A Spiritual Walk Through the Bible: Part 1

I’m beginning to explore Christianity with an open mind, to see how it relates to the spiritual experiences I’ve had and the truths I’ve come to believe on my own. I’m not doing this lightly. This is the most vulnerable writing I’ve done so far, so I hope you’ll stay open and patient with me on this new part of my journey.

I was raised Christian and baptized in a Baptist church when I was 13, but honestly, it never felt like a personal choice. It felt like something I was supposed to do and something I definitely wasn’t supposed to question. So I didn’t. For years, Christianity kind of lingered in the background of my life. I believed in God, or at least I thought I did, but it wasn’t something I connected with deeply.

Eventually, I walked away from religion altogether. I got a little cynical, maybe even a little smug about it. But underneath all of that, there was always this quiet pull. This sense that something bigger was out there. I just didn’t know what. That curiosity eventually led me down a more spiritual path, one rooted in mindfulness, meditation, and asking the hard questions I was never encouraged to ask growing up.

This series is me coming back to the Bible, but in my own way. No expectations, no labels, no pretending I know where this is going. Just curiosity, openness, and a willingness to see what speaks to me now.

Where the Journey Begins

It all started with what I thought would be a harmless debate: Christianity vs. Spirituality, with my brother, Colton. This was not a first for us, but it did lead to something new this time.

Colton started dating a preacher’s daughter back in high school (now she’s my lovely sister-in-law, Amber). Through her and her family, he found his relationship with God and was baptized. His faith is strong, and it shows. He also worries deeply about me and that the path I’m on will lead me away from God. I know it comes from a place of love, even if it’s hard for me to receive it that way sometimes.

The debate got tense, with the rest of our family watching, and it was just uncomfortable for everyone. We eventually cut the conversation short and let it go. But maybe a week later, Colton texted me “I love you” out of nowhere. It was 9 a.m. and completely unprompted. That’s not our style. Our relationship is mostly sarcastic remarks and playful jabs. We don’t exactly send each other heartfelt affirmations over coffee. It caught me off guard.

I ended up video chatting with him. He seemed fine. We talked about our days, and he showed me some books he had just ordered. One was a Hemingway box set, which he was excited about. He briefly mentioned another one, something Christian-related, but kind of dismissed it and moved on.

We started talking about spirituality and our relationships with God. Although I didn’t call it “God.” I said “the universe” or “the source.” He asked me why I didn’t call it God, and I told him it was because I didn’t want to be put in the box of Christianity or religion. I was on my own path, and I wanted it to unfold naturally. Labels felt limiting.

But as I said that out loud, I started to question it. Why was I really avoiding that word?

The conversation moved to meditation. I told him how I connect with my spirit and source. I told him sometimes I feel like it would be similar to what he called “prayer.” Then he asked why I didn’t just call it prayer.

Same answer. I didn’t want the label. But again, as I spoke the words, something felt untrue. Like I was defending a wall I didn’t even believe in anymore.

We kept talking about our spiritual experiences. I told him about moments during meditation that felt almost sacred. He told me he’s felt that same presence during prayer, and especially through music. When I shared some of my beliefs, he pointed out that a lot of them actually aligned with what’s in the Bible.

Then he asked me if I had ever thought about reading it.

And the truth is, I have. It’s felt like a necessary part of exploring spirituality. I’ve still kept my Bible close by. I’ve even had the Bible downloaded on Audible for a while now. I’ve mentioned it in passing, but I’ve never started. I think the same hesitation that keeps me from calling it God or prayer is the same thing that’s kept me from opening the Bible.

Growing up, Christianity always felt like it was being shoved down my throat. Even as a kid, it felt like something I was supposed to understand, but nobody explained it in a way that made sense to me. I felt disconnected from it, like I was standing outside of it, watching it happen around me.

So when Colton asked if I wanted to read the Bible with him, I said yes. Because that’s why I reached out in the first place… to read something together, something spiritual. I downloaded a Bible app and started a plan with him to read the same passages every day, then talk about them afterward, openly and honestly.

My Soul’s Path

That day, before I opened the app or read a single word, I decided to meditate. I wanted to clear space, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I wanted to hear what my soul had to say first, the part of me I believe connects directly to the Source, or maybe, as I’m starting to consider, to God.

It had been a while since I really meditated. I’d still been practicing mindfulness here and there, but true connection had felt distant lately, like I was trying to tune into a frequency I could no longer reach. But that day, I lay down, turned on my meditation music, closed my eyes, and let the darkness settle around me.

Every time I begin a meditation, I start in the same place. It’s a place I’ve never been physically, but somehow, I know it. I’m sitting at the edge of a massive canyon that opens up to an endless ocean, with nothing but horizon ahead. The sky shifts, but the water is usually calm. A light breeze moves through me, and for a while, I just sit there. Sometimes, my meditations bring in visions or messages, sometimes people I’ve lost. Sometimes I feel peace so overwhelming, I cry. But lately… nothing.

This time, I waited. I relaxed into the stillness. And eventually, the colors began to swirl behind my eyes, which is always a sign that something is starting.

There I was, at my canyon edge again. I let the breeze kiss my face, and I asked the questions I had been holding quietly for days: What do I need to see? What path will lead me where I need to go? I waited.

In past meditations (and I mean almost every single one), I’ve looked down at that water and felt a deep pull to dive in, but I never have. No matter how calm the ocean looked, something about it always made me hesitate. It was the only part of that entire space that ever made me feel uneasy. And still, I knew it was important. I just didn’t know why.

That water felt like it held something deep, something I wasn’t ready to face. Not dangerous, not dark… just unknown. And sometimes, the unknown is enough to make us freeze. So I’d always found another way forward. The path that appears, the sky that opens, the vision that carries me somewhere else. Anything but the water.

But this time was different. I felt it. If I’m honest, I knew I needed to go in, so I was trying to build up the courage to take the leap. I stayed there longer than usual, letting the silence wrap around me, letting the light inside me grow. I imagined it expanding in my chest, filling every corner of me until I was glowing from the inside out. And for the first time ever… I didn’t resist.

I dove into the water.

At first, I saw animals swimming beneath me. I could see them clearly, not because of any external light, but because of the light coming from me. Then something strange happened. The animals began to glow, too. Slowly, the entire ocean lit up around me, like I had ignited something. Everything was illuminated. Everything was light.

Then I began to float upward, out of the water, still surrounded by that blinding, gentle light. I didn’t feel fear or confusion. I felt held. Safe. Like I had just crossed through something I didn’t even realize had been keeping me stuck.

I stayed in that light for a moment, absorbing it. I knew, deep down, that was all I needed to see. I woke up with tears on my face.

Opening the Bible

Afterwards, I read the first two chapters of John.

They tell the story of Jesus’s arrival as a man, and of John the Baptist recognizing him as the Son of God. Jesus begins gathering followers, performing his first miracle: turning water into wine at a wedding. I took it all in, but I wasn’t quite sure how I felt yet. It was all so unfamiliar, so foreign. And yet… I was here. Reading it. Letting myself be open.

The next morning, I read the next two chapters. I didn’t have a huge emotional reaction while reading. I was just trying to absorb the message, like I usually do. I tend to analyze things first and feel them later. But when I got to the part where Jesus talks about “living water,” it brought me back to the water in my meditation. I didn’t know why at first; it just stuck with me. It felt important now.

So I went back and read the passage again. This time, when I read the part where Jesus says you must be born again, through water and through spirit, I paused.

And I started wondering… what if being born again doesn’t have to mean a full-body dunk in front of your whole family and congregation? What if it’s something that happens within you? Quietly. Personally. Spiritually. What if that moment in my meditation was me being born again in a way I didn’t even realize was possible?

Of course, this is just my interpretation at this moment. I’m not trying to rewrite doctrine or convince anyone of anything. I’ve talked before about taking what you need from things (like my post on astrology) and I think the same can be said here. That’s what I’m trying to do with the Bible right now, go in with an open mind, take what connects, and leave the rest.

Getting used to the language of the Bible is tough. It’s dense and poetic, and sometimes I have to reread a line three times before I even begin to understand it.

I ended up listening to a small sermon on YouTube to help clarify what I had just read. It helped. The pastor didn’t preach fire and brimstone; he spoke about having a personal, spiritual relationship with God. And something about that felt familiar. Like maybe the journey I’ve been on wasn’t so separate from this one after all.

I’m not here to tell you what to believe. I’m just inviting you to sit beside me for a while as I ask the questions, explore the stories, and see what rises to the surface. Maybe something will resonate. Maybe not. But either way, this door is open for both of us.

So if you’re reading this and you’re on your own spiritual path, whether it’s full of certainty or full of questions… maybe we can walk a little of it together.

With love & light,
Jessica ♡