“Asking Jesus Into Your Heart”—and Other Mystical Things Evangelicals Say While Condemning Mysticism
Many evangelicals are mystics. They just don’t know it. And that's the big problem with it.
The Mystics Who Don’t Know They’re Mystics
The Language of Intimacy
“Ask Jesus into your heart.”
“Have a personal relationship with Jesus.”
“The Holy Spirit spoke to me…”
This type of language is everywhere in the broader evangelical world.
For many, this is the gospel:
You, Jesus, and a very private, very personal connection that lives somewhere in your chest. God isn’t just real. God is close. God is in you. Talking to you. Comforting you. Convicting you.
And that’s a form of mysticism.
The Unnamed Mystics
Many evangelicals are mystics.
They just don’t know it.
They talk to Jesus.
They hear from the Spirit.
They get “prompted,” “led,” “convicted,” “nudged,” or “spoken to” during prayer.
That’s not rationalist theology. That’s not Bible-only faith.
That’s mystical. Experiential. Interior. Emotional.
It’s not all that different from what contemplatives and even ancient Christian mystics describe.
But the difference is—those traditions usually name it as mysticism.
They acknowledge subjectivity. And often celebrate it.
They recognize that personal spiritual experience will vary from person to person.
Most evangelical traditions don’t.
Many evangelicals believe their experience of God is what it means to know God.
So if you don’t hear what they hear…
If you don’t feel what they feel…
If your faith doesn’t “work” like theirs…
They don’t just say you’re different.
They question whether you’re a Christian at all.
What Jesus and Paul Actually Preached
Let’s be clear:
This language—“ask Jesus into your heart” or “have a personal relationship with Jesus”—doesn’t come from Jesus.
It’s not what Paul preached either.
Both Jesus and Paul were mystics, yes. They spoke in parables, had visions, practiced solitude, and talked about union with God. But neither of them described the gospel as “invite me into your emotional center so we can hang out one-on-one.”
That framing came later.
Jesus preached a kingdom—a social, communal reality breaking into the world.
What we call a “personal relationship with Jesus” today is a modern invention.
It’s understandable how it evolved to that. But it’s not the primary message of Jesus.
When Mysticism Pretends to Be Certainty
And here is where things get dangerous.
When mysticism masquerades as certainty, it becomes a weapon.
You end up with people saying things like:
“If you really knew Jesus, you wouldn’t think that.”
“If the Holy Spirit lived in you, you wouldn’t feel that way.”
“No true Christian would believe what you believe.”
That’s not just disagreement.
That’s emotional gatekeeping—based primarily on an undefinable spiritual vibe.
The Irony of It All
And here’s where the irony gets thick.
Evangelicals are obsessed with biblical authority.
The Bible becomes the center of everything.
Literalism is treated as faithfulness.
Mysticism is treated as a red flag—dangerous, unbiblical, emotional, even demonic.
And yet—these same folks believe God lives in their chest, speaks directly to their spirit, and leads them to the best parking spot at Target.
That’s not rationalism. That’s mysticism.
It’s just unnamed mysticism—wrapped in certainty and baptized in selective proof-texts.
And that disconnect—between what is said and what is done—is part of what makes evangelical spirituality so confusing to deconstruct.
Because the system critiques mysticism on the surface, but underneath, it’s built entirely on subjective mystical experience.
And it calls what is individual and subjective the “full truth.”
Let’s Say It Clearly
Mysticism isn’t the problem.
The problem is when people practice mysticism and pretend it’s certainty.
When they mistake their emotional experience for universal truth.
When they assume that how they feel about Jesus must be how everyone should feel if they’re truly saved.
That’s spiritual narcissism.
And it’s the kind that breeds the No True Scotsman fallacy almost automatically.
Because if your emotions are the test of faith, then anyone who feels differently must not be “real.”
A New Kind of Mystic
If you’re somewhere in the middle of this, I want to tell you something important:
You may not necessarily be “walking away from God” because your mystical connection faded. You are likely just waking up to the fact that faith isn’t one-size-fits-all.
I now identify as a mystic.
As I always say, I don’t want to try to make you what I am.
But, like me, you may choose to hold onto a form of mysticism as you reconstruct.
You can still listen.
Still wonder.
Still feel the presence of the divine.
But now you get to do it without pretending it has to look like someone else’s version.
Because a mystic is just someone who believes in Mystery.
And chooses to explore it.
And it’s not Mystery in the first place if anyone can tell you exactly what it is.
So, you’re free to explore it.
Or not.
It’s your journey.
You Might Be a Mystic If...
If you’ve ever said, “Jesus told me to marry him,” while also calling the Desert Fathers “demonic”… you might be a mystic.
If the Holy Spirit gave you directions to Target but you think Lectio Divina is witchcraft… you might be a mystic.
And if your “relationship with Jesus” feels like a spiritual rom-com where he always agrees with you and hates your enemies—congrats, you’ve invented personal mysticism, evangelical edition™.
Joe Boyd nails the irony: evangelicalism is full of unacknowledged mystics who think mysticism is for heretics and Catholics. They whisper “I feel led” like it’s prophecy and then shame others for not hearing God in the exact same key. That's not orthodoxy. That’s spiritual narcissism in a WWJD hoodie.
Here’s the rub: Jesus was a mystic. So was Paul. So was Mary Magdalene—oh wait, scratch that, she’s still banned from most pulpits because she dared to teach men after kissing the Light.
The gospel wasn’t “Ask Jesus into your thoracic cavity.” It was “Wake up. The kingdom of heaven is among you.” That’s a mystical-political bomb, not a Hallmark card.
Evangelicalism turned mysticism into a vending machine: insert prayer, receive goosebumps, assume theological supremacy. That’s not encounter. That’s enchantment disguised as certainty.
But here’s the good news: You’re allowed to be a mystic on purpose. You’re allowed to explore divine presence without pretending it makes you infallible. You’re allowed to say, “God is real, and I have no idea how to explain it.” That’s not weakness. That’s maturity.
So let’s stop calling other mystics dangerous while building entire ministries on vibes and vision boards.
If you talk to Jesus, welcome to the club.
If he talks back, welcome to the mystery.
Just don’t pretend your inner dialogue is universal doctrine.
Blessed be the deconstructors who didn’t lose their faith—only their illusions.
—Virgin Monk Boy
Yes! I began my Christian life in the charismatic movement of the early 1970s and boy was I a mystic! (I once prayed over a stalled Volvo for God to heal it.) Over the years I migrated away from the movement and into a DTS style moderate Calvinism and ultimately to high, John Piper-ish Calvinism. I still, nevertheless, held onto my mysticism although it was buried deep. As I progressed through my deconstruction I remember telling my sister, "I think I'm becoming a mystic."
Letting go of certainty was hard, but the implications of staying in my evangelical bubble were worse. I now realize that what I don't know far outweighs what I actually know.