The Imitation Gospel
How Modern Spirituality Replaces God with a Branded Version of You
There’s a version of spirituality right now that sounds almost right.
It uses the right words. It promises liberation. It references Scripture.
It talks about alignment, embodiment, purpose, stewardship.
It encourages forgiveness, energetic clearing, and “higher self” leadership.
It even talks about Jesus sometimes.
But if you listen closely, it’s not about surrender. It’s about sovereignty—without submission.
It’s not about the Word. It’s about Your truth.
It’s not about discipleship. It’s about empowerment.
This is the imitation gospel—and it’s everywhere.
It sells you a journey that costs thousands, but promises to bring you back to yourself.
It tells you that God lives within you, but that you need someone’s framework to unlock access.
It teaches you how to build a brand around your wounds, but never teaches you how to repent.
It gives you permission to speak boldly, but never to be corrected.
It gives you stages, but not altars.
It gives you followers, but not fruit.
“They are from the world and therefore speak from the viewpoint of the world, and the world listens to them.” (1 John 4:5)
The imitation gospel doesn’t always show up in spiritual spaces.
Sometimes it wears a blazer. Sometimes a mic. Sometimes a microphone and a podcast and a product suite.
It’s built for performance.
It makes you the center of your own theology.
It teaches you how to harvest revelation for your audience.
It makes your healing a trademark.
Your insight a funnel.
Your story a platform.
Your breakthroughs a business.
It feels powerful at first—especially for people who were silenced, neglected, unseen.
It gives voice.
It gives shape.
It gives tools.
Eventually, it asks for something in return. It wants you to keep performing revelation, even when you’re not living it anymore.
It wants you to stay on message even when the Spirit has moved.
It wants you to sell healing you haven’t finished receiving.
It wants you to lead people somewhere you’ve never actually walked.
And if you question it—you’re called misaligned. Unavailable. Unconscious. Ungrateful.
But what you really are is awake.
Because the imitation gospel doesn’t have space for God.
Only for curated divinity.
Only for power you can package.
Only for messages that can be monetized.
“Having a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof.” (2 Timothy 3:5)
This isn’t about being perfect.
It’s about being honest.
There are people right now selling access to God as if He were a brand partnership.
There are leaders building mentorship models around the premise that they’ve healed, when they’re still bleeding out backstage.
There are whole movements whose only theology is manifestation, and whose only accountability is engagement.
And if you say anything about it, you’re accused of judgment, small-mindedness, religious trauma, or “not getting it.”
But what they call judgment is often discernment, and what they call liberation is often just distraction with better lighting.
This imitation gospel is attractive because it feels familiar.
It rewards visibility. It lets you stay in control. It lets you keep your pride. It lets you play God.
But it does not require obedience.
And it will not carry you through real fire.
Real fire doesn’t care about your brand.
Real fire will burn everything that isn’t rooted.
If you’re living the real gospel, you don’t get to keep curating your image.
You don’t get to stay in your loop.
You don’t get to put a filter on conviction.
You walk where you’re told.
You speak when it’s time.
You disappear when God says disappear.
You serve people who can’t give anything back.
You lose things you never thought you’d let go of.
And you do it in secret, without needing anyone to know your name.
That’s the real gospel.
It won’t always scale.
It won’t always sell.
But it will save you.
Because it’s not about you.
It’s about who sent you.
And if your spirituality still makes you the center of everything, you’re not following Jesus.
You’re following your reflection.