What Jesus Taught Me About Who We Are and the Power of our Beliefs

It happened just before midnight, on May 2nd, 2025. I had just fallen asleep when I felt the softest tap on my head. Then, a gentle male voice spoke, saying, “I need to talk to you.” The tapping came again. Three times in total. Somehow, I was awake, yet still asleep — alert, but not in my usual state of consciousness.

When I opened my eyes and looked past my headboard, I saw a tall, radiant male figure dressed in a flowing, light-beige robe with long, loose sleeves. His presence was massive, yet peaceful and kind. I knew instantly — it was Jesus.

He stood slightly bent forward at the waist, facing me. I could almost see through him — his body and clothes had a translucent quality, as though made of light. Cradled in the crook of his left arm were three objects: a cross, a tablet, and a bar of soap. When I looked at him questioningly, he told me what they meant. The cross was to symbolize the crucifixion — the one many of us have seen hanging in churches, homes, and schools. The tablet represented the device or notebook I would be using to record the teachings he was about to give me. And the bar of soap — that one caught me off guard — was a symbol of what we were about to do together: cleanse and wipe clean some of the misunderstandings humanity holds about him.

I was stunned. Jesus — this divine, kind, and massive being — was standing in front of me, talking to me. I immediately told him I wasn’t sure if I was ready to take on this new task. After all, it had taken me decades to receive, understand, and integrate the divine messages I had received for the 15 Message Art paintings. That experience had dramatically and positively changed my life, but it hadn’t been easy.

In his very kind, patient and loving way, Jesus reminded me that the choice would always be mine — if and when I chose to receive his messages, or to write them down and share them. I promised to stay open, remembering how years ago I had lost communication with God for three weeks after first sensing an overwhelming divine presence. This time, I vowed not to shut the door. I would keep trusting that I’d be guided to make the right decision, and in that spirit, I drifted back to sleep.

I didn’t say a word to anyone for several days — not even my husband, whom I usually tell everything to when I receive a message. Fifteen days later, on May 17th, I felt Jesus’s presence growing stronger throughout the morning. By 11:30 a.m., I finally sat at my computer and typed the words: “Here I am, ready and able to write whatever you send me. I will now do my ritual to empty my mind of my own thoughts so yours can come in clearly. It’s been many months since I’ve received any of these types of messages so bear with me if I seem a little rusty in hearing all of your words in one try. Please go ahead when you’re ready.”

That moment began the first of many conversations I’d have with Jesus over the next month, but this one was especially powerful — it centered around a subject I thought I knew: our beliefs about him, about God, and about ourselves.

He began by asking me what I learned growing up about him and his life on Earth. I told him that over 2,000 years ago, God had sacrificed His only Son to save all of us here on Earth from our sins. That Jesus, born to Mary and Joseph, was beaten and crucified at the age of 33 because people didn’t believe who he claimed to be. That the crucifix — a symbol of his suffering — was kept by many as a reminder of the price Jesus paid so we could be forgiven, healed and go to Heaven. I even repeated what I had often been told - that unbaptized babies were doomed to spend eternity in Limbo, a nice place but one where they would never see God.

But as I was sharing this with Jesus, I could feel my old God-fearing beliefs trying to interfere. Doubts and fears bombarded my mind, telling me this couldn’t be real, that I was imagining everything, or worse — being deceived by something dark. It was the same inner programming I had battled for years — the idea that I couldn’t trust my own connection with God.

So, I stepped away to clear my thoughts and made myself a tea. Ten minutes later, I returned, determined to approach this conversation with an open heart — like two best friends having a heart-to-heart over coffee. As I sat down and closed my eyes, I saw Jesus standing before a giant blackboard, erasing what looked like thousands of words. I laughed and thanked him — he was helping me clear out all that mental clutter. Then, I saw him pick up a fresh piece of white chalk, raise it to eye level, and place it on the clean board. He looked at me and nodded, as if to say, “Ready?”

I was. He asked me to reflect on something I believed for most of my life — that God had sent him to die on the cross to cleanse humanity’s sins. I told him yes, that’s what I had been taught, and that I also believed God was somewhere "up there" watching us all, judging us based on our actions or the lack of them. That we were separate from Him – in other words, we were all apart from, rather than, a part of God.

That’s when Jesus explained why he had come to me. He wanted to help clarify these long-held beliefs. Like me — like each and every person — he said he was a part of God. No more, no less. In fact, he explained, there is nothing in existence that is not part of God. All of creation — everything, everyone, everywhere — is one with God. God is the sum of all that is. And since we are all made from the same energy — the energy of Love — we are all equal and inseparable from God.

What separates us from God, he said, are our beliefs. It echoed something I had learned through the Message Art years ago, but hearing it again this way hit deeper. Jesus went on to say that if we are each a part of God, then we are all perfect — just as we are. To say otherwise would be like claiming that some parts of God are imperfect, which is impossible. So then, why would God need to send one part of Itself — named Jesus — to save the rest of Itself? That question stopped me.

He acknowledged that humanity has long taught that Eve’s decision to eat the forbidden fruit cursed all of us with ‘original sin’ — and that centuries later, God sent Jesus to save us. But he said that story, while meaningful to many, is only one perspective — one belief system. He told me that every belief system on tis planet contains a piece of the Truth, but not the whole Truth. That complete awareness of God — full knowing — can only come through personal experience. And that’s when he said something that brought it all together for me: “To truly know God, one must experience God.”

You can read all the books, be repeatedly taught or told all the teachings, even attend all the churches in the world — but until you experience all there is to know about God for yourself, you don’t fully know God. And because we are each part of God, we have all the same qualities as God. The more we experience God, the more we recognize that all God-like qualities, for example, unconditional love, kindness, and compassion, are part of who we are.

He confirmed something I had long suspected: that he himself had reached full awareness many eons ago. He had experienced all there is to know of God. But he reminded me that this was a personal journey that each person, consciously or unconsciously, chooses to embark on — a process of expanding one’s awareness, one level at a time. Each time we learn something new about God, through our own lived experience, our awareness grows about God, who we really are and why we are here. It’s not something we achieve by following someone else’s path — we must walk our own.

Then he brought it home with something I’ve often said myself since working on the Message Art: “There is only one Truth — and that is each our own.”

Because every person is part of God, we are creators, just like God — shaping our lives through our repetitive thoughts and beliefs. The thought we choose, knowingly or not, to repeatedly entertain, are the building blocks that initiate and shape each new experience. Our intentions act as the mortar that holds those thoughts together to form our reality. And because no two people see God the same way, every belief system reflects a unique piece of the divine puzzle.

He asked me to think about my thirteen siblings — how each of us had been raised in the same home, attended the same church, heard the same teachings — and yet not one of us perceived God in the exact same way. If we, as family, couldn’t all agree on who or what God is, how could we ever expect the rest of humanity to share the same beliefs?

That question stayed with me long after our conversation ended. It reminded me that the journey to knowing God — truly knowing God — is as personal and sacred as the journey to knowing ourselves. And in that moment, I realized something profound: this wasn’t just a conversation with Jesus.

It was a remembrance. Of who I truly am. Of who we all are.

Thank you for taking the time to read this article. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the comment section below.