"And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the new wine will burst the skins; the wine will run out and the wineskins will be ruined. No, new wine must be poured into new wineskins."

Luke 5:37-38

What is this name, Yeshua?

I had never heard it before. Not really. Not in church, not in school, not in conversations. It meant nothing to me—until it found me. I wish I would have logged every step of the journey, as I know the story unfolded in ways I didn’t fully comprehend at the time.

I remember getting the Bible out right away after discovering the cross and the exception in the matrix. Naturally, I turned to the Gospels to read the crucifixion accounts. At some point, knowing myself, I probably wondered what Jesus’ name was in Hebrew. It was then a few weeks later, most likely after finding "King" and "Jew" within the exception, that I stumbled upon the name Yeshua online. Without hesitation, I pulled out the calculator to find its Alpha Sum.

Mind blown again! With this incredible revelation that His name was also included in the exception, my curiosity grew, and I began asking more questions. What does Yeshua actually mean? Where did the name Jesus come from?

Here’s what I found.

The name we know today—Jesus—has undergone a long and complex journey through various languages and cultures. The way this name has morphed over centuries reveals much about the layers of history, language, and culture that have shaped it. Let’s break it down:

Hebrew → Yeshua
The original name of Jesus in His lifetime was Yeshua (יֵשׁוּעַ). This is the name that Mary would have called her son, the name that the disciples would have used, the name that was spoken in Galilee, the name that He heard as He walked through the streets and performed miracles. Yeshua means "salvation" or "to rescue," a name rich with purpose and destiny—literally the one who delivers. This name was commonly used during the first century (approximately 0–100 AD).

Note: The name Yehoshua (meaning "Yahweh is salvation") is the longer, more formal version of the name, which would have been used historically in earlier times, including the Old Testament. By the first century, Yeshua became the common and accepted form of the name.

Hebrew → Greek → Iesous
Fast forward a couple of centuries to the time when the New Testament was written, starting around the mid-1st century AD. The Greek language, which was widely spoken in the Mediterranean world, transliterated the Hebrew name "Yeshua" into Iesous (Ἰησοῦς). In Greek, the "sh" sound doesn’t exist, so they used "s," and the vowel sounds were adapted to fit Greek phonetics. This shift is one of the first steps in the evolution of the name.

Greek → Latin → Iesus
Then, as Christianity spread into the Roman Empire, the name Iesous was transliterated into Iesus in Latin. This form was used throughout the Latin-speaking world and became the standard in Christian texts. This change was still in line with the Greek pronunciation but brought the name closer to the Latin phonetic structure.

Latin → Old English → Jesu
As the Latin-speaking world began to influence medieval Europe, Iesus evolved further into Jesu in Old English. This is still close to the Latin form but began to reflect the phonetic shifts of Old English speakers, particularly the shortening of sounds.

Old English → Modern English → Jesus
Eventually, the name continued to evolve in Modern English, taking on the familiar form we know today: Jesus. The transition from "Jesu" to "Jesus" was part of the natural linguistic changes that occurred over time, influenced by both the changing nature of English and the introduction of modern printing techniques that in part, standardized spelling.

So the name Jesus is an English transliteration of a Germanic adaptation, of a Latin transliteration, of a Greek transliteration, of an originally Hebrew name, that was originally pronounced "Yeh-shoo-ah".

This journey of the name—from Yeshua to Iesous to Iesus to Jesu to Jesus—is more than just a matter of linguistic change. It’s a reflection of how history, culture, and language shaped the identity of the man who would become the central figure of human history. These shifts in pronunciation are a natural part of language evolution. Understanding this linguistic journey can give us a deeper appreciation of the name Yeshua, in its original Hebrew form, and can only add to our understanding of who He truly is.

The New Wine of Revelation

When Jesus said, “No one puts new wine into old wineskins,” He wasn’t just offering a clever metaphor. He was revealing a profound truth about readiness—our capacity to receive what God is pouring into us.

In Mark 2:22, He said: “And no one puts new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins. But new wine is for fresh wineskins.” The new wine represents fresh revelation—truth that has always existed but was, for a time, hidden or misunderstood. It’s a deeper unveiling of God’s will and a fuller understanding of His plan.

This is what unfolded through the discovery you’ve just encountered: the truth of the matrix and how the layers of meaning have always been there, waiting for the right moment to be revealed. The old wineskins represent the traditional frameworks that have carried truth for generations; the doctrines, traditions, and understandings that were, and still are, deeply valuable in their own right.

These frameworks were never wrong—but now, God is calling us to expand our capacity to receive what He is revealing. New wine needs fresh vessels—a readiness to hold these even deeper truths He is unveiling without dismissing what has already been established. This isn’t about discarding the past—it’s about preparing for what is being added. The new wineskins are not replacements; they are additions—hearts and minds that are open and ready to receive God’s new revelation, without diminishing the honor due to what has already been revealed.

Will you gather new wineskins? Are you willing to receive more—not because what you’ve known is incomplete, but because God is still speaking? Are you open to letting Him reveal Himself in ways that deepen, enrich, and expand your understanding?

Think of how Jesus taught: When He healed on the Sabbath, He didn’t nullify the command, He fulfilled it, revealing that God’s mercy is never limited by man’s interpretation. When He spoke to the woman at the well, He didn’t reject her story—He met her in it and offered something more: living water. And when He went to the Cross, He didn’t destroy the old covenant—He fulfilled it completely, bringing it to its intended fullness. In each of these moments, Jesus poured out new wine. But He never condemned the old wineskins. He simply revealed that something more was being added—and it needed room to be received.

God’s revelations are often like fine wine, taking time to mature. This discovery, the unveiling of the matrix and its patterns, is also like a fine wine that has finally aged to perfection, despite its presenter being truly far from perfect. These layers of meaning were hidden until the time was right, and now, that truth is being poured out. This is the pattern of God: He doesn’t come to abolish what was, but to fulfill it. As Jesus said in Matthew 5:17: “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them.”

The question isn’t whether this new wine is worthy because it is. The question isn’t whether it aligns with God’s Word, because it does. The biggest question is will you gather the new wineskins needed to receive it? Will you open your hearts and minds to this amazing miracle of God?

God is alive and He is still revealing, still unfolding the depths of His character, still offering us more. And when He pours out new wine, I can only imagine He wants us all to make room for it, with gratitude and reverence.

That prayer from Jesus is both heartbreaking and heroic. It reveals a depth of surrender few of us could ever fathom. In a much smaller way, this page has weighed on me in a similar fashion—so deeply, for so long, that I too asked the Father to take this cup from me.

My path would have been far simpler if the name revealed within the exception of the matrix had been “Jesus” instead of “Yeshua.” There would have been no tension. No reason to pray for relief.

One of the great curiosities about scripture is how it remains the same over time, and yet as we mature spiritually, the scripture changes us. Where we once came away with face-value understandings, we begin to see and feel deeper meaning in the words and in the story - this is such the case with me and this page.

First, imagine sitting at your desk on a cold winter morning looking at the data from the silly little experiment you'd been working on for months. Imagine seeing your Savior, the one you never believed in, revealing Himself to you, number by number, line by line. All I could think was, "He is real! The story is true!" All of a sudden, I realized He had answered my prayer, and with that He had given me the purpose and hope that I had longed for all my life.

With so much catching up to do, so little context, and being truly human and spiritually immature, it did not take long for ego to take the stage. Yes, I was elated and grateful too. However, not knowing better, I was also "proud" of what "I found." I have always given God credit for the discovery, but as time passed in those first few months and even years, that pride turned into a sort of false conviction, bordering on spiritual vanity.

Before I had even read about the spiritual gifts that God assigns to certain people, I had already adopted "discernment" as my own. That's right, if God chose me for this discovery, then I must be pretty dang important, and my thoughts would obviously be aligned with His truths, automatically right? I couldn't have been more wrong!

As the months and years passed, my initial awe naturally stabilized, and I began to imagine that we, mankind, or at least the English speaking world, were literally using the wrong name to worship Christ. God named Him Yeshua, and though my general knowledge of language evolution could explain this name Jesus, I had become convinced that it was my divine duty to set the record straight. Please brothers and sisters, understand here that I believed I was being obedient to God - fulfilling my calling in fact.

My false conviction went from seeing the series of what I considered mis-transliterations of the name, to an outright belief that Satan himself was the culprit. Mind you, not once did I ever think that God ignored prayers in the name of Jesus. He measures our hearts - He acknowledges heartfelt prayers - even from a fool like me who didn't even believe in Jesus for the first thirty-four years of my life.

For years and years I carried this self-imposed burden to set His name right, all the while not realizing the limitations I was putting on God. I think of how many times I've been critical of those who seem to put God in a box, neat and tidy, and there I was, guilty of that very charge. I am eternally grateful to God - especially the Holy Spirit for helping me see the error of my ways, and setting me straight!

I will say this plainly, humbly, and so there are no misunderstandings; I absolutely believe that referring to the Savior as Jesus is perfectly sound. To this day, it still rolls off my tongue more than "Yeshua." When I listen to modern gospel music, I sing along with the name "Jesus," and with the same reverence as I would if it were the name of Yeshua in the lyrics.

For the vast majority, Jesus is the name by which we first met Him—the name spoken in childhood prayers, in worship songs, in moments of deepest need. I don’t believe for a second that using the name Jesus weakens your relationship with God or calls your faith into question. He hears the heart, not just the syllables.

So there is no choice between “Jesus” and “Yeshua,” and certainly not because I ever thought there was. No test here - just an invitation to celebrate! The name Yeshua may be new to you, or it may stir something ancient inside you. Either way, it is quite clear now that God has invited us to celebrate the name Yeshua, and all that it carries! He took it down from the shelf, dusted it off, and used it to sign the miracle you just witnessed. Praise Jesus, praise Yeshua, praise God.

Before we go any further, let’s go back to the real Cross. Not the clean version, not the painted one hanging on church walls, and not the matrix, but the real one, outside the city, on a blood-soaked hill called Golgotha.

It was two years after the discovery when The Passion of the Christ was released in theaters. I had been anticipating this moment for so long—nervous, excited, and unsure of what it would do to me. Mel Gibson had poured everything into making this film as authentic as possible. The story felt raw, unfiltered—a glimpse of the unrelenting truth of what happened that day. Much of this authenticity was made possible by advances in technology, but it was also Gibson’s commitment to staying true to the reality of the event itself—the suffering, the love, the sacrifice. This was unlike any biblical story ever told before on film.

And part of Gibson's commitment was using the original languages—Aramaic, Latin, and Hebrew. That detail stood out more than I expected: throughout the film, the name spoken was “Yeshua.” Not translated, not softened for familiarity—but left in its original form, just as it would have been heard. Because I was already familiar with the name, it felt deliberate, respectful, right. It was subtle, but powerful. He didn’t translate the name to make it more comfortable—he preserved it out of conviction, and in the spirit of Truth.

Like everyone else, I was shaken by the flogging, the jeering, the weight of the Cross, the nails. But there was one moment that undid me. When they raised the sign above His head: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” In that moment, I sobbed. Because suddenly I knew what nobody else in the theater knew: This wasn’t just mockery, it was prophecy, the beginning of the miracle in the matrix.

As I wiped the tears, I began to imagine: Did He choose me to find the discovery—or did I just get lucky? And if He actually chose me… the weight of that moment, during that scene, was almost too much to bear. Just the thought that—on the Cross—Christ may have already known that I would one day uncover this miracle… it still feels almost blasphemous to imagine. And yet, it still brings me to tears when I try to absorb it.

He didn’t just see the centuries of language unfolding—He willed them into place. He didn’t just witness the evolution of His name—He allowed it, knowing it would one day point back to Him in a way no one could have expected. Every shift in spelling, every turn of translation, every nuance in pronunciation; He authored the entire arc of it.

And the miracle in the matrix—the shape of the Cross, and the exception that lands exactly where that sign was nailed—isn’t just a coincidence. It’s a signature, His. It is a marker across time; a quiet explosion of divine authorship, hidden in plain sight, waiting for the moment it would be revealed. And now, it’s here.

The name

"She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins."

Matthew 1:21

Before we go any further, let’s go back to the real Cross. Not the clean version, not the painted one hanging on church walls, and not the matrix, but the real one, outside the city, on a blood-soaked hill called Golgotha.

It was two years after the discovery when The Passion of the Christ was released in theaters. I had been anticipating this moment for so long—nervous, excited, and unsure of what it would do to me. Mel Gibson had poured everything into making this film as authentic as possible. The story felt raw, unfiltered—a glimpse of the unrelenting truth of what happened that day. Much of this authenticity was made possible by advances in technology, but it was also Gibson’s commitment to staying true to the reality of the event itself—the suffering, the love, the sacrifice. This was unlike any biblical story ever told before on film.

And part of Gibson's commitment was using the original languages—Aramaic, Latin, and Hebrew. That detail stood out more than I expected: throughout the film, the name spoken was “Yeshua.” Not translated, not softened for familiarity—but left in its original form, just as it would have been heard. Because I was already familiar with the name, it felt deliberate, respectful, right. It was subtle, but powerful. He didn’t translate the name to make it more comfortable—he preserved it out of conviction, and in the spirit of Truth.

Like everyone else, I was shaken by the flogging, the jeering, the weight of the Cross, the nails. But there was one moment that undid me. When they raised the sign above His head: “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.” In that moment, I sobbed. Because suddenly I knew what nobody else in the theater knew: This wasn’t just mockery, it was prophecy, the beginning of the miracle in the matrix.

As I wiped the tears, I began to imagine: Did He choose me to find the discovery—or did I just get lucky? And if He actually chose me… the weight of that moment, during that scene, was almost too much to bear. Just the thought that—on the Cross—Christ may have already known that I would one day uncover this miracle… it still feels almost blasphemous to imagine. And yet, it still brings me to tears when I try to absorb it.

He didn’t just see the centuries of language unfolding—He willed them into place. He didn’t just witness the evolution of His name—He allowed it, knowing it would one day point back to Him in a way no one could have expected. Every shift in spelling, every turn of translation, every nuance in pronunciation; He authored the entire arc of it.

And the miracle in the matrix—the shape of the Cross, and the exception that lands exactly where that sign was nailed—isn’t just a coincidence. It’s a signature, His. It is a marker across time; a quiet explosion of divine authorship, hidden in plain sight, waiting for the moment it would be revealed. And now, it’s here.

The Passion

"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him,"

Isaiah 53:5

"But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him,"

New Wine

"See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?"

Isaiah 43:19

New