The historical Jesus Fact or Fiction? PART 2

Archaeology, “External Evidence,” and Groundhog Day in the Comment Section

Welcome back to Taste of Truth Tuesdays, where we stay curious, stay skeptical, and keep a healthy distance from any dogma, whether it’s wrapped in a Bible verse or a political ideology.

This is Part Two of my Jesus Myth series, and I’m going to be straight with you:

This one is a doozy.
Buckle up, buttercup. Feel free to pause and come back.

Originally, the plan was to bring David Fitzgerald back for another conversation. If you listened to Part One, you know he’s done a ton to popularize the idea that Jesus never existed and to dismantle Christian dogma. I still agree with the core mythicist claim: I don’t think the Jesus of the Gospels was a real historical person. If you missed it, here is the link.

But agreeing with someone’s conclusion doesn’t mean I hand them a free pass on how they argue.

After our first interview, I went deeper into Fitzgerald’s work and into critiques of it (especially Tim O’Neill’s long atheist review that absolutely shreds his method.) While his critique of Fitzgerald’s arguments is genuinely useful; his habit of branding people with political labels (“Trump supporter,” “denier”) to discredit them is… very regressive.

It’s the same purity-testing impulse you see in progressive (should be regressive) spaces, just performed in a different costume.

And that’s what finally pushed me over the edge:
The more I watch the atheist/deconstruction world online, the more it reminded me of the exact rigid, dogmatic cultures people say they escaped.

Not all atheists, obviously. But a very loud chunk of that ecosystem runs on:

  • dunking, dog-piling, and humiliation
  • tribal loyalty, not actual inquiry
  • “You’re dead to me” energy toward anyone who may lean conservative or shows nuance

It’s purity culture in different branding.

Then I read how Fitzgerald responded to critics in those archived blog exchanges (not with clear counterarguments) but with emotional name-calling and an almost devotional defense of his “hero and mentor,” Richard Carrier. For me, that was a hard stop.

Add to that: his public Facebook feed is full of contempt for moderates, conservatives, “anti-vaxxers,” and basically anyone outside progressive orthodoxy. My audience includes exactly those people. This space is built for nuance for people who’ve already escaped one rigid belief system and are not shopping for a new one.

He’s free to have his politics.
I’m free not to platform that energy.

So instead of Part Two with a guest, you’re getting something I honestly think is better:

  • me (😜)
  • a stack of sources
  • a comment section that turned into a live demo of modern apologetics
  • and a segment at the end where I turn the same critical lens on the mythicist side — including Fitzgerald himself

Yes, we’re going there. Just not yet.


Previously on Taste of Truth…

In Part One, I unpacked why “Jesus might never have existed” is treated like a taboo thought — even though the historical evidence is thin and the standards used to “prove” Jesus would never pass in any other field of ancient history.

Then, in a Taste Test Thursday episode, I zoomed out and asked:
Why do apologists argue like this at all?
We walked through:

  • early church power moves
  • modern thought-stopping tricks
  • and Neil Van Leeuwen’s idea of religious “credences,” which don’t function like normal factual beliefs at all

That episode was about the machinery.

Today is about the evidence. Especially the apologetic tropes that showed up in my comments like a glitching NPC on repeat.


⭐ MYTHS #6 & #7 — “History and Archaeology Confirm the Gospels”

Papyrus P52 (𝔓52), often called the oldest New Testament manuscript. (It’s the size of a credit card)
Apologists treat it like a smoking gun.
It contains… one complete word: ‘the.’

These two myths always show up together in the comments, and honestly, they feed off each other. People claim, “history confirms the Gospels,” and when that collapses, they jump to “archaeology proves Jesus existed.” So, I’m combining them here, because the evidence (and the problems) overlap more than apologists want to admit.

In short:
Archaeology confirms the setting. History confirms the existence of Christians.
Neither confirms the Jesus of the Gospels.

And once you actually look at the evidence, the apologetic scaffolding falls apart fast.


1. What Archaeology Really Shows (and What It Doesn’t)

If Jesus were a public figure performing miracles, drawing crowds, causing disturbances, and being executed by Rome, archaeology should show something tied to him or to his original movement.

Here’s what archaeology does show:

  • Nazareth existed.
  • Capernaum existed.
  • The general layout of Judea under Rome.
  • Ritual baths, synagogues, pottery, coins.
  • A real Pilate (from a fragmentary inscription).

That’s the setting.

Here’s what archaeology has never produced:

  • no house of Jesus
  • no workshop or tools
  • no tomb we can authenticate
  • no inscription naming him
  • no artifacts linked to the Twelve
  • no evidence of a public ministry
  • no trace of Gospel-level notoriety

Not even a rumor in archaeology that points to a miracle-working rabbi.
Ancient Troy existing doesn’t prove Achilles existed.
Nazareth existing doesn’t prove Jesus existed.

Apologists push the setting as if it confirms the character. It doesn’t.


2. Geography Problems, Anachronisms & Literary Tells

If the Gospels were eyewitness-based biographies, their geography would line up with first-century Palestine.

Instead, we get:

• Towns that don’t match reality

The Gerasene/Gadarene/Gergesa demon-pig fiasco moves between three different locations because the original story (Mark) puts Jesus 30 miles inland… nowhere near a lake or cliffs.

• Galilee described like a later era

Archaeology shows Galilee in the 20s CE was:

  • taxed to the bone
  • rebellious
  • dotted with large Romanized cities like Sepphoris and Tiberias

But the Gospels portray quaint fishing villages, peaceful Pharisees, and quiet countryside. This reflects post-70 CE Galilee: the era when the Gospels were actually written.

• Homeric storms on a tiny lake

Mark treats the Sea of Galilee like the Aegean (raging storms, near capsizings, disciples fearing death) even though ancient critics mocked this because the “sea” is a small lake.

Dennis MacDonald shows Mark lifting whole scenes from Homer, which explains the mismatch: his geography serves his literary needs, not the historical landscape.

• Joseph of “Arimathea” (a town no one can find)

Carrier and others point out the name works more like a literary pun (“best disciple town”) than a real toponym.

• Emmaus placed at different distances

Luke places it seven miles away. Other manuscripts vary. There was no fixed memory.

These aren’t the mistakes of people writing about their homeland.
They’re the mistakes of later authors constructing a symbolic landscape.


3. The Gospel Trial Scenes: Legally Impossible

This is the part Christians never touch.

One of the most respected legal scholars of ancient Jewish law did a line-by-line analysis of the Gospel trial scenes. He wasn’t writing from a religious angle, he approached it strictly as a historian of legal procedure.

His conclusion?
The trial described in the Gospels violates almost every rule of how Jewish courts actually worked.

According to his research:

  • capital trials were never held at night
  • they were not allowed during festivals like Passover
  • capital verdicts required multiple days, not hours
  • the High Priest did not interrogate defendants
  • witness testimony had to match
  • beating a prisoner during questioning was illegal
  • and Jewish courts didn’t simply hand people over to Rome

When you stack these facts together, it becomes clear:

The Gospel trial scenes aren’t legal history…. they’re theological storytelling.

That’s before we even get to Pilate.

Pilate was not a timid bureaucrat.

He was violent, ruthless, removed from office for brutality.


4. Acts Doesn’t Remember Any Gospel Miracles

If Jesus actually:

  • drew crowds,
  • fed thousands,
  • raised the dead,
  • blacked out the sun,
  • split the Temple curtain,
  • and resurrected publicly…

Acts (written after the Gospels) should remember all of this.

Instead:

  • No one in Acts has heard of Jesus.
  • No one mentions an empty tomb.
  • No one cites miracles as recent events.
  • Roman officials are clueless.
  • Paul knows Jesus only through visions and the scriptures.

Acts behaves exactly like a community whose “history” was not yet written.


5. Manuscripts: Many Copies, No Control

Apologists love saying:

“We have 24,000 manuscripts!”

Quantity isn’t quality.

  • almost all are medieval
  • the earliest are tiny scraps
  • none are originals
  • no first-century copies
  • scribes altered texts freely
  • entire passages were added or deleted
  • six of Paul’s letters are pseudonymous
  • many early Christian writings were forged

Even Origen admitted that scribes “add and remove what they please” (privately, of course.)

The manuscript tradition looks nothing like reliable preservation.


6. The Church Fathers Don’t Help (and They Were Tampered With Too)

This is where Fitzgerald’s chapter hits hardest.

Before 150 CE, we have:

  • no Church Father quoting any Gospel
  • no awareness of four distinct Gospels
  • no clear references to Gospel events

Justin Martyr (writing in the 150s) is the first to quote anything Gospel-like, and:

  • he never names Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John
  • many of his quotes don’t match our Gospels
  • he calls them simply “the memoirs”

Even worse:

The writings of Ignatius, Polycarp, Dionysius of Corinth, and many others were tampered with.
Some were forged entirely.

So the apologetic claim “The Fathers confirm the Gospels” collapses:

They don’t quote them.
They don’t know them.
And their own texts are unstable.

Metzger claimed we could reconstruct the New Testament from the Fathers’ quotations but his own scholarship shows the Fathers don’t quote anything reliably until after the Gospels were circulating.


7. External Pagan Sources: Late, Thin, and Dependent on Christian Claims

This is the other half of the myth… that “history” outside the Bible confirms Jesus.

Let’s look quickly:

• Tacitus (116 CE)

Reports what Christians of his day believed.
He cites no source, no archive, no investigation.

• Pliny (c. 111 CE)

Says Christians worship Christ “as a god.”
Confirms Christians existed — not that Jesus did.

• Josephus (93 CE)

The Testimonium is tampered with.
Even conservative scholars admit Christian hands were all over it.
The “James, brother of Jesus” line is ambiguous at best.

These are not independent confirmations.
They’re late echoes of Christian claims.


In closing:

You can confirm:

  • towns
  • coins
  • synagogues
  • political offices
  • geography

But that only shows the world existed, not the characters.

The Gospels are theological narratives composed decades later, stitched out of scripture, symbolism, literary models, and the needs of competing communities.

Archaeology confirms the backdrop.
History confirms the movement.
Neither confirms the biography.

Once you strip away apologetic spin, the evidence points to late, literary, constructed narratives, not eyewitness records of a historical man.


Myth #8: “Paul and the Epistles Confirm the Gospels”

Albert Schweitzer pointed out that if we only had Paul’s letters, we would never know that:

  • Jesus taught in parables
  • gave the Sermon on the Mount
  • told the “Our Father” prayer
  • healed people in Galilee
  • debated Pharisees

From Paul and the other epistles, you wouldn’t even know Jesus was from Nazareth or born in Bethlehem.

That alone should make us pause before saying, “Paul confirms the Gospels.”

Paul’s “Gospel” Is Not a Life Story

When Paul says “my gospel,” he doesn’t mean a narrative like Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. His gospel is:

  • Christ died for our sins
  • was buried
  • was raised
  • now offers salvation to those who trust him

No:

  • Bethlehem, Nazareth, Mary, Joseph
  • John the Baptist
  • miracles, exorcisms, parables
  • empty tomb story with women at dawn

And this isn’t because Paul is forgetful. His letters are full of perfect moments to say, “As Jesus taught us…” or “As we all know from our Lord’s ministry…”

He never does.

Instead, he appeals to:

  • his own visions
  • the Hebrew scriptures (in Greek translation, the Septuagint)
  • what “the Lord” reveals directly to him

For Paul, Christ is:

  • “the image of the invisible God”
  • “firstborn of all creation”
  • the cosmic figure through whom all things were made
  • the one who descends to the lower realms, defeats spiritual powers, and ascends again

That is cosmic myth language… not “my friend’s rabbi who did a lot of teaching in Galilee a few decades ago.”

The “Lord’s Supper,” Not a Last Supper

The one place people think Paul lines up with the Gospels is 1 Corinthians 11, where he describes “the Lord’s Supper.”

Look closely:

  • He never calls it “the Last Supper.”
  • He never says it was a Passover meal.
  • He never places it in Jerusalem.
  • He says he received this ritual from the Lord, not from human eyewitnesses.

The phrase he uses, kuriakon deipnon (“Lord’s dinner”), is the same kind of language used for sacred meals in pagan mystery cults.

The verb he uses for “handed over” is used elsewhere of God handing Christ over, or Christ handing himself over not of a buddy’s betrayal. The specific “Judas betrayed him at dinner” motif shows up later, in the Gospels.

Then, when later authors retell the scene, they can’t even agree on the script. We get:

  • Paul’s version
  • Mark’s version
  • Matthew’s tweak on Mark
  • Luke’s two different textual forms
  • and John, who skips a Last Supper entirely and relocates the “eat my flesh, drink my blood” thing to a synagogue sermon in Capernaum

That looks less like multiple eyewitness reports and more like a liturgical formula evolving as it gets theologized.

Hebrews and the Missing Connection

The author of Hebrews:

  • goes deep on covenant and sacrificial blood
  • quotes Moses: “This is the blood of the covenant…”
  • spends time on Melchizedek, who brings bread and wine and blesses Abraham

In other words:
The author sets up what would be a perfect sermon illustration for the Last Supper… but he never takes it. No “as our Lord did on the night he was betrayed.” No Eucharist scene. No Passover meal.

The simplest explanation:
He doesn’t know that story. He knows the ritual meaning; the later narrative scene in Jerusalem hasn’t been invented yet in his circle.

How Paul Says He Knows Christ

Paul is very clear about his source:

  • He did not receive his gospel from any human (Galatians 1).
  • He barely met the Jerusalem “pillars,” waited years to even visit them, and insists they added nothing to his message.
  • He says God “revealed his Son in me.”
  • His scriptures are the Septuagint, which he reads as a giant coded story about Christ.

In other words, for Paul:

  • Christ is a hidden heavenly figure revealed in scripture and visions.
  • The “mystery” has just now been unveiled.

That only makes sense if there wasn’t already a widely known human teacher whose sayings and deeds were circulating everywhere.

The Silence of the Other Epistles

If it were just Paul, we could say, “That’s just Paul being weird.”

But the pattern runs across the other epistles:

From the New Testament letters outside the Gospels and Acts, you would never know:

  • Jesus was from Nazareth or born in Bethlehem
  • he grew up in Galilee
  • he taught crowds, told parables, healed people, or exorcised demons
  • he had twelve disciples, one of whom betrayed him
  • there were sacred sites tied to his life in Jerusalem

“Bethlehem,” “Nazareth,” “Galilee” do not appear in those letters with reference to Jesus. Jerusalem is never presented as, “You know, the place where all this just happened.”

The supposed “brothers of the Lord” never act like family with stories to tell. The letters attributed to James and Jude don’t even mention they’re related to Jesus.

When these early authors argue about circumcision, food laws, purity, and ethics, they consistently go back to the Old Testament…not to anything like a Sermon on the Mount.

That is very hard to reconcile with a memory of a recent, popular Galilean preacher inspiring the entire movement.


Myth #9: “Christianity Began With Jesus and His Twelve Besties”

If you grew up on Acts, you probably have this movie in your head:

  • Tiny, persecuted but unified Jesus movement
  • Centered in Jerusalem
  • Led by Jesus’ family and the Twelve
  • Paul shows up later in season two as the complex antihero

That’s the canonical story.

When you step back and read our earliest sources on their own terms, that picture melts.

Fragmented from the Start

In 1 Corinthians, Paul complains:

“Each of you says, ‘I belong to Paul,’ or ‘I belong to Apollos,’ or ‘I belong to Cephas,’ or ‘I belong to Christ.’ Is Christ divided?” (1 Cor. 1:12–13)

That’s not “one unified church.”

He also:

  • rants about people “preaching another Jesus”
  • calls rival apostles “deceitful workers,” “false brothers,” “servants of Satan”
  • invokes curses on those preaching a different gospel (Gal. 1:6–9; 2 Cor. 11)

Meanwhile, the early Christian manual Didakhē warns communities about wandering preachers who are just “traffickers in Christs” (what Bart Ehrman nicknames “Christ-mongers.”)

Right away, we see:

  • multiple groups using the Christ label
  • competing versions of what “the gospel” even is
  • no sign of one tight central group everyone agrees on

Different Jesuses for Different Communities

By the time the Gospels and later texts are in circulation, we can already see:

  • Paul’s Christ: a cosmic, heavenly savior, revealed in scripture and visions, ruling spiritual realms
  • Thomasine Christ: in the Gospel of Thomas, salvation comes through hidden wisdom; there’s no crucifixion or resurrection narrative
  • Mark’s Jesus: a suffering, misunderstood Son of God who’s “adopted” at baptism and abandoned at the cross
  • John’s Jesus: the eternal Logos, present at creation, walking around announcing his unity with the Father
  • Hebrews’ Christ: the heavenly High Priest performing a sacrifice in a heavenly sanctuary

These are not just “different camera angles on the same historical guy.” They reflect:

  • different liturgies
  • different cosmologies
  • different starting assumptions about who or what Christ even is

And notice: there is no clean pipeline from “this man’s twelve students carefully preserved his teachings” into this wild diversity.

Paul vs. Peter: Not a Cute Disagreement

Acts spins the Jerusalem meeting as:

  • everyone sits down
  • hashes things out
  • walks away in perfect unity

Paul’s own account (Galatians 2) is… not that:

  • he calls some of the Jerusalem people “false brothers”
  • he says they were trying to enslave believers
  • he says he “did not yield to them for a moment”
  • he treats the supposed “pillars” (Peter, James, John) as nobodies who “added nothing” to his gospel

That’s not a friendly staff meeting. That’s two rival Christianities:

  • a more Torah-observant, Jerusalem-centered Jesus-sect
  • Paul’s law-free, Gentile-mystic Christ-sect

Acts, written later, airbrushes this into harmony. The letters show how close the whole thing came to a full split.

Where Are the Twelve?

If Jesus’ twelve disciples were:

  • real,
  • the main founders of Christianity,
  • traveling around planting churches,

we’d expect:

  • lots of references to them
  • preserved teachings and letters
  • at least some reliable biographical detail

Instead:

  • the lists of the Twelve don’t agree between Gospels
  • some manuscripts can’t even settle on their names
  • outside the Gospels and Acts, the Twelve basically vanish from the first-century record

Paul:

  • never quotes “the Twelve”
  • never appeals to them as the final authority
  • treats Peter, James, John simply as rival apostles, not as Jesus’ old friends

We have no authentic writings from any of the Twelve. The later “Acts of Peter,” “Acts of Andrew,” “Acts of Thomas,” etc., are generally acknowledged to be later inventions.

The simplest explanation is not that the Twelve were historically massive and weirdly left no trace. It’s that:

  • “The Twelve” are symbolic: twelve tribes, twelve cosmic seats, twelve zodiac signs, take your pick.
  • Their names and “biographies” were built after the theology, not before.

The Kenosis Hymn: Jesus as a Title, Not a Birth Name

In Philippians 2, Paul quotes an early hymn:

“Being found in human form, he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death — death on a cross.
Therefore God highly exalted him
and gave him the name that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow…”

Notice:

  • The hymn does not say God gave him the title “Lord.”
  • It says God gave him the name Jesus after the exaltation.

That is not what you expect if “Jesus” was already the known name of a village carpenter from Nazareth. It makes a lot more sense if:

  • “Jesus” functions originally as a divine name for a savior figure (“Yahweh saves”),
  • assigned in the mythic story after his cosmic act,
  • and only later gets retrofitted as the everyday name of a human hero.

Mark: From Mystery Faith to “Biography”

All of this funnels into the earliest Gospel: Mark.

Mark announces up front that he’s writing a gospel, not a biography. Modern scholars have shown that Mark:

  • builds scenes out of Old Testament passages
  • mirrors patterns from Greek epics
  • structures the story like a giant parable, where insiders are given “the mystery of the kingdom,” and outsiders only get stories

In Mark’s own framework, Jesus speaks in parables so that many will see but not understand. The whole Gospel plays that way: symbolic narrative first, later read as straight history once the church gains power.

So did Christianity “begin with Jesus and his apostles”?

If by that you mean:

One coherent movement, founded by a famous rabbi with twelve close disciples, faithfully transmitted from Jerusalem outward…

Then no. That’s the myth.

What we actually see is:

  • multiple competing Jesuses
  • rival gospels and factions
  • no clear paper trail from “Jesus’ inner circle”
  • later authors stitching together a cleaned-up origin story and branding rivals as “heresy”

Biographies came after belief, not before.


Myth #10: “Christianity Was a Miraculous Overnight Success That Changed the World”

The standard Christian flex goes like this:

“No mere myth could have spread so fast and changed the world so profoundly. That proves Jesus was real.”

Let’s slow that down.

But before we even touch the growth rates, we need to name something obvious that apologists conveniently forget:

Christianity wasn’t the first tradition built around a dying-and-rising savior. Not even close.

Long before the Gospels were written, the ancient Near East had already produced fully developed resurrection myths. One of the oldest (and one of the most important) belonged to Inanna, the Sumerian Queen of Heaven.

Ancient Akkadian cylinder seal (2350–2150 BCE) depicting Inanna

Inanna’s Descent (c. 2000–3000 BCE) is the earliest recorded resurrection narrative in human history.

She descends into the Underworld, is stripped, judged, executed, hung on a hook, and then through divine intervention, is brought back to life and restored to her throne.

Learn more about the story of Inanna here.

This story predates Christianity by two thousand years and was well known across Mesopotamia.

In other words:

The idea that a divine figure dies, descends into darkness, and returns transformed was already ancient before Christianity was even born.

So, the claim that “no myth could spread unless it were historically real” falls apart immediately. Myths did spread. Myths do spread. Myths shaped entire civilizations long before Jesus entered the story.

Now (with that context in place) let’s actually talk about Christianity’s growth..

Christianities Stayed Small…. Until Politics Changed

Carrier’s modeling makes it clear:

  • even if you start with generous numbers (say 5,000 believers in 40 CE),
  • you still don’t get anywhere near a significant percentage of the Empire until well into the third century

And that includes all groups who believed in some form of Christ — including the later-branded “heretics.”

So, for the first ~250 years, Christianity:

  • is tiny
  • is fragmented
  • is one cult among many in a very crowded religious landscape

The “miracle” is not early explosive growth. It’s what happens when their tiny, disciplined network suddenly gets access to empire-level power.

Rome Falls; Christianity Rises

Fitzgerald is right that Christianity benefitted from Rome’s third-century crisis:

  • chronic civil wars
  • inflation and currency debasement
  • border instability and barbarian incursions
  • trade networks breaking down
  • urban life contracting

As conditions worsened:

  • Christianity’s disdain for “worldly” culture
  • its emphasis on endurance, suffering, and heavenly reward
  • its growing bishop-led structure and charity networks

…all became more attractive to the poor and dispossessed.

“It was a mark of Constantine’s political genius … that he realized it was better to utilize a religion … that already had a well‑established structure of authority … rather than exclude it as a hindrance.” Charles Freeman, The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith & the Fall of Reason  

But there’s a step many historians including Fitzgerald often underplay:

How Christianity destroyed the classical world.

From Tolerated to Favored to Tyrannical

A quick timeline:

  • 313-Constantine legalizes Christianity (Edict of Milan). Christianity is now allowed, not official. Constantine still honors Sol Invictus and dies as a pagan emperor who also patronized bishops.
  • 4th century– Christian bishops gain wealth and political leverage. Imperial funds start flowing to churches. Pagan temples begin to be looted or repurposed.
  • 380– Emperor Theodosius I issues the Edict of Thessalonica: Nicene Christianity becomes the official state religion.
  • 395 and after– Laws begin banning pagan sacrifices and temple worship. Pagan rites become crimes.

Catherine Nixey’s The Darkening Age and Charles Freeman’s The Closing of the Western Mind document how this looked on the ground:

  • temples closed, looted, or destroyed
  • statues smashed
  • libraries and shrines burned
  • philosophers harassed, exiled, or killed
  • non-Christian rites criminalized

Christianity didn’t “persuade” its way to exclusive dominance. It:

  • received funding and legal favor
  • then helped outlaw and dismantle its competition

That is not a moral judgment; it’s just how imperial religions behave.

The “Overnight Success” That Took Centuries and a State

So was Christianity a new, radically different, overnight success?

  • Not new: it recycled the son-of-god savior pattern, sacred meals, initiation, and rebirth themes common in the religious world around it. Even early church fathers admitted the similarities and blamed them on Satan “counterfeiting” Christianity in advance.
  • Not overnight: it stayed statistically tiny for generations.
  • Not purely spiritual success: it became powerful when emperors needed an obedient, centralized religious hierarchy to stabilize a collapsing state.

Christianity didn’t “win” because its evidence was overwhelming.

It won because:

  • it fit the needs of late-imperial politics
  • it built a strong internal hierarchy
  • it could supply social services
  • its leaders were willing to suppress, outlaw, and overwrite rival traditions

This is not unique. It’s a textbook case of how state-backed religions spread.


Why the Pushback Always Sounds the Same

After Part One, my comment sections turned into Groundhog Day:

  • “You’re ignoring Tacitus and Josephus!”
  • “Every serious scholar agrees Jesus existed.”
  • “Archaeology proves the Bible.”
  • “There are 25,000 manuscripts.”
  • “Paul met Jesus’ brother!”
  • “If Jesus wasn’t real, who started Christianity?”
  • “Ancient critics never denied his existence — checkmate.”
  • “You just hate religion.”
  • “This is misinformation.”

Different usernames. Same script.

This is where Neil Van Leeuwen’s work on religious credences helps:

  • Factual beliefs are supposed to track evidence. If you show me credible new data, I update.
  • Religious credences function differently: they’re tied to identity, community, and morality. Their job isn’t to track facts; it’s to hold the group together.

So when you challenge Jesus’ historicity, you’re not just questioning an ancient figure. You’re touching:

  • “Who am I?”
  • “Who are my people?”
  • “What makes my life meaningful?”

No wonder people come in hot.

That doesn’t make them stupid or evil. It just means the conversation isn’t really about Tacitus. It’s about identity maintenance.


Now Let’s Turn the Lens on Mythicism (Yes, Including Fitzgerald)

Here’s where I want to be very clear:

  • I am a mythicist.
  • I do not think the Jesus of the Gospels ever existed as a historical person.

But mythicism itself doesn’t get a free pass.

Carrier’s Probability Model: When Someone Actually Does the Math

Most debates about Jesus collapse into appeals to authority. Richard Carrier’s On the Historicity of Jesus at least does something different: it quantifies the evidence.

Using Bayesian reasoning, he argues roughly:

  • about a 1 in 3 prior probability that there was a “minimal historical Jesus”– a real Jewish teacher who got executed and inspired a movement
  • about 2 in 3 for a “minimal mythicist” origin– a celestial figure whose story later got historicized

Then, after weighing the actual evidence (Paul’s silence, the late Gospels, contradictions, etc.), he argues the probability of a historical Jesus drops further, to something like 1 in 12.

You don’t have to agree with his exact numbers to see the point:

  • Once you treat the sources like data, not dogma, the overconfident “of course Jesus existed, you idiot” stance looks a lot less justified.

O’Neill’s Critique of Fitzgerald: Atheist vs Atheist

Tim O’Neill, an atheist historian, wrote a long piece on Fitzgerald’s Nailed and does not hold back. His basic charges:

  • Fitzgerald oversells weak arguments
  • cherry-picks and misuses sources
  • ignores mainstream scholarship where it contradicts him
  • frames mythicism as bold truth vs. “apologist cowards,” which is just another tribal narrative

When Fitzgerald responded, he didn’t do so like someone doing serious historical work. He responded like an internet keyboard warrior.

And that same ideological vibe shows up in how he talks about people in general, which I said in the beginning.

Atheism as New Orthodoxy

The more time I spend watching atheist and deconstruction spaces online, the more obvious it becomes that a lot of these folks didn’t escape religion, they just changed uniforms. They swapped their church pews for Reddit threads, pastors for science influencers, and now “logic” is their new scripture.
Ya feel me?
It’s the same emotional energy: tribal validation, purity tests–like what do you believe or think about this? And the constant hunt for heretics who dare to ask inconvenient questions.

Say something even slightly outside the approved dogma…like pointing out that evolution (calm down, Darwin disciples) still has gaps and theoretical edges we haven’t fully nailed down and suddenly the comment section becomes the Inquisition.
They defend the theory with the exact same fervor evangelicals defend the Book of Revelation.
It’s wild.

And look, I’m all for science. I’m literally the girl who reads academic papers for funsies.
But when atheists start treating evolution like a sacred cow that can’t be questioned, or acting like “reason” is this perfect, unbiased tool that magically supports all their existing beliefs… that’s not skepticism. That’s a new orthodoxy, dressed up as a freethinker.
Different vocabulary, same psychology.
Good gravy, baby— calm down.

and….here’s the uncomfortable truth a lot of atheists don’t want to hear:

Reason isn’t the savior they think it is.

French cognitive scientists Hugo Mercier and Dan Sperber have spent years studying how humans actually use reason and prepare yourself because: we don’t use it the way we think. Their research shows that reason didn’t evolve to help us discover truth. It evolved to help us win arguments, protect our identities, and persuade members of our group.

In other words:

  • confirmation bias isn’t a flaw
  • motivated reasoning isn’t a glitch
  • tribal loyalty isn’t an accident

They are features of the reasoning system.

Which is why people who worship “logic” often behave exactly like the religious communities they left… just with new vocabulary and a different set of heretics.

This is also why intellectual diversity matters so much. You cannot reason your way to truth inside an ideological monoculture. Your brain simply won’t let you. Without competing perspectives, reasoning becomes nothing more than rhetorical self-defense, a way to signal loyalty to the tribe while pretending to be above it.

John Stuart Mill understood this long before modern cognitive science confirmed it. In On Liberty, Mill argues that truth isn’t something we protect by silencing dissent. Truth emerges through friction, through the clash of differing perspectives. A community that prides itself on “rational superiority” but cannot tolerate disagreement becomes just another church with a different hymnal.

And that’s where many atheist and deconstruction spaces are now.

They haven’t transcended dogma.
They’ve recreated it. Trading one orthodoxy for another.

This isn’t just about online atheists. This is about what happens when any movement stops questioning itself.


Challenging the Mythicist Side (Without Turning It Into Another Tribe)

Let’s get honest about the mythicist world too — because every camp has its blind spots.

Tim O’Neill’s critique of David Fitzgerald wasn’t just angry rhetoric. Strip away the insults, and he raises a few legitimate issues worth taking seriously:

1. Accusation of Agenda-Driven History

O’Neill argues that Fitzgerald starts with the conclusion “Jesus didn’t exist” and works backward, much like creationists do with Genesis.

Now Fitzgerald absolutely denies this. In his own words, he didn’t go looking for mythicism; mythicism found him when he started examining the evidence. And that’s fair.

But the deeper point still stands:

The mythicist movement can get so emotionally invested in debunking Christianity that it mirrors the very dogmatism it critiques.

You see this all over atheist spaces today — endless dunking, no nuance, purity tests, and very little actual curiosity.

That’s a valid critique.

2. Amateurism and Overreach

O’Neill also accuses Fitzgerald of relying too heavily on older scholarship, making confident claims where the evidence is thin, and occasionally overstating consensus.

Again — not entirely wrong.
Fitzgerald’s book is sharp and compelling, but it’s not the cutting-edge end of mythicism anymore.

There are places where he simplifies. There are places where he speculates.

This matters because mythicism deserves better than overconfident shortcuts.

3. Fitzgerald doesn’t push far enough

And ironically, this is where I diverge from O’Neill entirely. He thinks Fitzgerald goes too far; I think Fitzgerald stops too soon.

There are areas where the mythicist case has advanced beyond Fitzgerald’s framework, and he doesn’t touch them:

• The possibility that “Paul” himself is a literary construct

Nina Livesey and other scholars argue that:

  • The Pauline voice may be a 2nd-century invention.
  • The letters reflect Roman rhetorical conventions, not authentic 1st-century correspondence.
  • The “apostle Paul” may be a theological persona used to unify competing sects.

Fitzgerald doesn’t address this— but it’s now one of the most provocative frontiers in the field.

• The geopolitical legacy of Abrahamic supremacy

Fitzgerald critiques Christian nationalism. Great.
But he doesn’t go upstream to examine the deeper architecture:

How Abrahamic identity claims shaped law, land, empire, and modern geopolitics.

Abrahamic Power Isn’t Just Christian. Almost nobody looks at the broader landscape of Abrahamic influence in American politics and global power structures.

Once you zoom out, the picture gets a lot more complicated— and a LOT more revealing.

1. The Mormon Church Is a Financial Superpower

Most Americans have no idea how wealthy the LDS Church actually is.

The Mormon Church’s real estate & investment arm, Ensign Peak Advisors, was exposed in 2019 and again in 2023 for managing a secret portfolio now estimated at:

👉 $150–$200 billion

(Source: SEC filings, whistleblower leaks, Wall Street Journal)

To compare:

  • PepsiCo market cap: ~$175B
  • ExxonMobil (oil giant): ~$420B
  • Disney: ~$160B

Meaning:

📌 The LDS Church is financially on par with Pepsi and Disney, and not far behind Big Oil.

This is not a “church.” This is an empire.

And it invests strategically:

  • massive real estate acquisitions
  • agricultural control
  • media companies
  • political lobbying
  • funding influence networks

And let’s be clear:
Mormons see themselves as a literal remnant of Israel (the last tribe) destined to help rule the Earth “in the last days.”

Which brings us to…

2. Mormonism’s Quiet Partnership with the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR)

NAR is the movement behind the so-called “Seven Mountain Mandate”— the belief that Christians must seize control of:

  1. Government
  2. Education
  3. Media
  4. Arts & Entertainment
  5. Business
  6. Religion
  7. Family

This is the backbone of Christian nationalism and it’s far more organized than people realize. But here’s the part that never gets discussed:

Mormon elites collaborate with NAR leadership behind the scenes.

Shared goals:

  • influence over U.S. political leadership
  • shaping national morality laws
  • preparing for a prophetic “kingdom age”
  • embedding power in those seven spheres

This isn’t fringe. This is the largest religious–political coalition in the country, and yet most journalists never touch it.

3. The Ziklag Group: A $25M-Minimum Christian Power Circle

You want to talk about “elite networks”?

Meet Ziklag: an ultra-exclusive Christian organization named after King David’s biblical stronghold. Requirements for membership: a minimum net worth of $25 million Their mission?
Not charity. Not discipleship.

Influence the Seven Mountains of society at the highest levels.

Members include:

  • CEOs
  • hedge-fund managers
  • defense contractors
  • political donors
  • tech founders

Including the billionaire Uihlein family, who made a fortune in office supplies, the Greens, who run Hobby Lobby, and the Wallers, who own the Jockey apparel corporation. Recipients of Ziklag’s largesse include Alliance Defending Freedom, which is the Christian legal group that led the overturning of Roe v. Wade, plus the national pro-Trump group Turning Point USA and a constellation of right-of-center advocacy groups.

AND YET…

Most people yelling about “Christian nationalism” have never even heard of Ziklag.

4. Meanwhile, Chabad-Lubavitch Has Met with Every U.S. President Since 1978

Evangelical influence isn’t the only Abrahamic power Americans ignore.

Chabad (a Hasidic cult with global reach) has:

  • direct access to every U.S. president
  • annual White House proclamations (“Education & Sharing Day”) explicitly honor a religious leader as a moral authority over the nation.
  • a network of emissaries (shluchim) embedded in power centers around the world

This is influence, not conspiracy.

This is religious lobbying at the highest level of government, treated as unremarkable simply because the public doesn’t understand it.

See the Pattern Yet?

When people say “Christian nationalism,” they’re talking about one branch of a much older tree.

Christianity isn’t the problem. Atheism isn’t the solution.

The issue is Abrahamic supremacy: the belief that one sacred lineage has the right to rule, legislate, moralize, and define history for everyone else.

Across denominations, across continents, across political parties, the pattern is the same:

  • chosen-people narratives
  • divine-right entitlement
  • mythic land claims
  • sacred-tier influence operations
  • the blending of theology with statecraft

“Groupish belief systems that justify valuing one’s group above others must be inventable.”
Religion as Make-Believe.

Exactly.

These power structures aren’t ancient relics. They’re alive, wealthy, organized, and deeply embedded in American political life. And yet we’re told to panic exclusively about MAGA Christians…
while studiously ignoring:

  • Mormon financial empires
  • NAR infiltration of U.S. political offices
  • Zionist influence networks
  • Chabad’s presidential pipeline
  • elite Christian dominionist groups like Ziklag

This isn’t about blaming individuals.

It’s about naming systems. Because if we’re going to talk honestly about orthodoxy, myth, and power…

we need to talk about all of it— not just the parts that are fashionable to critique.

4. Mythicism still hasn’t grappled with empire

Most mythicist writing stops at:
“Jesus didn’t exist.”

Cool. Now what? The real question is:

HOW? How did a mythical figure become the operating system for Western civilization?

So, here’s where I actually land:

Christianity didn’t emerge from a single man.
It emerged from competing myths, political incentives, scriptural remixing, imperial needs, and evolving group identities.

And if that makes me someone who doesn’t quite fit in the Christian world, the atheist world, or the deconstruction world? Perfect. My loyalty is to the question, not the tribe. That’s exactly where I plan to stay.

That’s exactly where I plan to stay.

aaaand as always, maintain your curiosity, embrace skepticism, and keep tuning in. 🎙️🔒


Footnotes

1. Jodi Magness, Stone and Dung, Oil and Spit (Eerdmans, 2011).

Archaeologist specializing in 1st-century Judea; emphasizes that archaeology illuminates daily life, but cannot confirm Jesus’ existence or Gospel events.

2. Eric M. Meyers & Mark A. Chancey, Archaeology, the Rabbis, and Early Christianity (Baker Academic, 2012).

Shows how archaeology supports context, not Gospel narrative details.

3. Steve Mason, Josephus and the New Testament, 2nd ed. (Hendrickson, 2003).

Explains why the Testimonium Flavianum is partially or heavily interpolated and cannot serve as independent confirmation of Jesus.

4. Alice Whealey, “The Testimonium Flavianum in Syriac and Arabic,” New Testament Studies 54.4 (2008): 573–590.

Analyzes manuscript traditions showing Christian editing of Josephus.

5. Louis Feldman, “Josephus,” Anchor Bible Dictionary, vol. 3 (Yale University Press, 1992).

Standard reference summarizing scholarly consensus about the unreliable portions of Josephus’ Jesus passages.

6. Brent Shaw, “The Myth of the Neronian Persecution,” Journal of Roman Studies 105 (2015): 73–100.

Shows Tacitus likely repeats Christian stories, not archival Roman data, making him a witness to Christian belief — not Jesus’ historicity.

7. Pliny the Younger, Epistles 10.96–97.

Earliest Roman description of Christian worship; confirms Christians existed, not that Jesus did.

8. Bart D. Ehrman, Misquoting Jesus (HarperOne, 2005).

Explains why New Testament manuscripts contain thousands of variations, with no originals surviving.

9. Dennis R. MacDonald, The Homeric Epics and the Gospel of Mark (Yale University Press, 2000).

Argues Mark intentionally modeled episodes on Homeric motifs — supporting literary construction rather than eyewitness reporting.

10. Attridge, Harold W., The Epistle to the Hebrews (Hermeneia Commentary Series).

Shows how Hebrews relies on celestial priesthood imagery and makes no connection to a recent earthly Jesus, even when opportunities are obvious.

11. Earl Doherty, The Jesus Puzzle (1999).

Early mythicist argument emphasizing the epistles’ lack of biographical Jesus data.

12. Richard Carrier, On the Historicity of Jesus (Sheffield Phoenix, 2014).

Presents a Bayesian model estimating mythicist origins as more probable than historicity.

13. Richard Carrier, Proving History (Prometheus, 2012).

Explains the historical method he uses for evaluating Jesus traditions.

14. Paula Fredriksen, From Jesus to Christ (Yale University Press, 2000).

Demonstrates the pluralism and fragmentation within earliest Christianity.

15. Burton Mack, The Christian Myth: Origins, Logic, and Legacy (Continuum, 2006).

Describes the emergence of various Jesus traditions as literary and theological constructions.

16. Clayton N. Jefford, The Didache (Fortress Press).

Analyzes early church manual revealing “wandering prophets,” factionalism, and market-style competition among early Jesus groups.

17. Catherine Nixey, The Darkening Age (Macmillan, 2017).

Documents the destruction of pagan culture under Christian imperial dominance.

18. Charles Freeman, The Closing of the Western Mind (Vintage, 2005).

Explores how Christian orthodoxy displaced classical philosophy.

19. Ramsay MacMullen, Christianizing the Roman Empire (Yale University Press, 1984).

Shows Christianity expanded primarily through imperial power, incentives, and legislation, not mass persuasion.

20. H.A. Drake, Constantine and the Bishops (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002).

Outlines Constantine’s political use of Christianity and the shift toward enforced orthodoxy.

21. Peter Brown, The Rise of Western Christendom (Wiley-Blackwell, 2013).

Provides context for how Christianity overtook the Roman religious landscape.

22. Neil Van Leeuwen, “Religious Credence Is Not Factual Belief,” Cognition 133 (2014): 698–715.

Explains why religious commitments behave like identity markers, not evidence-responsive beliefs.

23. Whitney Phillips, This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things (MIT Press, 2015).

Useful for understanding modern online purity culture dynamics, relevant to atheist-internet behavior discussed in your commentary section.

24. Joseph Reagle, Reading the Comments (MIT Press, 2015).

Analyzes comment-section behavior and ideological enforcement online.

25. Tim O’Neill, “Easter, the Existence of Jesus, and Dave Fitzgerald,” History for Atheists (2017).

Atheist historian critiquing Fitzgerald’s methodological errors, exaggerated claims, and misuse of sources.

26. Raphael Lataster, Questioning the Historicity of Jesus (Brill, 2019).

Secular academic arguing mythicism is plausible but insisting on higher methodological rigor than many popularizers use.

27. Richard Carrier, various blog critiques of Fitzgerald (2012–2019).

Carrier agrees with mythicism but critiques Fitzgerald for overstatement and inadequate source control.

How Faith Superseded Reason in Christianity

The story of intellectual destruction hidden behind the narrative of salvation

Hey Hey, welcome back to Taste of Truth Tuesdays! Except today…it’s Thursday, which means it’s my bonus edition: Taste Test Thursday. Why a bonus? Because the comment sections lately have been overflowing with so much brain-dead apologetics, I had to dedicate an entire post just to unpack the anti-intellectual tricks Christians trot out like clockwork.

Last week I interviewed David Fitzgerald. On one hand, I was navigating a man who built his career dismantling Christian dogma. On the other, I found myself running headfirst into his own political certainties— rigid, unyielding, and just as unquestioned as the ideas he critiques. The irony wasn’t lost on me, especially as a moderate: the ex-Christian deconstruction space can be just as inhospitable to nuance as the faith it once rejected.

But what really matters here isn’t politics. It’s the dogma that never changes. Every time I debate the historicity of Jesus or the so-called “intellectual foundations” of Christianity, it feels like stepping into a twilight zone where facts and evidence are optional, and certainty always gets the last word.

Apologetics didn’t grow out of some noble pursuit of truth; it grew out of power struggles, suppression, and centuries of treating curiosity and inquiry as threats.

What gets labeled today as “defending the faith” has roots far older, far more political, and far more violent than most Christians realize. And understanding that history changes the way you engage with believers now— especially when they parrot the same canned responses that have been circulating (in one form or another) for almost 1,500 years.

And that’s what today’s episode is all about… to trace where this all actually came from….

Ancient Roots: When Apologetics Became a Tool of Power

For early Christians, defending their faith wasn’t just about theology, but survival in a world built on pluralism and reason. Thinkers like Justin Martyr, Origen, and Tertullian weren’t arguing from positions of power. Quite the opposite: they came from largely disenfranchised, low‑status communities— often slaves, women, and the poor— who were dismissed by Greco-Roman society. Early critics like Celsus, sneered that Christians were “only slaves, women, and little children … led by woolworkers, cobblers, and the most illiterate.”

But Christians were also up against a far more entrenched cultural reality: in the Greco-Roman world, it was normal (even comfortable) for people to participate in a number of cults simultaneously. Polytheistic religion meant multiple gods, multiple rituals, and no single institution claiming total authority. According to Charles Freeman, the intertwining of authority and Christianity was profoundly revolutionary: where one could previously be devoted to several deities at once, Christianity insisted that allegiance to one truth meant rejecting all others.

Early on, some of the Church Father’s work was intellectually sincere. They were trying to show Christianity wasn’t irrational. But as Charles Freeman points out, reason in theology faces a structural problem: unlike math or empirical science, it lacks universally accepted axioms. You can prove Pythagoras’ theorem because everyone agrees on what a right-angled triangle is. You can do inductive reasoning with empirical evidence because everyone can test and observe it. Theology? There are no such universal starting points. Revelations can be claimed by anyone, scripture can be interpreted in multiple ways, and even the most careful theologians disagreed on what counted as a “self-evident” truth.

The early Church quickly ran into this problem. Different communities drew on different texts, emphasized different letters of Paul, or debated competing visions of Jesus’ nature. The Montanists, for instance, were sidelined and crushed because their claims to divine revelation conflicted with what became orthodoxy. Even Thomas Aquinas, one of Europe’s “greatest rational thinkers”, had to suspend reason when it collided with doctrinal authority.

The point isn’t that Christians ignored reason — they didn’t. The point is that reason alone could never achieve consensus in matters of theology. Unlike other spiritual movements in the ancient world, Christianity insisted on a centralized authority, a single orthodoxy enforced across an empire of diverse cultures. That insistence on uniformity was revolutionary, and it set the stage for apologetics to evolve into a tool not just for defending belief, but for controlling it.

Once Christianity fused with political power (especially after Constantine) apologetics shifted again. It wasn’t enough to argue for the faith intellectually; it became a method of asserting authority, suppressing dissent, and standardizing scripture. Defending the faith became synonymous with maintaining control. What started as reasoning with skeptics gradually transformed into a mechanism to enforce orthodoxy across the Christian world.

It stopped being “Here’s why I believe” and became “Here’s why everyone must.”

As imperial authority was crumbling in the west, this is when the  bishops of Rome gained political backing, apologetics morphed into:

  • A tool for defining orthodoxy
  • A justification for suppressing dissent
  • A way to control access to scripture
  • A mechanism of dominance rather than debate

This shift marks the beginning of Christianity’s long relationship with enforcing belief rather than exploring truth — a pattern that shapes the modern faith more than its followers realize.

The Darkening Age: When Suppressing Ideas Became Holy Work

The Triumph of Christianity Over Paganism, by Tommaso Laureti 1585

Christian doctrine and its alliance with political power didn’t just close off types of questioning— it restructured the very social fabric of religious life. In effect, early Christians weren’t only claiming a new faith — they were demanding a new kind of loyalty built around a singular, authoritative orthodoxy. Catherine Nixey’s The Darkening Age doesn’t sugarcoat this period. Christianity’s rise didn’t just change the spiritual landscape; it also reshaped the intellectual world through force. At its heart, the book is a painful reminder of just how much was lost due to zealotry and religious dogma.

Nixey challenges the conventional narrative of Christianity “saving” Western civilization by exposing the far darker story: philosophers beaten, tortured, interrogated, exiled; their beliefs forbidden; intellectual traditions silenced. As the historian John Pollini observes, modern scholarship has often downplayed or overlooked these attacks, even presenting Christian desecration in a positive light.

Between the fourth and sixth centuries:

  • Pagan temples were smashed or repurposed
  • Statues were mutilated
  • Philosophical schools were closed
  • Entire libraries and works of classical literature were burned or erased

The destruction wasn’t without precedent. As I reflected in my notes for an upcoming episode on The Darkening Age, Christianity, emerging from a Jewish context, carried forward a zeal for nullifying rival religious objects and practices. Deuteronomy explicitly commands:

“You shall overthrow their altars, break their pillars, burn their growth with fire… and destroy the names of their gods out of that place.”

Early Christians, many of them ethnic Jews, others European converts, obliterated traditional art — especially works venerating ancestors…in ways strikingly similar to this Torah mandate. The Talmud codifies the principle: defacing an idol: cutting off a nose, fingertip, or ear was a method to revoke its divine status. Once damaged intentionally, the object lost its sacred standing.

Germanicus Caesar Germanicus’s nose has been mutilated and a cross has been carved in his forehead–perhaps an attempt to “baptize” and neutralize any possible demons within

“As the Church Father Basil explained, such ecclesiastical censorship was not illiberal; it was loving. Just as Augustine advocated the beating of heretics with rods out of fatherly care, so Basil advocated the removal of great tracts of classical canon as an act of ‘great care’ to ensure the soul was safely guarded.” Catherine Nixey, The Darkening Age the Christian Destruction of the Classical World

The primary sources are shocking. Some Christians didn’t just accept violence as a duty— they enjoyed it. Saint Augustine reportedly saw throwing down temples, idols, and groves as proof of abhorring paganism. Benedict of Nursia, revered as the founder of Western monasticism, was also celebrated as a destroyer of antiquities. John Chrysostom writes in The Homilies, On the Statues that punishing the pagan “sinner” (flogging, beating, even murder) was not harming them but saving them from the ultimate punishment. Murder in service of God was framed as prayer.

Reading this evokes deep visceral sadness. The destruction of creative thought, science, and philosophical inquiry is staggering. It’s impossible not to notice the echo in modern Christianity: when someone converts, they’re often asked to discard books, crystals, or other personal items that represent “pagan” or non-Christian influences. In some ways, the impulse to erase ideas, objects, and independent thought persists today.

ARCHIMEDES PALIMPSEST, C. IOTH-I3TH CENTURY 

A tenth-century copy of Archimedes chalf Mechanical Theorems. In it, Archimedes had ingeniously applied mechanical laws, such as the law cl the lever, to find the volume and area of geometric shapes. Two thousand years before Newton, he had come tantalizingly close to deriving calculus. However, in the thirteenth century this work was scraped off and overwritten with a prayer book.

This isn’t apologetics as debate by any means. It was apologetics as a sledgehammer, operating under the conviction that only one worldview deserved to survive. Nixey’s work is enraging, tragic, and illuminating. It shows that while Christianity has morphed and evolved over centuries, the strategies of control, suppression, and moral justification remain recognizable today.

Closing of the Western Mind: When Faith Shut Down Reason

“By the fifth century, not only has rational thought been suppressed, but there has been a substitution for it of ‘mystery, magic and authority’ …” — Charles Freeman, The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith & the Fall of Reason  

Charles Freeman’s The Closing of the Western Mind explains how Christianity, once in power, didn’t just defend itself; it fundamentally transformed the intellectual landscape of the West.

Greek philosophy, still vibrant in the early centuries, was gradually co-opted and subordinated to Christian authority. Faith, not reason, became the foundation of legitimacy. Independent philosophical traditions, especially those that didn’t align with Christian doctrine, were suppressed. Thought, inquiry, and debate were no longer neutral tools — they were potential threats

“Faith … involves some kind of acquiescence in what cannot be proved by rational thought.”  — Charles Freeman, The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith & the Fall of Reason  

The combination of church and imperial authority enforced orthodoxy across the empire.

“This ‘desire for control… of taxes and contributions’ was a corrosive feature of church politics. This linking of access to resources with orthodoxy was bound to lead to nasty rivalries when doctrine was so fluid.” Charles Freeman, The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith & the Fall of Reason  

Freeman shows that this wasn’t simply an unfortunate side effect of religion gaining power.

“It was a mark of Constantine’s political genius … that he realized it was better to utilize a religion … that already had a well‑established structure of authority … rather than exclude it as a hindrance.” Charles Freeman, The Closing of the Western Mind: The Rise of Faith & the Fall of Reason  

It was a structural choice: intellectual freedom was sacrificed for doctrinal control. The centuries that followed were marked by a persistent tension between reason and religion, one that would only begin to loosen with the reintroduction of Aristotle in the 13th century.

In other words, modern apologetics, the slick, defensive arguments Christians use today, didn’t appear in a vacuum. They are built on a foundation laid over centuries: a system where questioning authority was discouraged, curiosity was suspect, and dissent could be dangerous. Understanding this context changes the conversation entirely. 

When we debate Christians today about history, scripture, or reason, we aren’t just dealing with modern arguments…we’re confronting a legacy of intellectual suppression stretching back over a millennium.

Modern Apologetics: A Thought‑Stopping System Dressed Up as Intellectualism

Fast‑forward to today, and the patterns from history are still painfully familiar. Modern apologists like Lee Strobel or Josh McDowell often present themselves as investigators, journalists, or historians. But underlying that veneer of investigation is something much more defensive: their method isn’t really about seeking truth — it’s about creating an insulated echo chamber in which questioning feels unsafe.

You’ll notice how in their approach:

  • Doubt is pathologized
  • Questions are reframed as attacks
  • “Answers” come prepackaged
  • Evidence is curated selectively
  • Authority is invoked instead of demonstrated

This isn’t accidental. It’s the legacy of a system built not to evaluate claims, but to preserve credence.

To underscore that, let’s look at a couple of real voices:

Lee Strobel, in The Case for Christ, has described the evidence for Jesus like this:

“I picture the evidence for the deity of Jesus to be like the fast-moving current in a river. To deny the data would be like swimming upstream against the current … What’s logical, based on the strength of the case for Christ, is to swim in the same direction the evidence is pointing …” 

On the surface, that sounds rational. But it’s also subtly coercive — it frames belief as a natural, almost inevitable conclusion. If you resist, you’re not just wrong; you’re swimming against the current. That metaphor doesn’t invite open inquiry; it discourages it.

Robert M. Price: Calling Out the Illusion of Objectivity

Robert M. Price, in The Case Against the Case for Christ, goes even further. He accuses Strobel of building his “investigation” on a very narrow foundation:

“His true intention becomes clear by the choice of people he interviewed: every one of them a conservative apologist!” 

He also critiques the entire enterprise as a “long exercise in applying the fallacy of informal logic known as ‘the appeal to authority.’”  By highlighting that Strobel only interviews like-minded evangelical scholars, Price argues that Strobel never really engages with real skepticism or dissent. Instead, he reinforces what his audience already believes— with authority, not argument.

Why This Matters

Thought-stopping by design.
Strobel’s river metaphor isn’t an invitation to inquire — it’s a mental funnel. It teaches you to treat questions as temptations and answers as preselected. That’s classic thought-stopping: reframe uncertainty as spiritual danger, and the search ends before it begins.

Selection bias on display.
Price highlights how most “investigations” in apologetics aren’t investigations at all. They’re confirmation exercises. The conclusions are fixed, and the evidence is hand-picked to match. Doubt gets pathologized; alternative explanations get caricatured; and any data that threatens the thesis gets quietly dismissed as “liberal scholarship.”

Authority over evidence.
A hallmark of thought-stopping systems is the outsourcing of your epistemic agency. Rather than wrestling with contradictory ideas, you’re told to trust select authorities who have already “done the work” for you. The message is subtle but effective: Don’t think — defer. And the more you defer, the easier it becomes to confuse loyalty with truth.

Identity first, truth second.
when belief is woven into group identity, truth loses priority. In that ecosystem, bad arguments don’t weaken the faith — they strengthen belonging. The goal shifts from discovering what’s true to protecting who we are. And that’s why apologetics so often functions as thought-stopping: it reinforces identity boundaries rather than expanding understanding.

Modern apologetics doesn’t just argue— it fortifies. And once you see it for what it is, it’s easier to call out the patterns and not fall back into the same historical traps of intellectual control.

Mark Noll and the Scandal Christians Don’t Want to Acknowledge

Mark Noll famously wrote: “The scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is not much of an evangelical mind.”

And Noll’s critique isn’t just an evangelical problem. He’s describing a deep pattern that Christianity carried for centuries. Long before Darwin, before fundamentalism, before American politics ever touched a pulpit, Christians had already built an intellectual culture that favored:

  • authority over investigation
  • doctrine over open debate
  • preservation over exploration

Noll shows how early Christian communities learned to treat intellectual life as something to be “managed” rather than expanded. Church leaders policed ideas to protect unity. Questioning official teaching wasn’t framed as curiosity — it was framed as disloyalty.

That instinct hardened over time. Through the medieval church, the Reformation, and the rise of Protestant denominations, Christians inherited the same reflex: the safest mind is the obedient mind.

By the time evangelicalism appears in America, the pattern is already set. What looks like modern “anti-intellectualism” is really just the latest expression of something older: a tradition that trained generations to fear the consequences of independent thought.

Seen through Noll’s lens, apologetics suddenly makes perfect sense.
It’s not an attempt to think freely — it’s an attempt to stabilize belief.
It functions exactly the way a system built on centuries of intellectual gatekeeping would function— it’s functioning exactly the way it was designed to.

Credence vs. Belief: Why Arguments About Jesus Go Nowhere

One of the most clarifying concepts for understanding why Christian apologetics often feels impervious to evidence comes from Neil Van Leeuwen’s work on religious credence. He distinguishes between factual beliefs (which hold across all contexts and guide our actions consistently) and religious credence, which function more like imaginative or conditional assumptions tied to specific social and ritual settings.

Factual beliefs remain operative regardless of context. If you imagine your bed is a boat floating down stream, the reality of your bed remains unchanged. Stage actors, for instance, can fully inhabit the world of Hamlet while still acting according to the real physics of a stage. Religious credence, in contrast, are activated by particular experiences: rituals, rites of passage, confrontations with mortality, or challenges to identity.

Consider a church that rents a local gymnasium for Sunday service: everyone knows they’re sitting on bleachers in a multipurpose building, yet within that context, the space becomes sacred. The credence imposed by ritual and communal belief transforms ordinary surroundings into objects of spiritual significance, even while factual reality remains unchanged.

This distinction helps explain why apologetics doesn’t behave like fact-checking. Modern Christian arguments are not primarily designed to persuade with evidence; they are structured to maintain credence. Doubt is framed as dangerous, questions are answered with prepackaged responses, and rituals, narratives, and appeals to authority reinforce the believer’s identity and group loyalty. In other words, apologetics isn’t just defending a claim — it’s protecting a cognitive system that operates independently of factual reality.

In fact, as Neil Van Leeuwen puts it:

“When a belief is rooted in somebody’s group identity, truth often takes the back seat if a certain kind of attitude is playing a role in defining or constituting a group identity. Truth is not as important, and in fact they might do this better if they’re not true.”

This gets to the heart of why modern apologetics is less about investigation and more about protection. Doubt isn’t just unwelcome— it threatens the social and cognitive structures that support identity. Prepackaged answers, appeals to authority, and ritual reinforcement aren’t failures of reasoning; they are deliberate mechanisms to safeguard credence, keeping the believer anchored in a worldview that serves the group, not necessarily the facts.

This is why arguments about Jesus’ historicity feel like Groundhog Day. You’re not dealing with beliefs designed to track reality… you’re dealing with identity-protecting narratives designed to resist reality.

In closing: 

This isn’t about dunking on individuals. It’s about recognizing what you’re actually interacting with.

Understanding this history gives you clarity:

  • You’re not debating a modern argument; you’re confronting 1,500 years of institutional thought management.
  • The frustration you feel isn’t personal— it’s structural.
  • The “answers” you hear aren’t original. They’re part of a system designed to be immune to evidence.

And most importantly: Apologetics doesn’t function to seek truth. It functions to protect credence.

Which means the biblical Jesus, the “case for Christ,” and the endless spiral of apologetic books aren’t neutral intellectual exercises. They’re artifacts of a culture built on suppressing alternative ideas, discouraging inquiry, and elevating belief above accuracy.

Once you trace the lineage, from temple-burning zealotry and doctrinal power struggles to modern thought-stopping scripts, the pattern is unmistakable. What appears as reasoned debate is often a carefully maintained system of intellectual control. Understanding that history doesn’t just explain the past; it equips you to see how apologetics functions today and why challenging it can feel like swimming upstream.

Ultimately, the story isn’t just about one book, one belief, or one faith. It’s about recognizing the enduring architecture of authority, credence, and control while reclaiming the space for curiosity, evidence, and honest questioning.

Forgiveness or Control? How Evangelical Culture Weaponizes Grief

Hey hey, welcome back to Taste of Truth Tuesdays.

Today we’re unpacking several interwoven topics I’ve explored in my writing before why people get drawn into high-control environments and how forgiveness in Christian culture is often weaponized, not as a path to healing, but as a tool to silence victims and protect institutions. This isn’t just a personal issue; it’s an institutional one.

This came into sharp focus after Erika Kirk, Charlie Kirk’s widow, said she forgives her husband’s killer. I’m not here to critique her grief, that’s her own process. What I want to explore is the cultural framework that makes this kind of forgiveness expected, celebrated, and even demanded in evangelical spaces. I have a MUCH MUCH longer blog linked here if you want to go much deeper than I plan to cover today.


Why Grief Is Ripe for Recruitment

Before even touching forgiveness, let’s pause on why this moment is so primed for revivalist recruiting. Sociologists and psychologists have long noted that people are most vulnerable to high-control groups (whether churches or MLMs) during times of disruption and emotional chaos.

Laura Dodsworth, in her book Free Your Mind, calls this a “blip.” A blip is any disruption that cracks our normal defenses: loss, illness, exhaustion, grief. Even smaller stressors (Think HALT) Hunger, anger/anxiety, loneliness or being tired can chip away at our resistance. Push long enough, and the conscious mind collapses into a state of openness, hungry for belonging and ready to absorb new narratives.

That’s exactly what makes funerals, memorials, and major crises fertile ground for recruitment. Orwell nailed it in 1984:

“Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in shapes of your own choosing.”

Jehovah’s Witnesses even admit to targeting what they call “ripe fruit”-the recently bereaved. In Brazil, recruiters have driven cars with loudspeakers through cemeteries on All Souls’ Day, broadcasting sermons to tens of thousands of mourners. That isn’t compassion; it’s strategic exploitation. Naomi Klein would call it the Shock Doctrine: trauma as an entry point for control.

We’re seeing the same tactics play out online right now. Someone posts about “returning to church” after years away, and within hours their feed fills with love-bombing-likes, comments, and digital hugs. It feels affirming, but it’s also classic manipulation: vulnerability plus attention equals a wide-open door into manipulation.

And so it’s no surprise that revivalist energy is surging in the wake of Kirk’s death.

Situational vulnerability + orchestrated belonging = fertile ground for expansion.


The Myth of “Christlike” Forgiveness

This brings us back to forgiveness. I want to be CLEAR HERE, obviously Erika Kirk wasn’t coerced into forgiving, but in evangelical culture forgiveness is never entirely personal, it’s baked into the ethos. The more you forgive, the more “Christlike” you appear.

Matthew 6:14–15 “For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”

That expectation is dangerous. Forgiveness is sacred when it grows out of genuine healing. But when demanded prematurely, it becomes a weapon. Survivors are told to “forgive as you’ve been forgiven” before they’re ready, before their pain is acknowledged, and typically long before their abuser is held accountable.

Pete Walker, in The Tao of Fully Feeling, argues that forgiveness is not a one-time act but a continual choice and that choice only works after grief, rage, and hurt are fully processed. Skip that, and forgiveness turns into compliance, a way to silence anger and keep victims stuck.

In other words: real forgiveness empowers the survivor. Weaponized forgiveness protects the institution.


How Churches Use Forgiveness to Protect Themselves

We’ve seen this pattern across evangelical institutions:

  • The Guidepost Report (2022) exposed that SBC leadership maintained a secret list of over 700 abusive pastors, shielding them from consequences while survivors were ignored, discredited, or retaliated against.
  • Jennifer Lyell, an SBC abuse survivor, was vilified by church leadership when she came forward. Instead of support, she was publicly shamed, and her abuser faced no consequences.
  • Christa Brown, another survivor, spent years advocating for reform after being assaulted by her youth pastor. The SBC’s response? Stonewalling, gaslighting, and further silencing.
  • Jehovah’s Witnesses have a longstanding pattern of protecting sexual predators under their “two-witness rule,” which requires at least two people to witness abuse for it to be considered valid. This impossible standard allows abusers to go unpunished while victims are shunned for speaking out.

In each case, forgiveness isn’t about healing. It’s about compliance, silence, and institutional survival.


Nietzsche, Freud, and the Cycles of Guilt

This isn’t new. Nietzsche warned that Abrahamic religions hijacked older wisdom traditions, reframing them into systems of obedience rather than life-affirmation. Freud saw religion as a kind of collective neurosis, trapping people in loops of guilt and repression.

What is ironic, Freud’s own psychoanalytic model looks eerily similar to the religious structures he critiqued. As historian Bakan and others have suggested, Freud may have drawn (consciously or not) on Jewish mysticism, replacing priests with analysts, confession with therapy, sin with repressed desire. In trying to explain away religion, Freud ended up reproducing its patterns in secular form. In other words, the pattern of taking human vulnerability and channeling it into control runs deep.

And this is where Laura Dodsworth’s idea of the “blip” becomes so relevant. The blip is that moment of rupture…when you’re grieving, disoriented, exhausted, or otherwise cracked open. Your defenses are down, your critical mind isn’t firing at full strength, and the brain is searching for something to hold onto. In these liminal spaces, new ideologies rush in.

That’s why this moment is so ripe for revivalist energy. It’s not just about forgiveness…it’s about the total atmosphere of grief and disruption that can act as a blip. And high-control groups know it. It’s why political movements, religious revivals, and even MLMs wait for crisis points: job loss, divorce, a death in the family. The blip isn’t compassionately held-it’s exploited.

So when we watch something like Kirk’s memorial, we’re not just seeing personal mourning. We’re watching a social script unfold, one that revivalists know how to activate. In this script, forgiveness, obedience, and “turning your life over” aren’t neutral virtues—they become instruments of recruitment. Which means the real question isn’t should people forgive, but who benefits when forgiveness and emotional openness are demanded at the exact moment people are least able to resist?

Sources & Recommended Reading

  • Laura Dodsworth, Free Your Mind: The New World of Manipulation and How to Resist It (2023) – esp. Chapter 10, “Watch Out for the Blip.”
  • George Orwell, 1984 (1949) – “Power is in tearing human minds to pieces…”
  • Naomi Klein, The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism (2007).
  • Pete Walker, The Tao of Fully Feeling: Harvesting Forgiveness out of Blame (1996).
  • Friedrich Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals (1887); The Antichrist (1895).
  • Sigmund Freud, The Future of an Illusion (1927).
  • David Bakan, Sigmund Freud and the Jewish Mystical Tradition (1958).
  • Investigative reports on abuse cover-ups:
    • Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) scandal (Houston Chronicle, 2019).
    • Hillsong global abuse reports (various, 2020–2022).
    • Grace Community Church & John MacArthur counseling cases (Christianity Today, 2022).
  • Jehovah’s Witness recruitment practices

The Conversation We’re Avoiding…..

Let’s discuss what Tucker Carlson, Nick Fuentes, & The New Jerusalem Reveal About Power and Media

Hey Hey Welcome back to Taste of Truth Tuesdays.

At the end of last month, we started unpacking a big question: where does real power sit in our country? And how does understanding history & theology change the way we see what’s happening today?

Well, the timing couldn’t be more perfect, because right now there’s a viral clash unfolding that brings all those threads together in real time.

I just finished reading the book The New Jerusalem by Michael Collins Piper, which was written way back in 2004 and it discussed a lot of the same individuals and key information that Fuentes said during this 2-part attack on Tucker. The book is a deep dive into decades of political and financial influence shaping America. As I’m reading it, this public duel emerges between two of the loudest voices in the alt-right media: Tucker Carlson and Nick Fuentes. And I really appreciated what Ian Carroll had to say about the subject while he reminded us why these kinds of debates aren’t just entertainment: they’re essential for discussing the truth & the health of our nation.

This isn’t gossip or drama. It’s about understanding the invisible lines drawn around what we’re allowed to talk about, what gets filtered out, and what’s shut down. If we pay attention, this moment could help move the conversation forward in ways we desperately need.


The New Jerusalem: Mapping Influence Behind the Scenes

In our previous episode, I mentioned how I truly believe that we have been an occupied nation since 1960s and Michael Piper (author of The New Jerusalem) totally agrees. He wrote a 768 page book called The Final Judgment The missing link in the JFK Assassination Conspiracy and so that is just a whole nother rabbithole.

He also wrote a book called The High Priest of War which was the first full length work examining the little known history of the hardline pro Israel neoconservative movement which Nick Fuentes was really breaking down for us in his part two series (in particular).

It is starting to make so much sense… So I’m just trying to point you guys into resources not to propose myself as someone who can connect all the dots like Michael Collins Piper can. He traces the networks, deals, and consolidations of power that have shaped the American political and financial landscape over the last century.

It’s definitely a lot shorter and more entertaining than Whitney’s Webs books Nation Under Blackmail I couldn’t get through them to be honest with you they were so dry so if you read them mad props to you.

So, for me, what stands out is the gradual centralization of influence: from banking to media to government appointments. These connections have profound effects on policy, public opinion, and international alliances.

You know you can say connecting the dots is anti-Semitic

The esteemed Websters dictionary has now broadened the definition of antisemitism to include: “opposition to Zionism” which is definitely a lot of what I speak about and “sympathy for the opponents of Israel”.

Those two categories alone would probably include literally billions of people across the face of this planet. We need to understand that when people label folks as “white-supremacists”, “Nazi”, “antisemitic”…. you know cancel culture is over so if y’all aren’t picking up on that like do you need to go to primary sources and listen specifically to what people were saying try to read books try to listen to different sides of the story so you can grasp the truth (if you can).

This isn’t wild conspiracy. It’s a careful look at decades of patterns and documented facts (most of the sources were from Jewish resources). Our current political reality didn’t just appear by chance. It’s the product of generations of social engineering, strategic moves and powerful leverage.

Without this historical lens, it’s easy to see today’s media as an organic mess of voices. But with it, you realize just how much of what we hear (and don’t hear) is carefully shaped, and rarely talked about openly.


Tucker Carlson vs. Nick Fuentes: A Public Clash Over Boundaries

What kicked all of this off was an interview on August 1st, 2025, when Tucker Carlson sat down with Candace Owens. During that 15-minute segment, they launched a personal character attack on Nick Fuentes. The spark? Tucker claimed he didn’t know his dad was in the CIA until after his father’s death in March 2025 — a claim most of us know was a blatant lie.

That lie set off a firestorm. In response, Nick Fuentes dropped a two-part viral series on Rumble, calling out Tucker for being dishonest and, more importantly, for not pushing far enough on certain topics. Fuentes argues there are clear lines Tucker won’t cross — and those lines shape what millions of people get to hear.

Whether you agree with Fuentes or not, this public clash is rare. Usually, these kinds of disputes stay behind the scenes or get smoothed over. But this time, it’s happening in front of us, giving the audience a rare look at the invisible boundaries of public discourse — the unspoken rules about what topics are “safe” and which ones are off limits.

Once you notice those lines, it’s natural to ask: who drew them? And why?

If you want to see the full exchange and judge for yourself, Nick Fuentes’ two-part response is available on Rumble:

Watching these gives a clearer picture of why this clash has grabbed so much attention and why the boundaries of public discourse matter now more than ever.


Now, this ties into something I’ve been noticing from some corners of the conversation: people who’ve moved away from Protestant Church and embraced Orthodox Christianity, rightly pushing back against things like Zionism and dispensationalism.

On our last episode, I talked about how it’s not just dispensationalism or the Schofield Bible fueling this whole machine — it’s that Christianity itself is built on Jewish roots.

“Inside ever Christian is a Jew” —Pope Francis (June 16, 2014)

Reading from The Jesus Hoax:

Consider, first of all, the ancient origins of Judaism and the corresponding events of the Old Testament (OT) otherwise known as the Jewish (or Hebrew Bible). The original Patriarch, Abraham, (originally called ‘Abram’—strange how so many people in the Bible have two names), allegedly lived sometime between 1800 and 1500 BC; he was the traditional father of not only Judaism and thus Christianity but centuries later, of Islam as well. Thus, one sometimes reads that Judaism, Christianity and Islam are all viewed as the “Abrahamic” religions.

Simply put: Christians believe in a Jewish God, read Jewish Scriptures, and worship a Jewish rabbi. If you take those origin stories as literal history, you’re often reinforcing the very narratives that prop up modern Zionism.

But here’s where my beef 🥩comes in: In a recent clip, one such voice claimed that Jesus wasn’t really a Jew — just ‘an Israelite from Judah’ — as if that somehow changes His identity or the core of the faith. Here is the clip:

That’s a common but misleading narrative.

Reading from The Jesus Hoax:

What’s in a Name: Hebrew, Israelite or Jew?

This is a good point to take a short detour to explain some very relevant terminology Much confusion exists around three apparently interchangeable terms Hebrew Israelite and Jew. In the book of Genesis 14:13 Abram/Abraham is the first referred to as the “Hebrew”—a term of ambiguous origin and no clear meaning. Regardless, Abraham was the original “Hebrew”, and this designation came to be attached to his son Isaac (but not Ishmael) and to Isaac’s son Jacob (but not Esau) and to Jacob’s 12th sons and their descendants—all of whom would be called “Hebrews”

The term “Israel” as noted above, has been in existence since at least 1200 BC. In Hebrew language, “Israel” means ‘he who strives with God’, and thus is a term of honor. It first appears in the BIble in Genesis 32:28 when Jacob is renamed Israel. Therefore, Jacob and his 12 sons and all their heirs are called Israelites.

But what about ‘Jew’? We See above that one of Jacob’s 12 sons was Judah-or in Hebrew, Jehudah. Judah was Jacob/Israel’s 4th son, but as it turns out, the first three (Reuben, Simeon and Levi) ended up in his disfavor and so Judah takes a leading role. Speaking to his sons, Jacob says: Genesis 49:10

8 Judah,b your brothers shall praise you.

Your hand shall be on the necks of your enemies;

your father’s sons shall bow down to you.

9Judah is a young lion—

my son, you return from the prey.

Like a lion he crouches and lies down;

like a lioness, who dares to rouse him?

10The scepter will not depart from Judah,

nor the staff from between his feet,c

until Shilohd comes

This idea that Jesus wasn’t a Jew feels more like a way to cope or sidestep with the uncomfortable historical and theological realities than a true insight. And it’s important to recognize when narratives intended to clarify actually end up muddying the waters…..

Any case, as the 12 tribes and their descendants became established in Palestine, the 10 northern-most tribes became known as ‘Israel’ and the southern-most two, as ‘Judah.’ At some point, the ‘man of Judah’ or descendant of Judah’ became a Yehudia Jew.

After the Babylonian exile and return (597 to 538 BC), the 12 tribes became known collectively as both ‘Israel’ and ‘men of Judah’ or Yehu-dim. We see a variation on this term appear on a coin minted around 120 BC, with the word Hayehudim (“of Judah” or “of the Jews”). Yehudi, or plural Yehudim, appear several times in the OT; typically this is translated into English as ‘Jew’ or ‘Jews’., although sometimes as ‘man of Judah’

The first appearance is in 2 Kings (16:6 and 25:25), and then several times later in Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Jeremiah, Daniel (twice), and Zecharia (8:23). ‘Jew’ is not in the first five books (Pentateuch) like He-brew’ and ‘Israel’ are, which suggests that it is not quite as ancient within Jewish culture; but still, its presence throughout the remainder of the OT shows its importance to the Jewish authors, who, of course, were writing strictly to a Jewish audience. When Jews were writing to their fellow Jews, they had no compunction about using the word ‘Jew.’

As the OT spread into Greek and (later) Latin culture, Yehudi became translated as Ioudaios and Iudaeus, respectively. The Latin term lost its ‘d’ when moving into the region of modern-day France, and the people there created a contracted version, giu. This then worked its way into Old English around the year 1000, where it took a variety of forms:

Gyu, Giu, lew, luu, and so on. By the late 1300s, Chaucer was using the word Jewes. And by the late 1500s, playwrights like Marlowe and Shakespeare were writing, simply, ‘Jews.’

So, the 12 tribes became the nation of Israel, but after exile and time, the term “Jew” came to specifically mean someone from the tribe of Judah or the people of that southern kingdom.


Let’s set the record straight: The Orthodox tradition affirms that Jesus was Jewish by both lineage and practice. For example, the OrthodoxWiki notes that Jesus is the Messiah prophesied by Jewish prophets, and the Gospel of Matthew is written especially for a Jewish audience, emphasizing His fulfillment of Jewish prophecy.

The Orthodox Church in America points out that Jesus was the long-awaited Jewish Messiah, who lived fully within the Jewish covenant community — even though some of His contemporaries refused to recognize Him as such. Orthodox catechism reminds us that Jesus’ divine incarnation took place in a fully human, Jewish context.

Historical records in the Gospels show Jesus was born of the tribe of Judah, descended from David, circumcised according to Jewish law, and faithfully observed Jewish festivals and customs. He taught in synagogues and affirmed the Torah and the Prophets (Luke 4:16; John 7:2, 10; Matthew 5:17–18).

That’s why I’m bringing on Dr. David Skrbina, author of The Jesus Hoax, in an upcoming episode. Because when you start questioning who Jesus really was — beyond the narratives handed down or pushed by certain agendas — you begin to see how much history, theology, and culture have been carefully shaped. And as with political power and media, the truth often lives just beyond the boundaries we’re allowed to explore.

Why This Moment Matters

This isn’t just about one book, or two media figures, or a particular platform. It’s a rare opening — a crack in the matrix — that lets us see where conversation gets shut down, and maybe even push those limits back.

Agree or disagree with Piper, Fuentes, or Carlson… that’s your right. But the bigger question remains: who decides what’s okay to say? And if those decisions are made without our awareness, how free are we really?

That question feels especially urgent today, as laws around hate speech and anti-Semitism shape what can be discussed publicly — in ways that limit honest dialogue. Efforts like DEI programs aimed at protecting Jewish students completely contradict how most conservatives feel about identity politics.

My hope is that we take this moment seriously. We stop treating these boundaries as natural or unchangeable. We start asking who benefits from keeping the conversation so tightly controlled — and whether that control is helping or harming our society.

Because once you see where the conversation ends, you realize how much more there is beyond — and often, that’s where the truth really lives.

The Deluded Brain: Why Control Feels Safe, Certainty Feels Holy, & Complexity Feels Threatening

Welcome to Taste Test Thursday! You know how online debates often turn into full-blown keyboard wars? People lash out with rage when their beliefs whether political, religious, or social are challenged. But why? What’s behind these intense, emotional responses?

What if it’s not just about bad ideas, but something deeper a brain imbalance? What if our need for certainty and addiction to outrage comes from the way our brains are wired to process the world?

Today we’re diving into the neuroscience behind these defensive reactions. We’ll see how the brain’s wiring for survival influences everything from ideological rigidity to emotional hijacking. We’re setting the stage for something important that we’ll explore this upcoming Tuesday how Complex PTSD and PTSD are NOT the same thing. This is an episode you won’t want to miss, especially if you’ve ever felt stuck in a cycle of intense emotional reactions that you just can’t control.

Let’s review something we’ve discussed before: Amygdala Hijacking. If you remember, the amygdala is a part of our brain that processes emotions like fear and anger. Now, when the amygdala gets triggered especially in stressful or traumatic situations it can completely bypass the more rational prefrontal cortex. This results in what we call an “emotional hijack,” where the brain goes straight into fight-or-flight mode often in situations that don’t actually require that level of reaction.

This kind of response helps explain why some people find comfort in fundamentalism.

“At its most basic, the allure of fundamentalism, whether religious or ideological, liberal or conservative, is that it provides an appealing order to things that are actually disorderly.”
Peter Mountford The Dismal Science

That line hits at something crucial we have explored many times before: the human brain craves order, especially in the face of chaos. The illusion of control is one of our brain’s favorite coping mechanisms and when we find a system (religious, political, or otherwise) that delivers black-and-white certainty? You get a dopamine hit.

Rigid ideologies offer a tidy framework that feels safe and predictable especially in times of confusion, disillusionment, or personal crisis. That’s not just philosophy. That’s neurology.


When Chaos Was the Norm, Control Becomes a Coping Mechanism

For many of us, rigid beliefs aren’t just intellectual frameworks. They’re emotional survival strategies.

The need for control, the drive for perfection, the desire to be “good enough” to earn love these weren’t just quirks of personality. They were adaptations to childhoods where emotional needs weren’t met. And like many people who grew up in households marked by emotional neglect, those patterns shaped everything: our relationships, our careers, our bodies, and the ideologies we clung to.

Psychologists like Alice Miller and Elan Golomb have long noted how children raised in emotionally unavailable or narcissistic homes often create a false self a version of themselves designed to gain approval and avoid rejection.
It’s a blueprint that gets carried into adulthood, often unconsciously.

That’s why fundamentalist spaces feel so magnetic to people with childhood trauma. They offer:

  • Clear rules instead of emotional chaos
  • “Unconditional” love that’s actually highly conditional
  • A surrogate parent in the form of a deity or ideology that tells you who to be

Religious trauma often echoes family trauma—because it’s a new version of the same wound.


When Identity Is Built on Compliance

When a belief system rewards obedience over curiosity, it recreates the dynamics of an authoritarian household. You’re loved when you perform correctly. You belong when you don’t question. You’re “good” when you conform.

So what happens when you start to deconstruct?

The moment someone questions the “truth,” it’s perceived as a betrayal—not just of doctrine, but of identity and tribe. And that’s when we see:

  • Verbal attacks – Heretic. Traitor. Bigot.
  • Social ostracism – Canceled. Shunned. Ghosted.
  • Online harassment – Dogpiling and moral outrage.
  • Even physical aggression – History is full of examples, from witch hunts to ideological purges.

But this isn’t just about “bad actors.” It’s about brains shaped by fear.

When your childhood taught you that being wrong = being unloved, then someone challenging your beliefs doesn’t just feel uncomfortable it feels unsafe.
Disagreement triggers:

  • Cognitive dissonance – That gut-wrenching anxiety when facts don’t fit your worldview
  • Fear of consequences – Hellfire or public shaming
  • Loss of self – Because the belief was the identity
  • Loss of community – The people who “loved” you might now condemn you

The Brain’s Role in Certainty Addiction

Neuroscience adds another layer here—one that makes ideological rigidity more understandable, even if it’s not excusable.

Dr. Iain McGilchrist, in The Master and His Emissary, outlines how the brain’s left and right hemispheres don’t just process information differently—they perceive reality differently.

❌ Not: “Left brain = logic, Right brain = creativity.”
✅ But: “Left brain = control, categorization, and certainty. Right brain = context, relationship, and meaning.”

In a balanced brain, the right hemisphere leads—it sees the big picture, embraces nuance, and stays grounded in lived reality. The left hemisphere refines, classifies, and helps us act.

But modern culture has flipped the script. We’ve let the left hemisphere hijack our perception, reducing the complex to the manageable, the mysterious to the measurable. In this flipped hierarchy:

  • Ambiguity feels threatening
  • Context gets stripped away
  • Relationship is sacrificed for abstraction
  • And certainty becomes a kind of drug

That’s why ideological possession feels so safe. The left brain loves a clear system, even if it’s oppressive. It would rather be certain and wrong than uncertain and real.

So, when someone questions your belief, it’s not just inconvenient. It shatters the left brain’s illusion of control. And when that illusion is all, you’ve known since childhood, the reaction isn’t just intellectual-it’s existential. a threat.


When Belief Becomes Identity

Jonathan Haidt, in The Righteous Mind, explains that we don’t arrive at beliefs through pure logic. We have moral intuitions quick, gut-level judgments and then our reasoning brain (usually the left hemisphere) steps in, not to find the truth, but to defend the tribe.

The moment someone questions our “truth,” we don’t hear it as a conversation—we hear it as an attack.

What happens next?

Verbal Attacks:
When someone questions a core belief, the response often isn’t curiosity—it’s insults, belittling, or outright contempt. In faith spaces, that might look like calling someone a heretic. In political spaces, it’s labels like traitor, bigot, or grifter.

Social Ostracism:
Both religious and political groups punish deviation. Doubters are canceled, excommunicated, or ghosted. Deconstruct your faith? You might lose your church community. Question political orthodoxy? You might lose friends—or your job.

Online Harassment:
The algorithm rewards outrage. Post a thoughtful question about a sacred ideology and you’ll get dogpiled. Our moral tastebuds, as Haidt would say, are being hijacked by dopamine-fueled tribalism.

Physical Aggression:
At the extremes, ideological certainty becomes dangerous. From holy wars to revolutions, the ugliest parts of history stem from one belief: we’re right, and they’re evil.


Why We React This Way: The Psychology of Threat

When beliefs are fused with identity, disagreement feels like annihilation. Especially when the community around us reinforces that fusion. Here’s the pattern:

  • Fear of Deviation: Questioning is framed as betrayal either spiritual or social.
  • Cognitive Dissonance: New ideas create discomfort, and doubling down feels safer than rethinking.
  • Fear of Consequences: From hellfire to being canceled, the cost of questioning is high.
  • Identity Threat: When belief equals self-worth, letting go feels like losing yourself.
  • Social Pressure: Communities often reward conformity and punish dissent.

This is where McGilchrist and Haidt align beautifully: one shows how the brain gets hijacked by the need for control, the other shows how morality binds us to our tribe and blinds us to complexity.


Make-Believe, Morality, and the Group

In our episode with Neil Van Leeuwen, author of Religion as Make-Believe, we unpacked another crucial insight: factual beliefs are flexible, but identity-based beliefs aren’t. They don’t require evidence. In fact, falsehoods often serve the group better because they signal loyalty, not logic.

This is why both sides of a political aisle can believe obviously contradictory things because the truth is secondary to belonging. And once we belong, we don’t think critically–we defend instinctively.


The Antidote: Intellectual Humility

The only way out is through a kind of self-aware disruption.

  • Open Dialogue: Spaces where disagreement isn’t punished—but explored.
  • Supportive Community: Groups that allow for doubt, evolution, and honest questioning.
  • Personal Reflection: A willingness to examine the stories we tell ourselves—and why we need them.
  • Interdisciplinary Curiosity: Instead of staying in one thought silo, we pull from neuroscience, sociology, philosophy, and lived experience.

Fundamentalism, at its core, is the elevation of certainty over curiosity. But healing, freedom, and truth? They live on the other side of that certainty.


So, what’s one belief you once clung to tightly only to realize it wasn’t the whole truth?

Let’s talk about it in the comments.

And remember:

Maintain your curiosity, embrace skepticism, and keep tuning in. 🎙️🔒
We’re not here to worship reason or reject it.
We’re here to see more clearly.

Sources:

  1. Dr. Iain McGilchrist – Left and Right Hemisphere Functions
    McGilchrist, Iain. The Master and His Emissary: The Divided Brain and the Making of the Western World. Yale University Press, 2009.
  2. Alice Miller – Emotional Neglect and the False Self
    Miller, Alice. The Drama of the Gifted Child: The Search for the True Self. Basic Books, 1997.
  3. Elan Golomb – Narcissistic Parenting and Emotional Consequences
    Golomb, Elan. Trapped in the Mirror: Adult Children of Narcissists in Their Struggle for Self. William Morrow, 1992.
  1. Neil Van Leeuwen – Religious Trauma and Belief Systems
    Van Leeuwen, Neil. Religion as Make-Believe: The Religious Imagination and the Design of the World. Cambridge University Press, 2021.
  2. Jonathan Haidt – Moral Psychology and Group Loyalty
    Haidt, Jonathan. The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion. Pantheon Books, 2012.

The Ideological Capture of Mental Health: A Whistleblower’s Story

How ‘Decolonizing Healing’ Became a Weapon of Social Engineering

The other week in our episode, Escaping One Cult, Joining Another? The Trap of Ideological Echo Chambers—When ‘Cult Recovery’ Looks a Lot Like a New Cult, I first introduced this idea: people leave high-control religion thinking they’ve found freedom, only to land in another rigid belief system.

And today, we’re diving even deeper.

Why does this happen?

Because humans are tribal.

Political scientists have long found that our opinions are shaped more by group identity than by rational self-interest. As Jonathan Haidt explains in The Righteous Mind, politics is deeply tribal—we’re hardwired to align with groups, not necessarily because they offer truth, but because they provide belonging.

As I’ve been navigating the deconstruction, ex-Christian, ex-cult communities, I’ve noticed for many, the radical progressive left becomes their new “safe” community, offering a clear moral hierarchy—oppressed vs. oppressor, privileged vs. marginalized. It mirrors what they once found in their faith.

But here’s the problem: the partisan brain, already trained in “us vs. them” thinking, doesn’t become freer—it simply finds a new orthodoxy.

John McWhorter has argued that woke ideology functions like a religion:

  • Instead of original sin, there’s privilege, marking some people as morally compromised from birth.
  • Instead of prayer, there’s public confession of biases and activism as penance.
  • Instead of heaven, there’s a utopia achieved through systemic change.

This framework offers a sense of moral clarity and belonging—but like any fundamentalist movement, it cannot tolerate dissent. As McWhorter warns,

“What we’re seeing isn’t a quest for justice but a demand for unquestioning orthodoxy.”

And that’s why so much of the deconstruction space looks less like healing and more like indoctrination.

“Systemic racism.” “Oppression.” “Intersectionality.”

These words dominate the language of social justice activism, but what do they actually mean? If you take them at face value, you might think they’re about fighting discrimination or ensuring equal opportunity.

But if you really listen—if you really follow the ideology to its core—it all comes back to one thing: capitalism.

For the radical left, capitalism isn’t just an economic system; it’s the system—the root of all oppression. The force that creates every hierarchy, every disparity, every injustice.

When they say systemic racism, they don’t mean individual prejudice or even discriminatory laws—they mean the entire capitalist structure that, in their view, was built to privilege some and exploit others.

And here’s the part that’s honestly exhausting—watching the same deconstruction folks preach about “decolonizing healing” and “Christian nationalism” in the same breath while pushing trauma support for religious survivors—all while being knee-deep in Critical Race Theory.

It’s one thing to acknowledge past harms. But this ideology just piles on more depression and anxiety without offering real solutions.

Let’s get real: this isn’t healing. It’s more of the same toxic division and victimhood—repackaged as activism.

And if you think I’m exaggerating, just listen to this clip from my interview last season with the founder of Tears of Eden, a nonprofit supporting survivor of spiritual abuse:

Katherine Spearing: (Timestamp 4:32)
“Now, like, one of the things that I have committed to—who knows how long it will last—I don’t listen to white men. Like, I don’t listen to white men’s podcasts, I don’t listen to white men on TV, white men sermons, I don’t read white men’s books, and I miss ZERO things by not listening to white men. There is amazing material created by BIPOC, queer-identifying people, women—I miss ZERO things not listening to white men. And we, as a culture—especially in fundamentalist spaces—have platformed white men as voices of authority and trust.”

Now let’s take Nikki G. Speaks, who also works with Tears of Eden. Her book frames Christian nationalism as the root of systemic oppression, defining it in a way that casts anyone with conservative values or moral convictions as complicit. And it’s not just an argument—it’s being packaged as trauma recovery. Just look at how it’s marketed:

“Hearing the same controlling language in our laws that I heard in church feels like a step backward in my healing.” “It’s like my trauma has left the church and entered our government—it’s a reminder of how pervasive these beliefs can be.”

This isn’t about healing—it’s about turning political disagreement into personal trauma. And this is just one example of how therapy spaces are being used to enforce ideology rather than foster true recovery.

Let that sink in.

This is what is being promoted under the guise of “healing.”

This isn’t about liberation. It’s about swapping one dogma for another, one form of control for another. And the worst part?

It’s being fed to people who have already been deeply wounded, offering them more alienation and resentment instead of real recovery.

This is where intersectionality comes in.

Coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in the 1980s, intersectionality originally described how different forms of discrimination—race, gender, class—could compound. But in the hands of modern activists, it’s become something much broader—a blueprint for how capitalism oppresses everyone.

Race? Capitalism’s fault.
Gender? A hierarchy created by capitalism.
Policing? A tool of capitalism to protect property and maintain order.
Disability? Even that, they argue, is socially constructed through a capitalist framework that determines who is “productive” and who isn’t.

The goal isn’t reform—it’s destruction. Private property, free markets, law enforcement, even objective truth itself—everything is viewed as an extension of capitalism’s oppressive grip. And because the U.S. Constitution protects that system, it too is labeled a racist, colonialist document that must be overturned.

This is why, no matter what progress is made, America will always be deemed a racist society by those who see racism and capitalism as inextricably linked. And if you think this sounds extreme, just wait—because the next frontier, Queer Marxism, takes it even further. This emerging ideology argues that capitalism didn’t just create economic classes but created gender itself. That masculinity and femininity aren’t just cultural norms, but capitalist inventions designed to uphold oppression.

The radical goal? Not just to redefine gender—but to abolish it entirely.

Today, I’m joined by someone who saw this ideology take over firsthand.

Suzannah Alexander is the writer behind Diogenes in Exile and a self-described whistleblower. Her journey took a sharp turn when she returned to grad school to pursue a master’s in clinical Mental Health Counseling at the University of Tennessee. Instead of a rigorous academic environment, she found a program completely entrenched in Critical Theories—one that didn’t just push radical ideas but actively rejected her Buddhist practice and raised serious ethical concerns about how future therapists were being trained. Believing the curriculum would do more harm than good, she made the difficult decision to leave.

Since then, Suzannah has dedicated herself to investigating and exposing the ideological capture of psychology, higher education, and other institutions that seem to have lost their way.

Today, we’re pulling back the curtain on what’s really happening in academia and the mental health field—how radical ideologies are shaping the next generation of therapists, and what that means for all of us.

This isn’t just about politics.

This is about the fundamental reshaping of how we think about identity, human nature, and even reality itself.

Buckle up—this conversation is going to challenge some assumptions.

Let’s get into it.


The ‘Shell Game’ of Autonomy vs. Collectivism

In the counseling profession, the ACA (American Counseling Association) Code of Ethics emphasizes autonomy as a fundamental value. Counselors are meant to respect the autonomy of their clients, allowing them to make decisions based on their own needs, values, and beliefs. However, there’s a disturbing contradiction in the way this value is applied.

Suzannah points out a glaring issue: while the ACA Code of Ethics pushes for autonomy on an individual level, the broader agenda within counselor training increasingly prioritizes societal goals—often driven by collectivist ideologies—over the well-being of the individual client. She likens this contradiction to a “shell game,” where one thing (autonomy) is promised, but what you get is something entirely different: an emphasis on societal goals and moral frameworks that favor groupthink over personal decision-making.

From Competence to Conformity: The New Standard for Counselor Training

In Suzannah’s story, she highlights how counseling programs have made a troubling shift from evaluating students based on competence—their ability to effectively help clients—to assessing whether they’re willing to “confess, comply, and conform.” This process, Suzannah describes, is what she terms “ideological purification.”

This ideological purification isn’t about developing professional skill; it’s about enforcing a prescribed set of beliefs. Under the influence of CACREP (Council for Accreditation of Counseling and Related Educational Programs) standards, students are now pressured to align their personal values and beliefs with certain ideological standards. For Suzannah, this was most evident in how multicultural counseling courses and other required coursework increasingly centered around critical race theory, intersectionality, and social justice activism.

Suzannah asks: How can this ideological shift affect students who resist, and what happens when they’re coerced into aligning with values that aren’t their own?

The danger here is twofold: students who resist this ideological conditioning may find themselves marginalized, pushed out of programs, or forced into an uncomfortable position where they feel pressured to abandon their own beliefs. This, Suzannah argues, creates a chilling atmosphere for anyone who doesn’t conform to the prescribed worldview.

Ideological Purity in Counselor Training: What’s at Stake?

Suzannah’s personal experience with CACREP’s “dispositions” exemplifies the pressure to align personal beliefs with ideological standards. She shares that this led to her being placed on a “Support Plan”—essentially a probationary period where she was expected to prove her ideological compliance. This was compounded by verbal abuse from professors who seemed intent on forcing her to adopt a specific worldview, regardless of her personal or professional integrity.

Suzannah reflects: How did this ideological enforcement affect her professional integrity? The pressure to abandon her personal beliefs and adopt prescribed values made her question whether counseling, a field that should center around helping individuals find their own path, had become more about enforcing conformity than fostering autonomy.

The Impact of Ideological Capture on Effective Therapy

Suzannah’s concerns go beyond her own experience; she warns of the long-term consequences of this ideological capture on the broader counseling profession. As the training process increasingly focuses on ideological purity rather than competence, it undermines the very foundation of therapy—trust, autonomy, and the ability to genuinely help clients.

Suzannah argues that when counselor training programs force students to abandon their personal beliefs, they create a system where the ability to genuinely help clients is compromised. Counselors may find themselves unable to offer support that reflects the true diversity of their clients’ experiences—particularly those who may not share the same ideological framework. This ideological conditioning poses a real threat to the integrity of the counseling profession as a whole.

The Long-Term Consequences: A Dangerous Path

The future of the counseling profession, as Suzannah warns, is in jeopardy if this trend of ideological conformity continues. What once was a field designed to support individuals in navigating their personal struggles is at risk of becoming another ideological tool, where practitioners are forced to conform to an orthodoxy rather than providing true, individualized care.

As Suzannah explains, the core values of counseling—such as autonomy, respect for the individual, and the ability to help clients work through their unique experiences—are being overshadowed by an agenda that prioritizes ideological purity. If this trend continues, it may lead to a future where counselors are more concerned with political correctness than the well-being of their clients.

The Final Question: Is Healing Possible in This New Environment?

Suzannah’s story raises critical questions about the future of counseling and mental health support in an increasingly ideological landscape. How do counselors maintain their professional integrity in a system that demands conformity? How can clients receive true support when the professionals meant to help them are being trained under such an ideological framework?

The answers to these questions will shape the future of mental health care. If the trend of ideological capture continues, it may very well reshape the profession into something unrecognizable—an environment where therapy becomes just another vehicle for ideological control, rather than a space for healing and personal growth.


Have thoughts on this? Join the conversation! If you’ve experienced the impact of ideological conformity in mental health training or therapy, share your story in the comments or send us a message. The more we understand the forces shaping mental health care, the better equipped we are to fight for a future where autonomy and true healing are at the center of care.

Links:

Further Reading

Weaponized Forgiveness, Institutional Abuse, and Evangelical Justifications for Harm

Forgive and Forget? The Dark Side of Christian Forgiveness Culture

One of the main reasons I left mainstream Christianity is the way forgiveness has been weaponized. It’s used not as a path to healing but as a tool to silence victims, excuse harm, and protect institutions.

Instead of confronting abuse, many churches demand those survivors “forgive as they have been forgiven,” which conveniently shields perpetrators and absolves leadership from responsibility. Nowhere is this clearer than in the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC)—the largest Protestant denomination in the U.S.—which has spent decades covering up abuse while doing the bare minimum to protect children.

What Is the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC)?

The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) is the largest Protestant denomination in the U.S., with over 47,000 churches and 13 million members as of 2024. Founded in 1845, the SBC split from northern Baptists over slavery and has since maintained a conservative theological stance.

The SBC holds complementarian beliefs, teaching that men and women have distinct, God-ordained roles with male headship in both the church and the home. This doctrine reinforces strict gender hierarchies, contributing to a culture of silence around abuse, particularly when male leaders are involved.


The SBC’s Persistent Failure to Protect Children

Despite its size and influence, the SBC has long failed to protect children from abuse. Recent reports show that only 58% of SBC-affiliated congregations require background checks for staff and volunteers working with children, and in smaller churches, this number drops to just 35%. A past audit revealed 12.5% of background checks flagged criminal histories that could disqualify individuals from church roles. These numbers underscore the SBC’s ongoing failure to address its own scandals.

Even if some churches struggle financially, it’s grossly irresponsible to assume volunteers are qualified without basic screenings. Churches should at the very least implement strict policies and mandatory training on abuse prevention and reporting—but the data proves otherwise.

Source: Southern Baptist Membership Decline Slows, Baptisms and Attendance Grow | Lifeway Research | May 7, 2024


SBC’s Hidden Influence: The Non-Denominational Loophole

Many churches that appear to be “non-denominational” are quietly affiliated with the SBC for financial and structural support. This means:

  • They may not openly use “Southern Baptist” in their name, yet still receive funding, resources, and pastoral training from the SBC.
  • Their leadership and policies often align with SBC doctrine, even if they market themselves as independent.
  • Some SBC-affiliated churches hide their connections to avoid association with the denomination’s abuse scandals, while still benefiting from its network.

This hidden network allows the SBC to maintain significant influence over American evangelicalism, even among those who believe they’re attending independent churches. And when scandals emerge, the denomination claims little accountability over individual churches, even as it continues to fund them.

  • The Guidepost Report (2022) exposed that SBC leadership maintained a secret list of over 700 abusive pastors, shielding them from consequences while survivors were ignored, discredited, or retaliated against.
  • Jennifer Lyell, an SBC abuse survivor, was vilified by church leadership when she came forward. Instead of support, she was publicly shamed, and her abuser faced no consequences.
  • Christa Brown, another survivor, spent years advocating for reform after being assaulted by her youth pastor. The SBC’s response? Stonewalling, gaslighting, and further silencing.

This is not an anomaly. It’s a pattern.


The Hillsong Scandal: A Deep Dive into Leadership, Accountability, and Institutional Culture

Hillsong Church, once hailed as a beacon of contemporary Christianity with its celebrity-driven worship services and massive global influence, has been mired in a series of scandals that have sent shockwaves through the church and beyond. The drama surrounding Hillsong reflects much deeper systemic issues within religious institutions, particularly those that prioritize celebrity culture, financial power, and unchecked leadership.

Brian Houston and His Father’s Abuse Scandal

At the heart of the Hillsong scandal is the case of Brian Houston and his handling of sexual abuse allegations against his father, Frank Houston, a founding member of the Assemblies of God in New Zealand. Frank Houston’s abuse of children became widely known, but Brian Houston’s failure to act—despite being aware of the allegations for decades—has raised serious questions about the church’s culture of secrecy and its prioritization of protecting its leaders over seeking justice for victims.

In 2021, Brian Houston was charged with covering up his father’s abuse, but he was acquitted in 2023. While the legal outcomes may be behind him, the moral and ethical questions surrounding his actions remain. His failure to report the abuse to the authorities and the lack of transparency in how Hillsong handled the situation speaks to the larger issue of institutions shielding leaders from accountability, especially when their actions threaten the church’s public image.

Carl Lentz and Leadership Failures

Another key figure in the Hillsong saga is Carl Lentz, the former lead pastor of Hillsong New York. Lentz’s celebrity status, especially his close relationships with figures like Justin Bieber, elevated him to international fame. But in 2020, Lentz was fired from his position after admitting to an extramarital affair. The church’s response to Lentz’s scandal raised more questions than answers. Hillsong failed to address the broader cultural issues at play—namely, a leadership model built on celebrity culture and a lack of accountability.

The church’s focus on its brand, public image, and the reputations of its leaders made it easier to overlook the toxic dynamics that led to Lentz’s behavior. His fall from grace demonstrated the dangers of elevating leaders to superstar status, where moral accountability is secondary to their influence and popularity.

Financial Mismanagement and Lack of Transparency

Financial scandals have also been a hallmark of Hillsong’s decline. Despite its non-profit status, Hillsong has faced accusations of lavish spending by its leaders, including Brian Houston, and financial mismanagement that prioritized the comfort of senior leaders over the needs of the congregation. Hillsong’s lack of financial transparency has led many to question how donations were being spent, particularly when its leaders were living luxurious lifestyles while the church’s financial practices remained opaque.

Reports have shown that church members had little insight into the church’s budgeting or financial decisions, raising alarms about how donations were being used. This financial opacity has created a culture of distrust, with many questioning whether Hillsong truly operated as a faith-based organization or as a business built around its leaders’ financial gain.

Celebrity Culture and Unchecked Leadership

The rise of Hillsong as a “celebrity church” is a clear example of the dangers of celebrity culture within religious organizations. Leaders like Brian Houston and Carl Lentz became more known for their status than their spiritual leadership. This culture created a disconnect between the mission of the church and the behaviors of those at its helm, fostering an environment where moral failings were excused, and accountability was pushed aside in favor of maintaining the church’s celebrity-driven image.

The celebrity culture at Hillsong is not an isolated phenomenon—many mega-churches and influential religious organizations have succumbed to similar dynamics. Leaders are often viewed as untouchable figures whose actions are excused because of their fame and influence. This lack of accountability has led to repeated scandals and a breakdown in trust between church leadership and their congregations.


A Culture of Silence and Protection

Celebrity culture and the culture of silence are both hallmarks of Christian culture, where forgiveness is weaponized to silence victims and maintain the church’s authority. Survivors who seek accountability are often told they are “bitter” or “holding onto unforgiveness,” while abusers are framed as sinners in need of grace.

This forced-reconciliation model doesn’t just silence victims—it actively enables abusers. Over and over, religious institutions have shielded predators while insisting their victims move on.

  • The Catholic Church sex abuse scandal followed the same pattern—priests were quietly transferred rather than removed.
  • The Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) was exposed in 2022 for covering up hundreds of abuse cases, prioritizing its reputation over protecting the vulnerable.
  • The Institute in Basic Life Principles (IBLP), made infamous by Shiny Happy People, used its teachings to guilt victims into silence, reinforcing submission as godliness.
  • The Mormon Church (LDS) has been accused of systematically covering up child sexual abuse, instructing bishops to handle cases internally rather than report them to authorities. The “help line” for abuse victims has been exposed as a legal shield to protect the church from liability.
  • Jehovah’s Witnesses have a longstanding pattern of protecting sexual predators under their “two-witness rule,” which requires at least two people to witness abuse for it to be considered valid. This impossible standard allows abusers to go unpunished while victims are shunned for speaking out.

This cycle continues because religious institutions prioritize obedience and reputation over accountability. Instead of advocating for justice, they demand submission—a dynamic that ensures abuse thrives in the shadows, disguised as grace.


The Evangelical Rejection of Modern Psychology

Many evangelicals reject modern psychology, fearing it undermines biblical authority and promotes a so-called “victim mentality.” Books like Bad Therapy are used to discredit trauma-informed approaches, mental health care, and gentle parenting—reinforcing the belief that obedience and submission matter more than emotional well-being.

But this isn’t just about dismissing psychology—it’s about control. Evangelical spaces often use forgiveness as a tool to suppress legitimate pain and absolve abusers of accountability. Instead of being a process that centers the victim’s healing, forgiveness is reframed as an obligation, a test of faith that prioritizes reconciliation over justice.

This kind of messaging pressures survivors into “forgiving and forgetting” under the guise of spiritual growth. As Susan Forward explains in Toxic Parents, this demand for immediate forgiveness often leads to “premature reconciliation,” where the victim is pushed to restore relationships without ever addressing the harm done. She describes how toxic family systems—and by extension, religious institutions—weaponize guilt, framing any resistance to reconciliation as bitterness, rebellion, or even sin. Forward emphasizes that true healing requires acknowledging pain, setting boundaries, and understanding that some relationships are too harmful to maintain. Forgiveness, in this sense, should never be about dismissing harm but about reclaiming personal agency.

Similarly, Pete Walker in The Tao of Fully Feeling critiques how many forgiveness frameworks, particularly those influenced by religious teachings, encourage victims to suppress righteous anger rather than process it. He argues that when people are pressured to forgive too soon, they bypass the necessary emotional work of grief and anger, which are essential steps in healing. Walker describes how survivors of abuse are often gaslit into believing that their pain is an obstacle to their spiritual growth rather than a justified response to harm. In contrast, he advocates for harvesting forgiveness out of blame—a process that allows victims to first fully validate their experiences, express their anger, and grieve their losses before even considering forgiveness. This approach reframes forgiveness as something that should serve the survivor’s well-being rather than the comfort of the perpetrator.

This is why modern psychology takes a different approach. Unlike evangelical teachings that frame forgiveness as a duty, trauma-informed perspectives recognize that forgiveness is a choice—one that should empower the survivor, not burden them with more guilt. True healing requires honoring all emotions, including anger, rather than rushing to absolution for the sake of appearances or religious pressure.


ACBC “Biblical Counseling”: When Religion Overrides Psychology

Another significant issue within certain Christian communities is the rise of the Biblical Counseling movement, particularly through the Association of Certified Biblical Counselors (ACBC) and its Nouthetic Counseling model. This approach starkly rejects psychological expertise and promotes the belief that biblical wisdom alone is sufficient to address mental health struggles, trauma, and even domestic violence. While this may seem like a spiritual response to real-world issues, it often exacerbates the trauma and leads to harmful advice.

One glaring problem with ACBC counseling is its lack of professional psychological training. Many of its so-called counselors do not possess accredited education in mental health fields. Instead, they rely on an outdated and rigid interpretation of scripture that reduces complex psychological issues to mere spiritual shortcomings. This is particularly dangerous in cases of trauma, mental illness, and domestic violence, where the guidance of trained mental health professionals is crucial.

Additionally, ACBC’s approach often results in victim-blaming, particularly for women who are struggling with abuse or neglect. Rather than providing the resources and support these women need, the movement encourages them to endure hardship with a sense of spiritual submission. This can exacerbate feelings of helplessness and self-blame, which are already prevalent among victims of abuse.

My Experience within ACBC Biblical Counseling

I was involved in a biblical counseling program that reinforced a system of patriarchal control, stifling my autonomy and presenting a distorted view of marriage and gender roles.

One of the most telling moments was when I encountered an excerpt from The Excellent Wife by Martha Peace in one of the workbooks. The list of expectations outlined for a wife to “glorify” her husband was staggering and disempowering. It included directives like:

  1. Organizing cleaning, grocery shopping, laundry, and cooking while fulfilling your “God-given responsibility” so that your husband is free to focus on his work.
  2. Saving some of your energy every day for him.
  3. Prioritizing your husband above children, parents, friends, jobs, Bible studies, etc., and rearranging your schedule whenever necessary to meet his needs.
  4. Speaking positively about him to others and never slandering him—even if what you’re saying is true.
  5. Doing whatever you can to make him look good, from running errands to helping accomplish his goals, while never taking offense if he chooses not to use your suggestions.
  6. Considering his work, goals, hobbies, and religious duties more important than your own.

As I’ve explained, these expectations weren’t just fringe ideas—they were central to the teachings of Biblical Counseling, widely embraced within the Southern Baptist Convention and many non-denominational churches. What I experienced wasn’t just about a partnership; it was about submission—unquestioning and absolute. The woman’s role was essentially to serve her husband’s needs and desires, no matter the cost to her own identity or autonomy.

But perhaps one of the most chilling aspects of this program was a statement that underscored the complete denial of personal rights. The workbook stated that humble people have “no rights” in Christ—only responsibilities. It referenced Philippians 2:3-8 to justify this perspective.

Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too. You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had.

The workbook then presented a list of “rights” that were seen as sinful or selfish to claim in this context. Some of the rights included:

  • The right to control personal belongings
  • The right to privacy
  • The right to express personal opinions
  • The right to earn and use money
  • The right to plan your own schedule
  • The right to respect
  • The right to be married, protected, appreciated, desired, and treated fairly
  • The right to travel, to have a good education, to be beautiful

There were over thirty items on this list. This wasn’t just a list of personal sacrifices; it was a grooming tool that laid the groundwork for further abuse and manipulation under the guise of spiritual obedience.

These teachings were not about partnership, love, or mutual respect. They were about control, and they left no room for the dignity and rights of individuals, especially women.

If you want to dive deeper into the power dynamics at play in these teachings, I highly recommend listening to this podcast that breaks down the power play behind these ideologies.

A study on women’s anger found that common triggers for anger in women include feelings of helplessness, not being listened to, perceived injustice, and the irresponsibility of others. Instead of addressing these genuine concerns, ACBC’s authoritarian approach often pushes women to submit further, casting aside their voices and their safety in favor of a misguided spiritual ideal. This not only exacerbates their mental health but creates an environment ripe for spiritual abuse.

Corporal Punishment and Legal Definitions of Abuse

A major component of ACBC’s teachings also intersects with the controversial use of corporal punishment, where a thin line between discipline and abuse is often blurred. In some evangelical communities, particularly those influenced by ACBC’s authoritarian doctrines, corporal punishment is defended as a necessary part of biblical discipline, despite overwhelming legal and psychological evidence that physical discipline can have long-term harmful effects.

One of the most enduring arguments for corporal punishment is the misquoted phrase, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” However, this phrase does not originate from the Bible. It comes from a 17th-century satirical poem by Samuel Butler, Hudibras. Despite this, it continues to be used in evangelical circles to justify spanking, whipping, and other forms of physical punishment.

The Bible passages often cited to defend corporal punishment—Proverbs 13:24, 22:15, 23:13-14, 29:15, and Hebrews 12:5-13—are frequently interpreted in a rigid, literal manner by proponents of corporal punishment. However, this literal approach is a key part of what historian Mark Noll refers to as “the scandal of the evangelical mind.” This narrow hermeneutic reflects a resistance to modern biblical criticism, science, and intellectual inquiry. It prioritizes a literal interpretation of scripture without considering the historical, cultural, and literary context of these texts. As a result, the teachings of scripture are applied in ways that disregard the broader ethical and psychological implications of corporal punishment.

Despite the continued justification for corporal punishment in these circles, modern research overwhelmingly shows its harmful effects. Studies indicate that physical discipline can lead to increased aggression, mental health issues, and weakened parent-child relationships. Yet, many evangelicals remain unwilling to reconsider this harmful tradition, which reflects a broader resistance within conservative Christianity to engage with contemporary understandings of psychology, trauma recovery, and legal definitions of abuse.

To clarify what constitutes abuse, Congress enacted the Federal Child Abuse Prevention and Treatment Act (CAPTA) in 1974, defining physical abuse as:

The infliction of physical injuries such as bruises, burns, welts, cuts, bone and skull fractures, caused by kicking, punching, biting, beating, knifing, strapping, and paddling.

Despite this clear legal definition, corporal punishment remains legal in all 50 states, with 19 states still allowing paddling in schools. This creates a disturbing disconnect: what is considered child abuse in some settings (such as foster care) is still widely accepted in evangelical homes and schools, even when it causes lasting harm to children.

This tension highlights the problematic nature of ACBC’s teachings, which sometimes encourage discipline methods that can be classified as abusive under legal definitions. Rather than fostering healthy relationships between parents and children, these practices often reinforce cycles of harm and emotional neglect, contributing to the very psychological issues ACBC claims to address. The refusal to acknowledge these realities creates a fertile ground for continued spiritual and psychological abuse.


The Case of John MacArthur and Grace Community Church (GCC)

One of the most disturbing examples of ACBC counseling practices, combined with the authoritarian culture it fosters, can be seen in the actions of John MacArthur, the pastor of Grace Community Church in Sun Valley, California, and his church’s mishandling of abuse allegations.

MacArthur has long been a proponent of the Nouthetic Counseling model, promoting a brand of counseling that prioritizes submission and forgiveness above all else, even in cases of serious abuse. One such case involves Eileen Gray, a woman who endured severe abuse at the hands of her husband, David Gray, while seeking help from Grace Community Church. Instead of providing support or professional counseling, Eileen was told by church leaders that seeking outside help was “worldly” and wrong.

Eileen’s testimony reveals the disturbing practices within GCC, where she was repeatedly told to forgive her abuser even if he was not repentant. Pastor Carey Hardy, a close associate of MacArthur, allegedly taught Eileen the “threefold promise of forgiveness”—a concept detailed in a booklet by MacArthur himself. According to this model, forgiveness means acting as though the abuse never happened, never bringing it up again, and never sharing it with others. This approach not only trivializes the severity of abuse but also places the onus on the victim to endure suffering for the sake of forgiveness and spiritual purity.

What is perhaps most alarming is the pressure placed on Eileen to allow David back into the home and “model for the children how to suffer for Jesus.” Eileen was told to accept her husband’s abuse and, in a deeply misguided view, to make her children witness this suffering as an example of Christian resilience. When Eileen refused to allow her children to be exposed to further abuse, she was met with resistance and intimidation.

The Revelation of Abuse and MacArthur’s Dismissal

Despite Eileen’s pleas for help, GCC’s response was woefully inadequate. When Eileen eventually sought counsel from Alvin B. Barber, a pastor who had officiated her marriage, Barber corroborated her account of the abusive counseling she had received from Hardy. Barber’s testimony was a damning indictment of both Hardy and the church’s leadership, as he described how Eileen was told to submit to her abuser and accept the abuse as part of her spiritual journey.

Eileen’s refusal to allow her children to remain in an abusive environment ultimately led her to request removal from the church’s membership. However, in a shocking display of disregard for her safety and well-being, Grace Community Church denied her request and continued to maintain her as a member, further compounding the trauma she had already experienced.

In the wake of these revelations, MacArthur’s involvement in the case became a point of contention. While MacArthur publicly denounced David Gray’s actions and supported his conviction, he simultaneously failed to hold his own leadership accountable for their role in enabling the abuse. MacArthur’s contradictory statements and lack of transparency in addressing the failures of his church’s leadership reflect a deeper systemic issue within his ministry: a prioritization of church authority and reputation over the safety and well-being of its members.

The Larger Implications: Spiritual Abuse and Lack of Accountability

The case of Eileen Gray is far from an isolated incident. It highlights a pattern within certain corners of the evangelical church, where women’s voices are silenced, and their suffering is minimized in favor of preserving a theological ideal that values submission and suffering over justice and healing. This pattern can lead to widespread spiritual abuse, where individuals are subjected to harmful advice and counseling that prioritizes conformity over personal well-being.

Furthermore, the lack of accountability for church leaders like John MacArthur, who have enormous influence in evangelical circles, contributes to the perpetuation of this toxic culture. By refusing to acknowledge the harmful consequences of ACBC-style counseling and the dismissive responses to abuse victims, MacArthur and others in positions of power not only fail to protect the vulnerable but also send a message that spiritual authority trumps the dignity and safety of individuals.

In the case of John MacArthur’s response to abuse allegations within his church, we see a chilling example of how religious institutions, under the guise of biblical wisdom, can cause immense harm. Eileen Gray’s story is a reminder of the dangers of theological systems that prioritize submission, forgiveness, and authority without regard for the trauma and suffering of individuals.

As these abuses come to light, it’s essential to continue challenging the status quo and demand greater accountability from religious leaders and organizations that have long been able to operate with impunity. Victims of spiritual abuse must be heard, and their stories must be validated, not dismissed or ignored.


The Bigger Picture: Power, Control, and the Misuse of Forgiveness

Whether we’re talking about institutional abuse, forced forgiveness, corporal punishment, or the rejection of psychology, the common denominator is control.

Evangelicals often claim that therapy “makes people feel like victims”, yet they embrace an even bigger victim narrative—the belief that Christians are under attack, that psychology is a threat, and that questioning church authority is dangerous.

Modern psychology isn’t perfect. Some aspects can promote excessive victimhood narratives. But that doesn’t mean psychology is inherently bad.

What we need is balance:

  • Healing that acknowledges real harm without trapping people in a victim identity.
  • Forgiveness as a choice, not a weapon.
  • Accountability for abusers, not silence for survivors.

Forgiveness should never be used to:

❌ Silence victims

❌ Excuse abuse

❌ Bypass justice

Discipline should never be an excuse for violence.
Faith should never be a shield for abusers.

Final Thoughts

Leaving mainstream Christianity wasn’t about rejecting faith—it was about rejecting an abusive system that prioritizes power over people.

If the church truly cared about justice, it would:

✔️ Prioritize abuse prevention over “cheap grace.”
✔️ Hold abusers accountable instead of demanding forced forgiveness.
✔️ Recognize that psychology isn’t a threat—but unchecked religious authority is.

It’s time to stop justifying harm in the name of God.

If you’re questioning a church’s affiliation with the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC), here are a few ways to check:

  • Ask directly—but be aware that some churches may downplay or obscure their affiliation.
  • Look for “Great Commission Baptists”—a rebranded term used by some SBC churches to distance themselves from controversy.
  • Use the SBC church locator tool online.
  • Investigate whether the church’s pastors were trained at SBC seminaries (e.g., Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary).

But here’s the thing: A new approach is emerging—one that focuses on community-driven solutions to address the consequences of institutional failures. Transparency, accountability, and education are now essential for organizations to operate ethically in the 21st century.

As these movements grow, it’s clear that change is happening. If you’re interested in exploring these shifts, especially within religious institutions, check out the upcoming docuseries dropping this Easter Sunday. It will dive deep into the pressing need for institutional reform, highlighting the intersection of religious nonprofits and the modern world. The series will explore the ethical, financial, and leadership issues many faith-based organizations face today. For more information, visit The Religion Business.

The Wounds We Don’t See: Betrayal, Recovery and Rebuilding Trust

Healing After Religious Abuse: A Conversation with Connie A. Baker

Religious abuse can leave deep scars—ones that don’t just fade with time but require intentional healing. In this week’s conversation, I sat down with Connie A. Baker, author of Traumatized by Religious Abuse, for an honest and heartfelt discussion about the journey of healing from spiritual trauma. Connie shares her own experiences, the painful realities of the “second wound,” and how survivors can reclaim their emotional autonomy after years of manipulation and control.

Why Healing Can’t Be Rushed

One of the most profound takeaways from our conversation was the reminder that healing isn’t something to bulldoze through. Connie calls herself a “recovering bulldozer,” always pushing to move forward as quickly as possible. But in trauma recovery, speed can be counterproductive. She embraces the mantra, slow is steady, and steady is fast. For survivors, learning to slow down and allow healing to unfold naturally is essential. Trying to rush past the pain often leads to setbacks, while true recovery requires patience, self-compassion, and time.

The Second Wound: Betrayal After Speaking Out

Connie describes how only 25% of the damage she endured came from the abuse itself—the remaining 75% came from the judgment, rejection, and betrayal she faced when she spoke out. This “second wound” is a devastating reality for many survivors who expect support but instead encounter disbelief, gaslighting, or outright hostility.

I resonated deeply with this. When I began speaking about my own experiences within the church, I was met with accusations of backsliding, manipulation, and spiritual rebellion. Survivors already carry the weight of their trauma, and the added burden of social ostracization can feel insurmountable.

So how do we heal from this betrayal? Connie shares practical steps, including:

  • Finding safe, validating spaces where your story is heard and honored.
  • Understanding that others’ disbelief or discomfort does not negate your truth.
  • Developing strong boundaries to protect yourself from further harm.

Naming Abuse and Embracing Spectrum Thinking

One of the most insidious aspects of religious abuse is the difficulty of naming it. Many survivors downplay their experiences, believing that if they weren’t physically harmed, it “wasn’t that bad.” But Connie emphasizes that minimizing abuse hinders healing.

Abuse exists on a spectrum—from coercive control and emotional manipulation to outright physical harm. Recognizing where an experience falls on that spectrum is crucial for understanding the impact and taking steps toward recovery. This applies beyond religion too—cults, MLMs, and even rigid ideological movements can exhibit the same coercive tactics found in high-control religious environments.

Developing spectrum thinking—moving away from rigid “all or nothing” perspectives—allows survivors to see the full picture. Instead of thinking, “I was never physically hurt, so it wasn’t abuse,” they can acknowledge, “This environment manipulated me, eroded my self-trust, and controlled my emotions. That was harmful.”

Reclaiming Emotional Autonomy

Spiritual abuse often hinges on emotional suppression. Survivors are told that negative emotions—anger, sadness, fear—are sinful or a sign of weak faith. Verses like “Rejoice in the Lord always” and “Be anxious for nothing” are weaponized to shame people into emotional denial.

But emotions provide vital information. Anger tells us when our boundaries have been crossed. Sadness signals loss and the need for healing. Anxiety can be a survival mechanism. Connie reminds us that full wisdom comes from embracing the entire spectrum of human emotions.

Learning to trust yourself again after years of emotional control is no small feat. Some practical steps include:

  • Allowing yourself to feel emotions without labeling them as good or bad.
  • Recognizing when religious conditioning is silencing your true feelings.
  • Using anger constructively—to set boundaries rather than self-destruct.

Wrestling with Worldview: From Spiritual to Materialist and Back Again

Many survivors of religious abuse go through a radical shift in their worldview. Some reject spirituality entirely, embracing a materialist perspective where only the tangible world is real. Others swing to the opposite extreme, seeking comfort in rigid new belief systems.

Connie highlights that this spectrum—from deeply spiritual to strictly materialist—is something many survivors navigate as they attempt to make sense of their experiences. Some turn to hedonism—“Eat, drink, and be merry”—while others find meaning in service, activism, or intellectual pursuits. What matters most isn’t where someone lands on the spectrum but rather the process of wrestling with meaning, truth, and autonomy after religious trauma.

Final Thoughts

Healing from religious abuse is not linear. It’s messy, painful, and often isolating. But as Connie’s journey shows, it’s possible. By embracing the full range of emotions, setting firm boundaries, and recognizing abuse for what it is, survivors can reclaim their autonomy and rebuild a life of freedom and self-trust.

If you’re in the midst of this journey, know that you are not alone. Whether you’re deconstructing, reconstructing, or simply trying to make sense of it all, your experiences are valid. And healing—real, lasting healing—is possible.

What part of this conversation resonated most with you? Drop a comment and let’s keep the discussion going.

And as always: Maintain your curiosity, embrace skepticism, and keep tuning in! 🎙️🔒

Resources:

Why Challenging Beliefs Feels Like a Personal Attack—And Why It Shouldn’t

From religion to politics, why deeply held beliefs trigger defensiveness, outrage, and even hostility—and how we can foster better conversations.

We all have seen how the internet seems to bring out everyone’s inner troll. 🧌

The moment a deeply held belief—whether religious or political—is questioned, people lash out with hostility, aggression, or outright rage. Why does this happen? Why do some people react as if their very identity is under attack?

This past summer, we sat down with Dr. Mark Gregory Karris to explore religious trauma, belief deconstruction, and the psychological grip of fundamentalist ideology.

This season on Taste of Truth, we have been expanding the conversation—because this isn’t just about religion. Political ideologies, social movements, and even scientific debates can trigger the same defensive responses.

Fundamentalist thinking—whether in religion or politics—creates a fear-driven, us-vs-them mentality.

At its most basic, the allure of fundamentalism, whether religious or ideological, liberal or conservative, is that it provides an appealing order to things that are actually disorderly. -Peter Mountford

This hits at something crucial that I’ve written about numerous times before: the human brain craves order, even in the face of chaos. The illusion of control is a powerful psychological driver, and our brains reward it with dopamine. Fundamentalist thinking offers a structured, black-and-white framework that feels safe and predictable, making it incredibly appealing—especially in times of uncertainty. It’s why people cling even harder to rigid beliefs when they feel threatened. Whether in faith or politics, the need for certainty can override openness to new information, leading to the defensive reactions we see when those beliefs are questioned.

The moment someone questions the “truth,” it’s perceived as an existential threat, triggering anxiety, cognitive dissonance, and sometimes outright hostility.

Take a look at the patterns:

  • Verbal Attacks: When someone questions a core belief, the response can be insults, shouting, or belittling. For example, in religious circles, someone questioning doctrine might be labeled a heretic, while in political spaces, dissenters might be called traitors or bigots.
  • Social Ostracism: In both fundamentalist religious and political groups, those who challenge the status quo risk being shunned, excommunicated, or “canceled.” A former churchgoer who deconstructs their faith may be cut off from their community, just as someone who questions ideological orthodoxy in politics might lose social standing, friendships, or even career opportunities.
  • Online Harassment: Social media amplifies these reactions. Question a sacred political narrative? Expect dogpiling. Challenge a religious doctrine? Brace yourself for moral outrage. The internet rewards ideological purity and punishes deviation.
  • Physical Aggression: In extreme cases, questioning or challenging deeply held beliefs can escalate to threats or violence. History is littered with examples—holy wars, political purges, ideological revolutions—all stemming from the belief that certain ideas must be defended at any cost.

This isn’t just about bad behavior—it’s about psychology. When beliefs become intertwined with identity, disagreement feels like a personal attack. Fundamentalist teachings—whether religious or ideological—reinforce this by instilling fear of deviation:

  1. Fear of Deviation – Straying from the accepted belief system is framed as dangerous, whether it’s framed as spiritual damnation or societal collapse.
  2. Cognitive Dissonance – Encountering opposing viewpoints creates internal discomfort, making people double down rather than reconsider.
  3. Fear of Consequences – Whether it’s eternal hellfire or being cast out by one’s political tribe, the cost of questioning is framed as too high.
  4. Identity Threat – When beliefs define self-worth, changing one’s mind feels like losing a part of oneself.
  5. Social Pressure – Communities reinforce conformity, and breaking from the group’s ideology invites punishment.

When Morality Binds and Blinds

In The Righteous Mind, Jonathan Haidt explains how moral systems don’t just guide our sense of right and wrong—they also bind us to our tribes and blind us to opposing perspectives. Morality evolved not just to help individuals make ethical choices but to reinforce group cohesion. When we share a moral framework with others, it strengthens social bonds and builds trust. But there’s a cost: once we’re deeply embedded in a moral community—whether religious, political, or ideological—we stop seeing outside perspectives clearly.

This is why people react with such hostility when their beliefs are challenged. They aren’t just defending a set of ideas; they’re defending their sense of identity, belonging, and moral righteousness. A challenge to the belief feels like a challenge to the self—and to the entire group they’re part of.

This also explains why fundamentalist thinking isn’t confined to religion. Political movements, activist groups, and even secular ideologies can exhibit the same rigid certainty, group loyalty, and hostility toward outsiders. The more a belief system becomes tied to identity, the more resistant it is to change—and the more aggressive the response when it’s questioned.

The antidote? Intellectual humility. The ability to recognize that our beliefs, no matter how deeply held, might be flawed. That truth-seeking requires engaging with discomfort. That real conversations happen not when we dig in our heels but when we’re willing to ask, What if I’m wrong?

These dynamics explain why deconstruction—whether of faith or political ideology—often leads to intense backlash. It also reminds me of our conversation with Neil Van Leeuwen, author of Religion as Make-Believe. He pointed out that factual beliefs thrive on evidence, but religious and ideological beliefs function differently. When a belief becomes part of group identity, truth often takes a backseat. In fact, sometimes falsehoods serve the group better because they reinforce belonging.

To close down the conversation, let’s talk about healthy communities—whether religious, political, or social—embrace intellectual humility. Here’s what that looks like:

  • Open Dialogue: Encouraging respectful conversations where differing perspectives are explored rather than attacked.
  • Supportive Community: Allowing for questions, doubts, and evolving beliefs without fear of punishment.
  • Personal Reflection: Cultivating a mindset that prioritizes growth over ideological purity.
  • Interdisciplinary Engagement: Seeking insights from multiple fields rather than reinforcing an echo chamber.

By recognizing these patterns, we can navigate our own beliefs with more self-awareness and engage in discussions that foster curiosity rather than hostility. The question isn’t whether we hold tightly to certain beliefs—it’s whether we’re willing to interrogate why.

So, what’s one belief you’ve held onto tightly that you later questioned?

Let’s talk about it in the comments.

1984 and The Handmaid’s Tale: Misplaced Parallels and Liberal Delusion

Breaking Free: A Conversation with Yasmine Mohammed on Radical Islam, Empowerment, and the West’s Blind Spots

After finishing George Orwell’s 1984, I noticed its resurgence in popularity, especially after Trump’s election. Ironically, it’s not the conservative right but the progressive left that increasingly mirrors Orwellian themes. Similarly, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale has become a rallying cry for liberals who claim to be on the brink of a dystopian theocracy. Yet, as Yasmine Muhammad pointed out in this week’s episode, this comparison is not only absurd but deeply insulting to women who live under regimes where Atwood’s fiction is a grim reality.

1984: Rewriting Language and History

The Democratic Party’s obsession with redefining language is straight out of Orwell’s playbook. They tell us biology is bigotry and that there are infinite genders, forcing people to adopt nonsensical pronouns or risk social ostracism. This is not progress—it’s the weaponization of language to control thought, eerily similar to Orwell’s Newspeak.

But it doesn’t stop there. They actively rewrite history by renaming monuments, military bases, and even schools, erasing cultural markers in the name of ideological purity. This is doublespeak in action: the manipulation of truth for political orthodoxy. Orwell’s warning that “orthodoxy is unconsciousness” feels disturbingly apt when observing the modern left.

The Handmaid’s Tale: An Insult to Women Who Actually Suffer

In our conversation, Yasmine highlighted the absurdity of liberal claims that America is The Handmaid’s Tale come to life. Yasmine, who grew up under Islamic theocracy, knows firsthand what it’s like to live in a world where women have no autonomy. These women cannot see a doctor without a male guardian, are forced to cover every inch of their bodies, and are denied basic freedoms like education or the right to drive.

Contrast this with the West, where women have more freedom than any other point in history. Liberal women can run around naked at Pride parades, freely express their sexuality, and redefine what it means to be a woman altogether. And yet, they cry oppression because they are expected to pay for their own birth control or endure debates over abortion limits. This level of cognitive dissonance—claiming victimhood while living in unprecedented freedom—is a slap in the face to women who actually suffer under real patriarchal oppression.

Liberal Orthodoxy: Lost in the Sauce

What’s truly Orwellian is how the left uses its freedom to strip others of theirs. They shout about inclusivity but cancel anyone who disagrees. They claim to fight for justice while weaponizing institutions to enforce ideological conformity. Meanwhile, they are so consumed with their own victim complex that they fail to see how absurd their comparisons to dystopian fiction really are.

Orwell and Atwood warned against unchecked power and ideological extremism. If liberals actually read these books instead of using them as aesthetic props, they might realize they’re mirroring the very authoritarianism they claim to oppose. Instead, they’re lost in the sauce, preaching oppression in a society where they have more freedom than they can handle.

As Yasmine said, “You want to see The Handmaid’s Tale? Try being a woman in Saudi Arabia, Iran, or Afghanistan.” The left would do well to remember that before playing the victim in their cosplay dystopia.