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, 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.
Nailed: Ten Christian Myths That Show Jesus Never Existed at All
Today’s episode is one I’ve been looking forward to for a long time. I sat down with author and researcher David Fitzgerald, whose book Nailed: Ten Christian Myths That Show Jesus Never Existed at All has stirred up both fascination and controversy in both historical and secular circles.
Before anyone clutches their pearls — or their study Bible — this conversation isn’t about bashing belief. It’s about asking how we know what we think we know, and whether our historical standards shift when faith enters the equation.
Fitzgerald has spent over fifteen years investigating the evidence — or lack of it — surrounding the historical Jesus. In this first part of our series, we cover Myth #1 (“The idea that Jesus being a myth is ridiculous”) and Myth #4 (“The Gospels were written by eyewitnesses”). We also start brushing up against Myth #5, which explores how the Gospels don’t even describe the same Jesus.
We didn’t make it to Myth #7 yet — the claim that archaeology confirms the Gospels…. so, stay tuned for Part Two.
And for my visual learners!! I’ve got you. Scroll below for infographics, side-by-side Gospel comparisons, biblical quotes, and primary source references that make this episode come alive.
🧩 The 10 Myths About Jesus — According to Nailed
Myth #1:“The idea that Jesus was a myth is ridiculous!” → Fitzgerald argues that the assumption of Jesus’ historicity persists more from cultural tradition than actual historical evidence, and that questioning it isn’t fringe. It’s legitimate historical inquiry.
Myth #2:“Jesus was wildly famous — but somehow no one noticed.” → Despite claims that Jesus’ miracles and teachings drew massive crowds, there’s an eerie silence about him in the records of contemporaneous historians and chroniclers who documented far lesser figures.
Myth #3:“Ancient historian Josephus wrote about Jesus.” → The so-called “Testimonium Flavianum” passages in Josephus’ work are widely considered later Christian insertions, not authentic first-century testimony.
Myth #4:“Eyewitnesses wrote the Gospels.” → The Gospels were written decades after the events they describe by unknown authors relying on oral traditions and earlier written sources, not firsthand experience.
Myth #5:“The Gospels give a consistent picture of Jesus.” → Each Gospel portrays a strikingly different version of Jesus — from Mark’s suffering human to John’s divine Logos — revealing theological agendas more than biographical consistency.
Myth #6:“History confirms the Gospels.” → When examined critically, historical records outside the Bible don’t corroborate the key events of Jesus’ life, death, or resurrection narrative.
Myth #7:“Archaeology confirms the Gospels.” → Archaeological evidence supports the general backdrop of Roman-era Judea but fails to verify specific Gospel claims or the existence of Jesus himself.
Myth #8:“Paul and the Epistles corroborate the Gospels.” → Paul’s letters — the earliest Christian writings — reveal no awareness of a recent historical Jesus, focusing instead on a celestial Christ figure revealed through visions and scripture.
Myth #9:“Christianity began with Jesus and his apostles.” → Fitzgerald argues that Christianity evolved from earlier Jewish sects and mystery religions, with “Jesus” emerging as a mythologized figure around whom older beliefs coalesced.
Myth #10:“Christianity was totally new and different.” → The moral teachings, rituals, and savior motifs of early Christianity closely mirror surrounding pagan traditions and Greco-Roman mystery cults.
📘 Myth #1: “The Idea That Jesus Being a Myth Is Ridiculous”
This one sets the tone for the entire book — because it’s not even about evidence at first. It’s about social pressure.
Fitzgerald opens Nailed by calling out how the mythicist position (the idea that Jesus might never have existed) gets dismissed out of hand…even by secular historians. As he points out, the problem isn’t that the evidence disproves mythicism. The problem is that we don’t apply the same historical standards we would to anyone else.
Case in point: Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon.
Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon at the head of his army, 49 BC. Illustration from Istoria Romana incisa all’acqua forte da Bartolomeo Pinelli Romano (Presso Giovanni Scudellari, Rome, 1818-1819).
When historians reconstruct that event, we have:
Multiple contemporary accounts from major Roman historians like Suetonius, Plutarch, Appian, and Cassius Dio.
Physical evidence — coins, inscriptions, and monuments produced during or shortly after Caesar’s lifetime.
Political and military documentation aligning with the timeline.
In contrast, for Jesus, we have:
No contemporary accounts.
No archaeological or physical evidence.
Gospels written decades later by anonymous authors who never met him.
That’s the difference between history and theology.
Even historian Bart Ehrman, who does believe Jesus existed, has called mythicists “the flat-earthers of the academic world.” Fitzgerald addresses that in the interview (not defensively, but critically) asking why questioning this one historical figure provokes so much emotional resistance.
As he puts it, if the same level of evidence existed for anyone else, no one would take it seriously.
✍️ Myth #4: “The Gospels Were Written by Eyewitnesses”
We dive into the authorship problem — who actually wrote the Gospels, when, and why it matters.
🔀 Myth #5: “The Gospels Don’t Describe the Same Jesus”
⚖️ Contradictions Between the Gospels
1. Birthplace of Jesus — Bethlehem or Nazareth?
Matthew 2:1 – “Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king.” Luke 2:4–7 – Joseph travels from Nazareth to Bethlehem for the census, and Jesus is born there. John 7:41–42, 52 – Locals say, “The Messiah does not come from Galilee, does he?” implying Jesus was known as a Galilean, not from Bethlehem.
🔍 Mythicist take: Bethlehem was retrofitted into the story to fulfill the Messianic prophecy from Micah 5:2. In early Christian storytelling, theological necessity (“he must be born in David’s city”) trumps biographical accuracy.
2. Jesus’ Genealogy — Two Lineages, Zero Agreement
Matthew 1:1–16 – Jesus descends from David through Solomon. Luke 3:23–38 – Jesus descends from David through Nathan. Even Joseph’s father differs: Jacob (Matthew) vs. Heli (Luke).
🔍 Mythicist take: Two contradictory genealogies suggest not historical memory but theological marketing. Each author tailors Jesus’ lineage to fit symbolic patterns — Matthew emphasizes kingship; Luke, universality.
3. The Timing of the Crucifixion — Passover Meal or Preparation Day?
Mark 14:12–17 – Jesus eats the Passover meal with his disciples before his arrest. John 19:14 – Jesus is crucified on the day of Preparation — before Passover begins — at the same time lambs are being slaughtered in the Temple.
🔍 Mythicist take: This isn’t a detail slip; it’s theology. John deliberately aligns Jesus with the Paschal lamb, turning him into the cosmic sacrifice — a theological metaphor, not an eyewitness timeline.
4. Jesus’ Last Words — Four Versions, Four Theologies
Mark 15:34 – “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” → human anguish. Luke 23:46 – “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” → serene trust. John 19:30 – “It is finished.” → divine completion. Matthew 27:46 – Echoes Mark’s despair, but adds cosmic drama (earthquake, torn veil).
🔍 Mythicist take: Each Gospel shapes Jesus’ death to reflect its theology — Mark’s suffering human, Luke’s faithful martyr, John’s omniscient divine being. This isn’t eyewitness diversity; it’s evolving mythmaking.
5. Who Found the Empty Tomb — and What Did They See?
Mark 16:1–8 – Three women find the tomb open, see a young man in white, flee in fear, tell no one. Matthew 28:1–10 – Two women see an angel descend, roll back the stone, and tell them to share the news. Luke 24:1–10 – Several women find the stone already rolled away; two men in dazzling clothes appear. John 20:1–18 – Mary Magdalene alone finds the tomb, then runs to get Peter; later she meets Jesus himself.
🔍 Mythicist take: If this were a consistent historical event, we’d expect some harmony. Instead, we see mythic escalation: from a mysterious empty tomb (Mark) → to heavenly intervention (Matthew) → to divine encounter (John).
6. The Post-Resurrection Appearances — Where and to Whom?
Matthew 28:16–20 – Jesus appears in Galilee to the eleven. Luke 24:33–51 – Jesus appears in Jerusalem and tells them to stay there. Acts 1:4–9 – Same author as Luke, now extends appearances over forty days. Mark 16 (longer ending) – A later addition summarizing appearances found in the other Gospels.
🔍 Mythicist take: The resurrection narrative grows with time — geographically, dramatically, and theologically. Early silence (Mark) gives way to detailed appearances (Luke/John), mirroring the development of early Christian belief rather than eyewitness memory.
🌿 Final Thought
Whether you end up agreeing with Fitzgerald or not, the point isn’t certainty… it’s curiosity. The willingness to look at history without fear, even when it challenges what we’ve always been told.
And here’s the fun part! David actually wants to hear from you. If you’ve got questions, pushback, or something you want him to unpack next time, drop it in the comments or send it my way. I’ll collect your submissions and bring a few of them into Part Two when we dig into Myth #7 — “Archaeology Confirms the Gospels.”
and as always, maintain your curiosity, embrace skepticism, and keep tuning in. 🎙️
📖 Further Reading 📖
Foundational Mythicist Works:
Richard Carrier – On the Historicity of Jesus
Robert M. Price – The Christ-Myth Theory and Judaizing Jesus
Hey hey my friends, welcome back to Taste of Truth Tuesdays. Today’s episode is going to be heavier than usual, because I want to process something that has been shaking me to my core over the past week, the brutal death of Charlie Kirk.
Now, I need to start here: I did not agree with Charlie on everything, especially not his theology. You know me, I don’t subscribe to the idea that morality begins and ends with the Abrahamic scriptures. That’s a hard pass. But I also can’t deny the impact Charlie had on me. I spent years watching him debate, learning from the way he sharpened his arguments and stayed composed with people he deeply disagreed with. He’s one of the people who actually inspired me to study the Constitution, socialism, and to pay more attention to what’s happening politically.
So when I heard he was brutally murdered, I cried. It was horrific. And then, when I looked online and saw people celebrating his death? Saying he deserved it because he was a white, conservative, Christian man? That was gutting. Not just emotionally but morally.
In fact, let me show you a comment I received. This person told me she couldn’t believe I was mourning the death of a Trump supporter, that he had ‘spewed so much,’ and then announced she was unfollowing and blocking me.
That’s the climate we’re in. Not just disagreement, but outright dehumanization.
That kind of reaction, the dancing-on-the-grave energy, it’s not just tasteless. It’s a reflection of how far moral tribalism has gone. She is a perfect example of what I saw when I was navigating ex-Christian and ex-evangelical spaces. It is the same trend there: conservatives painted as villains, ridiculed, dismissed, treated as less-than.
Folks in my parasocial networks would send me podcasts or Instagram pages that were just openly disrespectful and overgeneralizing, like mocking anyone who leaned right was simply part of the healing process. And I remember sitting there thinking… how are you even friends with me if you despise people like me so much?
It’s like the hatred is so baked into the zeitgeist, people don’t even notice they’re doing it.
I’ve already done an episode on the radical left and why I left the left in 2020. Back then I saw the extremism ramping up with Black Lives Matter, with pandemic policies, and yes, with those shocking poll results in 2022, where a significant portion of Democrats said they believed unvaccinated people should have their kids taken away or even be put into camps.
That was the moment I realized this wasn’t just about public health. It was about authoritarianism cloaked in moral righteousness.
And I want to tie that moment to this moment. Because what we’re seeing with Charlie Kirk’s death is the exact same kind of moral righteousness, just flipped.
This is where Jonathan Haidt’s book The Righteous Mind comes in and yall know I bring this book up a lot, but today it’s essential.
Haidt’s big idea is that morality isn’t one single thing. It’s made up of six different foundations, like taste buds of the moral sense. Let me walk you through them:
Care vs. Harm – the instinct to protect others from suffering. Progressives tend to emphasize this one the most.
Fairness vs. Cheating – concern for justice, reciprocity, equal treatment. Again, heavily weighted on the left.
Loyalty vs. Betrayal – valuing group solidarity, patriotism, belonging. This resonates more on the right.
Authority vs. Subversion – respect for tradition, leadership, order. Again, more prominent for conservatives.
Sanctity vs. Degradation – ideas of purity, sacredness, things that must not be defiled. Religion is one form, but health and nature can trigger it too. Conservatives score higher here, but you see progressives activate it around food purity or environmentalism.
Liberty vs. Oppression – the drive to resist domination and protect freedom. This one cuts across both sides but is framed differently, the right fears big government, the left fears corporate or systemic oppression.
Now, how does this help us explain what we’re seeing?
Progressives, whose moral taste buds are dominated by Care and Fairness, look at Charlie Kirk and say, ‘He caused harm to marginalized groups, he propped up unfair systems.’ So when he died, they felt justified in celebrating. Their moral taste buds told them: this is justice.
Conservatives, on the other hand, lean more heavily on Loyalty, Authority, and Sanctity. Charlie embodied loyalty to the nation, respect for conservative traditions, and yes, defense of the sacred. So his death wasn’t just tragic, it was an attack on everything sacred to them. That’s why you’re seeing these martyrdom narratives, even AI videos of Charlie in heaven with other ‘heroes of the faith.’ It’s moral psychology in action.
I’m aware that this is AI of course — but it has moved me, I can only imagine how Charlie is celebrating 🕊️ pic.twitter.com/b9G4lBGVpZ
👉 And this is also the perfect moment to point out the formula behind Psy-Ops. Because these martyrdom narratives aren’t just spontaneous. They follow a pattern of influence:
That’s the formula. You feed people a stimulus, in this case, AI imagery of Charlie Kirk as a martyr. You attach it to a strong feeling: grief, anger, hope. By doing so, conscious awareness is bypassed, people aren’t stopping to analyze, they’re in raw emotion. And then you repeat it over and over. Before long, it’s not just an image, it’s a belief. This is why these videos are so powerful, they’re not just content, they’re psychological conditioning.
In the book FreeYour Mind, which we discussed in our previous podcast episode, Chapter 9 emphasizes the importance of getting ideas in writing—but it also highlights the unique power of images. As the book notes:
“An image tells a thousand words, and seeing is believing. You tend to be more easily persuaded by images than by words, and video is even more persuasive. On the other hand, reading leaves more breathing room for critical thinking.”
Images can define ideas and stick in our minds in ways words alone often cannot. A single powerful metaphor or visual statement can leave a lasting impression. Take Donald Trump’s political career, for example: it wasn’t only shaped by complex and abstract immigration policies, but also by concrete, visual symbols—a border wall, or the image of him standing with his fist raised, signaling defiance after the attempted assassination. Mental images grab our attention and viscerally anchor themselves in our minds. They’re persuasive tools that can move political movements forward.
Psychologists agree. This phenomenon is known as the picture superiority effect: images are far more memorable than words. In one study, participants were shown a mix of 612 images and words for six seconds each. When asked later which they recognized, 98% of the pictures were remembered, compared to just 90% of the words. Another study of news broadcasts found that only 16% of stories were remembered when heard over the radio, versus 34% when watched on television.
The takeaway? Images are not just memorable-they shape perception.
Seeing really is believing.
And here’s Haidt’s main takeaway: morality binds and blinds. Both sides feel righteous, but both sides are blinded. The left is blinded to the humanity of someone they disagreed with, so they cheer for his death. The right is blinded to pluralism and nuance, so they sanctify him and risk sliding into Christian authoritarianism.
And let’s pause here…because this rise in religious fervor is deeply concerning to me. I used to push back when people warned about Christian nationalism. I thought it was overblown. But watching Gen Z churn out martyr videos of Charlie Kirk, watching this wave of revivalist passion roll in, I can’t deny the potential for backlash anymore.
Go along with Jesus or you are a terrorist is basically the narrative these guys are spinning. pic.twitter.com/kRv2XRXnvp
It’s not just reverence – it’s symbolism, its revivalism, its identity politics wrapped in scripture. And that’s where my alarm starts.
Take the Noahide Laws movement. People often describe it as returning to a universal moral code. On its face, sure, that sounds appealing. But when morality is rooted in a particular scripture or identity, it often becomes a tool to say: ‘these norms are non-negotiable, and dissent or spiritual alternatives are forbidden’ That’s when spirituality crosses into political power-building.
Listen to this clip from Ben Shapero on the Daily Wire.
And we’re already seeing it creep into policy.
The administration just passed an executive order on ‘Eradicating Anti-Christian Bias.’ Protecting religious freedom is vital, yes. But there’s a difference between protecting believers from discrimination and making laws where Christian sentiment is immune from critique or satire.
The White House posted a video mourning Charlie Kirk concluding with:
In loving memory of Charlie Kirk, a fearless patriot & man of unwavering faith who dedicated his life to America.
"It's bigger than you, I want you to remember that… It's bigger than me – you are here to make somebody else's life better, the pursuit of liberty & freedom."❤️ pic.twitter.com/3Xrf5dcFlP
“1 Corinthians 5 and 15 provide compelling evidence (not only intrabiblical but also extrabiblical) that Jesus Christ was a real historical figure. He lived a perfect life, was crucified, rose on the third day, and is Lord and God.”
If you still don’t see how Christianity and faith in Jesus, a figure who probably never existed—is both holding this country back and enabling Zionism, it’s time to wake up.
We’ve already seen new laws against so-called antisemitism that start to look a lot like blasphemy laws. How long before similar protections are extended to Christian sentiment?
This matters because young people might get swept into this revivalist Christian / Abrahamic framework without realizing it.
It reduces room for spiritual alternatives, for pluralism, for traditions like panpsychism or animism, worldviews that see all of reality as alive, interconnected, and worthy of respect. That feels more universal to me. Less tied to tribal texts, less prone to turning spirituality into a weapon of the state.
History has shown us that religious revivalism mixed with nationalism and state power is a dangerous cocktail. It binds, but it also blinds. And that’s why I can’t jump on board with this new wave of Abrahamic revivalism being fueled by Charlie’s death. My skepticism sharpens right here.
So here’s where I land: I grieve. I grieve for a man who influenced me. I grieve the way his life was taken. But I also grieve the way his death is being used by some to celebrate evil, by others to canonize him into sainthood. Both sides reveal how morality binds and blinds. And if we don’t wake up to that, we’ll keep swinging between authoritarian extremes.
And I want to close with a reminder from Jonathan Haidt himself. He wrote:
“Social scientists have identified at least 3 major forces that collectively bind together successful democracies: social capital (extensive social networks with high levels of trust), strong institutions, and shared stories. We are now at the greatest level of political polarization since the 1860s. It’s more necessary than ever to return to these 3 forces in every way we can, individually and as a society.”
That’s where I want us to go. Beyond tribal stories of vengeance or martyrdom, back toward trust, strong institutions, and stories that unite rather than divide.
So, maintain your curiosity, embrace skepticism, and keep tuning in.
Further Reading & Sources
The Righteous Mind– Why Good People are Divided on Religion and Politics by Jonathon Haidt
Charlie Kirk’s Death Exposed the Biggest Scam in History This video exposes how suppression, radicalization, and division are weaponized not by ideology, but by systems designed to keep you outraged, divided, and distracted.
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:
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
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 Bible Isn’t History and Trump Isn’t Your Savior
It’s Been a Minute… Let’s Get Real
Hey Hey, welcome back to Taste of Truth Tuesdays! it’s been over a month since my last episode, and wow—a lot has happened. Honestly, I’ve been doing some serious soul-searching and education, especially around some political events that shook me up.
I was firmly against Trump’s strikes on Iran. And the more I dug in, the more I realized how blind I’d been completely uneducated and ignorant about the massive political power Zionism holds in this country. And it’s clear now: Trump is practically bent over the Oval Office for Netanyahu. The Epstein files cover-up only confirms that blackmail and shadow control are the real puppet strings pulling at the highest levels of power. Our nation has been quietly occupied since Lyndon B. Johnson’s presidency and that’s a whole other episode I’ll get into later.
Once I saw that, the religious right’s worship of him stopped looking like misguided patriotism and started looking like mass delusion. Or complicity. Either way, I couldn’t unsee it.
And that’s when I started asking the bigger questions: What else have we mistaken for holy? What else have we accepted as truth without scrutiny?
For now, I want to cut to the heart of the matter: the major problem at the root of so much chaos: the fact that millions of Christians still believe the Bible is a literal historical document.
This belief doesn’t just distort faith-it fuels political agendas, end-times obsession, and yes, even foreign policy disasters. So, let’s dig into where this all began, how it’s evolved, and why it’s time we rethink everything we thought we knew about Scripture.
Thanks for reading Taste of Truth! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
For most Christians, the Bible is more than a book-it’s the blueprint of reality, the inspired Word of God, infallible and untouchable. But what if that belief wasn’t original to Christianity? What if it was a reaction…. a strategic response to modern doubt, historical criticism, and the crumbling authority of the Church?
In this episode, we’re pulling back the veil on the doctrine of biblical inerrancy, the rise of dispensationalism, and the strange marriage of American politics and prophetic obsession. From the Scofield Bible to the belief that modern-day Israel is a fulfillment of God’s plan, we’re asking hard questions about the origins of these ideas.
As Dr. Mark Gregory Karris said when he joined us on a previous episode: “Can you imagine two different families? One, the Bible is the absolute inerrant word of God every.Word, every jot and title, so to speak, is meant to be in there due to the inspiration of God. And so every story you read, you know, God killing Egyptian babies and God flooding the entire planet and thinking, well yeah, there’s gonna be babies gasping for air and drowning grandmothers and all these animals. And that is seen as absolute objective truth. But then in another family, oh, these are, these are myths. These are sacred myths that people can learn from. No, that wasn’t like God speaking and smiting them and burning them alive because they touch this particular arc or now that this is how they thought given their minds at the time, given their understandings of and then like you talked about oh look at that aspect of humanity interesting that they portrayed god and not like it becomes like wow that’s cool instead of like oh my gosh i need 3-4 years of therapy because I was taught the bible in a particular way.”
Once you trace these doctrines back to their roots, it’s not divine revelation you find: it’s human agendas.
Let’s get uncomfortable. Was your faith formed by sacred truth… or centuries of strategic storytelling?
How Literalism Took Over
In the 19th century, biblical literalism became a kind of ideological panic room. As science, archaeology, and critical scholarship began to chip away at traditional interpretations, conservative Christians doubled down. Instead of exploring the Bible as a complex, layered anthology full of metaphor, moral instruction, and mythology, they started treating it like a divine press release. Every word had to be accurate. Every timeline had to match. Every contradiction had to be “harmonized” away.
The Myth of Inerrancy
One of the most destructive byproducts of this era was the invention of biblical inerrancy. Yes, invention. The idea that the Bible is “without error in all that it affirms” isn’t ancient…. it’s theological propaganda, most notably pushed by B.B. Warfield and his peers at Princeton. Rogers and McKim wrote extensively about how this doctrine was manufactured and not handed down from the apostles as many assume. We dive deeper into all that—here.
Inerrancy teaches that the Bible is flawless, even in its historical, scientific, and moral claims. But this belief falls apart under even basic scrutiny. Manuscripts don’t agree. Archaeological timelines conflict with biblical ones. The Gospels contradict each other. And yet this doctrine persists, warping believers’ understanding and demanding blind loyalty to texts written by fallible people in vastly different cultures.
That’s the danger of biblical inerrancy: it treats every verse as historical journalism rather than layered myth, metaphor, or moral instruction. But what happens when you apply that literalist lens to ancient origin stories?
📖 “Read as mythology, the various stories of the great deluge have considerable cultural value, but taken as history, they are asinine and absurd.” — John G. Jackson, Christianity Before Christ
And yet, this is the foundation of belief for millions who think Noah’s Ark was a literal boat and not a borrowed flood myth passed down and reshaped across Mesopotamian cultures. This flattening of myth into fact doesn’t just ruin the poetry-it fuels bad politics, end-times obsession, and yes… Zionism.
And just to be clear, early Christians didn’t read the Bible this way. That kind of rigid literalism didn’t emerge until centuries later…long after the apostles were gone. We’ll get to that.
When we cling to inerrancy, we’re not preserving truth. We’re missing it entirely.
Enter: Premillennial Dispensationalism
If biblical inerrancy was the fuel, C.I. Scofield’s 1909 annotated Bible was the match. His work made premillennial dispensationalism a household belief in evangelical churches. For those unfamiliar with the term, here’s a quick breakdown:
Premillennialism: Jesus will return before a literal thousand-year reign of peace.
Dispensationalism: History is divided into distinct eras (or “dispensations”) in which God interacts with humanity differently.
When merged, this theology suggests we’re living in the “Church Age,” which will end with the rapture. Then comes a seven-year tribulation, the rise of the Antichrist, and finally, Jesus returns for the ultimate battle after which He’ll rule Earth for a millennium. Sounds like the plot of a dystopian film, right? And yet, this became the dominant lens through which American evangelicals interpret reality.
The result? A strange alliance between American evangelicals and Zionist nationalism. You get politicians quoting Revelation like it’s foreign policy, pastors fundraising for military aid, and millions of Christians cheering on war in the Middle East because they think it’ll speed up Jesus’ return.
But here’s what I want you to take away from this episode today: none of this works unless you believe the Bible is literal, infallible, and historically airtight.
How This Shaped Evangelical Culture and Politics
The Scofield Bible didn’t just change theology. It changed culture. Dispensationalist doctrine seeped into seminaries like Dallas Theological Seminary and Moody Bible Institute, influencing generations of pastors. It also exploded into popular culture through Hal Lindsey’s The Late Great Planet Earth and the Left Behind series. Fiction, prophecy, and fear blurred into one big spiritual panic attack.
But perhaps the most alarming shift came in the political realm. Dispensationalist belief heavily influences evangelical support for the modern state of Israel. Why? Because many believe Israel’s 1948 founding was a prophetic event. Figures like Jerry Falwell turned theology into foreign policy. His organization, the Moral Majority, was built on an unwavering belief that supporting Israel was part of God’s plan. Falwell didn’t just preach this, he traveled to Israel, funded by its government, and made pro-Israel advocacy a cornerstone of evangelical identity.
This alignment between theology and geopolitics hasn’t faded. In the 2024 election cycle, evangelical leaders ranked support for Israel on par with anti-abortion stances. Ralph Reed, founder of the Faith and Freedom Coalition, explicitly said as much. Donald Trump even quipped that “Christians love Israel more than Jews.” Whether that’s true or not, it reveals just how deep this belief system runs.
And the propaganda doesn’t stop there…currently Israel’s Foreign Ministry is funding a week-long visit for 16 prominent young influencers aligned with Donald Trump’s MAGA and America First movements, part of an ambitious campaign to reshape Israel’s image among American youth.
But Let’s Talk About the Red Flags
This isn’t just about belief-it’s about control. Dispensationalist theology offers a simple, cosmic narrative: you’re on God’s winning team, the world is evil, and the end is near. There’s no room for nuance, no time for doubt. Just stay loyal, and you’ll be saved.
This thinking pattern isn’t exclusive to Christianity. You’ll find it in MLMs, and some conspiracy theory communities. The recipe is the same: create an in-group with secret knowledge, dangle promises of salvation or success, and paint outsiders as corrupt or deceived. It’s classic manipulation-emotional coercion wrapped in spiritual language.
And let’s not forget the date-setting obsession. Hal Lindsey made a career out of it. People still point to blood moons, earthquakes, and global politics as “proof” that prophecy is unfolding. If you’ve ever been trapped in that mindset, you know how addictive and anxiety-inducing it can be.
BY THE WAY, it’s not just dispensationalism or the Scofield Bible that fuels modern Zionism. The deeper issue is, if you believe the Bible is historically accurate and divinely orchestrated, you’re still feeding the ideological engine of Zionism. Because at its core, Christianity reveres Jewish texts, upholds Jewish chosenness, and worships a Jewish messiah. That’s not neutrality it’s alignment.
If this idea intrigued you, you’re not alone. There’s a growing body of work unpacking how Christianity’s very framework serves Jewish supremacy, whether intentionally or not. For deeper dives, check out Adam Green’s work over at Know More News on Rumble, and consider reading The Jesus Hoax: How St. Paul’s Cabal Fooled the World for Two Thousand Years. You don’t have to agree with everything to realize: the story you were handed might not be sacred it might be strategic.
Why This Matters for Deconstruction
For me, one of the most painful parts of deconstruction was realizing I’d been sold a false bill of goods. I was told the Bible was the infallible word of God. That it held all the answers. That doubt was dangerous. But when I began asking real questions, the entire system started to crack.
The doctrine of inerrancy didn’t deepen my faith… it limited it. It kept me from exploring the Bible’s human elements: its contradictions, its cultural baggage, and its genuine beauty. The truth is that these texts were written by people trying to make sense of their world and their experiences with the divine. They are not divine themselves.
Modern Scholarship Breaks the Spell
Modern biblical scholarship has long since moved away from the idea of inerrancy. When you put aside faith-based apologetics and look honestly at the evidence, the traditional claims unravel quickly:
Moses didn’t write the Torah. Instead, the Pentateuch was compiled over centuries by multiple authors, each with their own theological agendas (see the JEDP theory).
King David is likely a mythic figure. Outside of the Bible, there’s no solid evidence he actually existed, much less ruled a vast kingdom.
The Gospels weren’t written by Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Those names were added later. The original texts are anonymous and they often contradict each other.
John didn’t write Revelation. Not the Apostle John, anyway. The Greek and style are completely different from the Gospel of John. The real author was probably some unknown apocalyptic mystic on Patmos, writing during Roman persecution.
And yet millions still cling to these stories as literal fact, building entire belief systems and foreign policies on myths and fairy tales.
🧠 Intellectual Starvation in Evangelicalism
Here’s the deeper scandal: it’s not just that foundational Christian stories crumble under modern scrutiny. It’s that the church never really wanted you to think critically in the first place.
Mark Noll, a respected evangelical historian, didn’t mince words when he wrote:
“The scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is not much of an evangelical mind.”
In The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind, Noll traces how American evangelicalism lost its intellectual life. It wasn’t shaped by a pursuit of truth, but by populist revivalism, emotionalism, and a hyper-literal obsession with “the end times.” The same movements that embraced dispensationalism and biblical inerrancy also gutted their communities of academic rigor, curiosity, and serious theological reflection.
The result? A spiritually frantic but intellectually hollow faith—one that discourages questions, mistrusts scholarship, and fears nuance like it’s heresy.
Noll shows that instead of grappling with ambiguity or cultural complexity, evangelicals often default to reactionary postures. This isn’t just a relic of the past. It’s why so many modern Christians cling to false authorship claims, deny historical context, and accept prophecy as geopolitical fact. It’s why Revelation gets quoted to justify Zionist foreign policy without ever asking who actually wrote the book or when, or why.
This anti-intellectualism isn’t an accident. It was baked in from the start.
But Noll doesn’t leave us hopeless. He offers a call forward: for a faith that engages the world with both heart and mind. A faith that can live with tension, welcome complexity, and evolve beyond fear-driven literalism.
What Did the Early Church Actually Think About Scripture?
Here’s what gets lost in modern evangelical retellings: the earliest Christians didn’t treat Scripture the way today’s inerrantists do.
For the first few centuries, Christians didn’t even have a finalized Bible. There were letters passed around, oral traditions, a few widely recognized Gospels, and a whole lot of discussion about what counted as authoritative. It wasn’t until the fourth century that anything close to our current canon was even solidified. And even then, it wasn’t set in stone across all branches of Christianity.
Church fathers like Origen, Clement of Alexandria, and Irenaeus viewed Scripture as spiritually inspired but full of metaphor and mystery. They weren’t demanding literal accuracy; they were mining the texts for deeper meanings. Allegory was considered a legitimate, even necessary, interpretive method. Scripture was read devotionally and theologically, not scientifically or historically. In other words, it wasn’t inerrancy that defined early Christian engagement with Scripture, it was curiosity and contemplation.
For a deeper dive, check out The Gnostic Informant’s incredible documentary that uncovers the first hundred years of Christianity, a period that has been systematically lied about and rewritten. It reveals how much of what we take for granted was shaped by political and theological agendas far removed from the original followers of Jesus.
If you’re serious about understanding the roots of your faith or just curious about how history gets reshaped, this documentary is essential viewing. It’s a reminder that truth often hides in plain sight and that digging beneath the surface is how we reclaim our own understanding.
Protestantism: A Heretical Offshoot Disguised as Tradition
The Protestant Reformation shook things up in undeniable ways. Reformers like Martin Luther and John Calvin challenged the Catholic Church’s abuses and rightly demanded reform. But what’s often missed (or swept under the rug) is how deeply Protestantism broke with the ancient, historic Church.
By insisting on sola scriptura—Scripture alone—as the sole authority, the Reformers rejected centuries of Church tradition, councils, and lived community discernment that shaped orthodox belief. They didn’t invent biblical inerrancy as we know it today, but their elevation of the Bible above all else cracked the door wide open for literalism and fundamentalism to storm in.
What began as a corrective movement turned into a theological minefield. Today, Protestantism isn’t a single coherent tradition; it’s a sprawling forest of over 45,000 different denominations, all claiming exclusive access to “the truth.”
This fragmentation isn’t accidental…. it’s the logical outcome of rejecting historic continuity and embracing personal interpretation as the final authority.
Far from preserving the faith of the ancient Church, Protestantism represents a fractured offshoot: one that often contradicts the early Church’s beliefs and teachings. It trades the richness of lived tradition and community wisdom for a rigid, literalistic, and competitive approach to Scripture.
The 20th century saw this rigid framework perfected into a polished doctrine demanding total conformity and punishing doubt. Protestant fundamentalism turned into an ideological fortress, where questioning is treated as betrayal, and theological nuance is replaced by black-and-white dogma.
If you want to understand where so much of modern evangelical rigidity and end-times obsession comes from, look no further than this fractured legacy. Protestantism’s break with the ancient Church set the stage for the spiritual and intellectual starvation that Mark Noll so powerfully exposes.
Rethinking the Bible
Seeing the Bible as a collection of human writings about God rather than the literal word from God opens up space for critical thinking and compassion. It allows us to:
Study historical context and cultural influences.
Embrace the diversity of perspectives in Scripture.
Let go of rigid interpretations and seek core messages like love, justice, and humility.
Move away from proof-texting and toward spiritual growth.
Reconcile faith with science, reason, and modern ethics.
When we stop demanding that the Bible be perfect, we can finally appreciate what it actually is: a complex, messy, beautiful attempt by humans to understand the sacred.
This shift doesn’t weaken faith…. I believe it strengthens it.
It moves us away from dogma disguised as certainty and into something deeper…. something alive. It opens the door for real relationship, not just with the divine, but with each other. It makes space for growth, for disagreement, for honesty.
And in a world tearing itself apart over whose version of truth gets to rule, that kind of open-hearted spirituality isn’t just refreshing-it’s essential.
Because if your faith can’t stand up to questions, history, or accountability… maybe it was never built on truth to begin with.
Let’s stop worshiping the paper and start seeking the presence.
🔎 Resources Worth Exploring:
“The Jesus Hoax: How St. Paul’s Cabal Fooled the World for Two Thousand Years” by David Skrbina
“Christianity Before Christ” by John G. Jackson
The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind” by Mark Noll – A scathing but sincere critique from within the evangelical tradition itself. Noll exposes how anti-intellectualism, biblical literalism, and cultural isolationism have gutted American Christianity’s ability to engage the world honestly.
Check out Adam Green’s work at Know More News on Rumble for more on the political and mythological implications of Christian Zionism
And don’t miss my interview with Dr. Mark Gregory Karris, author of The Diabolical Trinity: Wrathful God, Sinful Self, and Eternal Hell, where we dive deep into the psychological damage caused by toxic theology
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 MountfordThe 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 howmorality 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:
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.
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.
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.
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.
Jonathan Haidt – Moral Psychology and Group Loyalty Haidt, Jonathan. The Righteous Mind: Why Good People are Divided by Politics and Religion. Pantheon Books, 2012.
Hey friends, and welcome to another Taste Test Thursday—where we’re serving up the scraps, the side dishes, and the stories that didn’t quite make it to the main course over on Taste of Truth Tuesdays. I’m your host, Megan Leigh, and today I’m inviting you into the behind-the-scenes mess and magic of how each episode comes to life.
No Master Plan—Just a Gut Feeling
Honestly? Each season starts as a complete blank slate. Sure, I usually have a few themes I know I’ll circle back to—nutrition, fitness, body image, spirituality—but there’s no rigid map. It’s more like I’m following a scent trail. And yeah, that might sound a little woo, but if you’ve been here for a while, you know I’m not afraid to blend the practical with the mystical.
There’s this intuitive flow to it. I don’t always know where we’re going—but I trust we’ll end up somewhere honest.
Where I Find My Guests
Most of my guests? I stumble across them in the wild—on Substack, Instagram, someone else’s podcast, or even real-life circles. Before I ever hit “invite,” I try to go deep with their work. I read their writing, binge their interviews, scroll their posts, and ask myself:
What do they really stand for?
Does their voice contribute to the kind of dialogue I want to host here?
I take platforming seriously. I know I’m not responsible for a guest’s entire body of work, but I do feel responsible for curating voices that align with the space we’re building together. That doesn’t mean I have to agree with every single word they say—but there needs to be a shared thread of integrity.
That said… sometimes I get it wrong. There’ve been moments when I jumped into an interview too quickly—maybe I skimmed their stuff or got pulled in by one compelling take—and mid-recording I realized: “Oh no. This isn’t a fit.” It’s uncomfortable, but it’s part of the process. And I’m learning from it every time.
Following the Rabbit Trails
The books I recommend? They usually come from the same rabbit holes I fall down—reading essays, following threads across Substacks, or chasing a quote from one podcast to the next. My brain is basically a conspiracy board with red yarn connecting ideas. Tracking how I get from point A to Z? A mystery even to me.
Writing Questions with Curiosity
Developing questions for guests is an evolving art form. I anchor myself in two core questions:
What’s my main intention with this guest?
What’s the one big takeaway I want the listener to walk away with?
Once I’ve roughed out my ideas, I bring in ChatGPT to help shape and sharpen them—tightening the language and helping me spot blind spots. I send the final questions to guests about a week ahead of time so they can feel prepared and grounded when we hit record.
Editing Isn’t Glamorous—But I Love the Creative Bits
For editing, I use an AI tool that balances audio levels and trims awkward pauses. Nothing fancy. But the parts I love? Coming up with episode titles, designing the cover art, and writing these blog posts.
Sometimes the blog expands on an episode’s theme. Other times, it’s short and sweet. Either way—if you’ve got a preference, I’d love to know. Seriously. I want this to feel like a conversation, not a monologue.
How Themes Find Me (Not the Other Way Around)
One of the most fascinating things about this whole creative process? Every season finds its own theme—even though I never plan it that way.
In Season Two, the theme that emerged was control—and the dopamine hit we chase in high-control environments, whether that’s strict diets or rigid religious rules.
In Season Three, the big thread was the cost of certainty—how much we sacrifice when we demand black-and-white answers in a beautifully grey world.
I don’t map this stuff out in advance. It just… happens. And honestly? That’s been one of the most surprising and affirming parts of hosting this podcast. Watching these ideas thread themselves together like they’ve been waiting for a home.
Your Turn
So that’s the scoop—how the sausage gets made, or maybe how the plates get stacked before the main course hits the table.
If you’ve got questions about the process—or ideas for what you’d love to hear on a future Taste Test Thursday—don’t be shy. Hit reply, send a DM, or drop a comment. I’m always listening.
Until next time— Maintain your curiosity, embrace skepticism, and keep tuning in. 🎙️🔒
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.
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.
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.
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 Therapyare 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:
Organizing cleaning, grocery shopping, laundry, and cooking while fulfilling your “God-given responsibility” so that your husband is free to focus on his work.
Saving some of your energy every day for him.
Prioritizing your husband above children, parents, friends, jobs, Bible studies, etc., and rearranging your schedule whenever necessary to meet his needs.
Speaking positively about him to others and never slandering him—even if what you’re saying is true.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I had a lot of different topics in mind for my final solo episode of Taste of Truth Tuesdays Season 3. For example, The Stress-Mitochondria Connection: How B vitamins, Taurine and Magnesium Fuel your Energy, A world without religion: Freedom or Fragmentation, How Emotional Trauma contributes to Chronic Pain or the Social Media Dilemma How to Break Free from the Digital Grip… But then, a new development landed right in my lap—one that perfectly encapsulates the concerning trends I’ve been observing in the deconstruction, ex-Christian, anti-MLM, and ex-cult communities.
My friend Brandie, who I had on in Season 2 for the episode From Serendipity to Scrutiny, recently blocked me. And why? Because I simply pushed back and asked questions. We’d had some private conversations in the DMs that had already raised red flags for me, but apparently, even the slightest bit of pushback was enough to get me cut off. This isn’t just about one friendship—it’s about a much bigger pattern I’ve seen unfolding.
The Deconstruction Pipeline: When Leaving a High-Control Group Means Entering Another
One of the biggest ironies in the ExChristian circles is how quickly people flee high-control religious environments only to land in equally dogmatic ideological spaces. This isn’t a coincidence—it’s human nature. As Jonathan Haidt lays out in The Righteous Mind, our reasoning evolved more for argumentation than truth-seeking. We are wired for confirmation bias, and when we leave one belief system, we often replace it with another that feels equally absolute but now appears “rational” or “liberating.”
This is where figures like Steven Hassan and Janja Lalich come in (because this isn’t just about Brandie) self-proclaimed experts on cults who, ironically, exhibit the same control tactics they claim to expose. Hassan, a former Moonie turned cult deprogrammer, has made a career out of helping people escape authoritarian religious systems. But a deeper look at his work reveals an ideological bent (it’s hard to ignore). He frequently frames conservative or traditional religious beliefs as inherently cult-like while giving progressive or leftist movements a pass. He has called Trumpism a cult but is conspicuously silent on the high-control tactics within certain progressive activist spaces. His criteria for what constitute undue influence seem to shift depending on the political context, (BITE model) making his framework less about critical thinking and more about reinforcing his preferred ideological narrative. I did what Hassan won’t: use his own model to break down the mind control tactics of the extreme left.
Janja Lalich follows a similar pattern. A (supposedly) former Marxist-Leninist, she applies her cult analysis primarily to religious and right-wing groups while glossing over the coercive elements in the far-left spaces she once occupied (or still does). Her work is valuable in breaking down how high-demand groups operate, but she, too, appears to have blind spots when it comes to ideological echo chambers outside of the religious sphere. These represent a pattern rather than an isolated incident. Other platforms like (The New Evangelicals,Dr. Pete Enns (The Bible for Normal People), Eve was framed,Jesus Unfollower, Dr. Laura Anderson just to name a few.) highlight control tactics when they appear in traditional or conservative groups but fail to apply the same scrutiny to their own ideological circles.
This selective analysis creates a dangerous illusion: it allows people leaving fundamentalist religious spaces to believe they are now “free thinkers” while unknowingly adopting another rigid belief system. The deconstruction pipeline often leads former evangelicals straight into progressive activism, where purity tests, ideological loyalty, and social shaming operate just as effectively as they did in the church. The language changes: “sin” becomes “problematic,” “heresy” becomes “harmful rhetoric”, but the mechanisms remain the same.
Haidt’s work on moral foundations helps explain this phenomenon. Progressive and conservative worldviews are built on different moral intuitions, but both can be taken to extremes. The key to avoiding ideological capture is intellectual humility—the ability to recognize that no belief system has a monopoly on truth and that reason itself can be weaponized for tribalism.
John Stuart Mill warned of this centuries ago: the greatest threat to truth is not outright censorship but the cultural and social pressures that make certain ideas unspeakable. Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt’s The Coddling of the American Mind echoes this concern, showing how overprotective thinking and emotional reasoning have created a generation that confuses disagreement with harm.
Franklin O’Kanu’s concept of the “fake intellectual” is particularly relevant here—people who claim to be champions of free thought while aggressively enforcing ideological orthodoxy.
In this episode, through my experience with Brandie, I’ll illustrate how skepticism is selectively applied, and how ‘critical thinking’ communities can become just as dogmatic as the systems they reject. And unlike Hassan or Lalich, my connection with Brandie was personal. And that’s why I felt this warranted an entire podcast episode. Because what happened with her is a microcosm of a larger issue: people leaving high-control spaces only to re-enter new ones. They are convinced that this time, they’ve finally found the “truth.” Spoiler alert: that’s not how truth works.
So, let’s talk about it.
Blocked for Asking Questions
Recently, Brandie posted on Instagram about DARVO—a psychological tactic where abusers Deny, Attack, and Reverse Victim and Offender to avoid accountability. I agree that MLMs use DARVO. But I wanted to add friendly pushback, that I’ve noticed anti-MLM advocates use similar tactics to silence critics—especially when it comes to questioning the food industry— but she had turned the comments off.
DARVO stands for Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender—a tactic frequently used by abusers, cult leaders, and high-control groups when they’re called out. It flips accountability on its head, making the person asking legitimate questions seem like the aggressor while the actual manipulator plays the victim.
How MLMs Use DARVO
Multi-Level Marketing (MLM) schemes thrive on DARVO because their entire business model is built on deception. Here’s a classic example:
Deny – A distributor is confronted with the fact that 99% of people in MLMs lose money. Instead of addressing the data, they deny it completely: “That’s just a myth! I know tons of people making six figures!”
Attack – When pressed further, they go on the offensive, accusing the skeptic of being negative or jealous: “Wow, you’re so close-minded. No wonder you’re not successful!”
Reverse Victim and Offender – Finally, they paint themselves as the victim and the questioner as the bully: “I’m just a woman trying to build a business and empower others. Why are you trying to tear me down?”
This tactic shuts down meaningful discussion and keeps people trapped in a system that exploits them.
Do you know what else exploits individuals? Fear and propaganda.
I saw this firsthand in a recent conversation with a friend who’s deeply entrenched in leftist ideologies and what I’d call “Trump Derangement Syndrome.” She shared a post warning people to change their bank accounts because of a false claim that Elon Musk’s staff had access to personal financial data. I pointed out that the post was misinformation, but instead of engaging with the facts, the conversation quickly shifted in a way that mirrors the DARVO tactic.
First, she denied that the post could be harmful or misleading. Then, she attacked me for not understanding the larger “fear” that people are feeling in the current political climate. Finally, she reversed the roles, casting herself as the victim of a chaotic world and me as the one creating unnecessary tension by questioning the post.
This is a textbook example of DARVO, a tactic that deflects accountability, shifts blame, and keeps people trapped in fear-driven narratives. It keeps them from having honest, fact-based conversations and prevents any real understanding of what’s going on around them.
How Brandie Used DARVO on Me
Ironically, despite being an anti-MLM advocate, Brandie used the exact same manipulation tactics when I pushed back on some of her positions. This is a woman who criticizes manipulative marketing tactics in MLMs, yet here she was, employing the very same tactics in our discussion. It’s a stark example of how these patterns can be so ingrained that even those who oppose them can fall into using them.
Deny – When I questioned her promotion of dietitians who endorse processed foods like Clif Z Bars (which recently faced a class-action lawsuit for misleading health claims), she refused to acknowledge the legitimate concerns. Instead, she dismissed it by claiming that caring about food ingredients was more stressful for the body than just eating the food itself—a false dichotomy that undermines any nuance in the conversation, especially when she often critiques the same logical fallacy in other contexts.
Attack – Rather than engaging with my points, she made it personal, implying that I was being antagonistic or bad-faith for even questioning her stance.
Reverse Victim and Offender – Finally, when I didn’t back down, she blocked me, flipping the narrative to make it seem like I was the one causing harm simply by asking questions.
When Therapy Becomes Thought Control: The Weaponization of Mental Health
What makes this dynamic even more interesting is that both my friend in Portland and Brandie, an anti-MLM advocate, are therapists. These conversations have all unfolded within a culture that professes to value feelings, emotional well-being, and mental health awareness. More people are going to therapy than ever before, and an increasing number of people are training to become therapists—mostly women. Currently, around 70-80% of psychologists and therapists are female, and those seeking help are also more likely to be female.
The field has increasingly become a vehicle for ideological activism. Dr. Roger McFillin has spoken extensively about this shift, describing how therapy now often reinforces victimhood narratives rather than fostering resilience. Instead of helping clients process experiences and build coping skills, many therapists nudge them toward predetermined ideological conclusions—especially in areas of identity, oppression, and systemic injustice.
This shift has eroded one of psychology’s most fundamental ethical principles: informed consent. Clients, particularly young and vulnerable individuals, are often funneled into ideological frameworks without realizing it. Under the guise of “affirming care” or “social justice-informed therapy,” therapists may subtly guide them toward specific worldviews rather than offering a full range of perspectives. What should be a process of self-discovery instead becomes thought reform, where questioning the prevailing narrative is framed as harmful or regressive.
Therapy is no longer just political—it has become a mechanism of enforcement. We see this in counseling programs that demand ideological conformity from students, in therapists who blur the line between clinical work and activism, and in public figures like Janja Lalich and Steven Hassan, who claim to expose undue influence while engaging in the same tactics. This is ideological gatekeeping disguised as expertise.
Rather than fostering open exploration, the field is increasingly defined by rigid dogma. Questioning the dominant ideology isn’t framed as critical thinking—it’s labeled as resistance, ignorance, or even harm. And when that happens, dissenting voices aren’t debated; they’re erased. If this trend continues, therapy won’t just be a tool for self-improvement. It will be a tool for social control. It already is.
The Hypocrisy of Selective Skepticism
Brandie and the anti-MLM crowd claim to combat misinformation, yet they overlook a significant issue: the influence of Big Food and Big Pharma on public health narratives.
On her social media story and in private conversations, Brandie has defended dietitians who actively promote ultra-processed foods. Some registered dietitians with large platforms endorse products like Hawaiian Punch and Clif Z Bars as acceptable—even healthy—options.
Clif Z Bars, for example, were recently involved in a $12 million class action settlement for falsely marketing their products as “healthy and nutritious.” These bars are 37% added sugar, essentially sugar bombs.
Yet, a dietitian Brandie supports feeds these bars to her young children, publicly calling them a “healthy snack.” Why is this not considered misinformation?
These conflicts of interest raise serious concerns about industry influence over public health recommendations. Yet, if you question this, you’re labeled anti-science.
This kind of blind faith in authority is no different from religious dogma. The pursuit of truth should always leave room for debate. This also highlights why blindly trusting “credentialed experts” is insufficient. Degrees and titles don’t guarantee that recommendations are free from corporate influence.
Rather than acknowledge these conflicts, Brandie and her followers discredit those asking valid questions, often accusing them of using the “Just Asking Questions” fallacy.
The “Just Asking Questions” Fallacy
A common tactic used to dismiss skepticism is labeling it as the “Just Asking Questions” (JAQ) fallacy. This fallacy occurs when people imply that merely questioning an issue is a form of misinformation or bad faith argumentation.
Many dietitians and anti-MLM advocates are deeply entrenched in mainstream narratives on topics like vaccine safety, climate change, and pharmaceutical efficacy. When skeptics ask pointed questions about these subjects, they are often accused of using JAQing off—a term that suggests they are sowing doubt without providing counter-evidence. The accusation assumes that asking difficult questions is inherently conspiratorial, rather than a legitimate means of inquiry.
But skepticism is not the same as denialism. Critical thinking demands that we interrogate all claims—especially those made by institutions with financial or ideological incentives. Dismissing questions outright only serves to protect entrenched power structures.
The Counterpoint: Intellectual Humility and the Dogma of Data
While it’s vital to engage critically with the information we’re presented, it’s equally crucial to consider the potential pitfalls of blind adherence to any ideology—whether it’s religious, political, or scientific. In the modern age, science and data have often become the new forms of dogma. The scientific community, which prides itself on skepticism and inquiry, is sometimes treated as an unassailable authority—leaving no room for dissent or alternative perspectives.
The worship of science and data as infallible can feel eerily similar to religious dogma. It demands conformity in the name of progress, dismisses alternative viewpoints, and often shuts down debate—all while asserting that it’s in the name of critical thinking and rationality. In this system, the pursuit of truth can ironically become an exercise in tribalism and intellectual rigidity.
What is critical to recognize is that science and reason themselves are not immune to bias, corruption, or influence. Take, for example, the “revolving door” between regulatory agencies and the pharmaceutical industry, which compromises the integrity of public health policies. This conflict of interest is a significant factor in the mistrust surrounding many mainstream health recommendations, especially when we see how corporate interests shape the outcomes of clinical trials, the approval of drugs, or public health initiatives.
Take the nutrition field, for example. The dietitian mentioned earlier endorses Clif Z Bars for her young children, but if you challenge this, you’re accused of being anti-science or fear-mongering.
Similarly, when figures like RFK Jr. highlight pharmaceutical industry ties to regulatory agencies, critics don’t engage with the data. Instead, they attempt to discredit the person asking the questions.
The Real Issue is Deception from Trusted Intuitions
The real misinformation often stems from corporate-backed institutions. Public trust in physicians and hospitals fell from 71.5% in April 2020 to 40.1% in January 2024—not due to misinformation, but because people witnessed firsthand the contradictions, shifting narratives, and financial incentives behind public health decisions. Trust is eroded by deception, not by questioning.
RFK Jr. isn’t “sowing doubt” for the sake of it. He’s pointing out documented cases where pharmaceutical companies have manipulated clinical trials, buried adverse data, and exercised significant influence over regulatory bodies. His book The Real Anthony Fauci outlines a heavily researched case against the unchecked power of Big Pharma and its ties to government agencies. If his claims were false, he would face lawsuits, yet his work continues to spark vital discussions.
True skepticism means demanding better science, not blindly trusting authority. The real danger lies in silencing those who ask critical questions.
Big Food and the Shaming of Health Advocates
A recent study has revealed something I find all too familiar: intimidation tactics used by industries like Big Tobacco, ultra-processed food companies, and alcohol sectors to bully and silence researchers, whistleblowers, and anyone challenging their agenda. This tactic—used by Big Food to discredit critics—reminds me of the way people are shamed or bullied for questioning processed foods or advocating for healthier diets. If you’ve ever pointed out the risks of sugary snacks or fast food, you’ve probably been labeled an extremist, a health-obsessed “wellness warrior,” or worse, a “purity culture” advocate. I can’t help but feel this is just another form of gaslighting, where we’re told that it’s worse to worry about the ingredients in our food than it is to consume those ingredients, even if they are known to contribute to chronic health conditions.
Ironically, this kind of manipulation is the same strategy Big Tobacco used for decades to muddy the waters around the health risks of smoking. And now, ultra-processed food companies are doing the same thing—distracting us from the very real, documented consequences of a poor diet.
Why We Need to Trust Ourselves, Not JUST the Experts
What frustrates me is how the anti-MLM community often jumps on wellness advocates who want to clean up their diets for health reasons. While I agree that MLMs are a breeding ground for manipulation, this should not mean we ignore the very real need to question the food industry’s stranglehold on our diets and health. It’s vital to recognize that not all experts have your best interests at heart. Many of the mainstream recommendations we’re told to follow come from organizations or industries with questionable motives—whether it’s Big Pharma, Big Food, or Big Tobacco. These same industries have a long history of misleading the public, and many of their experts are bought and paid for by corporate interests.
Wanting to improve your diet to manage or reverse chronic health conditions shouldn’t be dismissed as obsessive or extreme. It’s a rational, self-preserving choice that empowers you to take control of your health, even when the mainstream narrative tells you otherwise.
Is This Healing or Just Another High-Control Belief System?
Brandie often talks about “cult recovery” and the importance of psychological resilience. But is she really modeling resilience? Because true resilience isn’t about avoiding discomfort—it’s about engaging with it, questioning your own biases, and standing firm in discussions, even when they challenge your worldview.
Instead, she’s teaching people to coddle their minds. To create ideological echo chambers where questioning the “right” experts is heresy. To avoid any perspective that might cause discomfort. If she’s teaching people to avoid discomfort rather than work through it, I’m not sure how that aligns with the principles of ethical psychotherapy.
True healing requires grappling with discomfort, not running from it. When you teach people to shut down their discomfort rather than confront it, you’re not promoting growth—you’re just pushing them into another high-control belief system.
That’s not healing. That’s just another form of control.
And let’s be real—if your response to fair, thoughtful criticism is to shut down the conversation and block people who used to support you, you haven’t actually deconstructed anything. You’ve just built a new echo chamber with different branding.
The Bigger Picture
This isn’t just about Brandie. It’s about a larger pattern I see in the deconstruction and anti-MLM communities. Many of them claim to be freeing minds, but in reality, they’re just recruiting people into a different kind of ideological purity test.
The message is clear: You’re allowed to be skeptical, but only in the “approved” ways.
That’s not intellectual freedom. That’s just another cult.
Where Do We Go From Here?
We need real conversations about manipulation and misinformation—whether it comes from MLMs, Big Food, Big Pharma, or influencer dietitians who profit from pushing corporate-backed narratives. It means we need to question everything—without replacing one unquestionable authority with another. And we need to be willing to hold all forms of power accountable, not just the ones that fit neatly into our existing beliefs.
Because if we’re not careful, we’ll escape one high-control group only to fall right into another.
