By a Positive Inner-G Coach Who Sees Through the Smoke
Intro: When Ancient Texts Mirror Modern Beef
It started with a question about Jesus, but ended up spiraling into something much deeper. Why was he crucified for claiming to be the Son of God? Why was his mother Mary spared from public shame and punishment? And why, centuries later, does it remind me of rappers like Lil Flip and T.I. battling for the throne of the South?
Because the truth is—the system never likes when someone claims power without permission.
Whether you’re reading the Bible or watching the BET Awards, one thing stays the same: the crown doesn’t just come with glory. It comes with blood, betrayal, and politics. And if you’re bold enough to say, “I am the one,” you better be ready for the cross they build just for you.
The Cost of the Crown
Jesus didn’t just perform miracles. He declared himself King of the Jews. That one statement turned him from healer to political threat. To the Romans, it sounded like a rebellion. To the religious leaders, it sounded like blasphemy. But really? It was just a man saying: “I know who I am.”
Now let’s bring it to the South. Early 2000s. Two rappers—Lil Flip and T.I.—both proclaiming the same title: King of the South. But there can’t be two kings. The culture doesn’t allow it. So what happened? The battles began. Words were weapons. Credibility was currency. And slowly but surely, the industry chose.
T.I. survived. Flip faded. And we still don’t talk enough about how it wasn’t just about bars. It was about power. It always is.
Set and Heru: Southern Thrones Reimagined
If you’ve been walking this spiritual path, you already know—there’s nothing new under the sun, just new players in ancient roles. The T.I. and Lil Flip saga? It mirrors the mythic battle between Set and Heru.
T.I. as Set—the polished, poised, strategic force who leverages the system to hold onto power. Like Set, he didn’t just want the throne—he wanted the kingdom restructured around his rule. He’s the one who becomes politically palatable, industry-aligned, and always ready to narrate his version of history.
Lil Flip as Heru—the raw, freestyling challenger, born with the divine right but forced to fight for it. Flip didn’t come from institutions—he came from the soil. His rise was about spirit, not structure. He was the grassroots, the community’s king, holding his own against an empire.
And just like in the myth of Heru, his story doesn’t end with the battle. It evolves. It becomes legend. Because sometimes the one who appears to lose actually wins the legacy.
This is why this blog is being posted in alignment with the Full Moon in Scorpio on Sunday, May 12, 2025—a time ruled by rebirth, spiritual warriorship, divine justice, and truth rising from the ashes. Under this moon, we don’t just read stories—we reclaim our roles in them.
Let this full moon remind you: We are not just living through history—we’re living through myth. And your throne? It’s still waiting on you.
The Woman Behind the Throne
Let’s talk about Mary. If she wasn’t legally married to Joseph, her story could’ve ended before it began. A woman pregnant outside of wedlock? Back then, that meant death. But Joseph covered her. Legitimized her. Protected her.
Fast-forward to now: How many women only get grace if they’re covered by a man, a marriage, or a mainstream brand? Women are still being crucified for stepping outside the bounds of what’s “respectable.” Think about Megan Thee Stallion, whose talent and trauma became tabloid fodder. Protected when convenient, but thrown to the wolves when not.
Mary was spared. But was she free?
Modern-Day Crucifixions
The cross ain’t always made of wood. Sometimes it’s headlines, hashtags, or diss tracks.
Cancel culture is today’s crucifixion. Public opinion is today’s mob. One minute you’re the hero, the next you’re the heretic.
Jesus had a crowd shouting “Hosanna” on Sunday and “Crucify him” by Friday. Sound familiar?
We’ve watched artists like Lauryn Hill, Kanye West, and even Prince go through their own public trials. The minute they said something too raw, too real, or too revolutionary, the system turned on them.
You can be famous. But don’t be free.
Resurrection or Rebranding?
Not everyone stays down. Some come back with a new name, a new sound, or a new following.
T.I. became an actor, businessman, podcast host. Kanye tried to become a literal god in his own right. Jesus—well, depending on who you ask—rose three days later and changed the world.
But here’s the real question: Is it a resurrection if the system benefits from your return? Or is it just a rebrand with divine marketing?
True resurrection happens when you rise for yourself, not for their applause.
Affirmation:
I am not here to be crowned. I am here to remember I was born royal.
Reclaiming the Throne Within
This ain’t about Jesus or T.I. or Mary or Flip. This is about you.
Every time you silence yourself out of fear… that’s crucifixion. Every time you wait for someone else to validate your worth… that’s crucifixion.
But every time you reclaim your voice, every time you speak your truth, every time you wear your crown without apology? That’s resurrection. That’s revolution.
This coming full moon, as light illuminates even the darkest corners, ask yourself: What power have I left buried because I feared the battle that comes with reclaiming it?
You are the temple. You are the throne. You are the truth they tried to nail down.
Asé.
Journal Prompt:
What part of me have I allowed others to crucify in fear of claiming my power?
Affirmation:
I am not here to be crowned. I am here to remember I was born royal.
Quote Me:
Every crucifixion ain’t the end—sometimes it’s just the system confirming your power.
Something Nubian 
Leave a comment