Once upon a time—before the watchdogs of morality tightened their grip—this site was a canvas for artistic freedom, where illustrations and videos featuring Mrs. Wisti celebrated the human form without apology. But as history has shown, whenever power and piety shake hands, creativity is often the first casualty. New laws, veiled in righteousness, now dictate what can and cannot be expressed, reminding us that censorship rarely arrives with a whisper—it marches in with a sermon.
We have never been ones to tiptoe around our passions, nor do we dilute the sacred nature of indulgence to fit into polite conversation. What others call taboo, we recognize as a fundamental part of the human experience—one that has been honored in temples long before pulpits turned desire into sin.
But let’s not kid ourselves—manipulative religious leaders have been playing this game for centuries. We’ve seen the sleight of hand, the smoke and mirrors, the collection plates passed with one hand while the other keeps people in fear. I’m what you might call a critical free thinker—someone who prefers evidence over dogma, questions over unquestioning faith, and truth over fairy tales wrapped in gold-plated virtue.
So, if you’ve ever found yourself questioning the script handed down to you, wondering what’s behind the curtain of tradition, or suspecting that there’s more to the story than what the pulpit preaches—then welcome. You’re in the right place.
For those wondering, Minister AJ Wisti is responsible for the majority of the work on this platform, including writing articles and blog posts, creating illustrations and videos, photography, and working with AI, Bootstrap 5, HTML5, and CSS3. AJ Wisti also handles software troubleshooting and installation on his workstations. Meanwhile, Tina Wisti plays a supportive background role and serves as the inspiration behind the parables of Mysti and Brutus in the blog section.
We’re not here to save your soul, sell you a doctrine, or hand you a rulebook disguised as divine wisdom. We’re just two wanderers on this spiritual highway, dodging potholes of dogma and roadside attractions of blind faith. Don’t follow us—we’re not prophets, and we’re definitely not role models. Instead, follow your conscience, question everything, and have the guts to seek the truth—wherever it leads, even if it upsets the ones selling tickets to the afterlife.
Once wanderers without a home, marked by diagnoses that the world sees as limitations—but we see as invitations to think beyond the neat little boxes of religion and medical science. We’ve dabbled, indulged, and explored the edges of what makes life worth living, all while questioning what’s real, what’s illusion, and what’s just a well-packaged sales pitch.
And unlike the gilded pulpits of the megachurch empire, we do not pass a plate, nor do we seek the gilded handshake of tax-exempt status. We fund our own efforts—not through prosperity gospel theatrics or endless tithing appeals, but on a fixed income, by choice. Why? Because influence comes with a price, and tax exemption is just another leash, one that invites political entities to tighten the collar when the message drifts too far from the approved script. We’d rather remain untamed, unbought, and unburdened by the expectations of those who see faith as a business model.
We’ve explored sexual expression—through attire, behavior, and unapologetic self-discovery—as a way of celebrating the divine within us. This journey has led to some rewarding and eye-opening experiences, shattering taboos and revealing truths that too many are conditioned to fear. We have no qualms about sharing what we’ve learned, and we refuse to apologize for embracing the human experience in its fullest form.
However, with the growing grip of Conservative Christian and political influence—particularly in Nebraska, where we live and built this platform—new restrictions on "Adult Content" have forced a shift in how we present our message. This isn’t about submission, compliance, or bowing to the boot of authoritarian moral policing. It’s about strategy. We choose to reach a wider audience without inviting the silencing hand of censorship, ensuring that our message of spiritual exploration and personal freedom continues to spread.
The divine isn’t found in repression. It isn’t in the forced modesty of fabric or the hushed whispers of desire tucked away in the shadows. It’s in knowing yourself fully, embracing your truth, and walking a path unshackled by the fears of those who tremble at the idea of true freedom.
We’ve explored psychedelics as a way of looking inward, as tools to break free from the mold and peer into the heart of our being. We've opened our marriage to concepts that would make a preacher blush and perhaps a stand-up comic raise an eyebrow. And in doing so, we've taken a page from the ancient pagans and the 1960s hippie culture, blending those lessons with our own journey—and the results have been far more revealing than any cookie-cutter belief system could ever be.
Billy Graham, with his fireside sermons and unwavering faith, spoke often of the importance of personal conviction—of seeking truth in the quiet moments, beyond the noise of the crowd. Yet, even he would’ve been the first to remind us not to follow blindly, even in the name of faith. After all, true belief is forged in the fires of personal discovery, not handed down from some pulpit, no matter how grand.
On the flip side, George Carlin would have had a field day with the way religion, politics, and culture demand conformity. “It’s all one big show, folks,” he’d say, pulling back the curtain on the system that expects you to fall in line. But in between the laughs, there’s a bitter truth he often shared—people are conditioned to accept what they’re told, without ever questioning whether it’s truly right for them. And isn’t that what religion is often about? Sitting in a pew, listening to someone else tell you what you should believe, what you should feel, who you should love?
Both men—coming from vastly different perspectives—shared one undeniable piece of wisdom: Don’t follow the crowd. Whether you’re sitting in a church, a political rally, or even a rock concert, the crowd is just that—a mass of people who have forgotten to think for themselves. Critical thinking—true critical thinking—is about stripping away the assumptions, the biases, the rules that others have imposed on you, and asking the hard questions: Is this *my* truth? Is this *my* path?
This ministry isn’t about following anyone’s doctrine, it’s about peeling back the layers, exploring the unknown, and daring to ask the questions others won’t. In a world that screams at you to conform, we invite you to do just the opposite—to think for yourself, to feel for yourself, and to walk your own path, wherever it leads.
Our journey isn’t mapped, our destination isn’t fixed, and our ministry? Well, that depends—on where curiosity, experience, and a touch of rebellion take us next. One thing is certain, though: we will answer to no one but the path we choose to walk.
It began, as these things often do, in the dim glow of a Pentecostal sanctuary—where Aaron sat in the back row, heart open, mind unsuspecting. A calling, they said. A divine purpose, they assured him. But faith, when dissected, often reveals a history written not by saints, but by men wielding fear and steel. The Crusades? A Catholic affair? Oh, how naïve. Religious conquest isn’t bound to one denomination—it’s a global enterprise, where salvation is peddled like snake oil, and power is the real prize.
And then there was Carlin—the jester, the heretic, the unfiltered prophet who pulled back the curtain and exposed the absurdity beneath. Yet even he, amid all the smoke and mirrors of organized belief, left space for the great question: Could there still be something? A whisper in the void? A force just beyond the veil, watching, waiting?
We have wandered where many fear to tread—through the perfumed illusions of New Age mysticism, the shadowed halls of the occult, and mirrors that don’t always reflect what you expect. Would we recommend it? Ah… that’s the real question, isn’t it? You don’t waltz through the corridors of the unknown without consequence. Some doors, once opened, refuse to be closed. Some knowledge, once grasped, lingers like an old specter whispering in the dark. If you must seek, then seek with caution, wisdom, and an understanding that not all who wander find their way back.
We've explored psychedelics—not as cheap thrills, but as tools for peeling back reality’s layers, searching for something beyond the mundane. We’ve redefined love and connection in ways that would make a preacher clutch his pearls—not out of rebellion, but to understand the human experience beyond the suffocating grip of tradition.
We take inspiration from both the ancient pagans and the counterculture rebels who refused to let puritans define morality. The Celts honored Beltane with firelight and bare skin, embracing desire as sacred rather than sinful. The Norse revered Freyja, a goddess who understood that love, pleasure, and passion were not to be feared but celebrated. Fast-forward to the 1960s, and these ancient echoes found new life in the hippie movement—a rejection of puritanical shame, a return to something raw, real, and untamed. At Woodstock, thousands gathered in a muddy field not just for music, but for a fleeting moment of radical honesty—a society without pretense, where joy was not a transaction.
We’ve carried these lessons into our marriage, and the results? Let’s just say we’ve learned more about love, trust, and human nature than any sermon ever taught us. Do we still hold these beliefs? Engage us in a respectful conversation and find out.
We won’t apologize for defending adult entertainment or indulgence—both are woven into the fabric of human experience. Before you clutch your pearls, consider this: Who would you trust to run a ministry? The buttoned-up conservative, spouting piety while hiring escorts and preying on children behind closed doors? Or someone who hides nothing, owns their past, and keeps their reputation—and their hands—clean?
I know who I trust. I’m not shy about it. Too many so-called leaders wear righteousness like a cheap costume, thinking they can fool those of us who see beyond the act. My wife? Just as perceptive, just as unafraid to call it out.
One last thing—we run an adult-only ministry outreach. If you came here expecting us to water it down for younger audiences, you’re out of luck. We’re not here to be inflammatory; we’re here to speak to Gen X and Boomers—those of us raised on Archie Bunker and Saturday Night Live, where sharp wit and biting commentary weren’t censored to spare delicate feelings.
Welcome to the greatest improv act of all time, where the doctrines are made up and the rules don’t matter. Much like an episode of Whose Line Is It Anyway?, religious dogma is a game where the only consistency is inconsistency, and every denomination rewrites the script to fit their audience. What’s a sin in one faith is a virtue in another. What’s sacred today was heresy yesterday. And the grandest punchline? Every sect believes they hold the one absolute truth, despite the thousands of variations that have been rewritten, rebranded, and repackaged throughout history.
If you’re still reading, then maybe—just maybe—you’re one of us. Someone who questions. Someone who refuses to be played. If so, welcome. You’re exactly where you need to be.
Rites, Rituals, and the Hidden Divine: Throughout history, organized religious institutions have often relied on rites and rituals as tools of control, obscuring the true message of faith in favor of power and influence. The Roman Catholic Church, for example, developed elaborate ceremonial practices that centered more on the outward display of piety than on the inward transformation Jesus called for. The emphasis on the Eucharist, indulgences, and pilgrimages became vehicles for maintaining authority, creating a separation between the clergy and the laity, with only the priests believed to have access to the 'divine.' This was exemplified by figures like Pope Leo X, who used the sale of indulgences to fund grandiose projects like St. Peter's Basilica, turning salvation into a commodity..
Similarly, the Irish Catholic Church, deeply intertwined with the nation's identity, became a powerful force of both religious and political control. The Church’s influence in Irish society was often marked by a facade of holiness, masking the suffering of the people under the weight of its dominance. Figures like Cardinal John Henry Newman, while influential in theological circles, also contributed to reinforcing this status quo, with the Church's narrative often stifling questioning or introspection..
In modern times, the rise of the Word of Faith Movement and the Prosperity Gospel has introduced a more insidious form of manipulation. Leaders like Kenneth Copeland, Joel Osteen, and Creflo Dollar have used charismatic rhetoric and promises of health, wealth, and success to attract followers. These teachings often focus on material wealth as a sign of divine favor, twisting the teachings of Jesus to align with worldly desires. The smoke and mirrors of their ministries—lavish lifestyles, grandiose buildings, and promises of miraculous financial gains—are designed to conceal the truth of Jesus' ministry, which was about self-sacrifice, humility, and spiritual growth, not material abundance..
These movements, while appealing to those seeking hope or financial security, often obscure the deeper message of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection—His willingness to die for the sins of humanity as a path to salvation, not prosperity in this life. In all of these cases, the focus is diverted from the true cost of discipleship—the death of the ego, the denial of worldly attachments, and the call to serve others selflessly.
Some faiths whisper of sacred unions, of energies entwined in passion and purpose—a force harnessed in the flickering candlelight of rites too taboo for polite conversation. Others, with solemn voices and gilded robes, place a wafer on your tongue, offer you a sip of grape juice barely enough to wet your lips, and declare it the flesh and blood of a long-departed savior. A ritual? Certainly. A mystery? Perhaps. But true understanding of the Divine? Minister Aaron J. Wisti sees these as but veils—thin, tattered, yet strangely effective at keeping seekers from glimpsing the deeper truths of creation.
Long before wafers and whispered amens, the ancients understood the dance of the cosmos. The Celts spoke of the Great Mother and her consort, the Horned God, whose union breathed life into the land. The Germanic and Norse sagas wove tales of Freyja, mistress of both war and pleasure, and Odin, the wanderer who sacrificed himself to himself in search of wisdom. The Scots honored Cailleach, the dark goddess of winter, who shaped mountains with her hands, while the Finns told of Ukko, the sky god whose thunderous passion brought the rains.
The Native American tribes saw balance in the marriage of Sky Father and Earth Mother, forces inseparable yet ever-changing. The Jewish mystical traditions spoke of the Shekhinah, the feminine presence of the Divine, lost and yearning to reunite with the transcendent Yahweh. Across cultures, across centuries, the pattern remains—creation is not the act of a lone god on a throne, but a dance, a merging, a sacred balance of energies both masculine and feminine.
So why, then, does modern faith so often demand that one side be exalted while the other is buried beneath shame, denial, or allegory? Why is divine union either feared or reduced to a sip of wine and a stale cracker? This ministry is not here to tell you what to believe. It is here to explore, to question, and to pull back the veil on the truths hidden behind centuries of smokescreens. The Divine is not found in ritual alone, but in understanding, in experience, and in daring to seek beyond the borders of tradition. The real question is—are you ready to look?