G. C. Jeffers

Story, Beauty, and a World that Means


Responding to the Gnostics

Seth wrote a great post the other day about two types of gnosticism.

He wrote about the charismatic gnostics who have special knowledge from God about people. Specifically, he told a story about being “ambushed” in the library by a group of folks claiming that God told them to pray for Seth.

He also wrote about academic gnostics who respond to claims about scripture or theology with their own expert knowledge: “actually, the text really says . . .”

Seth wants to know how we are to respond to these gnostics.

I made a comment on Seth’s blog, but I wanted to hash out my larger idea here.

Full disclosure: These days, I tend to be an academic gnostic. It’s makes some people afraid to talk to me about the bible/theology because I usually know more than they do. Used right, this knowledge enriches people in the life of love—the Way of Jesus. Used poorly, this is a way to boost one’s ego. I know what it is like to be on the receiving end of someone who knows a whole hell of a lot more than me about a scripture that I hold dear to my heart. I’m usually afraid of losing the precious meaning I have given to the scripture in the light of this person’s knowledge.

I also used to be a charismatic gnostic. I “received words” for people from God. They were almost always vague, general encouragements that—when couched in “thus sayeth the Lord” language—gave an impression of greater gravity and authority than they had. I never lied to people (I honestly believed that God had “put this on my heart” for others), but my reasons for attributing such encouragements to God’s supernatural activity as opposed to my own natural activity are murky at best. Just because a thought crossed my brain, or because a scripture came to mind, does not mean that God caused it.

These days, I am supremely uncomfortable around people who claim God has told them something specific. I don’t get it, I don’t think God acts in that way, and I think making the claim that God has told one something takes a lot of gumption.

Now, in light of this, how should we follow the Jesus Way?

I am not going to split this down the middle and say “both sides are equally wrong.” I hate that kind of reasoning to the center. The charismatic gnostic is worse because it makes unverifiable claims with certainty, while at least the academic gnostic can be debated on academic terms.

The problem with both approaches, though, is that they are unloving.

Seriously. If you are a stranger, and I didn’t ask for your insight into my life, then don’t offer it. That’s just rude, even if God “told” you too. Unsolicited advice is unloving even if it is true. And hiding behind “God told me to” to lend authority to your statement means that you are not required to take ownership of your beliefs or opinions. If you are a good friend of mine, one who knows me well, then your insight into my life is always welcome because I trust you, and I trust that you would not speak with certainty about the Holy Spirit unless you were certain. And, even then, I would trust you to have humility.

I have less of a problem with the academic gnostic because they tend to not run around confronting people with esoteric bits of theology or textual study. Nevertheless, in certain situations (especially on blogs or social media) they come out of the woodwork with their “the bible really says” knowledge. Maybe it does. But I don’t trust you because I don’t know you. And I certainly don’t trust that you have my wellbeing at heart. Again, if you are a good friend of mine, then I want your push back. I want your theology and your knowledge. And I trust that you will speak in humility and love.

St. Paul says in 1 Corinthians 13 that knowing all things or having faith to move a mountain or anything else does not matter if you have not love, and love requires one put aside oneself for the sake of another person. This means, among other things, treating other people as people and not projects or problems. People who know their life situation best. People who walk through life in a complicated way just like you. It means not coercing people with exaggerated claims of your knowledge. And it often means shutting up and giving people space.

Of course, we who are approached by the gnostics also must act in love. As I wrote in the comments on Seth’s blog:

My first inclination is to ask the Charismatic gnostic how they know (that it’s the Spirit, that they are hearing right, that God acts in such ways, etc), to maybe move the conversation into a dialogue. To place myself as the student/learner (while remaining discerning and self-confident) is productive, I think. The danger, of course, is asking the question sarcastically (just how do you KNOW?) rather than being genuine. I guess if I can’t be genuine, then a polite refusal might be best. Just because I think people have bizarre and/or dangerous theology does not mean that they are not my neighbors. None of us, I think, would respond to a religious person of another faith in a rude way. It doesn’t make it ok if the person is family, so to speak, though we are often rudest to our siblings and spouses.

My response to the academic gnostic (I happen to be one, more or less) is to affirm their academic expertise/knowledge while maintaining my essential belief that there are different kinds of knowledge–different epistemologies. Thus, I know that the OT is (historically) not concerned about Jesus himself, though I choose to read it through a christocentric hermeneutic. I affirm that this is revisionist, but that’s what I want. Or, to use another example, I have poetic and mystical tendencies. I practice Lectio Divina on occasion, and I know that the insights I gain from that practice are different than the insights gained from textual scholarship. Again, it’s about love of neighbor.



11 responses to “Responding to the Gnostics”

  1. […] have been ill at ease with the blog post that I put up yesterday and I have been searching for the reasons why. I think I’ve found […]

  2. This is my favorite post of yours yet!

  3. I read your comments with interest, but I need to ask this before I give my thoughts. And I want an honest answer. I know that often I respond with somewhat different beliefs than you, Greg, at least on some things. I am not a close friend, just the parent of a close friend. But I am not a stranger either. I know you, but I don’t know you real well. At least not as well as your friends. So, you made the comment about it being rude for a stranger to come up and give their insight to God’s word. So, since I don’t know you well, do you consider it rude for me to give my comments to you? I just am wondering how you feel before and if I respond. I want your honest answer.

    1. Jan,

      First, thanks so much for always reading!

      Second, of course you can reply! I do not consider it rude! For two reasons:

      A. I know you. But, more to the point, you know me. You’ve been following my story for quite a while and I trust you.

      B. I write in a public place. I wrote this hoping for feedback from others! I want pushback, which is why I publish. If I didn’t, I would either disable the comments or stop writing in a public venue.

      As always, thanks so much.

  4. I am right there with you. My immediate reaction to someone coming up to me is say something like, “Well why couldn’t God just tell me? I’m right here!” I don’t know if you read my comment (or if it even made sense) on Seth’s post but the charismatic or the “feeler” type tends to frustrate me precisely because I used to be that type of person and like Plato’s cave allegory, I want everyone to be released from the pseudo-spirituallity. My reaction to the charismatic is immature though and points out my insecurity. I agree with Seth that invalidating someone’s theology is highly unethical, and I think academics need more accountability with their rhetoric.

    I am curious to know how you would respond to the following, “Well you just need to get over yourself because even though you may not agree with the charismatic, everyone needs prayer so just let them pray for you.” I received this pushback from someone and I am curious to know what you think, especially after reading this:

    “Seriously. If you are a stranger, and I didn’t ask for your insight into my life, then don’t offer it. That’s just rude, even if God “told” you too. Unsolicited advice is unloving even if it is true. And hiding behind “God told me to” to lend authority to your statement means that you are not required to take ownership of your beliefs or opinions. If you are a good friend of mine, one who knows me well, then your insight into my life is always welcome because I trust you, and I trust that you would not speak with certainty about the Holy Spirit unless you were certain. And, even then, I would trust you to have humility.”

    Great post!

    1. Well, I don’t know what I think about intercessory prayer. I’m not sure that I believe it matters, and I sure as hell don’t think everyone “needs” it. Even if it was necessary, it’s benefits may not outweigh the harms caused by unlovingly invading someone’s space with unsolicited prayer. Prayer, for me, is about marking my life as sacred (I pray the daily offices, for instance). I’m not sure God acts or does not act based on prayer, and I probably don’t want him to since answering my prayer and not your prayer would mean he plays favorites.

      Prayer makes the most sense in intimate settings with people I trust. It makes little sense with complete strangers with whom I do not share community.

      Thanks!

  5. I don’t wish to hide behind the missions-mantra of “contextuality” but, for me, engagement is a highly nuanced affair. I have never gotten the sense, in a conversation with a CG (let’s do hope this makes its way into the vernacular) that the conversation at hand is one of epistemology. They trust that it is the voice of God, and while I am skeptical of their claim I do not think that moment is the time to engage that conversation. I believe, and this may simply speak to the limited range of my engagement, that what they are really seeking are avenues of intimacy, not knowledge. I will note, though, that my diagnosis of CG’s is dangerously paternalistic; and paternalism is one of the primary pitfalls in this conversation: each side sees the other as the “weaker sibling” who must be condescended to in order to engage.

    What I would most like to raise questions about, then (and you address this) are appropriate contexts and methods for spiritual self-disclosure. While I, as the AG am interested in the epistemic questions–How do you know that; what evidence do we have of you direct perception of God’s “voice”; is your revelation inter-subjectively verifiable?–in that moment I believe that what the CG is after is to know me and to be known. As such, I don’t feel that it is the appropriate time to shift the conversation to those questions which I find most pressing. There will, perhaps, be a time for such inquiry later on; but the lack of intimacy does not warrant “confronting people with esoteric bits of theology or textual study.” It seems the most loving act is to deny-self and engage on the terms of the “weaker sibling.”

    1. I want to make a distinction between the stranger and the friend.

      I have several friends who are definitely CGs. If one of them said “Greg, I feel like the Lord wants to tell you . . .” I easily move past my squirming to engage in conversation. In such an instance, the intimacy is well-established. While I may not believe that God actually told them this or that, I trust their instincts about me because they know me so well. And I certainly have no interest in invalidating their experience of God.

      It’s the ambushing strangers that I don’t understand. To try to establish intimacy with a stranger based on a message from God is super weird and pretty unloving. If your message from God is so important that you have to tell a complete stranger (whom you will conveniently never see again and thus can hold you to no accountability for the damage you may or may not cause), then maybe it is best to try to establish some sort of friendship. Short of “I’m a cyborg from the future here to save your life”, I think conversations that begin by immediately setting out the power relationship (I’m a prophet, you’re my project) are super unloving.

      All of that is true of the AG as well, they just don’t make things as awkward since they don’t ambush people.

      As for how to actually respond to the CG who has ambushed you, i said that one should try to engage in a dialogue. You said that you thought the CG is probably not interested in epistemology. Good point. But if what they want is intimacy, that is a really weird way to go about it. I think that they think whatever it is they have to tell you is so important that it overrides ordinary etiquette. What they want is your spiritual health. A polite refusal allows them to have tried. An argument about theology and the charismatic gifts is stupid. But asking them about their own spiritual experience (how did God tell you?, why me?, does this happen often?, etc) allows them to be teachers/messengers while still allowing you to be discerning. The other two responses are dismissive. This response is loving. A fourth way is to let them pray for you immediately, but that is unloving because it is dishonest if you don’t believe what they are telling you.

      1. I think that’s well said. It seems that this discussion could easily flow into a conversation about the purpose of prayer. I wonder if, in the future, you would be willing to respond to another post I wrote which I think may be relevant to the discussion? I’ve linked it below if you are interested.

        I really benefit from these conversations. Thanks for the push back.

        http://www.emptyoration.com/2012/06/philosophy-theology/the-gospel-untruth-prayer-works/

  6. […] You can read a response by friend of the blog-Greg Jeffers, here: Responding to the Gnositc […]

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Gregory C. Jeffers
Anglican Christian | Husband | Father | Teacher | Scholar | Poet

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