"Christ Consciousness" and the Serpent's Lie

Where do you look for your true self? When you search for meaning, for connection, for the ultimate reality, does your gaze turn inward, seeking a hidden spark within your own soul?

Or does it turn outward, toward something—Someone—objective, historical, revealed?

This question lies at the heart of a profound spiritual divergence.

Have you ever heard someone talk about finding your "Christ consciousness"? Where does this come from? You won't find talk like that in the Bible. The idea, if you survey the popular authors who espouse this idea, it a notion suggesting that divinity, the very essence of Christ, is a potential residing within us all, waiting to be awakened

Here are what a few popular authors have said. I'll credit Steven Bancarz (a former New-Ager) who dug these quotes up a while back. I also borrowed the argument from John the Baptist, see below, from him:

 

“Is he (Jesus) the Christ? O yes, along with you.” – A Course in Miracles, manual, p.87

“Accepting the Christ” is merely a shift in self-perception”  – Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love: Reflections On The Principles Of A Course In Miracles, p. 32

“Many have been Christed, not just Jesus of Nazareth. You can be Christed too.” Neale Donald Walsch in Conversations with God, book 2, pg. 22

“You are, quite literally, the Word of God, made flesh” – FWG, pg. 395

 

It promises an inner path to becoming like God. But is this ancient promise truly the path to life? Or, is it exactly the opposite

 

The Serpent's Lie: Genesis 3:1-5 

"Now the serpent was more crafty than any other beast of the field that the LORD God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God actually say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree in the garden’?” And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden, but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’” But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God (וִהְיִיתֶם֙ כֵּֽאלֹהִ֔ים - wihyîṯem kêlōhîm), knowing good and evil (יֹדְעֵ֖י ט֥וֹב וָרָֽע - yōḏ‘ê ṭōwḇ wā·rā‘).” (Gen 3:1-5)

 

The tempter, the serpent, is marked by its subtlety, its shrewdness (עָר֔וּם - ‘ārûm). Its attack begins not with outright rebellion, but with a seemingly innocent question, one that might even sound right. But it's designed to sow doubt about the clarity and goodness of God's external Word: "Did God really say...?"

In other words, this sounds like the serpent is still directing the couple back to God's words. But he's also sowing seeds of doubt. What was it that God really meant, here? Don't pay attention to the plain words, there must be a hidden message, you need to get to God's real intentions...

This is the first, fatal step: shifting reliance from God's objective command to subjective uncertainty and suspicion. Has God truly spoken clearly? Can His Word be trusted? Or is there perhaps another truth, an inner truth, yet to be discovered?

Having planted the seed of doubt, the serpent moves to direct contradiction. God had warned with solemn finality, מֹ֥ות תָּמֽוּת mōwt tāmūṯ – "dying you shall die," emphasizing the certainty of death for disobedience (Gen 2:17). The serpent mirrors this exact Hebrew grammatical structure (the infinitive absolute followed by the finite verb) but negates it: לֹא־מ֖וֹת תְּמֻתֽוּן "lō’-mōwt təmūṯûn" – "You will not surely die."

You don't need to know Hebrew to see it there. Remember, you read right to left. It's a direct negation of what God actually said.

It is a direct, brazen denial of God's revealed reality, replacing divine truth with satanic falsehood.

But the core of the temptation, the glittering prize offered, is the promise: "you will be like God, knowing good and evil." This phrase, "knowing good and evil," isn't just about accessing more information, or having a higher-morality. It's exactly the opposite.

It points to the power of self-determination, the autonomy to define good and evil for oneself, to establish one's own moral universe apart from, and even in opposition to, God's established order.

It is the allure of seizing the reins of reality, of becoming the source and standard of truth. The temptation is nothing less than self-deification, finding ultimate authority and identity within the self, rather than receiving life and definition from the Creator outside the self.

This inward turn, this fundamental distrust of the external Word and grasping for self-defined divinity, is the very essence of the sin that fractured creation. It is the heart "curved inward upon itself" (cor curvum in se), seeking its own glory, its own truth, its own salvation apart from God (See Luther, Lectures on Romans (1515-1516), LW 25:345).

The idea of a "Christ Consciousness," suggesting that godhood or Christhood is an inherent potential within, waiting to be actualized through inner awakening, is nothing but a repetition of the serpent's original lie. It subtly repeats the promise: look within, discover your own divinity, become "like God" on your own terms. It replaces dependence on God's gracious action for us in Christ with a focus on our own inherent capacity within us.

It exchanges the objective Word for subjective experience.

 

Which is the single greatest cause of evil, discord, division, suffering, war, and murder in the history of the world. I'm not over-stating it here, either.

 

When has there ever been a "war" when anyone thought they were the "evil" ones, and the side they were against were the "good guys"? Even Hitler believed he was the good guy. Just read his writings, if you can stomach it.

Every act of war, violence, and brutality can be connected to the original lie: that we find "truth" by looking within, that we become our own arbiters of "good" and "evil."

It sounds like a peaceful, even a loving idea. That's what makes it so insidious. It's why the scriptures tell us the Serpent was so crafty and shrewd. It's because the idea that "each person can determine for himself what's good or evil" seems on the surface to be super tolerant. You can't judge any one, really, if we all are judges of ourselves, can you?

But what kind of fruit does this bear? If you truly do believe that you've discovered the truth within, what happens when someone else's truth inevitably contradicts yours? Well, a violator of my "personal truth" or my "personal good," makes the other person evil, a heretic, a violator of "my truth." Of course, if the other person is doing the same thing, they see it in exactly the opposite way. To them, you're the heretic, the one violating their truth, the evil one.

Don't believe me? Look at our political climate today. Look at the rhetoric. It's the kind of language you throw at someone who you genuinely thing is evil. Both sides do it with equal fervor! It's every bit as zealous as any religion, but it's even more dangerous, because each person becomes an authority unto oneself. It means, we're all evil... to someone... even if we're all good to ourselves. It's the ultimate act of self-justification and the height of judgmentalism.

Even though this entire idea purports to be the opposite, and that's why it's appealing to so many people. It's why the serpent was so effective in his deceit... because it sounds really good, even pious and noble... at first...

But it ultimately leads to an outright denial of the objective declaration, the One who declared what's "good" in the beginning, and exchanges it for the dogma of self, the unholy trinity of me, myself, and I.

Jesus actually made this exact point when confronting the religious authorities who wanted to put him to death:

Why do you not understand what I say? It is because you cannot bear to hear my word. You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies (Jn 8:43–44, ESV).

Notice, Jesus directs them to the devil's activities "from the beginning," and he calls what Satan did in the beginning (that's technical lingo in Rabbinic discourse to go back to Genesis 1-3) as murder. Telling Eve to find God "within," to try and determine good and evil for oneself, is murder. Why? Because it brings death to the entire world.

We see it play out in Genesis, too. What do we see happen immediately after the fall in Genesis 4. The first murder. As soon as we buy into the idea that we are the ones who get to determine good and evil for ourselves, we start murdering each other.

But how sweet does the lie sound? How tempting is it, to actually appeal to our own distaste for hate and discord, to turn to relativism where no one is right or wrong, but everyone is after their own, personal, truth? Let history judge whether that's been "fruitful" or not (yes, an intentional Eden pun). You will, after all, know a tree by its fruits. Relativism has only born death, suffering, war, division, and destruction.

While we might not like the idea that there's an objective reality, a truth that's bigger than us, because it means we might have to look outside ourselves to find truth, that's the only way we can have civilization, it's the only way we can find peace... when we accept that there's an order, a rule, a law, that's bigger than any of us.

Jesus warned about all of this. There is nothing new under the sun. The that sowed all evil and discord in the beginning will rear its head in a profound way near the end of days.

Remember, Jesus warned that in the last days there'd be many saying "I am the Christ," and that if anyone said, "Look, here is the Christ!" or "There he is!" do not believe it. (Matt 24:3-5).

How does the notion of "Christ Consciousness" fare under this prophetic spotlight? Especially when it leads individuals to believe or declare, "You are Christ," or "We are all Christ," it walks directly into the path of Jesus' warning. It encourages the very self-declaration He identified as a hallmark of end-times falsehood: "Egō eimi ho Christos." It achieves this by fundamentally redefining "Christ" – shifting it from the unique, historical God-man, Jesus, to an attainable state, an inner principle, a universal consciousness.

Consider the witness of John the Baptist. Jesus Himself bestowed upon him the highest possible human commendation: "Truly, I say to you, among those born of women there has arisen no one greater than John the Baptist" (Matt 11:11). If any mere human could ever embody or attain a "Christ Consciousness," surely it would be this man, declared "greatest" by the Christ Himself, filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother's womb (Luke 1:15). Yet, listen to John's unwavering testimony when confronted by the religious authorities:

"And this is the testimony of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed, and did not deny, but confessed, “I am not the Christ"" (John 1:19-20)

His response is deliberate and emphatic. "I am not the Christ." It's one of the most forceful ways you can deny or negate a statement in the original Greek: He uses the definitive negative ouk paired with the verb "to be" (eimi). There is no room for doubt.

Later, appealing to his own disciples, he reiterates this core truth about his identity in relation to Jesus: "You yourselves bear me witness, that I said, ‘I am not the Christ’ (Οὐκ εἰμὶ ἐγὼ ὁ Χριστός - Ouk eimi egō ho Christos), but ‘I have been sent before him.’” (John 3:28)

Again, the clear, unequivocal denial: "Ouk eimi egō ho Christos." John's entire identity and purpose were oriented away from himself and toward Jesus.

If the one acclaimed by Jesus as the "greatest born of women" so forcefully and repeatedly denied being the Christ, how can any teaching legitimately suggest that this status is attainable by ordinary individuals through inner realization? John's testimony stands as a monumental rebuttal to such claims.

There is indeed a precious truth about the believer's intimate relationship with Christ. Through faith, worked by the Holy Spirit through the Word and Sacraments, we are brought into a mystical union (unio mystica) with Christ. We are joined to Him, sharing in His victory, His righteousness, His life, much like a bride is united to her bridegroom, sharing all he possesses (cf. Eph 5:30-32; see also Luther, The Freedom of a Christian (1520), LW 31:351).

We are clothed in His righteousness (Gal 3:27), incorporated into His body (1 Cor 12:12-13). Yet, this profound union never obliterates the essential distinction between the Savior and the saved, the Head and the members. Christ remains the unique God-man, the Mediator, the Redeemer. We are saved by Him, united to Him, indwelt by His Spirit, but we do not become Him. "Union with Christ does not mean that believers become Christs themselves... Christ remains the Head, and believers remain members of His body." (Francis Pieper, Christian Dogmatics, Vol. II, 498).

John the Baptist perfectly embodied this: intimately connected to Christ's mission, yet distinctly not Christ.

 

The Name Above All Names: Understanding "Christos"

Finally, the very term "Christ" is distorted when reimagined as an inner state. The Greek word Χριστός (Christos) echoes throughout the New Testament, appearing hundreds of times. It is not a novel invention but the direct translation of the potent Hebrew term מָשִׁיחַ (*Mashiach*), meaning "Anointed One."

In the Old Testament, anointing with oil was a sacred act signifying divine selection, commissioning, and empowerment for specific, God-given offices. Kings were anointed (1 Sam 16:13), High Priests were anointed (Lev 8:12), and occasionally prophets were designated through anointing or understood as God's anointed (1 Kgs 19:16; Ps 105:15). Anointing set a person apart for God's service, equipping them with the authority and ability needed for their task. The Mashiach, the "Anointed One" par excellence, became the focus of Israel's hope – the promised descendant of David who would be the ultimate King, Priest, and Prophet, establishing God's kingdom and redeeming His people.

When the New Testament writers employ Christos, they are deliberately invoking this rich history of promise and expectation, applying it definitively and almost exclusively to one specific historical Person: Jesus of Nazareth. It functions sometimes clearly as a title ("Jesus, who is called Christ," Matt 1:16; "You are the Christ," Mark 8:29) and sometimes becomes so closely associated with Him that it functions almost as part of His name ("Jesus Christ," Rom 1:1; "our Lord Jesus Christ," 1 Cor 1:2).

Regardless of the precise grammatical function, the referent is consistently the same: the unique individual, Jesus, born in Bethlehem, ministering in Galilee and Judea, crucified under Pontius Pilate, risen on the third day, and ascended into heaven.

Peter’s great confession encapsulates this: "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God" (Matt 16:16). Paul’s summaries consistently point to this Person: "...descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be the Son of God in power according to the Spirit of holiness by his resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord" (Rom 1:3-4). He is the One anointed by God "with the Holy Spirit and with power" (Acts 10:38), the fulfillment of all Messianic prophecy.

Therefore, to wrench the term "Christ" from this deeply rooted biblical and historical context and redefine it as an impersonal "consciousness," an "inner potential," or a "divine spark" accessible to all, is not interpretation; it is eisegesis – reading foreign concepts into the text. It ignores the overwhelming grammatical and contextual evidence that Christos designates a specific Person and His unique, unrepeatable work. It replaces the objective reality of God's Anointed One with a subjective, internal quest.

True faith does not grasp some nebulous inner quality, but rather lays hold of the person of the Mediator, Christ, and His objective work accomplished for us (See Apology of the Augsburg Confession IV (II).58-61).

 

Conclusion: Receiving the Gift, Rejecting the Lie

The idea of discovering divinity within, of unlocking a secret potential to become "like God" or even to "be Christ," is seductive.

It resonates with the primal longing planted by the serpent in Eden – the desire for autonomy, self-sufficiency, and self-created meaning. Yet, as the unwavering testimony of Scripture reveals, from Genesis to the Gospels, this inward path is not the road to enlightenment but a trail leading toward deception, destruction, murder, division, and ultimate separation from the true God.

More people have been murdered by this idea than any single religion. In fact, those who have murdered in the name of religion, even the regrettable Crusades or the Salem Witch Trials, did so precisely because they took it upon themselves to selectively distort God's word, to determine what's good or evil within it for themselves. They bought in to this exact lie. Christ and his followers can't be blamed for those sad episodes... it all goes back to the same serpent.

Genuine Christian faith, therefore, does not direct our gaze inward to excavate a supposed latent divinity. Instead, it calls us to look outward—extra nos, outside of ourselves—to the historical, objective Christ revealed in the Scriptures and proclaimed in the Gospel.

He is not a consciousness we must strive to attain, but a living Savior who comes to us, offering Himself freely. This encounter happens not through mystical self-discovery, but through humble reception. Faith itself is not something we generate from within; it is a gift, created in our hearts by the Holy Spirit through the external, objective means God has appointed: His powerful Word preached and His life-giving Sacraments administered (Rom 10:17; Titus 3:5-7).

In the hearing of the Gospel, Christ speaks His forgiveness to us. In the waters of Baptism, He washes us and unites us to His death and resurrection. In the Holy Supper, He gives us His very body and blood for the assurance of our salvation. He does not ask us to become Him; but to receive Him. To become "one" with Him, the mystical union, is not to dissolve the distinction between persons, between "me" and "him," but to share in a common relationship, the bond of love that belongs to God's Being. It's a love that isn't born in us, but we're called into, created to experience as His creatures, made in His image. He invites us to belong to Him, to be found in Him, clothed in His perfect righteousness, sustained by His infinite grace. Our hope rests entirely, not on awakening an inner potential, but on receiving an external gift – the gift of God Himself in His Son, Jesus Christ, who lived, died, and rose again for us.

 

In Jesus' name,

Judah

 

P.S. This isn't the next book in The Unfallen series (that'll be Lux in Tenebris) but in the one after that, Extra Nos, this is precisely the theme that Landon is engaging in the spiritual battle he'll be facing in that book.