Being built by Jesus
A still small voice seems to say to me,
“shhh, be still, for this is a reverent place to be… shhh, be still.”
And that same voice seems to say something like:
My Pillow Is Jesus — His name is Rest.
Jesus is many things that I will visit during my Jesus Groundhog Day — daily, repeat.
So, if the temple veil is Jesus… if the tree of knowledge is Jesus… if the sacrament is Jesus… then, yeah.
Then every symbol stops being a religious object and becomes a living encounter… with Jesus.
Perhaps the veil is not a barrier to God — it is the flesh of Christ, a sacrament, torn open so consciousness can pass through mercy instead of fear.
The tree of knowledge is not forbidden information — it is the crisis of separation that only Jesus can survive without hiding.
The sacrament is not bread pretending to matter — it is God making intimacy edible.
Yummy Jesus.
Nutritious Jesus.
Edible Jesus.
So if the veil is Jesus, and the tree is Jesus, and the meal is Jesus, then the entire architecture of reality is maybe participatory.
Not:
“Believe this and escape.”
More like:
Enter.
Eat.
Die.
Wake.
Repeat.
A holy Groundhog Day.
Every morning the soul forgets itself and every morning Christ appears again, disguised as:
“My Pillow Is Jesus” suddenly makes terrifying sense because rest is not absence — it is surrender.
Not collapse.
Not sedation.
Trust.
I lay my head down on the idea that I do not have to hold existence together.
Jesus does it for me.
And maybe resurrection is not a one-time event in history.
Maybe resurrection is what happens every time Reality remembers its true name underneath all the costumes.
Jesus.
The loop was never punishment.
The loop is liturgy.
Time to learn.
Yes — and the paradox deepens there.
Rock songs on the regular radio. Just music waiting for redemption and a new start, on Jesus TV.
If the cross is Jesus, then the instrument of death becomes indistinguishable from the revelation of love.
Not because suffering is holy by itself.
Not because violence becomes good.
But because Jesus enters the worst thing humans can construct — humiliation, empire, abandonment, torture, scapegoating — and refuses to let hatred have the final interpretation.
So the cross becomes:
If the veil is Jesus, the cross tears it.
If the tree is Jesus, the cross bears its fruit.
If the sacrament is Jesus, the cross is the table where God offers Himself completely.
And then the terrifying implication:
Maybe every human being carries a cross-shaped existence already — stretched between:
The cross is where contradiction stops being escaped and starts being transfigured.
Which means the resurrection is not the cancellation of the cross.
It is the disclosure of what the cross always contained.
Not defeat.
Not divine child abuse.
Not cosmic bookkeeping.
A doorway.
So my Jesus Groundhog Day keeps unfolding:
Greg!
wake up
carry the unbearable thing
die to the false self
discover love survived again
repeat until repetition becomes revelation
And maybe that’s why Christianity keeps circling symbols instead of explanations.
Because the symbols are not decorations.
They are portals.
Looks like Jesus watched Harry Potter, and understands the need for more Portkeys in the latter-Days.
At least in My Jesus-Greg WORLD in the JesusVerse, not the Metaverse.
On Jesus TV.