Pulpit Puppet Masters and the Curated Gospel Reclaiming the freedom to choose in an age of manufactured faith
This is a longer teaching. A deeper dive. But it matters. Before we can name the puppet masters, we need to see how the stage was built. Stay with me.
We’ve talked about the stolen voice. We’ve seen the God who waits. Now we need to understand how the theft became institutionalized.
How did we get here?
The church that once shook empires now serves them. The faith that turned the world upside down has been turned right-side up, made comfortable, made safe, made useful to the very powers it once defied.
This didn’t happen overnight. There was a moment. A bargain. A string attached. And once the first string was accepted, others followed.
The Ancient Bargain
I’m not a church historian, but the pattern is undeniable.
In 325 AD, Emperor Constantine called the bishops of the church to Nicaea. For the first time in history, the Roman Empire wasn’t feeding Christians to lions. It was footing the bill. Bishops who once hid in catacombs now traveled on the emperor’s coin.
Think about that shift. One generation, you’re hunted. The next, you’re honored. One generation, the empire kills your leaders. The next, the emperor himself opens your council, draped in purple and gold, presiding over your deliberations.
Constantine wanted unity. A divided church was a divided empire. So he gathered the bishops to settle their disputes, and he made clear which side he favored.
The church traded persecution for position. Bishops who once faced lions now faced a different threat: losing their seats if they didn’t comply with imperial preference.
The first string was attached.
The Dissent That Was Silenced
The council debated. Voices rose. And when the vote came on the creed, seventeen bishops refused to sign. After further pressure, that number dropped to five. After threats of losing their positions, it dropped to two.
Two. Out of over three hundred.
Secundus and Theonas of Libya held firm. Along with Arius, they were declared heretics and exiled.
But what about the others? The fifteen who eventually signed? The hundreds who may have had doubts but chose silence?
Eusebius of Nicomedia signed the creed. Then he went right back to teaching what he’d always believed. He signed under pressure and kept his convictions private.
Here’s what history reveals: when the emperor was Nicene, the church was Nicene. When the emperor was Arian, the church was Arian. The theology followed the throne.
The church learned to follow power.
Let me be clear: I am not saying the dissenters were correct in their beliefs. Arius may well have been wrong about the nature of Christ. But at least they stood for their convictions. They faced exile rather than sign what they did not believe. That courage is a fruit, and fruit reveals root. There was something true at work in them, even if their doctrine was flawed.
Can the same be said of those who signed under threat and then kept teaching what they’d always believed? Which is the greater integrity: wrong conviction held firmly, or right words spoken without conviction?
Scripture lists the cowardly alongside the unbelievers, the murderers, and the idolaters. All of them consigned to the same lake of fire (Revelation 21:8). We rank sins. God does not. The bishops who signed out of fear may have had correct doctrine. But cowardice is not a small thing in the Kingdom.
They Were Not Gods
We look at the early church fathers as if they were gods, incapable of the sins we commit. We treat the councils as if they were conducted by infallible beings in perfect conditions, untouched by politics or self-interest. We should not worship them as such.
Human nature is human nature, and it has been fallen since the first man.
“No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind.” — 1 Corinthians 10:13
When Constantine offered power, position, and protection, those bishops faced the same temptation we face. The same temptation Israel faced.
“Woe to those who go down to Egypt for help, who rely on horses, who trust in the multitude of their chariots and in the great strength of their horsemen, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel, or seek help from the LORD.” — Isaiah 31:1
Egypt was the old source of provision. The place of slavery they’d been delivered from. And yet, when threatened, Israel’s instinct was to go back. To trust in horses. To rely on the strength of men rather than look to the Holy One of Israel.
Would you have refused Constantine’s offer? Would you have been one of the two? Or would you have signed and kept your doubts to yourself?
This is why we cannot trust in our history. We cannot treat church tradition as if it were formed by sinless men in perfect conditions. We trust in a God who is outside history.
“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” — Hebrews 13:8
The councils were not perfect. The creeds were not Scripture. The men who created them were common men with common temptations, trying to articulate truth while navigating the same pull toward the power of chariots and horses that we feel today.
The question isn’t whether they failed. The question is whether we view their decisions and motivations correctly.
Let me be clear: I am not critiquing the theology that emerged. I am looking critically at the politics and power dynamics at work. The Nicene Creed has truth, but it is not truth, nor is it the inerrant Word of God. And I am not saying God was absent from church history. He was there. He moved. But He is the one we follow through history, not history itself. By discernment and being led by the Spirit, we can see where He moved people, and where He moved despite them. The Spirit guides us into all truth. Councils and creeds do not. “Test the spirits” and “hold on to what is true” applies as much to us as it did to them.
The Prosperity Trap
There’s a prayer in Proverbs that the church has forgotten:
“Keep falsehood and deceitful words far from me. Give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with the bread that is my portion. Otherwise, I may have too much and deny You, saying, ‘Who is the LORD?’ Or I may become poor and steal, profaning the name of my God.” — Proverbs 30:8-9
“Otherwise, I may have too much and deny You.”
The writer understood something we’ve ignored: prosperity creates its own temptation. When you have too much, you forget who provided it. You start saying, “Who is the LORD?” Not with your lips, maybe. But with your decisions. With your dependencies. With where you place your trust.
Jesus promised us trials. He promised tribulation. He promised the world would hate us because it hated Him first (John 15:18-19). But prosperity offers an escape from all that. A way to avoid the contempt of those outside of Jesus Christ. A seat at the table with the very enemies of God.
Perhaps this was the trade made at Nicaea. It is certainly the trade we seem to be making today.
The church gained too much. And it forgot.
But what does “too much” look like? We think of wealth in terms of bank accounts. Scripture sees it differently.
What “Rich” Really Means
James warns: “Come now, you who are rich, weep and wail over the misery to come upon you. Your riches have rotted and moths have eaten your clothes.” — James 5:1-2
James sees what we miss. When it comes to “riches”, decay works in two directions.
Riches that rot. This is internal. Spiritual. The rot happens when you replace being Spirit-filled with being self-sufficient. When human reasoning replaces Holy Spirit leading. When political maneuvering replaces prayer. When wealth accumulation for sustenance replaces sufficiency in Jesus Christ for provision.
You still look like a church. You still use the language. But the engine has changed. You’re no longer running on the Spirit. You’re running on resources. And resources rot from the inside out.
“Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.” — Psalm 20:7
Moths that eat your clothes. This is external. The natural world devouring what we cling to. Clothes represent covering, status, identity. Moths don’t care how fine the garment is. Everything returns to dust.
The devouring nature of the world reminds us that nothing here is permanent. Status fades. Platforms collapse. Empires fall. The Roman Empire that Constantine ruled? Gone. But the church is still here. At least, whatever remains of it that didn’t tie itself to Rome’s fate.
“Rich” isn’t just about money. It’s influence. Power. Position. Platform. Access. The rich are those who have accumulated something and now have something to lose. And having something to lose changes how you make decisions.
“Those who want to be rich fall into temptation and become ensnared by many foolish and harmful desires that plunge them into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. By craving it, some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many sorrows.” — 1 Timothy 6:9-10
Notice: they “wandered away from the faith.” This isn’t about unbelievers. This is about those inside the church who craved what the world offers and lost their way.
Peter asks the question we should be asking:
“Since all these things are to be dissolved, what sort of people ought you to be in lives of holiness and godliness?” — 2 Peter 3:11
If everything the world calls rich is burning, what should we be pursuing? This is the richness we should be seeking. The wholeness that doesn’t rot. The wealth that moths cannot devour. Holiness. Godliness. Sufficiency in Jesus Christ.
But this isn’t what the world wants to hear. And it isn’t new.
“Knowing this first of all, that scoffers will come in the last days with scoffing, following their own sinful desires. They will say, ‘Where is the promise of his coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all things are continuing as they were from the beginning of creation.'” — 2 Peter 3:3-4
The scoffers say nothing changes. The pattern continues. The fathers came and went, and here we are, still waiting. So why not get comfortable? Why not accumulate? Why not make peace with the world?
But Peter warns: they deliberately overlook the fact that judgment came before and will come again. The world that existed was deluged with water and perished. The world that now exists is stored up for fire, kept until the day of judgment.
“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.” — 2 Peter 3:9
The delay is mercy. Not permission. And the pattern that repeats in the church, the cycle of compromise and comfort, is not evidence that all is well. It is evidence that the scoffers have crept inside the walls.
The Pattern That Repeats
This isn’t ancient history. This is the pattern.
From Rome to the Reformation to right now, every time the church gains worldly power, it loses prophetic voice. Every time it accumulates influence, it protects that influence instead of speaking truth.
The warnings are everywhere in Scripture:
“If someone comes and proclaims a Jesus other than the One we proclaimed, or if you receive a different spirit than the One you received, or a different gospel than the one you accepted, you put up with it way too easily.” — 2 Corinthians 11:4
“I know that after my departure, savage wolves will come in among you and will not spare the flock. Even from your own number, men will rise up and distort the truth to draw away disciples after them.” — Acts 20:29-30
From your own number. Not outsiders. Insiders. Leaders. Bishops. Pastors.
“There will be false teachers among you. They will secretly introduce destructive heresies… In their greed, these false teachers will exploit you with deceptive words.” — 2 Peter 2:1-3
“Certain men have crept in among you unnoticed, ungodly ones who were designated long ago for condemnation. They turn the grace of our God into a license for immorality, and they deny our only Master and Lord, Jesus Christ.” — Jude 1:4
“See to it that no one takes you captive through philosophy and empty deception, which are based on human tradition and the spiritual forces of the world rather than on Christ.” — Colossians 2:8
Human tradition. Spiritual forces of the world. This is what captures the church. Not persecution. Prosperity. Not lions. Influence.
“They speak visions from their own minds, not from the mouth of the LORD.” — Jeremiah 23:16
The pattern repeats because human nature doesn’t change. The temptation to trade prophetic freedom for worldly position is the same today as it was in 325 AD.
The Strings We Accept
If the pattern keeps repeating, something must be holding it in place. Something keeps pulling the church back to the same compromise.
Money, influence, access, respectability, tax status, platform. These are the obvious strings.
But the strings aren’t just political or financial. They’re spiritual.
Behind every puppet master is a spirit. Behind every curated gospel is a spirit.
We’ve been talking about exchanges. Truth for a lie. Creator for creature. Prophetic freedom for worldly position. Glory for idols.
Every exchange leaves a mark. You become what you worship. You bear the image of what you serve.
This is what Revelation is pointing to when it speaks of 666:
“This calls for wisdom: let the one who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man, and his number is 666.” — Revelation 13:18
It calls for wisdom. Understanding. Calculation. It is wise to try to understand who the puppets are and the mark they leave.
We wait for chips and scanners, watching for some future technology. But the mark is simpler and more terrifying than that. Not a machine. Not a technology. Man.
“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him… And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.” — Genesis 1:27, 31
Six is the number of man. Created on the sixth day. 666 is man, man, man. Humanity elevated. Humanity worshiping itself. The image of God rejected for the image of self. The creature in the place of the Creator.
The mark of the beast is the world’s image stamped on those who conform to it. You don’t need a chip to take it. You take it when you bear the image of the world while claiming Christ’s name. When your church runs on human reasoning instead of Holy Spirit leading. When you trade the conviction of the Holy Spirit for the approval of the crowd. When you follow the spirit of this age instead of the Spirit of God.
“Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God. For many false prophets have gone out into the world.” — 1 John 4:1
Every spirit leaves a mark. The Holy Spirit marks those who belong to God. The spirit of this age marks those who belong to the world.
The church at Nicaea wasn’t just making political calculations. They were choosing which spirit to follow. Which image to bear. And every generation since has faced the same choice.
Which spirit marks you?
What We Traded Away
The mark doesn’t appear out of nowhere. It’s the result of an exchange. Something given. Something taken. Something lost.
“They exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is forever worthy of praise!” — Romans 1:25
The exchange. Truth for a lie. Creator for creature. Freedom for strings.
This is the pattern throughout Scripture:
“My people have exchanged their Glory for useless idols.” — Jeremiah 2:11
“They exchanged their Glory for the image of a grass-eating ox.” — Psalm 106:20
“They pursued worthless idols and became worthless themselves.” — 2 Kings 17:15
Became worthless themselves. That’s the cost of the exchange. You become what you worship. You take on the image of what you serve.
And here’s the terrifying part:
“For this reason God will send them a powerful delusion so that they believe the lie, in order that judgment may come upon all who have disbelieved the truth and delighted in wickedness.” — 2 Thessalonians 2:11-12
When you exchange truth for a lie long enough, God sends a delusion so you believe the lie. You can no longer see clearly. Isaiah describes a man who makes an idol from wood, burns half of it to warm himself, and worships the other half. And he cannot say, “Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?” (Isaiah 44:20).
The church traded away the freedom to speak truth to power. The ability to say, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:29). The prophetic voice that once shook empires.
And in exchange, we got position. Respectability. A seat at the table.
Was it worth it?
The String We Tie Ourselves
But before we blame the bishops of the past or the church leaders of today, we need to look in the mirror.
“These are the ones who cause divisions, who are worldly and devoid of the Spirit. But you, beloved, by building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God as you await the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you eternal life.” — Jude 1:19-21
There are those who cause divisions, worldly and devoid of the Spirit. But you. Two words that shift the weight. We are not released from our responsibility because others have failed. Build yourselves up. Pray in the Holy Spirit. Keep yourselves in the love of God. The call is to us. The responsibility is ours.
But to build up, God must first tear down. And we must sacrifice our flesh on the altar of His love, not our faith on the altar of acceptance by the world and its systems, the church and its traditions, our flesh and its desire for temporal pleasure. We are called to be living sacrifices. To die daily.
This is how the strings are cut. Come out from among them and be separate. Have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness. The strings must be cut, for sure. But those who hold the strings in the shadows, the shadows of history, of the hypocrisy of the modern church, and the darkness in our own hearts? We are called to shine a light on them as well.
“Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.” — Ephesians 5:11
Our flesh craves acceptance too. We don’t just follow compromised leaders. We want what they want. We twist the strings ourselves toward the table of compromise and away from the altar of surrender.
“For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father but is of the world.” — 1 John 2:16
This is why we do it to ourselves. When we are in the world and not in the Spirit, the strings don’t need an outside puppet master. The lusts of our flesh pulls. The lusts of our own eyes pulls. The pride of our position in this life pulls. We become tangled in strings of our own making.
And don’t forget: if you have not the Spirit, you are none of His (Romans 8:9).
“For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do.” — Galatians 5:17
“For the time is coming when people will not endure sound teaching, but having itching ears they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own passions, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander off into myths.” — 2 Timothy 4:3-4
Notice who is doing the accumulating. The people. They seek out voices that tell them what they want to hear. They choose teachers who scratch the itch rather than expose the wound.
We do this. Our flesh does this.
We choose self over God. We choose the crowd over conviction. We choose the easy road over the narrow way. And then we blame the preachers for leading us astray when we were the ones who sought them out.
The puppet masters can only manipulate those willing to be manipulated. The curated gospel only sells to those eager to buy.
The Unstrung Life
What does it look like to cut the strings?
It looks like the two bishops who refused to sign. It looks like exile. It looks like losing your position, your influence, your seat at the table.
It looks like the prophets who spoke truth to power and were killed for it. Like John the Baptist, who lost his head for confronting Herod. Like Stephen, who was stoned for preaching Jesus Christ.
“To the law and to the testimony! If they do not speak according to this word, they have no light of dawn.” — Isaiah 8:20
“No one can lay a foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ.” — 1 Corinthians 3:11
The unstrung life is costly. You lose things. Relationships. Reputation. Acceptance.
But what did those things cost you? The lusts of the flesh, the lusts of the eyes, the pride of your position, these are the strings that kept you tangled. These are the altars where you sacrificed your faith for the approval of men.
The unstrung life means coming out from among them. Being separate. Having no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness. It means shining a light into the shadows of history, the hypocrisy of the modern church, and the darkness in your own heart.
It means dying daily. Being a living sacrifice. Letting God tear down so He can build up.
But you gain something the puppet masters can never offer: freedom. Real freedom. The freedom to obey God rather than men. The freedom to speak truth regardless of consequence. The freedom to be marked by the Spirit of God rather than the spirit of this age.
The strings promise a false security. But the unstrung life offers something better: wholeness in Jesus Christ, and Him alone.
You cannot serve two masters. You cannot walk in the Spirit and in the flesh. You cannot hold the strings and be free.
There is a road. A road where strings are cut. Where scales fall from eyes. Where the one who held the strings of religion discovers the freedom of relationship.
It’s called the Damascus Road. And Jesus Christ is waiting for you there.
Damascus Road Moment
Saul was a man with strings attached. Position. Prestige. The approval of the religious establishment. He was going places in the system.
Then Jesus Christ knocked him off his horse.
The same Jesus is asking you today: which strings are you willing to cut?
STOP
“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”
But you were unwilling. — Isaiah 30:15
Stop trusting in chariots. Stop relying on horses. Stop looking to Egypt for help. Be still long enough to see what you’ve been trusting instead of God.
LOOK
“Be sober-minded and alert. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in your faith.” — 1 Peter 5:8-9
Look at the strings attached to your faith. Where did they come from? Who benefits from them? What would you lose if you cut them? What have you already lost by keeping them?
LISTEN
“Return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; and rend your hearts and not your garments. Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.” — Joel 2:12-13
Hear the call to return. Not to a system. Not to a position. Not to respectability. To Him. The God who is outside history. The God who is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He is calling you back.
LIVE
“Now this is eternal life, that they may know You, the only TRUE God, and Jesus Christ, whom You have sent.” — John 17:3
Today, identify one string. One compromise. One place where you’ve trusted in something other than the Lord. Name it. And ask Jesus Christ for the courage to cut it.
The unstrung life is waiting.
This was Paul’s desire after Damascus. It should be ours:
“But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.” — Philippians 3:7-9
This is the unstrung life. Everything counted as loss. Everything counted as rubbish. In order to gain Christ.
Tomorrow: The Stage and the Script — Who writes what you believe?