Today there is a growing fascination with Enochian
cosmology. More and more Christians are framing the entire biblical narrative
through rebellious angels, nephilim, territorial spirits, demonic bloodlines,
apocalyptic catastrophe, and cosmic warfare. Much of this comes from renewed
interest in the Book of Enoch and Second Temple Jewish thought. Some now seem
to believe that the true lens for understanding Jesus is almost entirely
Enochian.
I understand why this is happening. Jesus and many
first-century Jews clearly operated within an apocalyptic worldview. They spoke
of “this age” and “the age to come.” In Hebrew thought this was olam hazeh
and olam ha-ba. The present age was viewed as corrupted, unjust,
oppressive, and under the shadow of death. The age to come was the coming reign
of God, resurrection, restoration, and renewal.
Jesus absolutely spoke in these terms.
But what fascinates me is that Paul appears to expand this
framework beyond the simple dualism of “this age” versus “the age to come.”
Paul speaks not merely of one coming age, but of “ages to come.”
That changes everything for me.
Instead of a single apocalyptic endpoint, Paul opens the
possibility of unfolding ages, progressive revelation, and continuing
manifestations of divine grace. He speaks of “the ages to come” in Ephesians.
He speaks of mysteries hidden through ages and generations. He speaks of
transformation “from glory to glory.” He speaks of Christ in you, the hope of
glory. He speaks of a cosmic reconciliation where eventually God becomes “all
in all.”
This does not sound like a theology centered primarily on
fear of hostile supernatural entities. It sounds like unfolding consciousness,
participation in divine reality, and progressive awakening into the fullness of
the Logos.
That is why I increasingly find myself drawn toward a
nuanced Pauline Christianity rather than an Enochian one.
Now let me be clear. I fully recognize that Paul was a
first-century Jew shaped by his culture. I also recognize that some passages
attributed to Paul may not even be authentically Pauline. Many scholars today
acknowledge serious questions surrounding portions of the pastoral epistles and
other disputed letters. I also acknowledge that Paul reflected assumptions of
his time regarding slavery, patriarchy, and social order. I do not treat every
sentence attributed to Paul as timeless metaphysical truth.
But I also refuse to throw Paul away.
In fact, I believe the deeper mystical stream of
Christianity may actually flow most powerfully through Paul.
Modern critics often reduce Paul to legalism, misogyny, or
institutional religion. Yet the same Paul became the great hero of Valentinus
and Marcion for a reason. The mystical Christians of the second century saw
something profound in him. They saw the apostle of mystery, hidden wisdom,
transformation, and cosmic Christ consciousness.
When Paul says “Christ in you, the hope of glory,” I do not
hear a narrow legal transaction. I hear the revelation that humanity is indwelt
by the divine Logos whether aware of it or not. Jesus becomes the original
human fully awakened to that union with the Father, revealing what humanity
truly is beneath ignorance and fragmentation.
This is one reason I lean far more toward a Platonic
cosmology than an Enochian one.
Enochian cosmology often creates a universe dominated by
paranoia, cosmic enemies, supernatural contamination, and catastrophic dualism.
It tends to externalize evil into armies of hostile entities and frame history
as an apocalyptic battlefield.
Platonic and Pauline mystical thought moves differently.
It sees reality as layered participation in divine being. It
sees the visible world as a shadow or reflection of deeper realities. It
emphasizes ascent, awakening, transformation, and remembrance. It points toward
the inner person, the heavenly archetype, the invisible realities behind
appearances, and the unfolding participation of consciousness in the divine
fullness.
The Gospel of John begins not with rebellious watchers but
with the Logos.
Paul centers not on nephilim speculation but on union with
Christ.
The deeper current of the New Testament, at least to me,
points less toward obsession with demonic hierarchies and more toward awakening
into divine participation.
I do not deny that spiritual darkness exists. I simply do
not believe the cosmos is fundamentally explained through Enochian dualism. I
believe consciousness, divine participation, and progressive transformation are
more central than cosmic warfare narratives.
That is why “ages to come” matters so much to me.
The phrase suggests that reality is not frozen into one
final static state. Divine revelation unfolds. Consciousness unfolds. Grace
unfolds. Creation unfolds. The journey into God is ongoing.
For me, Paul becomes not the enemy of spiritual Christianity
but one of its deepest voices when read with nuance, context, and mystical
insight rather than through rigid later dogmatism.
Ironically, I suspect that the future of Christianity may
depend on rediscovering that mystical Pauline stream once again.
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