Not Your Grandma's Gospel

I am not your pastor. I am not your grandma’s devotional writer. I am a fancy f*ck up who has tasted wreckage and found grace in the ruins. Addiction recovery, sexual trauma, rebellion — these are not disqualifiers. They are the soil where mercy grows wild.

Here, Reiki and breathwork sit beside prayer and scripture. Here, addiction stories are holy testimonies. Here, broken halos shine brighter than polished crowns. Because grace isn’t reserved for the perfect — it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the ones who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

Confessions

  • Welcome

    This isn’t the safe middle of church pews. It’s the raw cliffside where you wonder if grace will catch you, where faith feels less like certainty and more like a dare. It’s the place where holy words meet messy lives, where the sacred collides with the profane, and where the only thing holding you is love that refuses to let go.

    This is for the ones who feel too messy, too addicted, too “wrong” for religion — yet still crave divine connection. For the ones who’ve been told they don’t belong, but who keep showing up anyway, searching for a higher power that whispers: you are loved, even here.

    Here, we tell the truth: recovery is holy and rebellion is part of the song. Reiki, breathwork, prayer, church pews, and cosmic energy — all of it belongs. Because grace isn’t reserved for the polished; it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the fancy f*ck ups who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

    Welcome to Not Your Grandma’s Gospel.

    Click on a link under the Confessions Tab for more posts

  • Welcome

    This isn’t the safe middle of church pews. It’s the raw cliffside where you wonder if grace will catch you, where faith feels less like certainty and more like a dare. It’s the place where holy words meet messy lives, where the sacred collides with the profane, and where the only thing holding you is love that refuses to let go.

    This is for the ones who feel too messy, too addicted, too “wrong” for religion — yet still crave divine connection. For the ones who’ve been told they don’t belong, but who keep showing up anyway, searching for a higher power that whispers: you are loved, even here.

    Here, we tell the truth: recovery is holy and rebellion is part of the song. Reiki, breathwork, prayer, church pews, and cosmic energy — all of it belongs. Because grace isn’t reserved for the polished; it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the fancy f*ck ups who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

    Welcome to Not Your Grandma’s Gospel.

    Click on a link under the Confessions Tab for more posts

  • Welcome

    This isn’t the safe middle of church pews. It’s the raw cliffside where you wonder if grace will catch you, where faith feels less like certainty and more like a dare. It’s the place where holy words meet messy lives, where the sacred collides with the profane, and where the only thing holding you is love that refuses to let go.

    This is for the ones who feel too messy, too addicted, too “wrong” for religion — yet still crave divine connection. For the ones who’ve been told they don’t belong, but who keep showing up anyway, searching for a higher power that whispers: you are loved, even here.

    Here, we tell the truth: recovery is holy and rebellion is part of the song. Reiki, breathwork, prayer, church pews, and cosmic energy — all of it belongs. Because grace isn’t reserved for the polished; it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the fancy f*ck ups who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

    Welcome to Not Your Grandma’s Gospel.

    Click on a link under the Confessions Tab for more posts

  • Welcome

    This isn’t the safe middle of church pews. It’s the raw cliffside where you wonder if grace will catch you, where faith feels less like certainty and more like a dare. It’s the place where holy words meet messy lives, where the sacred collides with the profane, and where the only thing holding you is love that refuses to let go.

    This is for the ones who feel too messy, too addicted, too “wrong” for religion — yet still crave divine connection. For the ones who’ve been told they don’t belong, but who keep showing up anyway, searching for a higher power that whispers: you are loved, even here.

    Here, we tell the truth: recovery is holy and rebellion is part of the song. Reiki, breathwork, prayer, church pews, and cosmic energy — all of it belongs. Because grace isn’t reserved for the polished; it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the fancy f*ck ups who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

    Welcome to Not Your Grandma’s Gospel.

    Click on a link under the Confessions Tab for more posts

  • Welcome

    This isn’t the safe middle of church pews. It’s the raw cliffside where you wonder if grace will catch you, where faith feels less like certainty and more like a dare. It’s the place where holy words meet messy lives, where the sacred collides with the profane, and where the only thing holding you is love that refuses to let go.

    This is for the ones who feel too messy, too addicted, too “wrong” for religion — yet still crave divine connection. For the ones who’ve been told they don’t belong, but who keep showing up anyway, searching for a higher power that whispers: you are loved, even here.

    Here, we tell the truth: recovery is holy and rebellion is part of the song. Reiki, breathwork, prayer, church pews, and cosmic energy — all of it belongs. Because grace isn’t reserved for the polished; it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the fancy f*ck ups who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

    Welcome to Not Your Grandma’s Gospel.

    Click on a link under the Confessions Tab for more posts

  • Welcome

    This isn’t the safe middle of church pews. It’s the raw cliffside where you wonder if grace will catch you, where faith feels less like certainty and more like a dare. It’s the place where holy words meet messy lives, where the sacred collides with the profane, and where the only thing holding you is love that refuses to let go.

    This is for the ones who feel too messy, too addicted, too “wrong” for religion — yet still crave divine connection. For the ones who’ve been told they don’t belong, but who keep showing up anyway, searching for a higher power that whispers: you are loved, even here.

    Here, we tell the truth: recovery is holy and rebellion is part of the song. Reiki, breathwork, prayer, church pews, and cosmic energy — all of it belongs. Because grace isn’t reserved for the polished; it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the fancy f*ck ups who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

    Welcome to Not Your Grandma’s Gospel.

    Click on a link under the Confessions Tab for more posts

  • Welcome

    This isn’t the safe middle of church pews. It’s the raw cliffside where you wonder if grace will catch you, where faith feels less like certainty and more like a dare. It’s the place where holy words meet messy lives, where the sacred collides with the profane, and where the only thing holding you is love that refuses to let go.

    This is for the ones who feel too messy, too addicted, too “wrong” for religion — yet still crave divine connection. For the ones who’ve been told they don’t belong, but who keep showing up anyway, searching for a higher power that whispers: you are loved, even here.

    Here, we tell the truth: recovery is holy and rebellion is part of the song. Reiki, breathwork, prayer, church pews, and cosmic energy — all of it belongs. Because grace isn’t reserved for the polished; it’s poured out on the wreckage, the outlaws, the fancy f*ck ups who dare to believe love is bigger than shame.

    Welcome to Not Your Grandma’s Gospel.

    Click on a link under the Confessions Tab for more posts

Not Your Grandma's Gospel

Not Your Grandma's Gospel

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