Many Christians dismiss New Age practices as unbiblical. But when I look at the crucifixion of Christ, I see something that actually connects with the same spiritual framework these practices draw from.

Just as there are rules in the physical world, there are rules in the spiritual realm. God encoded the universe with a kind of intelligence, and humans—created in His image—were given the capacity to discern those rules. To show His own integrity, God chose to work within the system He created. Through the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, He canceled the karmic debts that humanity carried.

Ironically, many Christians balk at anything that feels New Age-y, while seeming unaware of the deep pagan roots of rituals they practice themselves—like feasting on the body and blood of Christ. In my view, the path of Christ turns older practices on their head, offering salvation and freedom from suffering without the burden of endless spiritual striving. Yet in that very reversal, it remains connected to the deeper spiritual principles behind those practices. This is because God is the source of faithfulness and integrity—even toward the very systems of life He created. He does not break the Laws, but throughout the ages has found ways to help His beloved humans while still honoring them.

So when I read the New Testament, I see room to engage with practices often shunned as “New Age.” I also suspect that subconscious American isolationism (which sometimes veers towards xenophobia)

plays a role in projecting rejection onto the text. In this essay, I’ll focus on two modalities I went deeply into before coming to Christ—astrology and sacred sexuality—and how I now understand them in light of the cross.

Astrology

Astrology is a fascinating discipline, and my own journey with it started in skepticism. With a scientific education, I dismissed astrology as irrational. But eventually I realized the flaws in the so-called scientific arguments I had relied on, and that opened me to study the subject more seriously.

At its core, astrology is a correlational discipline. Over centuries, people observed how the placement of planets corresponded to events unfolding in individual lives, in relationships, and across societies. Because the movement of the planets can be predicted, those correlations became a framework for anticipating what kinds of challenges might emerge in human life. But as humans shifted from spaciously introspective sky-gazing to running inside industrial-strength hamster wheels of productivity, it became easier to dismiss these correlations. Perhaps, even necessary to dismiss in order to maintain the delusions of productivity.

Astrology has three main components.

1. Birth chart: A snapshot of the sky at the moment you were born. If read properly, it can reveal behavioral tendencies that emerge for you under different circumstances.
2. Transits: Describe the current positions of the planets and the archetypical challenges they bring, both in absolute terms for society and individually for you in relation to your birth chart.
3. Remedies: upāya in Jyotish or talismans in Hellenistic, which involves practices meant to reduce the impact of planetary influences on your life in the present

This raises an important question: is astrology purely correlational, or is it causal?

Remedies suggest causality, since many involve appeasing planetary spirits—beings that the planets are seen to physically embody. Even if you haven’t studied astrology, you know these figures from mythology. Jupiter, for example, is Zeus in Greek mythology. Pluto is Hades, lord of the underworld. Myths about these beings are everywhere in human culture. If you dismiss these myths through a scientific-materialist lens, you may find the part of you that longs for them getting hooked on the Marvel universe instead.

Appeasing such spirits was the dominant form of worship before Christ. Whether through mantras, offerings, or sacrifices, people made deals with intermediary deities to relieve their burdens. The Old Testament records how corrupt these systems became. Elevated beings gave into lust and violence. Many demanded the sacrifice of innocents. These patterns appear in Greek, Hindu, Babylonian, and Aztec traditions alike. Indra and Zeus have entire legends about fornicating with human women, often adulterously so. Even, Guru, the Hindu equivalent of Jupiter, is known to have sired a son with his brother’s wife. Kali is well known for demanding sacrifice of innocents. There are stories of tantriks raping and murdering young girls in India to perform shava sadhana and being blessed by Kali, in spite of that heinous act.

In response, God canceled their authority. By sending His Son to die on the cross, He ended the need for karmic deals with intermediary spirits. Through the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God’s grace became freely available to all, without ritual striving.

That’s why I see no New Testament argument against the first two aspects of astrology—birth charts and transits. The problem lies only in remedies. Instead of appeasing spirits, the New Testament directs us to repentance in Christ and direct prayer to God.

This contrast is striking. Deities require chants, offerings, and repetition to sustain them. God needs none of that, because He is the Creator, the source of life itself. Their authority was canceled, but the correlations of astrology remain. To me, they reflect the magnificence of God’s creation and the human capacity, made in His image, to perceive His order in the universe.

Could a Christian still use remedies? Possibly, but with discernment. Scripture acknowledges that not all spirits oppose God—some are aligned with Christ, others are not. One could even hypothetically test a deity by asking if it knows Jesus as the Son of God. But the danger is real. Without clarity, someone chanting to Mars for productivity could be unwittingly aligning with a fallen spirit fueling violence, and collecting the karmic debt for that.

So I walk carefully here. In my view, astrology is best used to understand your psychological tendencies and to track transits. But when it comes to remedies, the New Testament invites us to seek healing and protection directly from God through Christ.

Sacred Sexuality

Alongside astrology, I also spent years immersed in sacred sexuality culture. Now that I’ve come to Christ, I have wondered what parts of that culture are aligned with God’s way and which are sinful. By sinful, I mean actions that oppose God’s law — what people of the Book call the law of Moses, or what others might call the law of karma. To act against God’s way is to accumulate karmic debt. The more misaligned we are, the more sickness takes root in our bodies, until finally there is no life left in them. God gives life. Death is not of Him.

One of the most striking insights I’ve found in the New Testament is that God no longer chooses to dwell in man-made temples. Instead, He chooses to dwell in human bodies.

Just as temples required cleansing before worship, now our bodies — as temples of God — are meant to be cleansed and cared for.

This principle is visible in sacred sexuality culture. At times it gets distorted into the claim that “you are a god” or “you are a goddess,” but the New Testament says something else: you are created in God’s image (Genesis 1:27), and He desires to dwell within you. Still, even the distorted version often encourages daily practices of caring for the body as a temple — the very sanctification God asks of us in the New Testament. For me, that looks like steaming my face, trimming and shaping my beard, regular self-oil massages (anointing), epsom salt soaks (my personal water baptisms), and consistent physical workouts.

In mainstream Christian culture, I sometimes see a gap — quickness to mock practices like yoga, but little attention to our own physical health. Yet Paul reminds us that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Corinthians 6:19). Isn’t neglecting our bodies just as much a failure to honor God as bowing to false idols? Is it possible to practice asana in full devotion to the one God?

In a culture so prone to gluttony, this disconnect is obvious. In sacred sexuality spaces, I found practices that actually helped me care for my body as a temple: self-oil massage (anointing), facial steaming, laying hands on my heart, belly, and genitals to release agony, epsom salt soaks (my personal water baptisms), physical training, and clean eating. These practices don’t feel opposed to the New Testament — they feel aligned with it.

Broadly speaking, sacred sexuality has two sides.

1. Personal: maintaining the physical and energetic hygiene of your own body.
2. Relational: exchanging energy with others, while bringing awareness to entanglements

The relational side takes many forms. Some — like penetrative sex outside marriage — are clearly misaligned with God’s word. But others could resemble biblical practices of laying on of hands in prayer and calling on the Holy Spirit.

The two practices I engaged in most were sacred spot massage and shibari. Sometimes these sessions were erotically charged. But at other times, I felt no erotic connection — only devotional service to the divine body before me. Those experiences made me wonder: what would laying on of hands look like in Christian prayer if we were freed from the shame culture surrounding sex?

Genesis tells us that shame only entered the world after Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

In a world without shame, could a Christian pray for someone by laying hands even on their loins? Could demons be fully released without addressing the region below the belly, where gluttony and lust so often take root?

Christians who haven’t encountered sacred sexuality often have a collapsed, overly narrow view of sex. In reality, it is a broad and complex domain. Where exactly does touch become sexual? I’ve asked Christians where they draw the line on “sex before marriage,” and most can’t give a clear answer. Unprocessed trauma and shame surface quickly, and the conversation shuts down.

In those moments, I have wondered: if one of these people received a sacred spot massage, they might discover more of the God-given freedom available to them. But would that exchange be sinful? Is it an erotic exchange if the receiver is engrossed deeply in Lust but the provider is fully disconnected from it?