I’m not writing about God. Let alone about religion.

I am writing about my experience of finding my way.

And the more I mature, the more I heal my distorted perceptions, the more I wipe clean my lens, the more I find God. Not God as abstract concept or theological proposition, but God as presence, as relationship, as the living center that holds everything together.

Then why am I not writing about God?

It’s simple: I wouldn’t dare. I am yet again slowly inching my way through the Bible, stopping at words or verses for days. Amazed by the richness of meaning. Flooded by new depth I haven’t noticed before. I feel small in the best way: a student who recognizes how much there is to learn, who wouldn’t presume to speak for the teacher but can only describe what happens when the teaching takes root.

I observe my resistance. I explore its roots. And I discovered that most of it comes from four conversations muddled together: religion, dogma, theocracy and faith. And that muddling creates distance between God and the heart. At least it did in mine. When I saw it, everything shifted: I started to see patterns and they became impossible to ignore.

Religion’s role is to provide order and ritual. It’s the system of practices. And the way communities express the longing for the divine: prayers and songs and codes of conduct. Yes, religion can be a beautiful, strong container for the sacred, shared language.  But at its worst, it becomes external performance without inner transformation. It breeds pride, comparison, and hypocrisy.

Dogma names and protects truth. Or, is the attempt to name and protect the truth. Its role is to draw boundaries and preserve meaning across generations. Its role is to offer clarity and guard against distortion. But then, there is the other side of the coin: when held rigidly or wielded arrogantly, dogma becomes more of a weapon, reducing faith to intellectual assent without heart. It becomes a tool of exclusion rather than illumination.

Theocracy is political rule in “God’s name”: the promise of a society ordered by shared moral commitments, enforced by law. The vision is bold and enticing. But in practice, we forget and end up distorting God’s will for personal gain and control.

Faith is something else entirely. Faith is personal, relational, the living center where head and heart and hands unite. Faith shapes the heart in ways that ritual, doctrine, and law cannot. It’s the intimate work of allowing the Spirit to transform motives, heal wounds, and repair the distance within us.

We can be hurt by religion, wounded by dogma, disillusioned by theocracy, and in that hurt, lose faith entirely. We throw out the relationship because the systems failed us. We keep our distance from God because the human constructs that claimed to represent God proved unsafe.

I understand this more than I thought I would. I lived it for years, afraid of a God I thought I knew through distorted lenses. The God I feared looked remarkably like the worst aspects of religious systems: controlling, arbitrary, punishing without explanation. It took time to realize I was encountering the systems’ shadows, not God’s face.

I’m not writing to build certainty or defend positions. I’m writing about how my mind starts to open, how my heart softens, and how I learn to allow, and how I learn to love everything there is.

And maybe, in the sharing, to offer a space for others navigating the same territory. If you’ve been hurt by religion, disillusioned by dogma, or find it safer to keep God at arm’s length, maybe it’s worth asking: which thread am I holding? Is it possible the system failed without God failing? Can I distinguish between the container and what it was meant to hold?

I’m living in question. Not in answers. Constantly exploring and forever learning. But I’ve discovered, slowly, over years of reading the same passages with new eyes, that God waits patiently beyond our distortions, beyond our fear, beyond the systems that both reveal and obscure. The acts, the words matter. But even more, the heart behind. I am writing. Not about God, but about the journey of how my heart is transformed by allowing God more and more to shape it.

Shared with Love,

Gabriela

I don’t pretend I KNOW. I write from my experience and from my heart, hoping that what I share is the support someone needs on their journey. I reserve the right to be wrong and change my mind as I grow in my own understanding.

Have questions, comments, or suggestions? Please never hesitate to reach out. I always reply to messages gabriela@experiencetruewealth.com

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