Hmm, that's deep. See, most folks think they've got the Bible nailed—Genesis to Revelation, done. But layers, right? Layers nobody preaches on Sundays. Like, take John one, one—Word was God, became flesh. We say Jesus is divine, but dissect it: He's not just God in a suit, He's the blueprint of creation holding atoms together. Colossians one, seventeen—He's the sustainer. What if quantum physics is Him whispering? Not magic, mystery. Or Revelation nineteen, sixteen—King of Kings. Not just title, but every throne on earth? Temporary. Yours too. That's humbling. And Jesus' silence in the Gospels—when accused, nothing. Isaiah fifty-three, seven—lamb silent. We talk too much defending faith; maybe the quiet wins more hearts. Or how about the Trinity not explained once? It's lived, not lectured. Father, Son, Spirit—dance of love, not diagram. Church argues formulas; God's like, "just feel it." Last one: parables. We moralize 'em—good Samaritan, mercy. But what if they're mirrors? You're the priest who passed by, too busy. Ouch. Stuff like that—raw, undone, waiting for us to shut up and listen.
