What Elon Musk Just Said about Jesus Left Jonathan Roumie in Tears!

In a bustling coffee shop in Los Angeles, Jonathan Roumie, known for his portrayal of Jesus in the acclaimed series “The Chosen,” sat nervously at a small table. He had received an unexpected invitation to meet Elon Musk, the enigmatic entrepreneur and innovator behind companies like Tesla and SpaceX. As he sipped his coffee, he couldn’t help but wonder what the meeting would entail. Would Musk want to discuss the impact of faith-based entertainment? Or perhaps he was interested in the nuances of portraying such a significant figure?

The door swung open, and in walked Elon Musk, his presence commanding yet approachable. He spotted Jonathan immediately and walked over, extending his hand. “Jonathan, thank you for coming,” he said, his voice warm and genuine.

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Musk,” Jonathan replied, shaking his hand firmly.

“Please, call me Elon,” he insisted, taking a seat across from Jonathan. “I’ve been watching your portrayal of Jesus. It’s different from what I expected.”

Jonathan nodded, unsure of where this conversation was heading. “Different in what way?”

“More human,” Elon said simply. “More real.”

They ordered coffee, and Jonathan waited for Elon to elaborate on why he had arranged this meeting. After a few sips, Elon leaned forward, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. “I grew up with a scientific mindset,” he began. “I’ve always looked at the world through the lens of physics, engineering, data. Faith wasn’t part of my equation.”

Jonathan listened intently, intrigued by the vulnerability in Elon’s voice. “But lately, I’ve been thinking about bigger questions—the kind science doesn’t have easy answers for,” Elon continued, looking down at his coffee. “Why are we here? What’s the point of all this progress if there’s no greater purpose?”

Jonathan felt his heart rate increase. Was Elon Musk about to discuss spirituality with him because he played Jesus on TV? “I’m not the right person to—” Jonathan started.

“You’re exactly the right person,” Elon interrupted. “You’ve spent years thinking about how Jesus would speak, how he would respond to questions. I’m not asking you as a theologian; I’m asking you as someone who’s tried to understand the mind of Jesus.”

Jonathan took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Elon’s question. “What exactly are you asking me?”

Elon’s eyes met his with unexpected vulnerability. “I want to know what Jesus would think of what I’m trying to do. Would he see value in my work, or would he think I’m missing the point entirely?”

Jonathan sat very still, processing Elon’s question. This wasn’t what he had anticipated at all. He had prepared for questions about his acting process or perhaps Elon wanting to invest in faith-based entertainment, but this was personal—deeply personal.

“That’s a big question,” Jonathan finally said.

“I know,” Elon nodded. “And maybe it’s unfair to put you on the spot like this, but I’ve been watching interviews where you talk about how playing Jesus has affected your own faith. You seem to have insight I can’t find elsewhere.”

Jonathan considered his words carefully. “When I prepare for scenes in ‘The Chosen,’ I spend hours thinking about Jesus’s perspective—not just what he might say, but why he would say it.”

“And what have you learned?” Elon asked, his usual confidence replaced by genuine curiosity.

“That Jesus cared about people more than projects or achievements,” Jonathan replied. “That his measure of success was completely different from ours. He valued compassion over competition, relationship over results.”

Elon frowned slightly. “So you’re saying he would disapprove of building businesses, advancing technology?”

“Not at all,” Jonathan shook his head. “But I think he would ask about the why behind it. Are we improving lives because we value those lives, or just to prove we can do it?”

Elon stared out the window for a moment, lost in thought. “I’ve always believed that extending human consciousness into the future is the most important goal—making life multi-planetary, developing sustainable energy, creating safeguards for artificial intelligence. These are all ways to ensure humanity survives.”

“Those are noble goals,” Jonathan agreed. “But Jesus might ask if we’re remembering to love each other in the present while planning for that future.”

The coffee shop had emptied now; they were alone except for the barista, who was busy cleaning equipment and didn’t seem to be paying attention to their conversation.

“I had a moment last week,” Elon said suddenly. “I was reviewing plans for new solar technology—something that could dramatically reduce carbon emissions if implemented globally. I should have felt triumphant; instead, I felt empty.”

“Empty how?” Jonathan asked gently.

“Like I was solving problems without understanding what they’re for,” Elon replied. “Extending human consciousness, but to what end? So we can build more, explore more, know more?” He shook his head. “It feels circular. We advance to survive; we survive to advance.”

Jonathan leaned forward. “Jesus talked a lot about purpose—not just surviving, but living abundantly. That’s what I want to ask you about.”

Elon lowered his voice. “In your research, your preparation, what did you find that Jesus said about purpose? About why we’re here?”

Jonathan took a deep breath. He had had theological discussions before, but never one that felt so consequential. “He said he came so that people could have life more abundantly—not just existence, but fullness.”

“Fullness of what?” Elon pressed.

“Of love, of connection, of meaning,” Jonathan replied. He paused, considering the weight of his words. “Jesus didn’t talk much about achievements; he talked about relationships—with God, with each other.”

Elon nodded slowly. “That’s where my thinking has been heading lately. All this innovation, all this progress—it feels hollow if it’s not serving a deeper purpose, if it’s not connecting us rather than isolating us.”

Jonathan wasn’t sure how to respond. He hadn’t expected this level of philosophical reflection from the tech entrepreneur.

“I have something to show you,” Elon said suddenly, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Something I’ve never shared publicly. Could you come with me?”

Twenty minutes later, they were driving in Elon’s car. Jonathan had expected a driver, but Elon was behind the wheel himself. They headed out of the city, neither speaking much during the journey. Jonathan wondered where they were going and what Elon wanted to show him.

Finally, they turned onto a private road that led to what looked like an ordinary warehouse. Elon parked and led Jonathan to a side entrance, punching a code into a keypad.

“What I’m about to show you isn’t secret exactly,” Elon explained as they walked down a hallway, “but I haven’t talked about it publicly because I’m still working through what it means.”

He opened a door at the end of the corridor, and they entered a large open space. It wasn’t what Jonathan expected from a tech mogul’s private project. Instead of computers or robots, the room was filled with art—paintings of various sizes covering the walls.

“You paint?” Jonathan asked, surprised.

Elon nodded. “I started during a particularly difficult period a few years ago. It was just a way to process thoughts that couldn’t be solved with equations or business plans.”

Jonathan moved closer to examine the paintings. They were abstract but evocative—swirls of color that somehow conveyed powerful emotions. Some felt chaotic and dark; others peaceful and luminous.

“These are remarkable,” Jonathan said. “Honestly, I had no idea you were an artist.”

“I’m not really,” Elon said, “not in any trained sense, but these helped me work through questions I couldn’t answer any other way.”

He led Jonathan to the far wall, where a series of paintings hung together. Unlike the others, these depicted recognizable scenes—a night sky over a desert, a child looking up at the stars, a hand reaching toward light.

“I painted these over the last six months,” Elon explained, “during the same time I’ve been watching ‘The Chosen.’”

Jonathan looked closely at one painting that showed a figure standing alone on a hill, facing a brilliant sunrise. There was something about the posture of the figure—a mixture of strength and surrender—that moved him deeply.

“What questions were you working through?” Jonathan asked softly.

Elon was quiet for a long moment. “I’ve spent my life solving technical problems—how to make electric cars viable, how to land rocket boosters, how to tunnel more efficiently.” He gestured around the room. “But none of that addresses the questions that keep me awake at night. Why are we here? What makes a life well-lived? If consciousness is just a biochemical phenomenon, why does beauty move us? Why does love matter?”

Jonathan nodded, understanding. “These aren’t technical questions.”

“No,” Elon agreed. “They’re the questions I’ve been avoiding because they don’t yield to the same methods that have worked for everything else in my life.”

He walked to a canvas in the corner, still covered with a cloth. “This is the last one I painted. I finished it the night before I contacted you.” Slowly, he pulled the cloth away. The painting showed two figures—one clearly in modern clothes, the other in what appeared to be ancient robes. They sat together on a bench overlooking a vast landscape. The faces weren’t detailed, but the sense of conversation, of connection between them, was powerful.

“I had a dream,” Elon said quietly. “I was sitting with Jesus—not as a religious figure, just as someone who understood something I needed to know. We talked all night, but when I woke up, I couldn’t remember what he said—just how it felt.”

“How did it feel?” Jonathan asked.

Elon looked at him directly. “Like everything I’ve been doing has meaning.”

“I haven’t recognized,” he continued, “like all the questions have answers, but not the kind I’ve been trained to look for.”

Jonathan felt a shiver run through him. There was such earnestness in Elon’s voice, such genuine searching.

“After that dream,” Elon continued, “I started researching, trying to understand the historical Jesus beyond the religious framework. That’s when I found your show and your interviews about playing the role.”

He turned back to the painting. “What would Jesus say about my work, Jonathan? Not just my companies, but my questions, my search?”

They sat on simple chairs in the middle of the art studio. Jonathan was still processing everything Elon had shared—the paintings, the dream, the questions that clearly tormented him despite his remarkable achievements.

“I’m not a theologian,” Jonathan began carefully, “and even as someone who plays Jesus on screen, I don’t claim to know exactly what he would say to you personally.”

Elon nodded, waiting.

“But based on what I’ve studied, what I believe,” Jonathan continued, “I think Jesus would see your work differently than you might expect. He wouldn’t focus on the technology itself, but on the heart behind it.”

“What do you mean?” Elon asked.

“Jesus was constantly looking past what people did to why they did it,” Jonathan explained. “He praised a poor woman who gave a tiny amount of money because she gave from a generous heart. He criticized religious leaders who prayed impressively in public but only wanted to look good.”

Jonathan leaned forward. “When I look at your work—trying to secure humanity’s future, developing sustainable energy, connecting people across the planet—I see someone trying to solve human problems, to reduce suffering, to deter possibility.”

“But is that enough?” Elon asked, vulnerability creeping into his voice—something Jonathan had never heard in any interview or public appearance.

“Sometimes I worry that I’m just building modern towers of Babel—oppressive achievements that ultimately miss the point of existence entirely.”

Jonathan considered this. “There’s a moment in scripture where Jesus is asked about the greatest commandment. He says it’s to love God, and the second is to love your neighbor as yourself. Everything else hangs on these.”

Elon was silent, absorbing this. “The question isn’t whether building rockets or electric cars is inherently meaningful,” Jonathan continued. “It’s whether these things are expressions of love—love for humanity, love for creation, love for the future generations who will inherit what we leave behind.”

Elon stood up and walked to one of his paintings—a dark canvas with a single point of light in the center. “When I started my companies, I was driven by problems that needed solving—climate change, the fragility of being a single-planet species. Later, I started seeing bigger connections—that all these separate problems were really one problem: ensuring consciousness continues.”

He turned back to Jonathan. “But lately, I’ve been wondering if survival of consciousness is enough. What kind of consciousness are we fighting to preserve? What makes it worth preserving?”

“That,” Jonathan said quietly, “is exactly the kind of question Jesus addressed—not how to live longer, but how to live well. Not just surviving, but becoming more fully human.”

“And what did he say makes a life well-lived?” Elon asked.

“Love,” Jonathan answered simply. “Not just romantic love or family love, but the kind of love that sees the value in every person—that works for justice, that forgives enemies, that creates community instead of division.”

Elon walked to the window, looking out at the afternoon sun. “I’ve been thinking about Jesus’s teachings on wealth. I know he said difficult things about rich men and heaven.”

Jonathan nodded. “He did, but I don’t think it was wealth itself he was concerned about. It was how wealth can become an identity—a security blanket that replaces trust in God or genuine connection with others.”

Elon turned back, his expression intense. “I said something in an interview once—that having money isn’t necessarily about consuming things, but about the ability to make things happen, to solve problems.”

“That sounds like stewardship,” Jonathan observed. “Using what you have for purposes beyond yourself.”

“Is that what Jesus would call it?” Elon asked.

“I think so,” Jonathan nodded. “Jesus talked about talents—resources entrusted to people who were expected to use them well, not bury them in fear.”

There was a new energy in Elon’s movements now. He walked back to the main painting—the one showing two figures in conversation. “I want to tell you what happened in that dream,” he said. “What I remember feeling, even if the words are gone. In the dream, Jesus and I were sitting somewhere high up—a mountain, maybe. We could see cities spread out below us, lights shining in the darkness. He asked me a circular question: ‘What do you see?’”

Elon paused, looking at his painting again. “I told him I saw human ingenuity—networks of energy and information, millions of minds working together even when they don’t realize it. I told him I saw something worth saving.”

Jonathan listened intently; he didn’t disagree.

Elon continued, “But he pointed to specific lights—individual homes, individual lives—and said something like, ‘I see people who need to know they matter—not just as a species, but as themselves.’”

Elon’s voice grew quieter. “The feeling I was left with was that my perspective isn’t wrong, but it’s incomplete. I’ve been thinking in systems and species, but Jesus thought in persons and relationships.”

Jonathan nodded slowly. “That fits with everything we know about him. He dealt with crowds sometimes, but he always saw individuals. He noticed a woman touching his cloak in a pressing throng; he called a tax collector down from a tree by name.”

“That’s what’s been haunting me,” Elon admitted. “I’ve been so focused on humanity’s future that I sometimes forget to see the human beings right in front of me.”

He walked to a small table in the corner and picked up a notebook, handing it to Jonathan. It was open to a page filled with Elon’s handwriting.

“If consciousness is the universe’s way of understanding itself, then love must be consciousness’s way of fulfilling itself,” Jonathan read aloud. “The rocket engines, the solar panels, the neural interfaces—these are all just tools. The question is what we’re building with them: a future where we survive longer but remain spiritually impoverished, or one where technology serves connection, compassion, meaning.”

Jonathan read the words twice, moved by the vulnerability and insight. “This is profound, Elon.”

“It’s just thoughts in progress,” Elon said, taking the notebook back. “But watching your portrayal of Jesus, seeing how he connected with people, how he valued them—it’s made me question whether I’ve been defining progress too narrowly.”

He sat down again, facing Jonathan directly. “Two weeks ago, I was at a conference. Someone asked me about my legacy—what I want to be remembered for. I gave my usual answer about sustainable energy and making life multi-planetary.” Elon looked down at his hands. “But later that night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking, if I achieve everything on my list—Mars colonies, AI safeguards, clean energy everywhere—but people still don’t know how to love each other, what have I really accomplished?”

Jonathan felt a tightness in his throat. The sincerity in Elon’s voice was unmistakable.

“That’s when I decided to reach out to you,” Elon continued, “not because you’re a religious authority, but because you’ve spent years thinking about how Jesus approached these questions of purpose and meaning.”

“What specific question are you trying to answer?” Jonathan asked gently.

Elon looked up, his eyes intense. “How do I integrate what Jesus said about love and human value with the large-scale work I believe I’m meant to do? I’m not going to stop building rockets or working on AI; I believe those things matter. But I want them to serve something deeper than just progress for its own sake.”

Jonathan took a deep breath. This conversation had far exceeded his expectations. He was being asked not just about acting technique or scriptural interpretation, but about the integration of faith and purpose at the highest levels of influence.

“Jesus never asked people to stop being who they were,” Jonathan said finally. “He asked fishermen to become fishers of men, using their same skills but with a new purpose. He didn’t tell the Roman centurion to stop being a soldier; he commended his faith within that role.”

Elon nodded, listening carefully.

“Maybe it’s not about choosing between technological progress and spiritual values,” Jonathan continued. “Maybe it’s about infusing one with the other—creating technology that genuinely serves love, connection, and human dignity rather than replacing it.”

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the art studio, Jonathan and Elon sat in silence, contemplating the profound conversation they had just shared. In that moment, they both understood that the intersection of faith and innovation could lead to a future where humanity thrived—not just in terms of technological advancement, but in love, connection, and purpose.

And as they left the studio, Jonathan felt a renewed sense of hope. Perhaps, in the heart of one of the world’s most influential figures, there was a longing for something deeper—a desire to understand not just how to build a better world, but how to make it a more loving one.