This time around we don’t need Ninety-five Theses — we need one.

Martin Luther is traditionally said to have nailed his Ninety-five Theses to the door of All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg, Germany, on October 31, 1517. This event is often considered the starting point of the Protestant Reformation.

But, ask yourself this question: “Is the church or the world more unified as a result?” Last I checked, we were pushing 50,000 Christian denominations worldwide.

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus famously said, “No good tree bears bad fruit, nor does a bad tree bear good fruit.” If the Reformation was intended to rid the tree of its diseases and develop a true, healthy, universal church that heals the world, it has failed by all objective accounts in unifying Christianity.

Why did it fail? I’ll harbor a guess — because it was a reformation of the head, not the heart.

Whenever you start arguing the finer points of dogma, you are occupying headspace. Whenever you have 95 bullet points of anything, you are spending the lion’s share of your time in your head. The only antidote to headstrong Christianity — and the one thesis that can save Christianity — is a return to the heart.

“That sounds way too simplistic!” you say (BTW, that’s your head talking). “What does that even mean, practically?”

I’ll tell you what it means. Modern Christianity has failed to teach us how to shift the gears of consciousness. When was the last Sunday School class, small group meeting, Bible study, or morning service entirely devoted to consciousness? How can we be able to “Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus,” if we can’t even take control of the awareness of the processes of our minds?

Jesus was able to see the world through his heart. The difference between heart-centered Christianity and head-centered Christianity is that one unifies while the other divides. One sees a Samaritan and feels another human in pain and suffering. The other sees someone who thinks differently, dresses differently, who is wholly “other.”

But shifting to the heart center means first identifying your awareness and then being able to move it. Let’s start with the first bit: identification.

Stare at an object for me, maybe your coffee cup or the pillow on the couch. How do you know that isn’t a part of “you?” Because you are able to witness it, as an object of your perception, right? Now, hold your hand out in front of you for a second. How do you know that hand isn’t “you?” Same reason, right? You are able to perceive it. Try one more for me — be still. Wait for a thought or emotion to arise, just witness it rise and fall. How do you know that thought is not “you?” Now you are getting it — because you are able to witness it.

That witness is your consciousness or your soul. You’ve just found the gear shifter.

Now, let’s get out of our head for a second. Pay attention to the weight of your body sitting, the sensation of being in your body. Notice the feeling of your chest rising and falling as you breathe. Feel the coolness of your breath as it enters past the tip of your nose. You are shifting your awareness through the gearbox of consciousness. This will come in handy when practicing our one thesis.

Not all of us have an internal monologue. I do. I find myself making a conscious effort to move into my body and find empathy whenever I hear someone taking a position I deeply disagree with. I’ve found that gardening, 4–7–8 breathing, or going for a walk is a good start. When you sink into your body, pay attention to your thoughts without holding on to them. Do they sound different? Do they go away completely? Play with this for a while and take note.

The way of the heart is the narrow gate mentioned in the book of Matthew (different Matthew, but my namesake!).

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it. “

Heart-centered Christianity is not an abandonment of logic and reason. It is a recognition of the biblical principle of a time for every season mentioned in Ecclesiastes. The season of headstrong Christianity needs to pass. As simple as it sounds — it’s time for one thesis — a return to the heart, living from a place of love, compassion, and empathy for our fellow humans. That’s where restoration begins.