Hello, fellow wayfarers … Why talk of the “Jezebel spirit” is often about justifying sin … How you can be both full of passion and energy and “lukewarm” at the same time … What we can know about the universe beyond what our equations and experiments can show … A Gen-Z Desert Island DJ proves, once again, that the kids are all right … This is this week’s Moore to the Point.
How the Legend of the “Jezebel Spirit” Keeps Empowering Sin
Early in our marriage, when my wife and I had just moved to a new city while I was starting doctoral work, we attended a worship service—knowing almost no one there but hoping to make friends. The preacher, who mumbled a bit, was trying to make a rhetorical point about the importance of a good name: “I mean, how many of you ladies out there have the name Jezebel?” Time seemed to be in slow motion as I turned to see my wife, Maria, raising her hand.
Turns out she thought he had said, “How many of you ladies out there have heard the name Jezebel?” which, of course, she had. She blushed and immediately dropped her hand when she discovered the actual question, while I imagined meeting all of these new people to have them say, “It’s so nice to meet you, Jezebel. Welcome to our church.”
We made it through that moment, seemingly without anyone noticing (or else too polite to bring it up), and the years have proven that my wife lives up to her actual name—that of the mother and some of the disciples of Jesus—and not at all to that of the murderous queen who once hounded the prophet Elijah almost till death did them part. She sighs and rolls her eyes every time I tell that story and says, “That preacher was hard to understand—and you know it.” She’s right. Thirty seconds of Jezebel confusion—in this case—has made for thirty years of laughter from me.
Old Jezebel keeps showing up in other kinds of confusion, though, in ways that are not funny at all. On any given Sunday, I am at my church teaching through the Book of Revelation. I said the first week, We’re going to have a couple months in more familiar territory—as I teach through Jesus’ messages to the seven churches of Asia Minor—before things get weird.
What I meant was that the themes at the beginning of the Apocalypse are easier to grasp: keep persevering, repent of sin, don’t lose heart while suffering, return to your first love, and so on. Most people get confused or scared right after that part, with images of trumpets and seals and horsemen and multi-headed dragons and marks on the forehead. And so, I thought, the first third of Revelation is freer from the bad speculative teaching that keeps some people distant from Revelation. But then I remembered Jezebel.
The ascended Jesus sent a message through John the Revelator that there was one major point of disobedience in the congregation at Thyatira, namely that they “tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess and is teaching and seducing my servants to practice sexual immorality and to eat food sacrificed to idols” (Rev. 2:20, ESV throughout).
This past week, I happened upon a social media post from a minister (apparently in the Pentecostal or charismatic tradition) asserting, “There is no ‘Jezebel Spirit.’ At best, these are words used to silo and demoralize people you disagree with.” He went on, “I believe in the gifts of the Spirit—all of them. This is not godly. It’s wrong and demonic and needs to be purged from our vernacular.”
I’m not yet familiar with this minister’s work so I don’t know exactly what’s theologically in the background for him, but I do know that, on this, he’s exactly right—the concept of a “Jezebel spirit,” the way it’s often used today, has no grounding at all in Scripture and, ironically enough, is often used to fuel the very sin Jesus charged the Jezebel of Revelation with promoting.
Part of the confusion, of course, is with the way we use the language of “spirit.” One can speak of the “spirit of ’76,” referring to patriotism; or to someone having “the spirit of Barnabas,” implying they’re an encourager; or “the spirit of Lydia,” meaning they’re generous. One could speak of someone seeking to sell access to God as being of “the spirit of Simon.” But, usually, the language of the Jezebel spirit is used in our churches today to refer to something quite more than just that.
Many preachers or teachers name the Jezebel spirit as a specific demonic being or force, and, in doing so, portray a particularly dangerous and evil aspect of women—especially of women to men. Often, this will come with a list of “characteristics of the Jezebel spirit” that are disconnected from the actual words of the Bible. In most cases, one does not have to be a Freudian to wonder if these “characteristics” are not describing a particular woman or group of women with whom the preacher or teacher is perturbed.
The Bible does teach exactly what Jesus unequivocally acknowledged as true—that there are dark, spiritual personal beings afoot in the cosmos. The Scriptures sometimes speak of these beings as “principalities and powers.” In most cases, though, these beings are not named and classified for us. This is because their power is not, like a pagan god, independent of us.
The powers of this present darkness work through deception (Gen. 3:1–3) and accusation (Rev. 12:10). One of them screamed in his presence, “I know who you are—the Holy One of God” (Mark 1:24). But they had no power over Jesus. Of Satan, Jesus said, “The ruler of this world is coming. He has no claim on me” (John 14:30). That’s not only because of his deity but also because of his obedient humanity.
The spirits of darkness work through human fallenness and rebellion, which is why the scriptural remedy for them is the gospel, prayer, and repentance of sin—not talismans or incantations. When Jesus rebuked those in the church who “hold the teaching of Balaam” (Rev. 2:14), he was not speaking of some specifically masculine entity hypnotizing the congregation. He was speaking of those who imitated the prophet-for-hire of old. And when Jesus referenced a teacher as “Jezebel,” he did so in terms of the villain of ancient Israel—one who taught that God could be replaced with idols and that immorality could be carried out without accountability.
When the Jezebel spirit is taught, it is usually presented as eerily consistent with the pagan myths of the succubus, who would sexually attack men by night, or the myths of the sirens, who would lure unsuspecting men to their deaths. The implication is usually that there is something especially treacherous and dangerous—indeed, supernaturally treacherous and dangerous—about women.
Men, in this view, are seen through the lens of frailty—they are the sum of instincts and desires that are uncontrollable when in the presence of the power of the temptress—while women are viewed through the prism of calculating evil. This, of course, is inconsistent with the fundamental gospel truth that both men and women are fallen and, left to ourselves, under condemnation (Rom. 3:10–18).
The Jezebel spirit is convenient in a couple ways. I’ve seen it used to suggest that women who call for holiness and justice in the church should be shunned or ignored. In working with survivors of church sexual abuse, I’ve lost count of how many of them were told that their work for accountability was that of a Jezebel spirit. I have seen women who have done no wrong have their reputations destroyed. Some of them are exiled from their communities. Some are unjustly and unrelentingly harassed in law courts or by church discipline.
I’ve also lost count of how many male leaders have used the term, or something akin to it, to minimize their own culpability for sexual sin. The Jezebel spirit enables them to point to the problem before God as “the woman thou hast given to me,” who is simultaneously a superhuman serpent in the garden.
In many cases, men have used Jezebel language to use purported biblical authority to blame others—sometimes innocent people—for their own abuse of power. In other words, one is able to point to the Jezebel spirit while doing exactly what Jezebel did, crushing those who stand in the way of the sin one wants to commit (1 Kings 21:8–15). In so doing, it’s possible to twist the Bible to say what it doesn’t say (thus leading people to idolatry) while literally demonizing women in order to minimize one’s own sexual transgression (thus teaching people to excuse immorality). That’s exactly what the false prophet of Thyatira was doing.
Women are sinners, just as men are. The way of Jezebel is death; the way of Ahab is too. A woman who thinks she’s unable to follow the path of Nimrod or Esau or Jeroboam or Herod is deceiving herself. A man who thinks he’s unable to mimic the pattern of Jezebel is also.
Redeemed women are heirs of the kingdom, just as redeemed men are. Women can fall into false teaching, just as men can. Women need the gospel, just as men do. To project one’s fear or loathing of women onto a Jezebel spirit isn’t to identify a demon but to imitate one.
A Lukewarm Christian Can Seem Awfully Passionate
On the theme of misunderstandings in the Book of Revelation, I found while teaching this week that there’s another one. Jesus said to the church at Laodicea: “I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were either cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth” (3:15–16).
We often read “lukewarm” here as mediating, dull, or passionless, as though Jesus were saying, I wish you were really faithful “hot” or completely given over to evil “cold.” This would be something like saying, “I wish you were either loving to your enemies or a serial killer.” But that’s not, I think, the point he is making.
For water to be hot is to be useful—to boil, to warm, to purify. For water to be cold is also to be useful—to refresh, to hydrate. To be lukewarm is to be neither, to be useless. In fact, to be lukewarm is for both cold and hot water to adjust to the norm, to conform to the state around it.
This is important, because sometimes we misdiagnose what it means to be “lukewarm.” Jesus did not say that the church at Laodicea is passionless, lukewarm toward everything. They thought they were clothed but they were naked. They thought they were rich but they were poor. It’s quite likely they felt themselves to be passionate too. Jesus said they were poor in terms of what’s really riches. They may have been filled with passion and energy—but not about what really matters.
In fact, that which is stagnant and lukewarm often gives the appearance of being vital and energetic and passionate. To get a jolt of feeling alive, people often look for what can grant that illusion, whether in wrath or zeal or lust or work. As the old country song put it, “There’s nothing cold as ashes, after the fire is gone.” And there’s nothing as lukewarm as arson, burning down a building because there’s nothing that feels alive inside of it.
Jesus might have seemed lukewarm compared to fiery Peter wielding his sword. He might have seemed lukewarm when he was asleep while his disciples were screaming for their lives in a storm. He wasn’t, though—he was, as now, the fire that sets the world ablaze, the cold water that alone can quench thirst. He was, and is, full of zeal and full of peace—and sometimes people thought that was too hot (Luke 7:33) or too cold (John 11:21). He was never lukewarm, though, in the way measured not by blood pressure but by life in the Spirit.
To see if you’re lukewarm, don’t look at your temperament. Look at your life. Maybe your lukewarm soul is leading you to artificial coldness—icily calculating or envying or judging or hating. Maybe your lukewarm soul is leading you to artificial hotness—fierily hating or fighting or plunging into what you know to be wrong.
In either case, the answer is the same: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect” (Rom. 12:2).
If Loyalty Is Chemistry, and Love Is Electricity …
A few weeks ago, after my taking my son to college, I wrote here about a Mike Gerson essay our friend Peter Wehner reminded me about. A few days later, Pete sent out another column to those of us in the book club (of which Mike was an indispensable part).
This one was a classic Gerson take on a book he had read on the history of the cosmos written from a thoroughly materialist/physicalist/naturalist point of view. Mike not only didn’t accept those premises but didn’t think many people actually do—at least not consistently, when it comes to the things that matter most.
He wrote this:
If loyalty is really chemistry, and truth is just the wisp of electric current in a three-pound piece of meat, this is not enough to provide a sense of belonging and purpose. It is not even enough to divert a class of students who hear the call of a fall afternoon, and love, and a vast sky full of meaning.
In those words are embedded a thousand lifetimes of deep calling unto deep—of the Psalms calling out to each other, of Ecclesiastes calling out to Isaiah, of Genesis calling out to Revelation, with Revelation echoing back.
Loyalty is not just chemistry. Love is not just biology. Behind all of that is a great mystery—a Word who took on flesh and dwelled among us.
Desert Island Playlist
Every other week, I share a playlist of songs one of you says you’d want to have on hand if you were stranded on a desert island. This week’s submission comes from reader Graham Martin, who is 20 years old and a student at the University of South Carolina in Columbia, South Carolina. At 20, choosing a playlist that includes Jimmy Buffett, Willie Nelson, and Chris Stapleton means that Graham is in danger of being adopted for life by me. Nonetheless, here’s his list:
- “Love Without End, Amen” by George Strait: A song that always reminds me of both my earthly and Heavenly Father. Gives me goosebumps every single time.
- “Layla” by Derek and the Dominos: One of the best songs ever recorded, bar none. Clapton and Allman are musical geniuses.
- “Here Comes the Sun” and “Let It Be” by The Beatles: Could not decide between the two, but I was raised on The Beatles and these two are both so nostalgic for me.
- “Upside Down” by Jack Johnson: Again, nostalgia. The theme from the 2006 Curious George movie, and one that the vast majority of Zoomers like myself associate with childhood bliss (or at least I do).
- “Take It Easy” by Eagles: Just a feel-good song.
- “Volcano” by Jimmy Buffett: Reminds me of riding in the backseat of my Papa’s car as a kid. My brothers and I would demand this song on repeat.
- “Where Rainbows Never Die” by The SteelDrivers: A song about heaven that, while maybe not the most theologically accurate, is certainly beautiful. Chris Stapleton’s voice is unmatched.
- “Hold My Hand” by Hootie & the Blowfish: Go Gamecocks.
- “Seven Spanish Angels” by Willie Nelson and Ray Charles: Doesn’t get better than Willie AND Ray.
- “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman: I mean, come on. Maybe a perfect song.
- “Traveler’s Song” by Flatland Cavalry: My favorite song by my favorite modern band.
- “How to Be Yours” by Chris Renzema: A song I relate to deeply. The bridge is a needed reminder of the Lord’s faithfulness to his people, even amidst our unfaithfulness.
Thank you, Graham!
Readers, what do y’all think? If you were stranded on a desert island for the rest of your life and could have only one playlist or one bookshelf with you, what songs or books would you choose?
- For a Desert Island Playlist, send me a list between 5 and 12 songs, excluding hymns and worship songs. (We’ll cover those later.)
- For a Desert Island Bookshelf, send me a list of up to 12 books, along with a photo of all the books together.
Send your list (or both lists) to questions@russellmoore.com, and include as much or as little explanation of your choices as you would like, along with the city and state from which you’re writing.
Quote of the Moment
“I feel that the universe is full of glorious energy, that the energy tends to take pattern and shape, and that the ultimate character of things is comely and good. I am perfectly aware that I say in this in the teeth of all sorts of contrary evidence, and that I must be basing it partly on temperament and partly on faith, but that’s my attitude.”
—Richard Wilbur
Currently Reading (or Re-Reading)
- The Bible: Genesis, Exodus, the Song of Solomon, illustrations by Marc Chagall (Chronicle)
- The Song of Roland, transl. W. S. Merwyn (Modern Library)
- Jeffrey Bilbro, Virtues of Renewal: Wendell Berry’s Sustainable Forms (University Press of Kentucky)
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Russell Moore
Editor in Chief, Christianity Today
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