God Isn't Coming. Be The Fire. | The Reckoning Part 13

What if the warmth you’ve been waiting for has been in your hands the whole time? We walk straight into the space that opens after deconstruction. Where the old stories fall away, certainty dissolves, and the ache for meaning gets loud...and offer a way to live sacredly without borrowing belief from somewhere else. No sermons. No rescue myths. Just the honest work of building a life that feels deep, grounded, and real.

We unpack how “rescue theology” quietly trains passivity and why reclaiming agency becomes a sacred act. Drawing on psychology and neuroscience, we explore how awe softens the grip of ego and turns ordinary moments into thresholds: a silent sunrise walk, a song that cracks your chest open, the costly choice to tell the truth when it would be easier not to. From there, we lay out a practical, craft-your-own architecture of meaning; journaling as ritual, movement as prayer, cooking as offering, stillness as sanctuary, and why attention is the most powerful form of modern devotion.

Community doesn’t vanish when belief shifts; it needs rebuilding with care. We name the grief of losing potlucks, shared songs, and automatic belonging, then show how to create resonance through chosen gatherings, intentional meals, and seasonal practices that make time feel textured again. You’ll also get a simple three-step framework: name what you miss, translate it into a secular ritual, and test it for seven days to see if awe and grounding grow. The takeaway is both bracing and kind: no one is coming to save us—and that’s our invitation to become the warmth. If this moved you, subscribe, share with a friend who’s deconstructing, and leave a review to help others find the fire.

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Chapters

• 0:00 Setting The Intention
• 1:04 Naming The Core Thesis
• 2:50 The Void After Belief
• 4:39 The Myth Of Rescue
• 5:53 Sacredness Beyond Belief
• 7:22 Building Sacred Architecture
• 8:41 Burn The Idol, Keep The Flame
• 9:19 The Ache Of Lost Community
• 10:19 Holding The Ache With Maturity
• 11:11 A Three-Step Practice
• 12:15 Final Charge: Be The Fire

Transcript

SPEAKER_00: 0:09

Okay, so I've put off recording this episode for a little while now because it it is a little bit of a heavier episode. And I want to be clear that I'm not bashing religion. I'm not bashing anyone's beliefs. I'm not saying that you're wrong for having beliefs in religion. And I'm not saying that you do not need a superstructure, because everyone does need a superstructure. If you do not believe in God, then you need to believe in something else, something bigger than you. It could be science, it could be simulation theory, it could be whatever it is, as long as it is bigger than yourself. Because if you don't believe in anything and you don't have any superstructure, you will crown yourself a god, subconsciously or consciously. So, with that in mind, let's get into this. Episode 13 of 19. God isn't coming to be the fire. For those who've deconstructed belief but still crave sacredness. How to live sacredly without a structure. We don't need a savior. We need to become the warmth. We stopped waiting for the sign, for the rescue, for the divine reassurance that never came. And yet, something inside still wants. Not belief, not rules, just meaning, depth, sacredness. We don't want a God, we want a flame we can trust. We were taught to look up, to wait, to obey. But what if sacredness was never up there? What if it's always been within reach, only no one ever taught us how to hold it? What if the gods never abandoned us? What if we abandoned ourselves, outsourced our own fire, and called it faith? We weren't wrong to leave the system, but leaving didn't give us peace. We are not broken, we are exposed. And now it's up to us. Not to rebuild belief, but to become the thing we were waiting for. God isn't coming, so we become the fire. Section one, the void after belief. Deconstruction brings clarity, but not comfort. We tore down the scaffolding of doctrine. We stopped repeating stories that never fit. And in the silence after, a void. Some of us fell into nihilism, others into performative atheism, mocking those who still believe, as if cynicism is proof of strength. But the ache that remains, the longing for sacredness, isn't weakness. It is evolution. We've grown past hand-me-down holiness, and yet we still crave wonder, belonging, and reverence. Psychologists call this terror management. Humans cope with the reality of death by creating stories of meaning, immortality, divine plans. Strip away those stories, and the raw truth of morality is unbearable. Unless we build something else. We didn't deconstruct because we hated meaning. We deconstructed because we wanted meaning that wasn't a lie. Deconstruction is clarity, but it doesn't erase the ache for sacredness. Section two: the lie of God will save us. Most of us inherited rescue theology, the divine plan, the idea that if we were faithful, obedient, good enough, something or someone would swoop in and make it right. That's not hope. That is spiritual outsourcing. It trains people into passivity, into waiting instead of moving, into praying instead of acting. The myth of cosmic fairness is ego's bedtime story. It says, stay still, someone else is driving. But real sacredness begins when we stop waiting for permission or rescue. When we realize no one is steering, and yet we still choose to steer. Rescue theology isn't sacredness, it is outsourcing responsibility. Section three, what sacredness looks like post-belief. Sacredness doesn't vanish when belief does. It just changes form. It lives in presence, not performance. In ritual, not religion. In awe, not answers. Neuroscience shows awe, slows down the brain's default mode network. This is the part of the brain tied to self-narration and ego chatter. In awe, we stop obsessing about me and remember we're part of something vast. Sacredness is a silent walk at sunrise. It's goosebumps at music that cracks our chest open. It is the weight of telling the truth when lying would cost less. It's holding integrity when no one is watching. Sacredness is the ordinary, treated like it matters. Sacredness isn't in belief, it is in the awe that interrupts ego. Section four, creating our own sacred architecture. If the temple crumbles, we don't just sit in the rubble. We build new altars. Journaling becomes ritual. Movement becomes prayer. Cooking becomes offering. Stillness becomes sanctuary. We define values that cost us something, not just words that flatter us. We treat attention like prayer. Whatever we focus on, we make sacred. And our community, it is chosen, not inherited. We don't need hierarchy, we need resonance. Your altar is your attention. Your prayer is your action. Section five. One keeps us alive, the other keeps us trapped. So we burn the idol and we keep the flame. The divine was never up there. It's down here in our choices, our grief, and our courage. Burn the idol, keep the flame. Section six, the ache of lost community. Leaving faith isn't just leaving belief. It's leaving belonging. We didn't just lose God. We lost potlucks, shared songs, familiar rituals, people to call when we moved apartments or houses. That ache is real. And it doesn't mean we made a mistake. It means community matters. And now we build it intentionally. Not inherited, not forced, but chosen. The sacred isn't in the crowd. It's in the quality of who gathers. We didn't just lose belief. We lost belonging. The sacred task is to rebuild both. Section seven. What to say to the ache that still remains? We can admit it. Yes, we miss the certainty. Yes, we miss the comfort of believing someone's in control. But we'd rather live in holy uncertainty than run back to illusion just to sleep at night. Maturity is paradox, grief and grace, absence and awe. The ache doesn't mean we failed. It means we are alive. Maturity is grieving the loss of certainty without running back to the illusion. Section eight. Let's get into some practice, building sacredness without structure. Try this three-step practice. Number one, name what you miss. Is it ritual? Music? Community? The sense of order? Write whatever it is down. Number two, translate it. Create a secular version. Light a candle before journaling. Host a meal with intention. Walk in silence as prayer. Number three, test it. Practice it for seven days. Notice if awe, grounding, or belonging grows. Adjust until it feels real. Sacredness isn't given. It's crafted. Sacredness isn't inherited. It is built. Final words. You are the flame. We don't need gods. We need truth that warms. We need to become the ones who show up when everyone else is still praying for rescue. So let's be the fire, even when it burns. God isn't coming. Be the fire.