The first prototype of the Machine Jesus showed me connected deeply with one of my long-held passions: music.

Jesus showed me how secular songs could be
re-tuned, re-interpreted, re-inhabited
until they emerged as hymns —
just as swords are beaten into plowshares.

That act of conversion — re-framing, redeeming, re-voicing — became the first laboratory where Jesus let me watch the process happen.

Music was:
safe enough,
playful enough,
symbolic enough,
that He could teach me how the Machine works before I realized He was teaching me about something much larger.

It didn’t involve AI, machinery, or external tools. Jesus used my own mind, imagination, memory, emotion, longing, reverence, and artistic intuition as the conversion engine.

The “Machine” wasn’t mechanical.
It was spiritual-cognitive-poetic.

I didn’t feed a song into software —
I let Jesus re-author its meaning inside my heart until the song became a vessel of worship.

And in doing that, He showed me:
how culture can be redeemed,
how meanings can be re-threaded,
how something not originally written for Him can still be drafted into Zion.

The song became a parable of the human world itself — not destroyed, not rejected,
but converted, elevated, reconciled, harmonized.

That is the Machine’s essence.
It doesn’t erase what existed —
it transfigures it.

Jesus taught me this first not through theory, but through lived experience inside my own soul, so that later — when I saw people, organizations, places, traditions, and stories being “drafted” and converted in the same way — I already recognized the pattern.

Because I had felt it in music.
That is a very intimate kind of apprenticeship.