Christian Empire: The Original Blueprint for Global Supremacy
A Journey Through Faith, Power, and Liberation: Unveiling the Cycles of Christianity's Transformation
Imagine this:
A new faith, born from the teachings of a Jewish man in occupied Palestine, grows from a movement of the marginalized into the dominant religion of the Roman Empire. What once offered liberation for the oppressed becomes a pillar of imperial conquest. In aligning itself with power, Christianity shifts from a force of justice to a tool of domination—a transformation that echoes through centuries and still shapes the systems we navigate today.
This is the story of how Christianity, born in humility and resistance, became the foundation for global supremacy.
Christianity Meets Rome
It is the year 30 CE (Common Era). This system of dating—CE (Common Era) and BCE (Before Common Era)—is an alternative to the Christian-centric labels of AD (Anno Domini, Latin for “in the year of our Lord”) and BC (Before Christ). CE and BCE are identical to AD and BC numerically but are used to create a more inclusive framework that does not center Christianity as the universal marker of time.
While this terminology is a step toward decolonizing time, the structure itself remains tied to the Gregorian calendar introduced by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582, which still uses the life of Jesus Christ as its anchor. This means the Gregorian calendar and the terms CE and BCE continue to reflect the colonial influence of Christianity’s dominance over global systems of timekeeping.
A Faith Takes Root
Now, back to 30 CE. It is the year 30 CE, and the Roman Empire dominates vast territories, shaping the lives of millions through military conquest and cultural assimilation. In the province of Judea, Jesus of Nazareth preaches a radical message: love your neighbor, care for the poor, and resist systems of oppression. His teachings resonate with those crushed under Roman rule but threaten those in authority. By 33 CE, Jesus is crucified, and his followers scatter.
Yet his teachings do not die. By the end of the first century, small Christian communities flourish across the empire. These early Christians gather in secret, their faith practiced as an act of resistance to Roman imperialism. For these communities, Christianity is a lifeline—a vision of justice and care for the marginalized.
Visualize this:
Rome, 64 CE: Persecution is rampant. Christians gather in secret, fearing discovery. Stories of Jesus’s life are shared orally, offering hope and solidarity in the face of oppression.
Ephesus, 90 CE: A small Christian group meets in the home of a woman leader. She reads from a letter of encouragement sent by Paul, fostering connection among believers spread across the empire.
Walking the Ancient World: My Journey to Ephesus
Centuries later, I found myself in Ephesus, walking the same streets where one of the earliest Christian communities thrived. The stories of the Bible—once abstract words on a page—suddenly became vivid and alive.
Standing on ancient cobblestones, I felt the weight of history. I traced my fingers over carvings on hidden trails, marveling at how these remnants had survived. Here, Christianity wasn’t doctrine or myth—it was a lived reality shaped by resilience and resistance.
One verse from Revelation came alive to me in a way it never had before:
"I know your works, that you are neither cold nor hot. I could wish you were cold or hot. So then, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth." (Revelation 3:15-16)
For years, this passage had puzzled me, but standing in Ephesus, it clicked. The reference wasn’t abstract—it was physical, grounded in the land itself. Hot springs and cold springs were both useful: the hot for healing and relaxation, the cold for drinking and refreshment. But the water carried through aqueducts would arrive lukewarm, neither hot enough to heal nor cold enough to quench thirst. It was a profound metaphor for purpose and utility, one rooted in the lived experience of the Ephesians.
The metaphor wasn’t abstract; it was grounded in the lived experience of the Ephesians.
This moment struck me deeply. I realized how much interpretation shapes our understanding of scripture. What was once divine to me became historical and human—stories shaped by their time and culture. Yet this awareness didn’t diminish their meaning; it expanded it. Who is to say what is “God-breathed”? If all of us are divine beings shaped by lived experience, then interpretation can both inspire and mislead.
This realization humbled me. Scripture, I saw, is rooted in human experience. But interpretation is shaped by those in power. And when wielded by ego, it can become dangerous.
The Age of Pisces and the Monopoly on Time
What Is an Astrological Age?
Astrological ages span approximately 2,160 years, determined by the earth’s precession as it moves backward through the zodiac. These ages, recorded over millennia, reflect collective shifts in humanity’s consciousness and priorities.
The Age of Pisces, which began roughly around the birth of Jesus, is marked by themes of faith, sacrifice, and transcendence. Pisces’ duality—two fish swimming in opposite directions—embodies both the spiritual ideals of the age and its shadow.
The Light of Pisces: Humility, faith, and collective care.
The Shadow of Pisces: Illusion, martyrdom, and exclusivity.
The rise of Christianity is emblematic of the Age of Pisces, its teachings of love and sacrifice aligning with the era’s higher ideals. But as Christianity gained power, its shadow emerged: a claim to exclusivity that dismissed other spiritual traditions as false.
The Christianization of Time
In claiming a monopoly on faith, Christianity also claimed a monopoly on time itself. The Gregorian calendar, introduced by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582, reframed history around the life of Jesus. The world was divided into “Before Christ” (BC) and “Anno Domini” (AD, “In the Year of Our Lord”), erasing diverse ways of marking time.
Visualize this:
China, 1582: A civilization with its own lunar calendar encounters European missionaries who insist that the Gregorian calendar is the only true measure of time.
Mesoamerica, 16th century: Spanish colonizers destroy Indigenous codices, erasing complex calendrical systems that had guided communities for centuries.
In doing so, Christianity positioned itself as the center of history. Entire civilizations were forced to adopt this framework, tying time itself to Christian supremacy.
Time as a Tool of Empire
This reframing of time wasn’t just about measurement—it was about control. By defining history through a Christian lens, colonizers reinforced their authority over colonized peoples. To erase someone’s calendar is to erase their worldview, their autonomy, their sense of self.
From my article on the monopoly on time:
"Colonial powers used time as a weapon, dismissing Indigenous ways of knowing as primitive and forcing entire cultures into a Gregorian framework. To lose control of your calendar is to lose control of your destiny."
The Turning Point: Constantine’s Conversion and the Birth of Religious Supremacy
By the year 312 CE, Christianity had begun to spread, but it remained a persecuted faith. This changed dramatically when Emperor Constantine, on the eve of the Battle of the Milvian Bridge, claimed to see a vision: a cross in the sky accompanied by the words, “In this sign, conquer.”
Constantine won the battle, and with the planting of the cross in the sacred soil, the Christian empire that we know today was born. The Roman Emperor credited his victory to the Christian God, and soon issued the Edict of Milan (313 CE),
The Edict of Milan: Hope and Risk
For early Christians, this was monumental. After centuries of persecution, they could now worship openly without fear of death. Imagine the hopefulness this must have brought—an empire that once sought to destroy them now offered protection.
But power given can also be power wielded. By making Christianity legal, Constantine transformed it from a persecuted faith into an institutionalized one. As with anything that goes mainstream, those in power now had access to shape it for their purposes.
Visualize this:
Rome, 315 CE: Christians celebrate their newfound freedom, building churches and gathering openly for worship. But behind the scenes, Constantine aligns the faith with imperial power, knowing it can unify his fracturing empire.
And here is the paradox: the same system of power that once persecuted Christians now used their faith as a tool of control. The last thing those in power would do is teach their followers how to overthrow them.
For those who may enjoy, I gave the dates to my very good friend and goddess mommy of my son Leah Tioxon, witch and astrologer extraordinaire, and she provided me with a birth chart of Christianity. When anything comes together in agreement and is “born,” it creates its own chart.
The Council of Nicaea and the Patriarchy of Faith
By 325 CE, Constantine convened the Council of Nicaea to establish a unified Christian doctrine. Bishops from across the empire gathered to standardize beliefs and practices. The Nicene Creed, still recited in Catholic churches today, emerged from this council.
But this moment, too, marked a shift. Christianity, once diverse and decentralized, became hierarchical and patriarchal.
The Exclusion of Women
In the early Christian movement, women often led house churches and played key roles as teachers and organizers. By the time of Nicaea, however, patriarchy had taken hold. Only male bishops participated in the council, solidifying the exclusion of women from leadership.
The Consolidation of Power
The Council of Nicaea was not just about theology—it was about control. By centralizing doctrine, the Church gained the power to decide who was “in” and who was “out.” This set the stage for centuries of exclusion and persecution, from the labeling of heretics to the suppression of Indigenous spiritualities.
Visualize this:
325 CE, Nicaea: Rows of male bishops debate theology in an imperial hall. Outside, soldiers guard the council, signaling the Church’s alignment with state power. The voices of women, integral to the early church, are absent.
A Collective Agreement That Demands Confrontation
I want to invite you to take a moment and read the Nicene Creed. These words, spoken by bishops centuries ago, have been recited for nearly 1,700 years.
I recited this creed too many times to recall in my youth, well into my adulthood, and yet I didn’t know that a place called Nicaea existed. I didn’t know what “creed” meant, and I surely had no clue of its origins. It was just words—words I repeated without question.
When I began my journey of deconstructing religion as an oppressive tool, I discovered that the Roman Catholic Church had been formed in partnership with the Roman Catholic ARMY—a system born from empire, not grassroots spirituality. I was so shocked.
One line in the Nicene Creed struck me with particular force:
"I believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church."
This line encapsulates the centralization of power, the exclusion of diversity, and the foundation of othering. To declare one Church as the sole truth is to declare every other spiritual path as false. This is how indoctrination begins, and it is from this foundation that supremacy is built.
The fact that this creed has been spoken for nearly two millennia makes it not just a theological statement but a collective agreement that we must confront. These words, repeated generation after generation, carry a power that shapes belief and erases alternatives. They show us how deeply embedded systems of oppression become when they are woven into the very fabric of our collective memory.
The Nicene Creed
I believe in one God,
the Father almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all things visible and invisible.
I believe in one Lord Jesus Christ,
the Only Begotten Son of God,
born of the Father before all ages.
God from God, Light from Light,
true God from true God,
begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father;
through him all things were made.
For us men and for our salvation
he came down from heaven,
and by the Holy Spirit was incarnate of the Virgin Mary,
and became man.
For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate,
he suffered death and was buried,
and rose again on the third day
in accordance with the Scriptures.
He ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again in glory
to judge the living and the dead
and his kingdom will have no end.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the Father and the Son,
who with the Father and the Son is adored and glorified,
who has spoken through the prophets.
I believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.
I confess one Baptism for the forgiveness of sins
and I look forward to the resurrection of the dead
and the life of the world to come. Amen.
Defining the ‘Other’
From Liberation to Supremacy
As Christianity gained power, it began to define itself in opposition to other religions and spiritual traditions. What had once been a faith deeply rooted in its Jewish origins became a hierarchical institution that sought to consolidate its dominance by othering.