Accumulating Online Teachers
I see it happening all the time, on YouTube and in the endless corners of the internet. It is often ex-Mormons, ex-Jehovah’s Witnesses, ex-Baptists. People who have left one system of control but then gather around new teachers, online gurus who make startling claims to draw them in, their eyes fixed on gaining more visitors, more money, more influence. It is strange to watch how we repeat the same errors again and again, as though the old habit of listening to men rather than God still clings to us like a shadow.
Psychology sheds some light on this. When someone steps away from a tightly bound community of belief, they are not stepping into a wide meadow of freedom. They are carrying wounds, questions, and an ache in the soul. What they once held as sacred now feels like betrayal, and the mind reels trying to bridge the gap between the old certainty and the new void. In such moments, a person looks for a voice to steady them, a guide to give them footing. The human brain, restless and hungry for reassurance, is drawn not to the slow work of healing but to the quick fix of bold claims. And the internet, like a carnival of voices, is ready to supply them.
That is why titles shout: “What they never told you,” “The truth behind the curtain,” “This will shock you.” These are not new inventions but echoes of an ancient impulse. Our ears itch for novelty, for revelation, for the promise that this time, finally, we will understand. But the cycle is old. One authority is swapped for another, one groupthink exchanged for a new echo chamber. The need for certainty, belonging, and affirmation has not been healed; it has only been redirected. And so people who once obeyed unquestioningly now follow new voices with the same devotion, uncritical and eager to belong.
There is a tragedy in this, because the way of Christ is far simpler, far quieter. “I am the way, the truth, and the life,” He said. Not a new guru on a screen, not a teacher with a startling theory, but Himself. At the heart of faith is relationship. It is not noisy. It does not beg for attention. It comes in the stillness of prayer, in the humble opening of the Gospels, in the ordinary miracle of speaking to God and listening in return.
Paul warned Timothy about people who would accumulate teachers to suit their itching ears. The warning is timeless. It is not only for those still inside religions but for all of us. The human tendency is always to reach for other voices—if not a pastor, then a prophet; if not a prophet, then a YouTuber; and if none of these, then our own restless ego. We prefer noise to silence, drama to patience. And yet the silence is where God speaks.
When I see the cycle repeating, I cannot help but feel sadness. We keep looking for someone else to tell us what to think, when all along the invitation was simple: to sit with scripture, to pray, to walk with Christ. It is not startling. It does not dazzle. But it is real. And in that quiet reality lies the only truth worth trusting.