Timing the Antichrist (And Totally Blowing It)

How Jesus Led Me Back to the Occult

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From Ancient Wisdom to YouTube Rabbit Holes

I never expected to find myself in a Christian doomsday cult, but honestly, who does? My spiritual journey started with indigenous wisdom—the kind that speaks in nature's whispers and ceremonial firelight. But when those ancient teachings could not answer my biggest questions, I took a digital detour into the world of Christian conspiracy theorists. You know, the types who think the Illuminati runs your local farmer's market and that every pop star is one music video away from summoning Moloch.

It was not a huge leap. After all, if you come from a people who have spent 500 years being colonized by rich white guys with bad intentions, it is not that hard to believe in shadowy world elites. The Christian conspiracy crowd just gave the story a biblical twist—and a lot more paranoia.

The Cult of "Connecting the Dots"

Photo by Thiébaud Faix on Unsplash

Christian conspiracy theorists are like circus ringleaders who swapped a whip for a Bible and a tinfoil hat. They wove tales of a one-world government, a satanic cabal, and secret societies pulling the strings. To a critical thinker, their theories had more holes than an erotic bathhouse. But to a scared, searching soul? It felt like finally finding the missing puzzle pieces.

Their favorite bedtime story? The Book of Enoch. This non-canon text became their proof of demonic DNA experiments, linking ancient myths of Centaurs and Minotaurs to modern genetics labs. (Your 23andMe results may be wilder than you think.) But curiously, they ignored other apocryphal texts like the Nag Hammadi library, labeling them "Satanic fiction." I had questions—and no, "Because the Lord says so" was not cutting it.

Let’s talk about their Grand Unified Theory of Occult Evil. According to them, Aleister Crowley, Helena Blavatsky, and Manly P. Hall were part of the same nefarious team. The problem? The core tenets of these occultists oftentimes disputed or were a fair amount different from one another. It was an armchair diagnosis of the occult from people that never bothered to actually confront it—not unlike how Christianity has generalized all other religions. Their Grand Unified Theory begged the question: why were the supposed "forces of evil" more unified than the hundreds of Christian denominations arguing over the right way to dunk someone in water?

Obama—Duck Dynasty’s Antichrist

One of the conventional Christian church cult’s favorite pastimes was pointing fingers at potential Antichrists. During the Obama years, they were convinced he would usher in the apocalypse. His liberal policies, his Middle Eastern-sounding names—it was enough to make their prophecy alarms blare. But when Donald Trump came along with his own personality cult, suddenly the Antichrist radar malfunctioned. Apparently, a guy with gold-plated toilets could not possibly be working for Satan.

The mental gymnastics were impressive. The vaccine became the "Mark of the Beast" during Biden's administration, but Trump's most fervent fans were hailed as Christian warriors. If you squinted hard enough, it became clear: their eschatology had less to do with biblical prophecy and more to do with personal biases. Perhaps they were biases determined more by complexion than scripture.

Jesus (and I) are tested in the Wilderness

Despite the paranoia, I stuck around. I took Jesus seriously. I prayed, I fasted, I even did the whole "Jesus in the desert" routine. And that's when things got weird—in a good way. Instead of reinforcing their rigid doctrines, my relationship with Christ became deeply mystical. He did not just hand me a checklist of rules. Instead, he nudged me toward the very places the church warned against: the secret societies and occult orders.

After honest time and participation in lodge rituals I had come to find out that spooky did not necessarily mean sinister. Ironically, the orders were oddly biblical. They were enamored with the lore of King Solomon's temple and celestial mysteries. It was like the cool parts of Sunday school, minus the nun’s rulers slapping my knuckle tops.

And while the conspiracy theorists love to claim that the "real secrets" are only revealed at higher levels, I had to wonder—if you are on the outside looking in, how do you know what is really going on? Wikipedia and 4chan does not count as an esoteric initiation, much less a crusading investigation.

Buying into the Occult Without Selling My Soul

Today, I proudly call myself an occultist. Not because I worship demons (sorry to disappoint), but because I value questioning the mysteries rather than bowing blindly to them. If there is one lesson I took from both my time in the conspiracy trenches and my mystical journey, it's this: Any path claiming to be the "one true way" is a red flag.

This kind of thinking is not simply ignorant—it is dangerous. History's bloodiest chapters always start with dehumanizing "the other." And when you believe you have cornered the market on truth, everyone else becomes expendable.

Don't Drink the Kool-Aid (Or the Holy Water)

If you have made it this far, here is my plea: Stay curious. Ask questions. But for the love of whatever divine force you hold sacred, never let anyone tell you they have the monopoly on truth. The world is too big, too strange, and too beautiful to be confined to one dogma.

If a belief system demands absolute allegiance and demonizes everyone else? Run. Fast.

And, if you have ever wondered what the "Illuminati" is really up to, just know they are probably arguing over coffee orders like the rest of Goldman Sachs.

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