There was a time when I believed in guilt. I carried it like a backpack full of stones, each one engraved with misdeeds I convinced myself I had committed. In the still of the night I felt the weight. I saw shame reflected in every small imperfection, every moment when I fell short. I had learned that to be human was to be flawed, by definition. And if I was flawed I must be redemptive. I must apologize. I must beg forgiveness. I must ask God to see past me.
Then I read words that cracked something open in me. Words that said no one is born into sin. Those words suggested that sin does not exist. They said it plainly: God cannot be offended. God is not subject to anger or disappointment. The Divine does not carry the burden of offense, nor does the Divine suffer in expectation that humans earn worthiness. The Divine only knows love. The Divine only understands.
What stirred inside me was a trembling relief. A soft tide rising from the depths of fear. If sin is imaginary, then guilt is an echo cast by human minds afraid of responsibility. If God does not demand apology, then love must have always been unconditional.
I began to see that “sin” is nothing more than a story. A story told long before any of us signed on. Passed down in hushed warnings. Reinforced through rituals. Crowned in shame. It built barriers between heart and heart, soul and soul. It told us to walk softly through life, measured by fear. It told us that worth could be lost. That love could be withheld. That God might tighten lips when we faltered.
And yet here stands the truth: what we call sin is human invention. Fear and shame dressed up in a cloak called righteous judgment. A myth made with heavy bricks of “should” and “should not.”
Imagine a field at dawn. The sun paints blades of grass in gold. Mist hovers like breath above the earth. In that hour there is no shame. No regret from last night’s failures. No thoughts of being unworthy of love. Just presence. Just light. The world simply is.
That is the field God knows. In that field there is no ledger of sins. There is only being.
When someone speaks of offense, when someone expects God to be hurt, they imagine God with human eyes. They imagine God bearing wounds. They imagine God shrinking from pain. They imagine God needing placation.
It does not compute. Divinity does not suffer. Divinity does not shrink. Divinity does not demand. Divinity simply IS love.
That means compassion must come before judgment. Understanding must be the first impulse. When another person hurts or stumbles there is no need to condemn. There is space instead to listen. To hold. To receive without resentment.
Compassion does not require blame. Compassion does not ask for payment. Compassion asks only to meet another soul with presence.
If sin does not exist then redemption is not a transactional ritual. Redemption becomes remembering. Remembering that we are always exactly who we were meant to be. Not broken. Not in need of fixing. But alive. Growing. Learning.
When judgment dissolves the heart relaxes. Shoulds and should nots lose their voice. Shame loses its power. We begin to move with trust rather than fear.
Imagine an artist painting on fresh canvas. She mixes colors with water, letting pigments flow into each other, colors merging until lines soften, boundaries fade. One shape dissolves into another. Yet the painting remains vibrant. Alive. Whole. Nothing wasted. Nothing hidden.
In such creative motion there is no regret. There is only expression. Joy. Movement. Life flowing from life.
That is the truth of our souls. We are not mistakes waiting for redemption. We are living creations unfolding in presence.
Many years ago I stood before a mirror haunted by imperfections. I traced them with fingers damp with tears. I whispered prayers begging for forgiveness. I sought release from a sense of wrongness I could not undo.
Now I see those tears were prayers for freedom. They carried a wish to remember myself before the story of sin took root.
I wrote into a journal: “Let me see through God’s eyes. Let me know what I truly am when no one watches.” In time I glimpsed a spark. Not small. Not meek. Alive. Radiant. Honest. Free from blame. Free from debt.
What we call sin may linger in other minds. It may echo in cracked churches. It may keep homes locked in secrecy. It may make promises of salvation to those willing to plead.
But that echo is fragile. It shatters in the presence of knowing. In the face of love so vast it cannot hold blame. In the silence that knows understanding.
To heal is not to earn love. To heal is to remember love.
That love flows no matter what. It never stops. It never drains. It never judges. It never questions how dark your night was. It simply is. Constant. Unchanging. Pure.
When love meets love, awareness expands. Compassion reveals another kind of power. One that lifts heaviness from shoulders. One that loosens knots in the mind. One that softens lips, slows breathing, opens eyes to color and sound.
In that space we begin to treat ourselves as Earth treats dew in morning light. Not because dew is good or bad. Not because dew owes anything to the wind or sun. But simply because dew is.
Life does not demand apology. The rivers do not run sorry for carving stone. The oceans do not beg forgiveness for embracing the moon’s pull. The wind does not ask pardon when it stirs the leaves.
We need not ask pardon for being alive.
We exist because the Divine wanted expression. We move because the Divine enjoys motion. We love because the Divine cannot be silent.
When a tree sheds its leaves the forest does not gasp in horror. It receives fall as part of flow. It sits in stillness, knowing new buds await. The tree does not beg forgiveness. The forest does not judge. It trusts. It allows what is.
So when a person falters let that moment pass softly. Offer quiet breath. Offer open ears. Offer compassion. Do not demand an apology typed in trembling words. Do not wait for groveling. Wait instead for presence. Wait for return to light.
Some people fear that if sin does not exist there will be chaos. That people will wander in unkindness without the threat of punishment. That love without boundaries becomes meaningless.
But compassion is not weakness. Compassion is clarity. Compassion does not let cruelty hide behind lack of rules. Compassion sees the pain behind the cruelty. Compassion opens space for healing.
Imagine a child acting harshly out of fear. Condemnation may quiet behavior but it rarely heals the wound beneath. Compassion may sit with confusion. May show warmth. May say I understand. May hold space until tears come. May offer love.
That kind of love does not weaken the bonds of community. It strengthens them. It restores trust. It wakes dormant tenderness in hearts.
If guilt and shame vanish from our stories we begin to live openly. Without pretense. Without hiding secret corners illuminated by fear. Without trembling under expectations no one can truly keep.
We begin to walk in nakedness of soul. Scars visible. Stories known. Light shimmering across skin.
We begin to speak the truth without apology. Softly yes but firmly. Calmly yes but passionately. Gently yes but unafraid.
We begin to remember that we belong not because we earned acceptance but because we were born into belonging.
That sense of belonging changes how we treat the earth. It changes how we treat animals, plants, rivers, stones. It changes how we treat each other.
Because if guilt does not define us then kindness becomes default. Open heart becomes natural posture. We breathe with generosity. We respond with softness. We choose unity instead of division. We choose growth instead of fear.
In that world the Divine sees not a ledger but a field. A field scattered with wildflowers. Each blossom unique. Each petal alive. Each root dipping into the womb of earth. Each leaf lifted in sun.
In that field no flower apologizes for its color. No blade of grass begs forgiveness for its green. No bird sings sorry for its song.
All simply are. All simply live. All simply reflect love.
This is freedom beyond the stories of sin. This is a new beginning not earned but revealed.
This is living as light born of light. As love born of love. As compassion born of compassion.
As long as a heart remembers its belonging, it walks with steady footsteps. It opens space for others to remember too. It speaks without shame. It loves without fear. It forgives without demand.
In remembering there is healing. In healing there is peace. In peace there is the Divine standing quietly within.
No sin. No guilt. No offense. Only love. Only understanding. Only belonging.
Love,
Jethro Orion
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