What an Ex-Jehovah's Witness learned from the REAL Gospel
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What if I told you that the Bible wasn't meant to be a theological puzzle box to solve? What if the endless debates over doctrine are actually keeping us from the faith Jesus really wanted us to have? You ready? Let's get into [Music] [Applause] it. Hey everybody, welcome back to the channel. Today I want to talk about something that's been weighing on my heart for years. And it's about our relationship with scripture, with each other, and ultimately with God himself.
You know, for most of my life, I was taught that having the correct understanding of every single Bible verse was the most important thing in the world. I spent decades in a religious system where we were convinced we had figured out exactly what every verse meant. How every prophecy fit together, who was right and who was wrong. We had the truth and everyone else was deceived. That sound familiar to any of y'all? Well, let me tell you what that kind of thinking did to me. It made me judgmental.
It made me scared. And worst of all, it made me miss the entire point of what Jesus actually taught. Think about this. Nowhere in scripture does Jesus say, "Make sure you understand every single verse perfectly or you're doomed." What he did say repeatedly was, "Love God with everything you got and love your neighbor as yourself." When asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus didn't launch into complex theological explanations. He simplified.
But what do we do? We complicate. We build doctrinal fortresses and hide inside them, afraid that if one brick comes loose, the whole thing will collapse and with it our faith. It's like building a house with the most elaborate security system imaginable. Multiple locks on every door, cameras on every corner, alarm sensors on every window. but forgetting to make it a home where people actually want to gather and live. You've secured the structure but missed its purpose.
I remember sitting in countless meetings where we would analyze a single scripture to death, making sure it aligned perfectly with our predetermined understanding. I remember the anxiety that came with encountering a passage that seemed to contradict our teachings, if they would ever quote this at all. I remember mental gymnastics that would make an Olympic gymnast jealous all to make sure everything fit into our neat theological box. And if you've been in any Christian tradition for any length of time, you probably know exactly what I'm talking about. Maybe the specifics were different, but the mindset was the same. Get everything right or else. Let's be honest about what's really happening here.
When we insist on absolute doctrinal certainty, we're not displaying faith. We're revealing our lack of it. Think about it. If you truly trust someone, do you need to understand every single thing they do or say? If you trust your doctor, do you need to understand every aspect of the procedure they're performing? If you trust your spouse, do you need to account for their whereabouts every minute of the day? Of course not.
Trust. Faith means being comfortable with not knowing everything. It's like a child learning to swim. At first, they cling desperately to the edge of the pool, terrified to let it go. But true swimming only begins when they trust enough to release their grip and float. Our desperate clinging to doctrinal certainty is like that child who never lets go of the edge. We're not really experiencing faith at all.
So, why do we approach God differently? Why do we think we need to understand every verse, harmonize every apparent contradiction, and have answers to every theological question? It's fear, plain and simple. We're afraid that if we don't have everything figured out, then maybe we're wrong about something important. And if we're wrong about something important, then maybe we're not saved. And if we're not saved, well, you see where this goes. But here's the thing.
That fear-based approach to scripture is not faith. It's the opposite of faith. Hebrews 11:1 tells us that faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Faith, by definition, means trusting beyond what we can fully comprehend or explain. It means being comfortable with mystery, with questions, with not having all the answers. This obsession with perfect doctrinal accuracy doesn't just hurt our relationship with God. It destroys our relationships with each other.
How many churches have split over interpretations of verses that have nothing to do with the core message of Christ? How many families have been torn apart because one member understood a prophecy differently than the others? How many people have been shunned, dysfellowshipped, excommunicated, whatever you call it in your church, cast out because they couldn't pretend to be certain about something they honestly questioned. It's like siblings fighting over which one of them dad loves best, destroying their relationships with each other when dad loves them all and just wants them to get along. The father watches his children divide into factions and fight over who understands him best. And what would honor him most is their unity and love for one another. I've seen it.
I've lived it. And I've been part of it. And let me tell you, it breaks God's heart. When Jesus prayed for his followers in John 17, he repeatedly asked that they may be one as we are one. Unity was central to Christ's vision for his church. Yet what do we do? We create division after division.
Each group convinced that they alone have properly understood every jot and tit of scripture. I spent decades in a religious community where we were taught that we alone had the truth. We were God's organization, God's people, God's channel. Everyone else, they were worldly deceived, destined for destruction unless they came to see things exactly as we did. But here's the painful irony. While we were busy congratulating ourselves on our doctrinal purity, we were missing the very heart of Jesus teaching love. Let's look at what Jesus actually emphasized.
In Matthew 25, Jesus describes the final judgment and what's the criterion he gives. Is it having the correct understanding of the Trinity, the right interpretation of revelation, the perfect explanation of predestination versus free will? No. It's whether you fed the hungry, gave drink to the thirsty, welcomed the stranger, clothed the naked, and visited the sick and in prison. It's whether you showed love in tangible ways. Imagine a father who asks his children to care for their elderly grandmother while he's away. When he returns, would he be more pleased with the child who memorized his instructions word for word but never visited grandma?
or the child who maybe forgot some details but spent time with her, cooked her meals, and made sure she had what she needed. The answer is obvious. Jesus said in John 13:35, "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples. If you love one another, not if you have perfect doctrine, not if you can explain every verse, but if you love one another." Time and again, Jesus prioritized love, mercy, and compassion over rigid adherence to rules and doctrines. You remember his conflicts with the Pharisees. They were the theological experts of their day.
They had analyzed every word of the law and wrote massive books about it. And Jesus told them, "You strain out a gnat, but swallow a camel." They had missed the forest for the trees. Are we any different today? This mindset doesn't just hurt our relationships with others. It damages our own faith. And let's be clear about something.
If we're going to call out anyone for anything, it should be those who don't practice love. Jesus didn't condemn sincere seekers struggling with question. He condemned religious leaders who use their doctrinal authority to control others, who shut the door of the kingdom in people's faces, who place heavy burdens on people's shoulders without lifting a finger to help them. That's why I started this channel in order to call out what Watchtower does with Jehovah Witnesses. When did Jesus get angry? When religious leaders valued rules over compassion. When they turned his father's house into a marketplace for profit.
when they shun the sinners instead of welcoming them. Let's talk about something that might be uncomfortable but needs to be said. Who actually benefits from these rigid doctrinal systems? It's not the sincere believer trying to follow Jesus. The real beneficiaries are religious leaders with motives of power, control, and often money. Think about it. When a religious leader convinces you that they alone have the correct interpretation of scripture, what are they gaining?
They gain your loyalty, your obedience, your financial support, your unquestioning trust. It's like a spiritual pyramid scheme. Those at the top benefit while those at the bottom give and give, afraid to question less they lose their salvation. I've seen preachers build empires on the backs of well-meaning believers who are terrified of questioning anything because they've been convinced that doubt equals disloyalty to God. I've seen religious leaders amass wealth and influence while teaching that questioning their authority is the same as questioning God. Now, to be clear, I'm not necessarily saying that pastors at clergy should never be paid, but I'll cover that in another another video. Right now, I'm focused on those who enrich themselves, who make themselves wealthy and powerful on the backs of the believers.
And here's the most devious part. They use scripture itself as the control mechanism. They weaponize verses about submission and obedience, taking them out of context to demand loyalty to themselves rather than to Christ. They create complex doctrinal systems that only they can navigate, making believers dependent on them for truth. Jesus called out these kinds of leaders in Matthew 23:4 when he said, "They tie up heavy, cumbersome loads and put them on other people's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them." These burdens of perfect doctrinal conformity crush the spirit. They turn faith from a life-giving relationship into an exhausting performance.
And they make the leaders indispensable middleman between believers and God. That's who deserves our righteous anger today. Not the sincere seeker with questions. Not the person who understands a verse differently than we do. But those who use scripture as a weapon to divide, to control, to enrich themselves while neglecting the weightier matters of justice, mercy, and faithfulness. When your faith is built on having everything figured out, what happens when you encounter a verse you can't explain? What happens when you realize that your interpretation of a passage might be wrong?
What happens when you discover that sincere, intelligent believers throughout history have understood certain scriptures very differently than you do? It's like building a sand castle too close to the water. When the tide comes in, when the questions and doubts inevitably arrive, the entire structure gets washed away. But a faith built on trust in God rather than perfect understanding is like a house built on solid rock. Yes, Jesus said this. The waves may come, the questions may arise, but the foundation remains secure. For many, it leads to a crisis of faith.
If one piece of the puzzle doesn't fit, they feel like the whole picture is ruined. And that's because they built their faith on the wrong foundation. They built it on their own understanding rather than on trust in God. I know this because I went through it. When I began to question some of the interpretations I'd been taught, it felt like my entire faith was crumbling. If they were wrong about this, what else were they wrong about? If this verse didn't mean what I thought it meant, how could I trust any of it?
It took me years to realize that the problem wasn't the Bible. It was with my approach to it. I had been taught to treat scripture as a detailed technical manual where every word had to be understood with perfect understood with perfect precision rather than as a love letter pointing us to a relationship with God. So what's the alternative? Am I saying we should just ignore scripture, that doctrine doesn't matter at all, that we can believe whatever we want? Not at all? I'm saying that we need to prioritize what scripture itself prioritizes.
Jesus said the greatest commandments are to love God and love our neighbor. Paul said that of faith, hope, and love, the greatest is love. John said that God is love and whoever lives in love lives in God. It's like driving a car. You need to know the core essentials. How to steer, accelerate, and break or you'll crash. But you don't need to understand every detail of how the engine works, the exact chemical comp chemical composition of the fuel or the physics behind internal combustion to drive safely.
In fact, most good drivers don't know any of those things at all. Well, in the same way, there are core truths of faith that we need to embrace. But we don't need perfect understanding of every theological detail to follow Jesus faithfully. The core message is clear and consistent, and that's where our certainty should lie. When it comes to secondary issues, interpretation of prophecies, the specifics of how God's sovereignty interacts with human free will, the precise nature of the afterlife, we should hold our views with humility, recognizing that faithful Christians have understood these things very differently throughout history. As Augustine reportedly said, in essentials, unity and non-essentials, liberty, and all things charity. This approach doesn't weaken faith.
It strengthens it. Because now your faith isn't in your ability to understand everything perfectly. It's in God. It's in the transformative message of Christ's love that transcends our limited human understanding. One of the most liberating realizations I've had is that God doesn't love me because I've figured out every verse correctly. God loves me because that's who God is. God is love.
And my salvation doesn't depend on having perfect theology. It depends on God's grace received through faith. It's like being adopted into a family. The child doesn't earn their place by understanding every detail of adoption law or knowing the complete family history. They're part of the family by grace, the loving choice of the parents. Their security comes from the relationship, not from perfect knowledge about it. Ephesians 2:8:9 tells us, "For it is by grace you have been saved through faith."
And this is not from yourselves. It is the gift of God, not by works, so that no one can boast. Notice what's missing there. It doesn't say by grace you have been saved through correct doctrinal understanding. It says through faith, through trust, through a relationship.
When I finally understood this, it was like a weight lifted off my shoulders. I no longer had to pretend to be certain about everything. I could admit when I didn't know. I could explore different passages without fear. I could learn from believers in different traditions, recognizing that they might see some aspects of God's truth that my tradition had missed. And most importantly, I could focus my energy on what Jesus actually called me to do. love God and love my neighbor.
There's a beautiful humility that comes with this approach to scripture. Instead of saying, "I have all the answers," you can say, "I'm still learning, still growing, still seeking, keep on seeking, keep on knocking." That never stops. Instead of approaching other Christians with judgment because they understand certain passages differently than you do, you can approach them with curiosity and a desire to learn. Instead of seeing questions as threats to be eliminated, you can see them as opportunities for growth and deeper understanding.
It's like the difference between a know-it-all student who alienates everyone and never grows versus a lifelong learner who attracts others with their humility and continues to develop. The know-it-all may appear confident, but they're stunted. The humble learner may acknowledge uncertainty, but they're constantly expanding and discovering. And here's the amazing thing. This humility doesn't weaken your witness, it strengthens it. In a world full of religious people making confident pronouncements about exactly what God thinks on every issue, there's something refreshingly authentic about someone who can say, "Here's what I believe." But I could be wrong about the details.
What I'm certain of is God's love, and that's what I'm trying to reflect. That kind of humble faith is attractive. It invites conversation rather than shutting it down. It creates bridges rather than walls. Imagine what the church could look like if we took this approach. Instead of thousands of denominations, each claiming to have the correct understanding of everything, we could have a diverse family united by our common faith in Christ and commitment to his core teachings. And listen, we need to be much more vocal about calling out those who corrupt the message of Christ.
Not those who interpret a difficult passage differently, but those who use religion as a tool for division and control. Those prosperity preachers getting rich off vulnerable people while claiming it's God's blessing. Those leaders who shun and cast out anyone who asks questions. Those who build empires and protect abusers while claiming to represent Christ. Jesus saved his harshest words for religious leaders who placed burdens on others while enriching themselves, who loved their traditions more than they loved people. If we're going to follow his example, we should direct our righteous anger at similar targets today. It's like a family dinner table.
Imagine a family where everyone has to agree on politics, career choices, and personal preferences to be welcome at the table. That's not a healthy family and it ain't going to last. A healthy family makes room for diversity while remaining united by their love for each other. They can discuss their differences respectfully while still passing the potatoes. That's what the church should be, united in essential love while allowing for differences and non-essentials. We wouldn't have to agree on everything. We could learn from others perspectives.
We could focus our collective energy on doing what Jesus actually told us to do. Making disciples, loving our neighbors, caring for the poor, standing for justice. I'm not suggesting we abandon theological reflection or the serious study of scripture. Not at all. But I am suggesting we approach it with the right heart and the right priorities.
Study scripture to know God better and to learn how to love more fully, not to win arguments or prove your group is right and everyone else is wrong. I spent decades of my life in a religious system that emphasized doctrinal conformity above all else. We were convinced that we alone had correctly understood every prophecy, every teaching, every aspect of God's plan. Everyone else was wrong, deceived, worldly. But something interesting happened as I began to actually read the Bible for myself with fresh eyes. I noticed how often Jesus clashed with the religious experts of his day. How he prioritized love and mercy over rigid rule following.
How he welcomed those who the religious establishment excluded. And I began to wonder if Jesus came back today, would he feel at home in our doctrinal debates and denominational divisions? or would he once again challenge the religious establishment to remember what really matters? The more I reflected on this, the more I've realized that my faith needed to change. Not my faith in God. That grew stronger, but my understanding of what faith actually means. True faith isn't about having all the answers.
It's about trusting the one who does, even when we don't understand. True faith doesn't eliminate questions. It gives us the security to live with them knowing that God is bigger than our uncertainties. True faith doesn't separate us from believers who understand certain passages differently. It unites us through our common trust in Christ and commitment to his way of love. This shift was not easy. It meant leaving the religious community that had been my entire world, Jehovah's Witnesses.
It meant admitting I had been wrong about important things. It meant embracing uncertainty in areas where I had once claimed complete confidence. But it also meant discovering a deeper, richer, more authentic relationship with God. It meant finding freedom from the exhausting pressure to have everything figured out. It meant experiencing the joy of connecting with Christians from traditions different from my own and learning from their insights. And perhaps most importantly, it meant rediscovering the heart of Jesus message, love, and recommitting myself to living that out in concrete ways. So, here's my challenge to you today.
What if we took Jesus at his word? What if we actually made love for God and love for neighbor our highest priorities? What if instead of endlessly debating the details of esquetology or the precise mechanics of atonement, we poured that energy into feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, and caring for the sick? What if when we encountered believers who understood certain passages differently than we do, we approached them with curiosity rather than judgment? What if we had the courage to speak out against those who use religion to control and harm others? What if we reserved our strongest criticism not for those who question doctrine, but for those who exploit faith for power and wealth? What if we called out the modern Pharisees who strain out a nat but swallow a camel, who obsess over doctrinal purity while neglecting justice and mercy?
Remember, Jesus didn't condemn people who had sincere questions. He welcomed them. He engaged with them. He showed them compassion. His harshest words were for those who claim to represent God while acting in ways that contradicted God's heart.
What if we held our interpretations of scripture with humility, recognizing that the Bible's primary purpose isn't to make us theological experts, but to lead us into a transformative relationship with God. This doesn't mean abandoning truth. It means recognizing the central truth of scripture, love. God's love for us and our calling to love others. As 1 Corinthians 13 reminds us, "If I understand all mysteries and knowledge, but do not have love, I am nothing." It's time to major on the majors. It's time to build our faith on trust in God rather than certainty about every detail.
It's time to unite around the core of Christ's teaching rather than divide over secondary issues. This is the faith that transforms lives. This is the faith that changes the world. This is the faith that truly honors the God who is love. Thank you for listening. If this message resonated with you, I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments. And if you're struggling with these issues in your own faith journey, know that you're not alone.
Feel free to reach out. Until next time, grace and peace to you all. I'll catch you in the next video.
[Applause] [Music]
