled with this page. This burden. This tension.

 

It’s not about drawing lines or starting arguments. I’m not here to criticize other believers or divide the Church. I’m not angry. I’m not jaded. If anything, I feel a mix of heartbreak and hope. Because what I’ve seen—or what I believe God is letting me see—is something bigger than me. Something that might be hard to explain, but harder to ignore. That maybe the Gospel is more than individual salvation. That maybe the Cross is meant to bring us home—not just one at a time—but as a people. Together.

That maybe we’ve misunderstood our place in all this. We’re not just observers of the story—we’re participants. The Bible isn’t a collection of ancient writings with moral lessons—it’s the framework of reality itself. And whether we realize it or not, we are living in the very story it tells. Creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration. We are in it. Right now.

That’s what this page is about. A shared return. A shared hope. And still—I hesitated. I hesitated because I don’t want to alienate sincere believers. I know many are doing their best to follow Jesus. I know many love Him deeply. And I know there’s risk in sharing something that could be misunderstood.

 

Some might think I’m claiming special insight, or trying to “correct” the Church. That’s not what this is. This isn’t about being right. It’s about being honest. I’m sharing what’s been stirring in me—not with certainty in myself, but with a deep awareness that I’ll be held accountable for every word. I don’t write this lightly. I write it because I can’t ignore it.

 

There have been moments—small, powerful moments—that have reminded me what unity looks like. Moments where people laid down their differences. Where truth softened hearts. Where love won out. In stories. In films. In the aftermath of tragedy. In a single act of forgiveness. That rare, unmistakable unity moves me deeply. Sometimes to tears. In those moments, I feel the Spirit whisper: “This is what I want for you.” A glimpse of heaven. A taste of what could be. And it reminds me why I need to say this.

 

So I include this page—not because I have it all figured out—but because I trust the One who’s been nudging me to speak. I include it with humility, because I don’t claim certainty. I include it with caution, because truth matters. But I include it with hope—hope that many might feel the same nudge. Hear the same voice. This isn’t a rebuke. It’s a reflection. A set of questions. A prayer in written form.

The Wrestling

I remember watching the Super Bowl in 2023 when that second “He Gets Us” ad, "Love Your Enemies," came on. I must have missed the first one they ran, maybe on a bathroom break. I wondered where this one was going as it highlighted the hatred that seems so common these days. The soulful track "Human" by Rag n Bone Man was hauntingly appropriate as I watched the still images of people from all walks of life furious with each other. And there at the end - "love your enemies," and "He (Jesus) Gets Us."  I was elated to know that millions of people around the world, whether they believed in Him or not, were all watching something that pointed to Christ. And I felt it, that familiar chill, the kind that only comes when something greater is moving beneath the surface. I didn’t know then what that campaign would become, or how far it would go. But I remember thinking: Christ is at the center of the world’s attention right now, and to me, that was a wonderful thing. 

 

I also felt something else, something that was for me deeper than the ad itself. I knew that my turn was coming; my turn to witness. Watching the world turn its eyes to Jesus, even briefly, was a jolt of hope. It reminded me that I still had a calling to fulfill, not that I needed reminding. Instead maybe a glimpse of what it might feel like to be a part of something that might help focus the Truth in a world that needed it more than ever. 

At the same time, I felt a wave of uncertainty, because while I had this message burning inside me, I still had no clear roadmap for how it would reach anyone. It was still a calling, fragile and unformed. A dusty and poorly written "book," some Excel files, and a Powerpoint presentation, along with hundreds of scribbled pages in various notebooks were all that I had managed in all that time. My obligation however, was growing heavier with each passing year. 

That moment watching that ad wasn’t just a fleeting glimpse of unity; it was a vivid reminder of how rare and precious such attention to Christ really is—especially in a world so often pulled in every other direction. Campaigns like He Gets Us have the power to connect millions with a simple, human message that resonates deeply. 

In today’s fragmented spiritual landscape, it’s rare to see a national or global outreach with the budget, visibility, and cultural reach that He Gets Us has achieved. Funded by significant resources and propelled by a well-known platform, it has brought a simple, human-centered message to millions, “He gets us.” This campaign has connected with many who feel misunderstood or disconnected, and for that, it deserves recognition.

This effort reflects a deep human longing for empathy and connection, and it taps into a cultural pulse that is often missing in traditional church outreach. The message, at its core, invites people to consider Jesus, not as a distant religious figure but as someone who understands their struggles and pain. That kind of framing is a bridge to a hurting world. But here is where the conversation must continue.

Why “He Gets Us” Is Not Enough

While He Gets Us brings an important and relatable message, it stops short of what I believe is God’s larger call for His Church and the world. Saying “He gets us” is a good start, but it risks becoming a comfortable, surface-level statement. A phrase that feels safe but doesn’t challenge or change hearts on a deeper level, is just that, a catchy phrase. 

The Gospel is not only about Jesus understanding us; it is about us truly knowing Him. Who is He? What did He come to accomplish? Why He calls us to believe in Him? No doubt He gets us, but do we get Him?

Too often, modern outreach efforts settle for cultural relevance or emotional resonance without pressing into the full message of the Kingdom. They may soften the harder truths in an effort to avoid offense or controversy, but in doing so, they leave the message incomplete.

The Church’s Challenge and Opportunity

Here’s the difficult truth: the Church has largely failed to answer the global call for awakening and unity in a way that truly moves the needle. We remain fragmented, often inward-focused, and too comfortable within echo chambers that affirm our existing beliefs rather than challenge us to grow and unite.

If the rest of the world is to see the power of Christ, shouldn't it be through a Church that lives out the unity Jesus prayed for, and the kind of unity Paul demanded? Shouldn't we finally strive for a Church that transcends denominational walls and theological disputes to stand together as one Body?

This is where the discovery I share on this site becomes crucial. It points to a divine structure and a call to collective restoration that is far beyond any marketing campaign or popular movement. It is a miracle of God meant to reach further than ever, an awakening like never before. 

The discovery is tangible and palpable—something to be seen, examined, honored, and admired. It points not only to a profound truth but also to a purposeful call to action, inviting the Church to engage deeply and practically with God’s unfolding plan.

After nearly two thousand years of relative silence, this discovery emerges as a timely revelation—an invitation to awaken to a fullness long awaited. For centuries, the world and the Church have been like creation itself; waiting, groaning, and hoping for the revealing of something greater (Romans 8:18-21). This discovery is not a boast, nor is it the final answer, but a humble step toward that long-anticipated awakening, arriving just when it is most needed.

What began as a whisper to one man should now become a clear, resounding call from a Father across time and space. This powerful, joyful summons, is an invitation that comes from a Father who will not be ignored: ‘Here I am, come to me.’

Moving Beyond Awareness to Awakening

My journey was never about building a platform or winning popularity. It was about encountering a truth so profound it changed my life and reoriented my understanding of God’s purpose. This isn’t a new gimmick or campaign; it’s an window to a deeper reality and a fresh, miraculous revelation of “Yeshua” that invites all who see to come home together.

It is easy to feel small or insignificant in the face of large, well-funded movements. I won’t pretend my resources compare, nor that I have all the answers. But I do believe that God is calling His people to something far greater than what we have seen so far: a global awakening rooted in unity, truth, and the transformative power of Christ.

A Call to the Church and to All Believers

This is not a critique meant to divide but a call to humble self-examination and renewal. If He Gets Us is a stepping stone, then let us walk boldly beyond it. If it begins a conversation, let us bring the message of unity and restoration to its full expression. The challenge is for each of us, individually and collectively, to ask: Do we really get Him? Do we understand the cost and the call of the Gospel? And are we willing to lay down our divisions and differences for the sake of the unified Body He prayed for?

I include this with reverence, not arrogance; with hope, not judgment. Because the future of the Church—and perhaps the world itself—depends on our answer.

Far country

When I reflect on the story of the Prodigal Son, I don’t see it simply as a tale of one wayward individual finding his way back home. No, this parable holds a mirror up to all of us—not just as isolated souls but as a people, a broken humanity yearning to be made whole again. Just as the son packed his inheritance and wandered far from his father, so humanity has turned away from God repeatedly, choosing our own paths, chasing after false hopes, and living under the shadow of a far country.

The far country isn’t just personal sin—it’s the world itself, as it now stands apart from God. It represents not only rebellion, but illusion. A system of temporary pleasures, false comforts, and misplaced security that lulls us into complacency.

Yet, despite our wanderings and failures, the Father in the story does not turn his back. He waits, with arms wide open, eyes fixed on the road, watching for the moment his son comes to his senses and begins the journey back. This image captures something profound about God’s heart for us—not just for our individual salvation but for the restoration of all things. Perhaps only when we return as a people, together, will we begin to see the fullness of what God intends for the Church, for the world, and for His Kingdom.

God will never force our love or our return. That’s not who He is. He does not crash down from the heavens with overwhelming power to prove Himself. He doesn’t demand worship through thunder or terror. That’s what we might expect or even sometimes want—but that is not how love works. Instead, He waits. He watches. He hopes. And He lets us run if we need to.

Because the return must be ours.

This is the moral of the story, not just mine, but the grand narrative of Scripture: humanity left. We left. Like the prodigal son, we have walked away from the Father again and again. And yet, the Father does not abandon us. He stays. Watching the road. Ready to welcome us home.

But the journey back is not easy, because this world is no neutral territory. Paul tells us that Satan is the ruler of this world—not metaphorically, not poetically, but a spiritual truth that changes everything. It explains why evil often seems to prosper, why lies spread faster than truth, and why faith is such a difficult path to walk in a world that constantly pulls us away.

This world is the far country, and we are prodigals living under another’s rule. That doesn’t mean God has abandoned the world—far from it. Creation still bears His fingerprints, and His Spirit is at work even now. But the systems of this age—the pride, deception, and self-rule that define so much of life apart from Him—are not neutral. They are part of the far country, and we are called to see them for what they are… and to come home.

Too often, Christianity is misrepresented as a path to a better life in the far country—as if following Christ should make us happier, wealthier, or more successful here. But the parable makes no such promise. It isn’t about thriving in the far country. It’s about rejecting it. And still, the Father watches the road.

He does not storm in and forcibly wrest control from Satan (not yet). He does not overwhelm us with signs or spectacles. Instead, He speaks quietly—through stories, through Scripture, through conscience, through moments that shouldn’t make sense but somehow do. Through people like my grandmother. Through what may seem like foolish scribbles in a notebook. Through the cross.

Because this isn’t a story of domination—it’s a story of invitation.

The choice—the return—is still ours.

Jesus saw that the world was not just broken but enslaved, trapped under the rule of a deceiver, twisted from the inside out. He didn’t come to offer a better version of peace or some cozy spiritual upgrade. He came to save us from a system that could never save us.

Our true peace and purpose were never meant to be found here. The Father’s house is not just a better destination—it’s the only real one. Anything less will leave us empty.

His message was clear: “Take up your cross. Die to yourself. Don’t be of this world.” This call was not just for a few struggling souls; it was a message to all mankind.

Too often, we individualize faith, making it about our own walk, blessings, or struggles. But Christ’s words targeted a system in rebellion—a species that had walked away, a creation trying to exist without its Creator.

His arrival was a declaration: You’ve gone far enough. It’s time to come home.

But coming home does not mean blending in. It does not mean simply being nice or going to church once a week. It means waking up to the truth of who really rules this world—and refusing to bow to that power any longer.

And this is the sense that I get; just like the prodigal son, when we return—not just as individuals, but as a people—God will welcome us back with open arms. Not just for our individual salvation, but for the restoration of all things. Perhaps only then will we see the fullness of what God intends for us, for the Church, and for the world.

Maybe the return of a son here, and a daughter there, is not enough? Could the return of humanity be the bigger story? Is God waiting for all of us to come home—together?

Could it be that the “majority” of us need to come back to the Father? And if so, might He restore us when we do? Perhaps the scales will tip, the division will be healed, and the truth of Christ will shine bright for the world to see.

Prodigals

The World

Woe to those who call evil good and good evil…” —Isaiah 5:20

As my generation (X) begins to take our place as the old folks in society, it might be easy to dismiss what we’ve witnessed. But we hold a unique place in modern history. We were the bridge generation—raised by boomers, shaped without the internet, and yet still young enough to watch the entire world be redefined by it.

We remember when right and wrong were still spoken out loud—even if not always lived out. We remember when truth had a capital “T.” And over time, we’ve watched that truth get chipped away—slowly, and then all at once.

Laws changed. Language changed. Expectations changed. And beneath it all, the moral compass of the culture shifted.

We now live in a world where what was once shameful is celebrated, and what was once honorable is mocked. And if you want to know what a society worships, look at what it legalizes. Because laws don’t just regulate behavior—they reveal values. They don’t just shape culture—they reflect it.

We legalize convenience. We normalize sin. We codify confusion.

And then we wonder why we’re more anxious, more divided, and more lost than ever.

This isn’t just about marriage or sexuality. It’s about the deeper drift—what we’ve come to accept as “normal.” We’ve legalized late-term abortion and called it compassion. We’ve turned no-fault divorce into a cultural shrug. We make pornography easier to access than clean water in some places. We’ve made greed a virtue and called it ambition.

We tax productivity and reward debt. We inflate college tuition and shackle students for decades. We create a healthcare system so bloated that even people with insurance are afraid to get sick. And when the system fails them, we blame them—for not planning better.

It’s legal to deceive, legal to exploit, legal to profit off desperation.

That’s not justice. It’s dysfunction in legal clothing.

And the irony? The very people trying to live quietly, raise families, and walk in truth often face the most resistance—from a system that was never built for righteousness in the first place.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we have lost our ability to govern ourselves justly.

Because the system doesn’t serve truth. It serves desire. It rewards power. And it reflects a deeper issue: we never had the ability to govern ourselves justly.

From Eden to empire, from Scripture to our own time, every human attempt to build a just society apart from God ends the same way: in pride, corruption, and collapse.

Not because the ideas were all bad. But because the heart was.
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” —Jeremiah 17:9

And without a new heart—without truth at the center—our best laws will still reflect our worst instincts.

Jesus Knew

Paul’s Plea for Unity

In every letter Paul wrote, there’s a constant refrain: unity. He pleads with believers to come together as one body, to be of one mind and spirit. He doesn't just urge it as a noble idea—he demands it, because he understood that the world could not fully see Christ in us until we were united in Him.

 

“I appeal to you, brothers, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another so that there may be no divisions among you…”
— 1 Corinthians 1:10


“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit…” — Ephesians 4:3–4

In Paul's view, unity in the Church is not optional—it’s a command. The gospel is about more than individual salvation; it’s about the reconciliation of all things under Christ. And when the Church is divided, could it be that the world cannot fully see the truth of that reconciliation?

Here we are, more than 2,000 years later, with thousands of denominations worldwide, each professing a version of the truth. But how often do we see differing interpretations, conflicting doctrines, and fractured understandings of who Christ is and what He came to do? Has the very thing Paul warned against, division, become the hallmark of the modern Church?

 

“I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you…” — John 17:20–21

Jesus Himself prayed for unity among His followers, that they might be one, just as He and the Father are one. Yet, the very thing Jesus prayed for—unity—seems to be what we have fractured over time. Denominations, divisions, and doctrines are not just external problems; they are spiritual wounds that keep us from seeing the true unity of the Body of Christ and the full power of the Gospel message.

A Call for True Reconciliation

Why does this matter? Because God’s desire isn’t just for individual believers; it’s for the world to be reconciled to Him. Jesus came not just to offer salvation to isolated souls but to offer a way for the broken, fragmented world to be restored—through Him, through the Church, and through our unity in Him.

“God was reconciling the world to Himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them…”  — 2 Corinthians 5:19

And here is the irony: might it be that the world will never know Christ in the fullness of His reconciliation until we—the Church—are fully united?

It’s as if we’ve fragmented the Gospel—picking and choosing which parts to highlight, emphasizing our differences rather than what unites us.

True restoration—the kind that changes the world—happens when the Church returns fully to unity. Only through this collective, reconciled Body of Christ can the fullness of God’s Kingdom break through the darkness. When we stand united, we embody the Father’s heart for humanity’s return, reflecting His reign here and now.

And maybe that’s part of the story too.
Because if we truly are living inside the same story Scripture tells—a story of creation, rebellion, redemption, and restoration—then division isn’t just a problem to be solved, it’s a signpost. A sign that we are still somewhere between the rebellion and the restoration. Still in the wilderness. Still waiting for something—someone—to bring us back together.

Paul’s vision in Ephesians 4:3–6 echoes this cosmic dimension:

“Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit… one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all.”

This unity transcends mere agreement; it is the spiritual and practical foundation for the Church’s transformative witness in a fractured world. As we embrace this call, the Church becomes not just a gathering of individuals, but a powerful, united force for healing, reconciliation, and restoration.

Together, we can begin to tip the scales, heal divisions, and shine with the truth of Christ’s love—drawing the world back to the Father’s open arms.

A House Divided

Global Decline of Christianity
Over the last several decades, Christianity has seen a noticeable decline in several regions of the world, particularly in the Western countries like the United States and Europe. Here’s a breakdown of some key factors contributing to this decline:
 

  1. Decreased Church Attendance:In many Western countries, church attendance has steadily decreased, particularly in Europe. In the United States, while there are still large numbers of Christians, the percentage of people who regularly attend church has dropped significantly. For instance, in 2000, about 77% of Americans identified as Christians, but by 2020, that number had dropped to around 64%. Furthermore, regular weekly attendance in church has fallen sharply, with studies showing that only about 20–22% of Americans attend church regularly today, compared to over 40% just a few decades ago.
     

  2. Rise of Secularism and Non-Religious Beliefs:One of the most significant shifts in the last 50 years has been the rise of secularism and the increase in the number of people identifying as "none" (religiously unaffiliated). In the United States alone, this group has risen from about 5% in the 1970s to around 30% today. This trend is even more pronounced in Europe, where secularism and atheism are growing, particularly among younger generations. Countries like Sweden, Denmark, and Norway report some of the highest percentages of non-religious populations, often exceeding 60% in some age groups.
     

  3. Youth and Religion: The younger generations are moving away from institutional religion. A survey from Pew Research found that around 70% of Millennials (born between 1981–1996) are less religious than their parents. This generational divide is one of the key factors in the decline of Christianity, as younger people are less likely to identify with any faith, attend church, or participate in religious activities. Even in countries where Christianity is still prevalent, like Latin America and Africa, younger generations are less involved in traditional Christian practices.
     

  4. Global Religious Shifts: While Christianity is declining in the West, it is growing in the Global South (particularly in Africa, Asia, and Latin America). However, despite this growth, Christianity as a whole has lost market share globally. In 1900, Christians made up about 34% of the world’s population. By 2020, that number had dropped to around 32% due to the rapid growth of Islam, Hinduism, and other religions, as well as the rise of the non-religious population.
     

  5. Cultural Shifts and Moral Concerns: The decline in Christianity is also attributed to changing cultural attitudes towards issues such as marriage, family, and sexuality. Many churches, especially in Western societies, have struggled to keep up with modern cultural shifts, especially around LGBTQ+ rights, gender equality, and other moral issues. As a result, many young people find it harder to reconcile traditional Christian teachings with their own views on these issues, which leads to disaffiliation from the faith.
     

A Call for Unity in the Midst of Decline
As Christianity faces these challenges, the call for unity within the body of Christ becomes even more urgent. The divide between denominations, doctrinal disputes, and fragmented Christian identities only exacerbate the problem. Unity isn’t just a theological concept; it’s a practical, visible necessity for the Church to respond to a world that is losing interest in organized religion. Without the unity of the Spirit—without coming together as the Body of Christ—the Church risks losing its voice in the world, its credibility, and its influence in the lives of those who need it most.

Do We Get him?

I want to be clear about something before we continue. I’m not claiming to rewrite prophecy, nor am I offering a new interpretation of Revelation. I believe the Word of God is true, and the return of Christ is certain. But I also believe something else—something just as biblical, though often forgotten: That much of what God reveals in Scripture is not just a timeline, but a warning meant to turn us.

From Nineveh to Jeremiah, from the wilderness to the cross, the pattern is clear: when people repent, God relents. Not because He changes—but because we do. He responds to humility. He runs toward return.

So when I reflect on Revelation—not just the judgments, but the heartbreak behind them—I don’t see a God eager to destroy. I see a Father longing for His children to wake up and come home. What if Revelation is not just a countdown… but a call?

What if it’s not just a forecast—but a fork in the road? Could it be that if the Church—the whole Church—were to return, united and humbled, God would once again respond with mercy? Could we still, even now, shift the tone of what’s coming? Not cancel it. Not rewrite it. But perhaps, like the prodigal’s father, He is watching the road… waiting to run.

This isn’t theology of denial. It’s theology of hope. And it’s the same hope woven through every moment of redemptive history:

 

“Return to me, and I will return to you.” — Malachi 3:7
“Who knows? God may yet relent and turn from his fierce anger…” — Jonah 3:9
“He does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.” — Lamentations 3:33

I don’t say this lightly. And I don’t pretend to know how much time we have left. But I do believe this with all my heart:

 

It is not too late.
And He is still watching the road.

Uphill Battle

Revelation?  Move?

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"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."

Proverbs 3:5-6

Entropy, Negentropy, and the
Preservation of Structure in Language

Understanding Entropy in Nature
If convergence hints at design, then entropy — the law of decay — provides the contrast that makes that design all the more extraordinary.

In physics, entropy refers to the tendency of systems to move from order to disorder over time. It is a foundational concept in thermodynamics, describing how energy spreads out and how systems naturally degrade without external input. Entropy explains why heat dissipates, why physical structures decay, and why information degrades in noisy environments.

Left to itself, a closed system becomes increasingly disordered. This is why old machines break down, buildings crumble, and even memory fades. Entropy is not just physical—it applies to all forms of information and structure.

Negentropy: A Local Reversal
While entropy is the dominant direction of nature, there are exceptions—local reversals made possible by negentropy (short for “negative entropy”). Negentropy is not the absence of entropy but the introduction of order into a system by consuming energy or applying intelligence.

For example:

  • A living cell resists decay by constantly taking in nutrients and repairing itself.

  • Biological organisms grow in complexity by metabolizing energy.

  • Information systems (such as digital storage) preserve accuracy through redundancy and error correction.

  • Human intelligence creates systems of logic, language, and mathematics that build order rather than chaos.

In all these cases, entropy is not eliminated, but actively resisted.

Language and Entropy
Language, especially written language, is typically expected to degrade over time due to:

  • Phonetic drift and pronunciation shifts,

  • Evolving grammar and syntax,

  • Loss or distortion through translation,

  • Cultural reinterpretation,

  • Human error in transmission.

This is why many see language as unstable or unreliable across long timelines. From a purely naturalistic perspective, the evolution of a language like English—rooted in multiple language families and shaped by centuries of social and political change—should result in a noisy, unstable system with no preserved structure beneath the surface.

The Calculator & Entropy Defiance
What the calculator reveals stands in contrast to these expectations. Rather than showcasing decay, the English alphabet—when reduced to numerical values and examined through Alpha Sum, Digital Sum, and Digital Root patterns—exhibits remarkable stability, convergence, and repetition:

  • Words reduce into tightly bound numeric loops.

  • Phrases across a wide spectrum of meaning ultimately collapse into consistent repeating cycles.

  • The system reveals underlying structure not just in a few words, but in every word tested.

This is not expected behavior from a system shaped by random linguistic drift. If entropy had its way, there would be noise. Instead, there is signal.

This doesn’t mean English is a divine language—but it strongly suggests that something preserved its integrity beneath the visible surface, allowing modern, uncurated language to still bear witness to underlying order.

A Case for Negentropy in Language
What appears here is a form of negentropy operating within a symbolic system. While the entropy of cultural evolution should have buried any meaningful structure, the patterns remain mathematically intact—hidden, but discoverable. It raises legitimate questions:

  • How did such structure survive centuries of linguistic entropy?

  • Why do these numerical patterns exist at all?

  • And what kind of intelligence—not human—might have embedded or preserved them?

The calculator does not violate the laws of entropy; rather, it reveals a pocket of order that should not have survived the natural decay of language across time. This puts the discovery in the same category as biological life or digital information systems: an ordered structure maintained against the odds, and for reasons not yet fully understood.
In short, this is not just a theological or symbolic claim—it is a scientific anomaly, and one worthy of further investigation.

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How the calculator works

Because I believe that everything you have seen thus far is a direct result of divine intervention, or Providence, it led me to believe that nothing is insignificant. At some point I imagined that if, for instance the alpha sum for the word “God” = 26, then what does “twenty-six” equal? And when you do the math, you find that the alpha sum of “twenty-six” = 159.

 

I kept going to see just how far this iterative process would go. Using a simple everyday calculator, I found something so interesting that it caused me to develop this Convergence Calculator.

 

This isn’t a number game. This calculator takes any word or phrase, like “hope” or “forgiveness” or even your own name, and translates it into numbers. But it doesn’t stop there. It keeps going, turning those numbers back into words, then into numbers again. Over and over.

And something beautiful and unexpected happens. No matter where you start, the chaos fades and the system settles down. The numbers stop bouncing around and begin to repeat in patterns; stable, peaceful loops. Even words that have nothing in common end up in the same place.

That’s not normal. We aren’t supposed to find this kind of meaning in such randomness. But here, somehow, the patterns hold. This shouldn’t work. But it does.

And maybe, just maybe, the Word that was spoken in The Beginning carries echoes of God's ultimate order. Maybe the structure was always there—waiting to be revealed.

This calculator doesn’t prove God. But it sure points in His direction.

It’s a glimpse behind the curtain, where math and meaning touch—and the fingerprints of the Creator quietly shine through yet again.

Reasonable questions

Q: Isn’t this just pattern-hunting in a limited system?

A: That concern is valid—and it’s exactly why I distinguish coincidence from convergence. The English alphabet is a closed system, but the calculator doesn’t just return occasional interesting outputs—it repeatedly lands in stable loops, even when starting from wildly different words. That kind of consistent recursion suggests order beyond randomness.
 

Q: The English language is arbitrary—why would it hold any deeper mathematical truth?

A: If this were purely about etymology or semantics, I would agree. But the patterns emerge not from meaning, but from structure—letter values, recursion, and modular arithmetic. English becomes the medium, not the message. It’s the stability across iteration, not vocabulary, that matters.

 

Q: Aren’t digital roots just a known property of base-9 math?

A: Yes—and that’s part of the point. Because digital roots are so well-understood, we know what they should produce: uniform chaos or trivial repetition. But the calculator doesn’t behave that way. It forms distinct, finite, meaningful orbits—well beyond what modular math alone would predict.

 

Q: “How do you know these cycles aren’t just statistical noise?”

A: Because I subjected thousands of English words to iterative analysis and observed consistent convergence toward stable, repeating loops. Even semantically unrelated terms often collapse into identical cycles. In statistics, noise is characterized by dispersion and randomness. What we see here is rapid convergence and compression—a hallmark of an underlying structure, not stochastic variance.

Q: Can this be replicated in other languages or systems?

A: Obviously, any language that uses the Latin Alphabet ordered from A-Z will get a return in the calculator. The significance here is that the matrix was discovered using English, a language that wasn't engineered and that evolved freely into the world's Lingua Franca. As shown on Page P, English seems to be the chosen language. 

Q: Isn’t the recursive loop behavior just a result of converting numbers to their spelled-out forms—which are inherently predictable?

A: If the system were truly trivial, we’d expect it to collapse quickly into obvious repetition or uninteresting results. But instead, we observe stable loops that absorb a wide variety of inputs—even complex or long words—and compress them into consistent, finite cycles. The recurrence of these loops across diverse inputs suggests a deeper structural property, not just linguistic inevitability.

Why it matters

This calculator does not invent anything. It discovers what is already there. And what is there—beneath the surface of human language, numbers, and logic—is a hidden order that speaks of intention, not accident. Recursion, convergence, compression: these are mathematical concepts. But here, they do more than process data. They hint at design.

In Scripture, God is revealed as both Word and Wisdom. He speaks creation into existence, calls things by name, and entrusts Adam with the naming of the animal kingdom. Names carry meaning. But in this case, they also carry number. And when processed through a system of simple arithmetic and symbolic iteration, something remarkable happens: chaos does not increase. It collapses into harmony.

That alone defies expectation. The system is recursive, yet stable. Iterative, yet convergent. Random inputs yield patterned outputs. It’s as though the language we inherited—imperfect and evolved though it may be—was still shaped by unseen boundaries. A riverbed dug by Providence?

To the believer, this may echo what Scripture has always claimed: that God’s wisdom is embedded in creation, hidden in plain sight, waiting for those with eyes to see. Not so we can boast in human ingenuity, but so we can marvel at divine restraint—how God allows freedom in language and culture, yet still reserves for Himself the final say. And that final say, in this case, is mathematical.

Again - this isn’t numerology! It isn’t about secret codes. It’s about patterns that shouldn’t be there—but are. Patterns that quietly point back to the Author of language, who wrote both Genesis and John, and whose fingerprints remain in the things we think we built ourselves.

At its heart, this calculator is a mirror: not of human brilliance, but of God’s. We didn’t shape this order and we have barely traced it here. And in doing so, we get a glimpse at the kind of coherence only a Creator could leave behind.

In summary

Every English word, when passed through this calculator—first converting to its Alpha Sum, Digital Sum and Digital Root, then recursively reducing those numbers back into their respective English names, and then converting those names back again repeatedly—will eventually land in one of only a handful of outcomes:

Two fixed points in Digital Sum:
Forty-six → 46
Fifty-four → 54

Or a small set of closed loops, such as:
Alpha Sum: 240 → 216 → 228 → 288 → 255 → 240
 Digital Sum: 30 → 37 → 57 → 50 → 30

Digital Root: 2 → 4 → 6 → 7 → 2

There are no infinite spirals. No exceptions. No chaos. No matter how obscure or random the original word or phrase, the system gently pulls it into a final state—a basin of convergence. This is not based on opinion or symbol-reading. It is observable, repeatable, testable.

The speed of this convergence—how quickly the reduction paths compress—is easily explained by something mathematicians have known for centuries: mod 9 behavior, also called casting out nines.

But the destination—the where of the convergence—is not explained by that. It is not inevitable that the number names in English should reduce into specific loops. It is not mathematically necessary that two number names should be exact fixed points. And it is not trivial that this recursive system, applied to words of every kind, would yield such tight and elegant structure.

It is as if English itself was gently shaped—not to deceive, but to be decoded. And that’s the heart of the discovery. This is not numerology—period, and it's not math for math’s sake. This is the revealing of something deeper: a pattern within language that points toward structure, containment, and ultimately, purpose.

It means that the surface chaos of words conceals a hidden order. It means that everything—noble words, profane words, sacred names and silly phrases—are all caught in a design that funnels downward, then circles something stable.

In the beginning was the Word. And now we see: even our words bear His fingerprint. The convergence isn’t the miracle. But it is perhaps another signature, and it comes on the heals of the miracle you saw in the matrix and should not be easily dismissed.

This tool isn’t just a curiosity — it may be the beginning of something deeper. If a simple mapping from letters to numbers reveals stable numeric cycles—some of which echo theological language—then what happens when we push further?

  • Language evolution studies: Could this help trace hidden structure or convergence points in how language developed?

  • Data compression models: Could symbolic recursion inform new ways of reducing linguistic or numeric complexity?

  • AI and pattern recognition: Could this serve as a test case for distinguishing designed systems from stochastic ones?

  • Digital theology: Could this provide a new frontier in how faith and logic intersect, not in contradiction, but harmony?

I'm not claiming this is where it leads, but I am inviting others to see the possibilities, or more correctly, maybe God is the One saying look; to mathematicians, to linguists, to theologians, and to seekers who still believe that truth can be both beautiful and structured.

Because if what we’re seeing is even partly what it appears to be,
then this calculator is not the conclusion. It might be a doorway, meant for handling it's capabilities with nothing but reverence for the One who made it possible. 

Please note: The idea for this calculator and its function was indeed my own. However, its coding and interpretation was, in part, generated by AI and then edited by me. It is possible that AI has overstated its value and implications. Because I lack this kind of knowledge, it will be up to honest and qualified mathematicians to provide further examination and interpretation. 

The Convergence Calculator  

Try this: Type in the word "love" in this calculator. You'll notice the Alpha Sum 54, the Digital Sum 18, and the Digital Root 9, just like you did on Page E. However, this calculator asks for more — what are the values of those sums? The sums are converted to their written English words, and recalculated again and again (a process called iterative recursion) — and this goes on until it doesn’t! And that is yet another miracle, in my humble opinion. From the red number in the results line — to the red letter "R" (Repeating) is where the sequence gets caught in a forever repeating cycle. More to come.

The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and planted in his field. Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.

Matthew 13:31-32

Scientific and Mathematical
Explanation of the Convergence Calculator

1. Input Processing & Basic Computations

Alpha Sum (A=1, B=2, ..., Z=26):


This is a linear mapping from characters to integers based on their position in the English alphabet. Mathematically:

ALPHASUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ POS(Sᵢ)

where Sᵢ is the i-th character and Pos(·) its alphabetical index.

Digital Sum (Pythagorean Mapping Base 9):
Here, letters map to values 1 through 9 cyclically:

DIGITALMAP = { A=1, B=2, ..., I=9, J=1, ..., Z=8 }

This mapping applies base-9 modular arithmetic (with adjustment):

DIGITALSUM(S) = ∑₍ᵢ₌₁₎ⁿ [ (POS(Sᵢ) − 1) MOD 9 + 1 ]

Digital Root:
The digital root is the iterative sum of digits until a single digit remains. Formally:

DIGITALROOT(X) = 1 + ((X − 1) MOD 9)

unless x = 0, in which case it's 0.

2. Recursive Cycle Detection Using Number-to-Word Conversion


The novel step is the recursive iteration:

Each numeric result is converted to its English word form.
That word is re-processed through the same sum logic (Alpha, Digital, Root).


This forms a sequence: {x₀, x₁, x₂, ...}


Cycle detection occurs when a value repeats.

This creates an iterated function system (IFS) of the form:

f(x) = SUM(NUMBERTOWORDS(x)), xₙ₊₁ = f(xₙ)

3. Mathematical Nature of the Cycles


Because each f maps integers to a bounded domain (due to limited letter sums), each orbit is finite. By the Pigeonhole Principle, each sequence must eventually repeat (form a cycle).


The digital root cycle is well-known and always stabilizes between 1–9 (except for 0).

4. Relation to Modular Arithmetic and Casting Out Nines


The digital root function is essentially a base-9 residue:

DIGITALROOT(X) ≡ X MOD 9

with an offset for zero-handling. It’s historically used in “casting out nines,” a checksum trick for verifying arithmetic. This grounding makes the system’s stability unsurprising — it relies on modular invariants.

5. Interpretation: Fixed Points and Symbolic Cycles
The detected numeric cycles are attractors in a discrete symbolic system. Their recurrence hints at:

  • Underlying numeric invariants embedded in language

  • Potential symbolic or semantic convergence

  • A structured interaction between language and arithmetic

The Resonance Processor Theory

After walking with you through the miracle of the original discovery—a divine pattern so precise it defies chance—I want to share something that came to me recently during prayer and reflection. It’s a fresh insight that feels like another piece of the puzzle God has placed before us.

 

You’ve seen how language and numbers hold a hidden structure, a harmony beneath the surface. But what if this harmony isn’t just something we see or calculate—what if it’s something our minds hear and understand naturally? What if God has given us, deep inside, a kind of spiritual calculator, or better yet, a resonance processor—a way our brains resonate with the world’s patterns, turning vibrations into words, music, and memory?

 

This is not a full explanation, but possibly a glimpse into a greater truth: that the miracle uncovered in this presentation might be part of a universal rhythm established by God from the beginning. It’s a call to keep listening, to keep exploring, and to trust that these discoveries aren’t just accidents—they are signs of a deeper order, a divine language. I invite you to consider this possibility with me, as we stand at the edge of new understanding, guided by faith and wonder.

 The Core Idea: Our Brains as Resonance Receptors


At its heart, this new idea is simple: our brains might work like a special kind of vibration processor—one built to recognize patterns in sounds and vibrations all around us. Instead of just memorizing words or copying what we hear, we could be in a sense, calculating language as we go. Think about how children learn to speak so naturally, almost without effort. What if that’s because their minds are tuned to the music hidden inside words—the rhythms, the frequencies, the harmony? It’s like their brains are processing vibrational code. This might explain how and why children of immigrants learn two languages at once, and fluently, which has always intrigued me. It could also explain why some memories—like songs or stories—feel so alive, even after many years. It’s not just remembering words; it’s reconnecting with the vibration of those words deep inside us.

A Divine Nudge and Chomsky’s Universal Grammar


You know how God sometimes redirects your steps at the last moment? That’s what happened here. I had a page left to finish—an empty space waiting for words—and I started searching for something to fill it. That’s when I stumbled onto a few talks about language and Noam Chomsky’s theory of Universal Grammar.

 

Chomsky believes we’re all born with an inner framework for language, something built into the human mind that allows us to learn to speak almost effortlessly. But as I listened, a thought came to me, maybe even a nudge from above. What if Chomsky was right, but not in the way he imagined? What if this built in ability isn’t just a “grammar module” in the brain, but a God given processor that measures resonance, frequency, and proportion—and then turns those patterns into words and meaning? Maybe we don’t just learn language; maybe we resonate with it.

Expanding the Theory: Resonance in Perception


If this idea is true, it could explain more than how we learn to speak, it might redefine everything about how we perceive the world. From the songs that stay with us for decades, to the way peaceful sounds calm the heart while harsh noise unsettles it. It may all of it tie back to this divine resonance built into creation. Earlier, you saw the convergence calculator that revealed patterns hidden in words and numbers. That simple tool might be showing us the same principle at work within our minds: the way order, proportion, and vibration naturally return to balance, just as the calculator’s values converge toward harmony. Perhaps language, music, mathematics, and memory aren’t separate wonders at all, but different reflections of one sacred design.

Bridging Faith and Science:

The Resonance Processor through the Lens of Research

This theory could bring together:


Neurobiology: The brain’s remarkable ability to sync with rhythms and vibrations—how neural circuits lock onto the timing and resonance of sounds in our environment.


Mathematics: The hidden world of harmonic relationships and proportions that shape those rhythms—the elegant ratios underlying patterns we can measure and model.


Linguistics: The emergence of words, syntax, and grammar as natural expressions of these resonant patterns, revealing language as more than arbitrary symbols.
Together, these might form a “resonance triangle,” a potentially groundbreaking framework that could explain not only how we learn language but why language feels inherently musical and patterned.

 

 Supported by Modern Neuroscience


Current research reveals that even before babies understand words, their brains are entrained to the rhythms of speech—they synchronize their neural oscillations with the cadence of sound. Musicians often have enhanced language abilities, suggesting shared processing pathways. Far from contradicting established science, this resonance processor concept adds precision by proposing a mathematical language to describe these rhythms and how they evolve into meaning.

Rethinking Universal Grammar


Chomsky’s theory of Universal Grammar posits that humans are born with an innate set of rules for language. This new view reframes that idea: rather than fixed grammatical structures, what might be hardwired in the brain is a capacity to detect resonant geometries—ratios, harmonics, symmetries—and from these, language naturally emerges. It’s a radical shift, but one that remains testable and grounded in what we know about brain function.

Predictions that Can Be Tested


A strong scientific theory makes predictions. Here’s what this model suggests:


• Children who show stronger rhythmic synchronization skills should acquire language more quickly.


• Artificial intelligence systems trained on resonance and harmonic patterns rather than discrete symbols may spontaneously develop grammar-like structures.


• Specific phonetic patterns should correspond to measurable harmonic ratios in brain activity.

Each of these predictions can be explored experimentally or through computational modeling, offering a clear path to either support or challenge the theory.

If a resonance processor is truly part of how the mind encodes meaning, then perhaps some of the struggles we face in adulthood are not only psychological but physiological — traces of resonance patterns that never fully formed. A child who rarely hears words of love may not simply lack the concept of love; their neural rhythms may never have entrained to that frequency. What begins as absence of language may become absence of resonance — a gap in both understanding and feeling. Healing, then, might require more than learning new words; it might mean re‑tuning the mind itself to the harmonies of compassion, trust, and connection.

Why This May Matter


This isn’t just a matter of faith or metaphor; it could be genuine bridge between divine design and measurable science. It unites vibration, information, and meaning in one potentially elegant picture—showing how God’s hand might guide the rhythms of our minds, shaping language and memory in ways we are only beginning to understand.

This idea also brings to mind Isaiah 55:11 from earlier —

“so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”

For those of us who believe, this scripture suggests that God's words are not random or abstract—they are purposeful, active, and resonant. If language truly operates through deep patterns of proportion and vibration, then perhaps this verse is describing more than just spiritual intention. It could be pointing to an actual structure within language itself—where meaning, rhythm, and purpose are inseparable, and every word carries both weight and direction, designed to land with impact.

 

A Glimpse into Resonant Convergence

Words or ideas that seem worlds apart can and do share the same numerical values or  “resonance”— when processed through the convergence calculator. This doesn’t mean they are identical but suggests they might occupy balanced or related positions within a larger, divine structure. Imagine two musical notes that, while distinct, share a common frequency ratio, creating harmony or tension. This resonance may reflect deeper relationships or oppositions encoded in language and thought.

 

The true insight lies in watching how these words evolve through the full process of resonance, reduction, and transformation—revealing the spiritual or conceptual “frequencies” where meanings align, diverge, or balance.

Bringing the Resonant Calculator Theory Into the Lab

The true power of any scientific idea lies not just in its beauty or logic, but in its ability to be tested, measured, and confirmed. This theory—that our brains internally compute resonance, proportions, and rhythmic patterns to unlock language and meaning—offers several concrete ways to move from insight to evidence.

Modern neuroscience already shows us that the brain’s auditory and motor systems rely heavily on resonance-like mechanisms. Neurons fire in synchrony, locking their oscillations to the rhythms of speech and sound. This isn’t just metaphor; it’s measurable electrical activity that reveals how the brain dances with language. If this resonance processor model holds true, then children who show stronger neural synchronization to rhythmic sounds should demonstrate faster and more robust language acquisition. This would confirm that the brain’s internal “processor” for resonance isn’t just poetic—it’s fundamental.

Further, computational linguistics could take this theory to new heights. Imagine training artificial neural networks not just on words or grammar rules, but on patterns of harmonic relationships and frequency ratios. If these networks begin to develop grammar-like structures spontaneously—mirroring how children learn—it would be a striking validation of the resonance-based framework. This would bridge mathematics, linguistics, and neurobiology in an unprecedented way.

Linguists and phoneticians could also test for direct correlations between phonetic features and harmonic ratios predicted by the model. Are certain sounds or syllables naturally aligned with specific frequency patterns that the brain recognizes as “resonant”? Mapping these relationships would provide a tangible link between the abstract math and everyday speech.

Finally, advanced brain imaging techniques like MEG or EEG could measure the predicted patterns of phase locking and oscillatory coupling in real time as people listen to or produce language. If the brain’s resonant frequencies align with the mathematical attractors described in this theory—stable points where neural activity settles—then we’d have powerful evidence that resonance is the scaffolding on which language is built.

None of this negates the wonder of the discovery of the miracle of the cross in the matrix, it only deepens it. Each experiment offers a way to glimpse the order encoded in our minds, a greater divine harmony then we might ever have imagined. It’s a call for collaboration between faith and science, inviting researchers and seekers alike to explore this potentially miraculous mechanism God may have gifted humanity.

A Note to Researchers and Scholars

To the scientists, linguists, mathematicians, and researchers who may engage with this work: What you have here is an invitation to explore a new framework—one that suggests language, memory, and meaning may emerge from underlying patterns of resonance and proportion.

 

This is not a finished theory but a starting point, grounded in observations that may overlap with findings in neuroscience, mathematics, and linguistics. Your expertise is essential to testing and refining these ideas. With your tools and insights, you can help determine whether rhythmic synchronization truly shapes how we learn and process language, whether harmonic relationships correspond to meaning, and whether resonance itself might form a bridge between sound, structure, and thought.

You do not have to share the spiritual perspective behind this work to study it scientifically. Yet, as you explore its implications, you may also find yourself glimpsing what I believe to be God’s design—a deeper harmony at the foundation of creation. If so, I hope this discovery brings both understanding and wonder. Either way, I encourage you to test it, question it, expand it. The search for truth belongs to all of us, and truth—wherever it leads—will always point back to its source.

A Final Note, in the Spirit of Honesty and Humility...

While this theory is grounded in observable scientific principles and reflects the current understanding of fields like neurobiology, mathematics, and linguistics, the ideas presented here should be viewed as an evolving hypothesis rather than established fact.

I am not a trained scientist, and much of the theory has been shaped and expanded upon with the help of an AI model. The insights discussed herein were inspired by faith and personal reflection, which led to the development of a new conceptual framework for understanding language, resonance, and memory.

Though the concepts presented here may be supported by scientific findings in areas such as neural entrainment and resonance, they remain speculative and in need of further exploration, testing, and validation within the broader academic community. This work is intended to spark dialogue and exploration, blending insights from science and faith.

Convergence

1024px-Turris_Babel_by_Athanasius_Kircher_edited.jpg

Return to Babel?

"You said in your heart, 'I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.'"

Isaiah 14:13-14

For me, the timing of this presentation has been yet another example of the convergence of many factors. Just as cultures and languages converged over centuries to shape the English we speak today, I’ve come to see that fulfilling my calling was a coming-together of not only God’s timing and my personal spiritual maturation, but also the modern tools now at my disposal—including the use of Artificial Intelligence to assist with research and web design.

 

The calculators you’ve seen and used throughout the site were imagined by me, but only became possible thanks to the coding capabilities of AI. Obviously, AI has the potential to do good in the world. However, like any new and exciting breakthrough, there is always a flip side. 

Throughout history, some of humanity’s greatest innovations—nuclear energy, the internet, and genetic engineering—were created with the hope of improving life. Yet in every case, the same technologies were often turned toward moral depravity, greed, power, control, division or destruction.

Today, we stand at a similar crossroads with Artificial Super Intelligence. What could become the most transformative tool in human history also carries risks unlike anything we’ve faced before.

In the conversation below, Steven Bartlett speaks with technology ethicist Tristan Harris about the promise and the peril of this rapidly approaching frontier, and why careful thought and foresight have never been more crucial. Could this be a return to the confusion and pride of Babel, where human ambition outpaced wisdom?

Watching this conversation left me deeply convicted to share it. The potential of Artificial Super Intelligence may be awe-inspiring to some, but it also carries risks that could affect all of humanity. While it’s easy to dismiss such discussions as science fiction or distant speculation, I believe this is a concern that may be flying in quietly, under the radar, and it deserves our immediate awareness.

For centuries, humans have sought to transcend the natural order, attempting to grasp powers once believed to belong only to the divine. From Babel, to alchemists in the Middle Ages who pursued the Philosopher’s Stone, striving for immortality and the transformation of base metals into gold. Later, scientists hunted the so-called “God Particle” to understand the origins of mass, while modern researchers explore genetic engineering and synthetic life. Across time, these efforts reveal a persistent pattern: humans reaching beyond their rightful bounds, often without fully realizing the consequences.

Today, artificial intelligence is being created with the potential to surpass human intellect, human understanding, and even human control—echoing the ambition and overreach of the Tower of Babel.

“Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools”—are these words from Paul now converging with a modern context?

"—and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like a mortal human being and birds and animals and reptiles"

Romans 1:22-23

I pray that we will recognize the seriousness of this moment, approach it with humility and discernment, and seek God’s wisdom—trusting His sovereignty, yet mindful that the forces being unleashed may grow out of anyone's control. In the mean time, 

“Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

Joshua 1:9

bible-1136784_1920_edited.jpg
...and the truth and the life. 

Lingua electa

Why English; Is it the only way?

In review, English emerged through a remarkable convergence of European cultures in England. It is often described as a linguistic “melting pot” because of how heavily it has absorbed vocabulary, grammar influences, and expressions from dozens of other languages throughout history. Its earliest layers came from Germanic tribes — the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes — but the language quickly began mixing with Old Norse due to Viking contact, creating many of the core, everyday words English speakers still use: they, them, take, sky, law.

Then came the Norman Conquest, which added a massive wave of French and Latin, transforming English into a hybrid unlike almost any other major language. What makes this especially striking is that no other language with such a deeply mixed heritage ever went on to become the world’s lingua franca.

Over the centuries, English continued to import words with astonishing openness. From global trade, scientific discovery, and cultural exchange, English absorbed vocabulary from Greek, Arabic, Hindi, Chinese, Japanese, Italian, Spanish, Indigenous American languages, and many others. Words like algebra, ketchup, bungalow, karaoke, and piano show how English thrives on the convergence of global influences.

This willingness to borrow makes English extremely flexible — it can create new registers, blend tones, and adapt to technological or cultural change faster than many languages whose structures are more rigid. And while many languages borrow extensively, none of them — not Japanese, Swahili, Tagalog, Haitian Creole, or Malay — developed into a universal means of international communication the way English ultimately did.

The question has been asked of me, “Does the matrix appear in any other languages, or is it unique to English?" There are thousands of languages still spoken around the world today. It would be impossible for me to build a similar matrix in all of them. Instead I tested several languages that use the Latin Alphabet. Rather than build an entire matrix for each, I merely tested the keys words that make the discovery of the cross possible. The digital sums for “four” and “five” must be equal to show a vertical anomaly. Likewise, “forty” must equal “fifty” for the horizontal anomaly to appear. Finally, the words of the Exception, “fourteen” and “fifteen,” cannot have the same digital sums, and both must equal the alpha sums of “King” and “Jew” respectively. Swipe right below to see that none of these other languages meet the criteria.

"All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, Lord;they shall bring glory to your name."

Psalm 86.9

Language

English

Indonesian

French

German

Spanish

Italian

Portuguese

Dutch

Swedish

DS #4

four 24

empat 19

quatre 28

vier 27

cuatro 24

quattro 31

quatro 29

vier 27

fyra 23

DS #5

five 24

lima 17

cinq 25

fünf 20

cinco 26

cinque 33

cinco 26

vijf 20

fem 15

DS #40

forty 30

empat puluh 43

quarante 34

vierzig 51

cuarenta 29

quaranta 30

quarenta 34

veertig 41

fyrtio 39

DS #50

fifty 30

lima puluh 41

cinquante 41

fünfzig 44

cincuenta 36

cinquanta 37

cinquenta 41

vijftig 38

femtio 32

DS #14

fourteen 41

empat belas 31

quatorze 42

vierzehn 53

catorce 29

quattordici 56

catorze 34

veertien 44

fjorton 35

DS #15

fifteen 38

lima belas 29

quinze 38

fünfzehn 46

quince 33

quindici 50

quinze 38

vijftien 41

femton 28

AS King

King 41

Raja 30

Roi 42

König 56

Rey 48

Re 23

Rei 32

Koning 70

Kung 53

AS Jew

Jew 38

Yahudi 68

Juif 46

Jude 40

Judio 59

Ebreo 45

Judeu 61

Jood 44

Jude 40

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