We are living in one of the strangest periods in modern history. Wars rage. Leaders make promises. Peace is declared while people still suffer. Truth feels twisted. Lies are loud. And millions of ordinary people, exhausted, afraid, and struggling to pay their bills are being asked to place their hope in powerful personalities.
I have spent years trying to understand what I am seeing. Like many people raised in Christianity, I grew up hearing stories about the Antichrist. I imagined monsters, horns, devils, and the end of the world. But life has taught me something different. I no longer believe evil always arrives with fire and dramatic music. Sometimes it arrives with wealth. Sometimes it arrives with charm. Sometimes it arrives with promises. Sometimes it arrives wrapped in patriotism, religion, and applause, and sometimes entire societies celebrate what they once warned against.
Looking at the world today, I understand why people search prophecy books. I understand why some people look at Donald Trump and wonder about the symbolism. Not because I believe he is some horned devil from a movie, but because I believe he is anti of the things christ represented. Christ means something much simpler. Anti means opposite Christ, and Christ to me, represents love, compassion, truth, humility, forgiveness, empathy, and the willingness to serve others. Anti-Christ, then, represents the opposite:
Pride.
Greed.
Cruelty.
Deception.
Self-exaltation.
Domination.
The worship of wealth and power, and I do not believe these things belong to one man. I see them in leaders. I see them in institutions. I see them in nations. I see them in religions. I see them in corporations, and if I am honest, I see traces of them in myself as well. Because this isn't really a battle between superheroes and villains. It is a battle between two ways of being, and humanity has been fighting this battle for thousands of years.
I believe Jesus was real. I believe he was human. I believe he was born with extraordinary empathy, pattern recognition, and a deep understanding of suffering. I believe he wanted suffering to stop. I believe he loved people. I believe he saw beauty in humanity. I believe he was influenced by the world around him, just as we all are. He inherited stories. He inherited traditions. He inherited ideas about God. He stood on the shoulders of Abraham, Moses, and the prophets, and somehow, through his own life and heart, he found something beautiful. Love. Not power. Not empire. Not domination. Love. I do not believe perfection made Jesus beautiful. I believe his humanity did. Perhaps he was misunderstood. Perhaps he made mistakes. Perhaps he became overwhelmed. Perhaps he said things that later generations interpreted differently. Perhaps he struggled. Perhaps he was afraid. Perhaps he cried. Perhaps he doubted, and strangely enough, none of that would make me love him less. It would make me love him more. Because I would hold him through it. Just as I hope someone would hold me through my own humanity.
Religion often turned Jesus into something unreachable. Perfect. Untouchable. God himself. But perhaps his greatest message was something much simpler. Perhaps he was trying to show us what was already inside us. Not perfection. Love. Not superiority, Compassion. Not certainty, Connection. Not worship, Remembrance. Maybe Christ was never meant to be one person alone. Maybe Christ is a pattern, a way of being, a heart, and perhaps that same heart lives in all of us. Not perfectly, but truly. I do not claim perfection, I am flawed, I get angry, I hurt, I grieve, I fear, I fail. And still, something inside me continues reaching toward love. Toward forgiveness. Toward understanding. Toward unity. And perhaps that reaching itself is what Christ is.
Today we watch powerful men promise peace while ordinary people struggle. Americans cannot afford homes. Families are drowning in debt. Children are being killed in wars. People are divided against one another. And everywhere we are told to worship personalities. To worship money. To worship power. To worship fear. But none of these things have ever saved humanity.
Not kings.
Not presidents.
Not billionaires.
Not empires.
History proves this again and again, and maybe the answer was never more power. Maybe the answer was always love. Not the weak kind. Not the sentimental kind. But the kind that sees itself in others. The kind that forgives. The kind that feeds. The kind that heals. The kind that tells the truth. The kind that refuses to dehumanize. The kind that chooses compassion even when hatred seems easier.
Majik once used a quote from Woody Allen in his music:
"You need to have a fiction in your heart."
Perhaps that is true. Not because truth doesn't matter. Truth matters deeply, but because stories matter too. Stories shape civilizations, stories shape identities, stories shape love. The question is not whether we have stories. We all do. The question is: Do our stories make us kinder? Do they reduce suffering? Do they enlarge the heart? Do they bring us closer together? Or do they divide us? Because stories can enslave us, and stories can liberate us.
I do not know if there is a grand plan. I do not know if there are aliens. I do not know if consciousness survives death. I do not know if miracles are misunderstood science. I do not know if reality itself is stranger than we can imagine. I am open. I wonder. I question. But this much I know,
Love is real.
Compassion is real.
Beauty is real.
Forgiveness is real.
And whatever God is, I believe God is found there.
Not in domination.
Not in wealth.
Not in pride.
But in love.
And perhaps that is what Jesus saw. And perhaps that is what he tried to tell us.Not that one man was God. But that we all are far more beautiful than we have been taught. The flaws will make us flawless. The broken places are where the light enters. And maybe, after all these years, the greatest spiritual act is not worshipping power. But remembering. Remembering who we are. Remembering one another. Remembering love. And choosing it again.
— Shavon Bonnie Legion
