Face of Saviour was born from a deep need to ask difficult questions about faith, humanity, and the stories we live by—especially in a time when division often speaks louder than unity. I created this project as a personal and spiritual exploration, not to preach or convert, but to listen, to question, and to begin meaningful conversations across boundaries—religious, cultural, philosophical, or ideological.
In a world where suffering is ongoing and, often, senseless, I find myself asking: What if salvation isn’t something we wait for, but something we create together? What if the return of a saviour—Jesus, or any enlightened being—isn't about a singular figure, but a collective shift in how we live, think, and treat one another?
This project is grounded in that question. It's a bridge between traditions, between believers and non-believers, and between the stories of salvation we’ve inherited and the future we must now write. The 10 interview questions are designed to explore how different belief systems, spiritual paths, or moral philosophies understand salvation, responsibility, unity, and transformation.
The goal isn’t to arrive at one answer—but to realise that within our diversity lies a shared longing: to be better, to do better, to live with more love, and less hate. And maybe, just maybe, to recognise the saviour not as someone coming from outside, but as something awakening within us all.
My personal background reflects this vision. I come from a family shaped by multiple faiths and worldviews—Muslim, Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, Jewish, and atheist. Rather than confusion, I now see that as a gift. Each path gave me a piece of the puzzle. Each person in my life showed me a different face of the divine—or, at the very least, of our shared humanity.
Faces of Saviour is my offering—a space to reflect on whether the world is ready to welcome change, not in theory, but in real, personal transformation. It’s a mirror held up to all of us, asking: If a saviour stood in front of you today—would you see them? Would you recognise love, peace, and truth in a form you didn’t expect?
This isn’t about religion alone. It’s about what unites us: compassion, responsibility, and the courage to evolve.
Let’s write a new story—together.
SAVIOUR
Today, I want to explore the possibility of uniting divided beliefs and what that might mean if it were to become a reality.
We exist in a constant state of "now," from the beginning of time to its end. The past is beyond reach, and the future is unknowable. We can only experience the present in a universe that is ever-changing, unfolding in ways we cannot control.
What I suggest is that, through unity, our fragmented hopes and prayers could become a shared reality. Our collective consciousness has the power to amplify our interconnectedness, allowing us to strive together toward a common vision of salvation.
Since the Big Bang, the universe has been in a state of entropy, flowing forward into greater disorder with each passing moment. This unpredictable pattern, which is beyond our control, stands in contrast to the human experience, which we *can* control.
Consider the figure of Jesus—the man who died for our sins. He lives within this same "now" that we inhabit, in the same continuous flow of time. Yet, in a world rife with conflict, we pray for change while looking outward for salvation. We place our faith in God to save us, but, in doing so, we grow more indifferent to others—others who, historically, were no different from Jesus himself.
So, I ask: if Jesus were to return today, in another body, would we, as a people, have learned from our past mistakes? Or would we repeat the same patterns of persecution? Why would the saviour we pray for return when the world that killed him has not changed? Every day, I wake up to the tragedy of lives lost, and I wonder—could one of those children lying in rubble be the return of the saviour we long for? Ironically, many of these lives are being lost in the very land where Jesus was born, which only deepens this question.
We know we exist in a constant state of "now," a "now" that killed the saviour, prevents his return, and continues to destroy lives. The resurrection confirms that Jesus can return, but we must remember what happened the last time he did: a great man was killed by ignorance. Until that ignorance and inhumanity are eradicated within us, collectively beginning with each of us, we are not ready to welcome his return. For, if we haven't changed, we might subconsciously repeat the violence of the past.
Hypothetically speaking, if unity—if a collective shift toward prioritising life and love over death and hate—became a reality, the same "now" in which our savior exists would be experienced by all, including those who once persecuted him. A world without ignorance or persecution would mean freedom for Christ, freeing him from the cross upon which we nailed him. But until we learn from what he taught, our story will not progress.
From an atheist's perspective, this collective shift in consciousness would still lead to a better world, whether or not we label it as a religious change. We often look for answers in religion, but the truth is, if we are in control of improving humanity, why aren’t we doing so?
From a religious perspective—regardless of tradition—I believe this message is for you too. My father is a Muslim of Turkish descent; my mother, a Christian of Sri Lankan and Irish ancestry. I don’t feel a deep connection to any single religion or nation because my identity is shaped by a blend of experiences. A part of me wishes I had been raised with clearer guidance on what to believe or where to place my loyalty, but I’ve come to understand that my gift lies in embracing every facet of life that shaped me. My grandfather, with his Buddhist and Hindu background; my father, raised Muslim; my mother, raised Christian; my sister, an atheist; and my soon-to-be Jewish brother-in-law, who I proudly watch care for my sister—all of these different backgrounds and beliefs are united by mutual love, and through them, my life was given to me.
I now see myself as a vessel of shared experience and diverse cultures, destined to show that the gift of life can be deepened through compassion and understanding. When I see a life lost—regardless of background—I feel personally affected. Through this perspective, so should you. The change we seek begins within us. So, let us write a new story together.
See yourself.
