What Peterson and Pentecostals Have in Common: There’s Nothing Necessarily Christian About Scripture or Success

What do you get if you cross ancient wisdom with psychology? Jordan Peterson. What do you get if you cross modern worldliness with Christianity? Pentecostalism. Both are powerful blends of surprisingly similar ingredients, and each promises order out of chaos, success from struggle, and a better life. But beneath the surface of both compelling movements lies an ironic lack of meaning and a case of missing truths. That’s what struck me when my son, Elijah, brought up his fascination with Peterson’s take on the Old Testament.

He’d been recently listening to Jordan Peterson’s discussions on Old Testament narratives, and his curiosity was piqued. He admires Peterson’s passion and intellectual authority, and like so many others in his generation, he’s drawn to figures like Peterson and Joe Rogan—voices that engage deeply with life’s meaning and purpose. Elijah told me, “There’s something about Peterson that’s very appealing; I love the way he speaks and engages with big topics. But I know I’m not well enough equipped to see where he goes wrong.” That sentiment struck me, not just because I’ve had the same fascination with Peterson, but because it reflects the hunger of an entire generation—a generation that is searching for direction, meaning, and a coherent worldview.

Jordan Peterson, like Rogan in his own way, has become a cultural force. His approach to life’s big questions is captivating, even to those of us who hold a distinctly Christian worldview. I’ve listened to his entire podcast series, devoured Maps of Meaning, and read his 12 Rules for Life. I’ll buy and read his next book, He Who Wrestles with God. What keeps pulling people in, including myself, is his intellectual depth and the way he uses psychology, philosophy, and mythology to address the struggles we all face. Peterson grapples with questions of suffering, chaos, and order, and his insights—rooted in Jungian psychology and a deep engagement with mythology—offer a kind of roadmap for individuals trying to bring structure to their lives. It’s no surprise he’s garnered a following from those wrestling with meaning and seeking purpose in a chaotic world.

But there’s more to this story. Peterson’s appeal isn’t just intellectual; it’s deeply motivational. His call for people to “sort themselves out,” to take responsibility, to bring order out of chaos—resonates on a fundamental level with anyone who feels lost or overwhelmed. And in that way, his approach mirrors something we see in Pentecostalism today. Like Peterson, Pentecostal sermons are often highly motivational. They promise personal transformation, success, and order through faith, offering a vision of victory over life’s struggles. Both Peterson and Pentecostalism share a common thread: the power to inspire change, to push individuals toward action, and to give them hope that life can be better, more ordered, and more successful.

Yet, as captivating as this message is, there’s a deeper question at play: what is the cost of focusing on personal transformation and success without pointing to the heart of the gospel? This is where both Peterson and Pentecostalism can go astray. While their methods inspire, they risk reducing the Christian faith to a set of principles or steps for self-improvement rather than a revelation of God’s redemptive work through Christ.

What Jordan Peterson and Pentecostalism Have in Common: Motivational Wisdom and Missing Meaning

Jordan Peterson and modern Pentecostalism share a compelling ability to motivate, inspire, and offer people practical steps to overcome personal chaos and seek order. Both interpret biblical narratives in ways that engage deeply with the human desire for meaning, success, and personal transformation. Peterson, with his profound intellectual depth, allegorises Scripture, extracting universal, psychological truths that guide individuals toward a life of responsibility, discipline, and order. Pentecostalism, in many of its modern expressions, also moralises the Bible, often focusing on personal victory, financial blessing, or health. Yet for all their appeal, both Peterson and Pentecostalism, in their pragmatic pursuit of “what works,” miss the central message of the Bible: redemption through Christ.

Order Without Redemption: The Common Ground and Dangers of Jordan Peterson and Pentecostalism

Peterson’s philosophy is pragmatic, viewing truth as “what works”—what brings order out of chaos and success out of struggle. Similarly, Pentecostalism often presents faith as a means to achieve personal breakthroughs and life victories. While both approaches offer valuable insights into how to live better and more purposeful lives, they stop short of the deeper truths of the gospel. What is the point of order if it is not accompanied by the redemption of the soul? What is the value of success if it is divorced from salvation?

What Works Isn’t Enough: Jordan Peterson, Pentecostalism, and the Missing Gospel

Both Peterson and Pentecostalism risk turning Scripture into a tool for self-improvement rather than a revelation of God’s redemptive work in history. Peterson sees biblical stories as symbolic guides for life rather than divinely inspired history, and many Pentecostal sermons follow a similar pattern, reducing the Bible to a collection of allegories for personal success. But the truth of the gospel isn’t merely about what works in this life—it is about what saves for eternity.

Allegory or Gospel? What Jordan Peterson and Pentecostalism Get Right—and Where They Miss the Mark

There’s no denying that both Peterson and Pentecostalism capture important truths. They highlight responsibility, discipline, order, and hope—concepts deeply needed in today’s world. But these truths, divorced from the gospel, are incomplete. While they motivate and inspire, they miss the true power of Scripture: the revelation of Christ, His death and resurrection, and the salvation He offers.

Motivation Without Salvation: Comparing Jordan Peterson’s Philosophy and Pentecostal Theology

The issue is not that Peterson and Pentecostalism are without value—they both motivate people toward better lives. But what good is motivation without salvation? Peterson’s philosophy encourages order in this life but is silent on the next. Pentecostalism, when it drifts into triumphalism, offers worldly success but often overlooks the greater victory in Christ: the defeat of sin and death.

From Chaos to Order—but Not to Christ: The Common Shortfall of Jordan Peterson and Pentecostalism

The common thread between Peterson and Pentecostalism is their focus on order and success, but what they lack is a true encounter with Christ. Both point to valuable truths, but they stop short of the real destination. The Bible’s purpose is not merely to show us how to live well or achieve personal success—it is to point us to the person and work of Jesus, the one who redeems us from chaos and offers eternal life. Without Christ, both Peterson’s philosophy and Pentecostal triumphalism are missing the ultimate point.

1. The Central Question: What Are We Looking For?

At the heart of both Jordan Peterson’s philosophy and modern Pentecostalism lies a central question: What are we really looking for in life? Both offer compelling answers on the surface, yet both ultimately fall short of the deepest human need—redemption.

For Peterson, the search for meaning is rooted in a pragmatic approach to truth: truth is what works. He argues that the world is full of chaos, and our primary task as individuals is to bring order out of that chaos. Through responsibility, self-discipline, and a commitment to personal growth, Peterson believes we can navigate life’s challenges and create a more stable, meaningful existence. His focus is relentlessly practical—he challenges people to “clean their room,” sort out their lives, and take on the burdens of existence with courage and determination. It’s deeply appealing, especially to those who feel overwhelmed by life’s uncertainties. His message of personal responsibility resonates with those who want actionable steps toward order and success. But the question remains: Is order and self-discipline enough?

Pentecostalism, particularly in its modern expressions, shares a similar focus on transformation but from a different angle. Many Pentecostal sermons today promise immediate, practical solutions to life’s challenges, presenting faith as a tool for victory in personal life—whether it’s in finances, health, relationships, or career. The focus is often on how faith can lead to personal success and breakthroughs. Much like Peterson’s emphasis on self-discipline and responsibility, Pentecostalism offers a path to overcoming chaos and finding stability, but through spiritual victory and the promises of God.

Yet, while Peterson seeks order through personal effort and Pentecostalism offers transformation through faith, both focus on this life’s victories. They tap into the human desire for a better, more stable existence, but they stop short of addressing the deeper, more eternal questions. What happens when success eludes us when our efforts to create order fall apart? Both Peterson and Pentecostalism, in their emphasis on “what works,” risk offering temporary solutions to what are ultimately eternal concerns.

The Christian response to these deep desires for order, transformation, and success goes beyond what works in the here and now. Scripture points us not just to a life of personal improvement but to the necessity of redemption, forgiveness, and resurrection. The chaos Peterson talks about is not just the chaos of life’s external challenges—it’s the chaos of sin, and no amount of discipline or victory over worldly struggles can address that. The order we need is not just order in our daily lives but the order of a reconciled relationship with God through Christ. And while Pentecostalism rightly points to the power of faith, the ultimate victory is not in health, wealth, or success but in Christ’s resurrection and our salvation.

In the end, we are not simply looking for better lives. We are looking for eternal life. While Peterson and Pentecostalism offer practical tools for navigating life’s struggles, only the gospel offers the true answer to the deepest questions of our existence: forgiveness of sin, redemption from death, and hope in the resurrection.

2. Jordan Peterson’s Allegorical Reading of the Old Testament

One of the most striking aspects of Jordan B. Peterson’s approach to the Bible is his allegorical reading of the Old Testament. For Peterson, the stories of Moses, Abraham, Jacob, and other figures—such as Adam and Eve or Cain and Abel—are not historical events rooted in divine authority but rather psychological archetypes—symbols of human experience that offer moral lessons for navigating the complexities of life. In his mind, the Bible is a repository of ancient wisdom that reveals truths about the human condition, not about God’s direct intervention in history.

Peterson draws heavily on the psychological theories of Carl Jung, which view biblical stories as expressions of universal themes—order versus chaos, responsibility versus despair, meaning versus nihilism. For instance, the story of Cain and Abel becomes a meditation on the destructive nature of resentment, jealousy, and the consequences of moral failure rather than a historical record of events with theological significance. Similarly, the Adam and Eve narrative is reduced to a symbol of human consciousness awakening to good and evil. Peterson doesn’t approach these stories as literal or divinely authoritative; instead, he focuses on the symbolic and psychological lessons they provide for modern life. These readings are fascinating and even useful for addressing personal struggles, but they bypass the deeper theological truths the Bible is meant to convey.

Peterson’s concept of God further underscores his focus on order versus chaos. For him, God is not a personal, relational being but rather the force of order in the universe, countering the destructive chaos represented by figures like Satan. His view is akin to a kind of dualism: good versus evil, light versus dark, progress versus decline, creation versus entropy. In this framework, God becomes almost like the penultimate egregore of good—a collective archetype of morality and structure created by humanity’s shared experiences. An egregore, in this sense, is a powerful, collective thought form, an idea shaped and maintained by the collective psyche. While this dualistic view provides a compelling explanation of human experience and morality, it misses the monotheistic, redemptive nature of God as revealed in the Bible. Peterson’s God is an abstract principle, not the personal, covenantal God who brings redemption through Christ. This view reflects a philosophical distance from the gospel message, reducing biblical truth to a cosmic struggle between opposing forces rather than a redemptive story centred on Christ’s victory over sin and death.

The danger of Peterson’s allegorisation is that it disconnects Scripture from its historical and theological foundation. By turning biblical stories into moral or psychological lessons, Peterson strips them of their true power—the power of God’s revelation. The Bible, in its original intent, is not simply a collection of myths that teach us how to live better lives; it is the unfolding of God’s redemptive plan in history. It is the record of God’s covenant with His people, pointing forward to the ultimate fulfilment in Christ. Peterson’s readings, while insightful on a psychological level, miss this central truth.

This is where the Reformed tradition sharply contrasts with Peterson’s approach. The Reformed interpretation of Scripture is grounded in the historical-grammatical method—an approach that insists on understanding the Bible within its original context. Scripture is read as God’s divine revelation, communicated through historical events, prophecies, and the words of inspired authors. In this method, we seek to understand what the original authors intended to convey to their audience within the cultural and historical context in which they wrote. The Bible’s authority is not derived from its ability to inspire moral or psychological truths but from its status as the Word of God, revealing His nature, His purposes, and ultimately His Son.

In the Reformed view, the Old Testament is not myth but divine history. The events recorded are real, and they serve a specific theological purpose—to point forward to the coming of Christ, who fulfils the law and the prophets. Moses, Abraham, and David are not just archetypal heroes—they are real figures in God’s redemptive story, each playing a role in pointing us to the true hero, Jesus Christ. When the Old Testament is read through the lens of allegory alone, it loses this essential connection to the gospel.

Peterson’s allegorical reading of the Bible is compelling in its exploration of human nature, but it fails to see the Bible for what it truly is—God’s revelation of Himself and His plan for salvation. Without this understanding, the moral lessons drawn from Scripture, while helpful in the short term, are incomplete. As Romans 1 reminds us, while creation reveals aspects of God’s nature, this knowledge alone is insufficient for salvation; it points us to the special revelation found in Christ. Without Christ, biblical stories become lessons in morality and meaning, but they fall short of the transformative power that comes through the gospel.

3. Pentecostalism’s Allegorical Tendencies

Modern Pentecostalism, like Jordan Peterson’s approach, has a tendency to interpret biblical narratives allegorically, often focusing on immediate, personal application rather than drawing from the theological and redemptive-historical context. While Pentecostal preaching is deeply motivational and tends to highlight the power of faith to overcome obstacles, this approach can sometimes risk moralising Scripture in ways that diminish its greater, eternal message. By focusing on how biblical stories can directly relate to our personal struggles, Pentecostalism can drift into a form of Christianity that centres more on success in this life than on salvation in Christ.

A prime example of this is the way many Pentecostal preachers use the story of David and Goliath. Rather than understanding the narrative as part of God’s redemptive history—a moment where God’s chosen king, David, prefigures Christ’s ultimate victory over sin and death—the story is often turned into a metaphor for overcoming your personal “giants.” Goliath becomes the symbol of financial problems, illness, or career struggles, and David represents the believer who, with enough faith, can conquer any obstacle. While this approach can certainly be inspiring, it risks reducing the biblical text to a mere self-help manual, missing the deeper theological reality that the story points toward Christ as the true victor over the powers of evil and death.

This tendency to moralise Scripture often aligns with the broader trend within some sectors of Pentecostalism to promote a “gospel of success.” In this version of Christianity, faith is seen as a tool to achieve personal victories—whether in health, wealth, or relationships. Preaching focuses on how biblical principles can be applied to ensure personal breakthroughs and success, encouraging believers to claim God’s promises for their immediate benefit. Faith becomes a means to an end—an instrument for achieving personal goals—rather than the foundation for a relationship with God that transcends temporal struggles.

This focus on success mirrors Peterson’s “truth is what works” philosophy. Just as Peterson encourages people to apply biblical wisdom to bring order out of chaos in their personal lives, some Pentecostal teachings suggest that applying the right faith-based principles will lead to material success, health, and personal fulfilment. But the danger here is that both approaches risk reducing Christianity to a formula for worldly success, sidelining the central message of the gospel—Christ’s redemptive work on the cross and the promise of eternal life.

Christianity, in its true form, does not promise earthly success. It promises something far greater—reconciliation with God, forgiveness of sins, and the hope of resurrection. When Pentecostalism focuses too heavily on the immediate, personal victories that faith can bring, it risks leading believers away from the heart of the gospel and toward a Christianity that values what works in this life over what saves in the next. Just as Peterson’s pragmatic philosophy stops short of the true meaning of Scripture, so too does Pentecostalism when it emphasises prosperity and personal victory over the deeper, redemptive truths of the Christian faith.

4. Common Ground: What Both Get Right

Despite their differences, both Jordan Peterson and Pentecostalism share important common ground in areas that speak directly to the human condition. At their core, both emphasize responsibility, personal transformation, and the pursuit of order in a chaotic world—messages that resonate deeply with people searching for meaning and purpose in their lives.

Peterson’s emphasis on responsibility, hard work, and discipline is undeniably important in a culture that often promotes instant gratification and evasion of accountability. He challenges people to take ownership of their lives, face their struggles head-on, and bring order out of the chaos that often surrounds them. There’s a certain dignity in his message that appeals to the human desire for meaning—he doesn’t shy away from the realities of suffering and insists that each of us must shoulder our burdens with courage. Similarly, Pentecostalism often encourages believers to expect transformation, to believe that with faith, they can overcome challenges and live victoriously. The emphasis on personal empowerment through faith and the hope of breakthrough mirrors Peterson’s call for individual discipline and responsibility.

Both Peterson and Pentecostalism excel at motivation and empowerment. They inspire people to believe that their lives can improve—that change is possible. Peterson uses psychological insights to help people take control of their choices, face their anxieties, and live more intentionally. Pentecostalism, through the lens of faith, offers a similar message: believers are called to live with purpose, to step out in faith, and to trust that God is at work in their lives. Both approaches are deeply motivational—they push people to rise above their circumstances and take control of their futures.

At a fundamental level, both Peterson and Pentecostalism are drawing on pragmatic wisdom that resonates with human experience. Peterson taps into universal psychological truths—his teachings about responsibility, the need for order, and the struggle against chaos are grounded in a deep understanding of human nature. Pentecostalism, while drawing from Scripture, often applies faith in a way that speaks directly to everyday life. Whether it’s finding strength in adversity, believing in the power of prayer, or trusting God to guide one’s steps, Pentecostalism engages with the real struggles people face. In both cases, the truths being offered have practical applications that resonate with the reality of human experience. Peterson’s wisdom is rooted in psychology, while Pentecostalism is grounded in faith. Yet both address the same deep human need: the desire for change, for victory over chaos and for a life filled with meaning and purpose.

Both Peterson and Pentecostalism find their greatest appeal in this area—they speak to the part of us that longs for more, wants to take control of our lives, and seeks transformation. But while they get much right in addressing human experience, their limitations become apparent when they stop at motivation and empowerment without pointing to the deeper truth of the gospel. Without the promise of redemption and reconciliation with God, even the best of human responsibility and discipline cannot solve the ultimate problem of sin and death.

5. Where Both Go Wrong: Missing the Ultimate Point

While both Jordan Peterson and modern Pentecostalism offer valuable insights into how to live better, more purposeful lives, they ultimately miss the heart of the Christian faith. In their focus on practical transformation and success, both fall short of the deeper reality the Bible reveals—the need for redemption from sin and the hope of eternal life through Christ.

Peterson’s approach to Scripture is rooted in moralism. He interprets the Bible as a guide for psychological and moral improvement, focusing on how its stories can help individuals find meaning, discipline, and order in their lives. While this might be helpful on a practical level, it misses the deeper truth of the gospel: humanity’s greatest need is not just guidance for living well but redemption from sin. The Bible isn’t simply a self-help manual full of moral lessons; it’s the revelation of God’s plan to rescue a broken, sinful world. Peterson’s interpretation, no matter how insightful or intellectually rich, stops at the surface level of human experience and fails to grasp the transformative power of the gospel, which is about reconciliation with God through Christ’s sacrifice.

Similarly, Pentecostalism, particularly in its more prosperity-focused expressions, often veers into what can be called a “gospel of success.” Sermons that emphasize personal victory, financial blessing, healing, or worldly triumph risk reducing Christianity to a system for achieving success in this life. While faith in Christ does offer hope and victory, the ultimate victory is not over our present struggles but over sin and death. When Pentecostalism places too much weight on immediate, tangible results, it risks obscuring the real heart of the gospel: Christ’s death and resurrection as the solution to our deepest need. Faith is not a tool to manipulate God for personal gain but a response to the profound gift of salvation through Christ.

This leads to a broader issue for both Peterson and Pentecostalism—the danger of “what works” truth. In Peterson’s philosophy, truth is often defined as what works, what brings order out of chaos, and what helps people navigate life more successfully. In Pentecostalism, truth can sometimes become tied to what brings personal victory or breakthrough. But when truth is reduced to what is useful or beneficial in the moment, it becomes subjective. It’s easy to fall into the trap of thinking that if something works, it must be true. But the Bible presents a deeper, more objective reality: truth is not defined by what works for us but by what God has revealed.

While both Peterson and Pentecostalism may point people toward responsibility, discipline, and faith, they don’t go far enough. Pragmatism might bring temporary order or success, but it can never bring salvation. What humanity ultimately needs is not just a way to manage life’s struggles but a way to be reconciled to God. This is the ultimate point both miss: Christ, and Christ alone, is the answer to the human condition—not merely as a teacher of wisdom or a source of power, but as the Redeemer who brings life out of death. Without this understanding, Peterson’s philosophy and Pentecostal triumphalism can offer temporary solutions, but they fail to address the eternal problem that only the gospel can solve.

6. John Walton’s Approach: Contextualising the Old Testament

John Walton’s work on the Old Testament presents a striking contrast to Jordan Peterson’s allegorical readings. Walton emphasizes the importance of understanding Scripture in its historical and cultural context, particularly within the framework of the ancient Near East. For Walton, the stories of the Old Testament are not merely moral or psychological lessons but part of a broader theological narrative that reveals God’s relationship with His people and points toward the coming of Christ. The Old Testament is a divine revelation unfolding within real history, and its significance lies in both what it meant to its original audience and how it fits into God’s redemptive plan.

Walton’s approach insists on reading the Bible as the original authors intended and as the original audience would have understood it. This means taking into account the cultural, political, and religious realities of the ancient world. For example, when reading the creation accounts in Genesis, Walton emphasizes that these texts should not be understood through a modern lens but rather through the lens of the ancient Israelites, who would have understood them in contrast to the creation myths of their pagan neighbours. The meaning of these stories is deeply tied to their historical context, and to detach them from that context risks distorting their true significance.

In contrast, Peterson finds universal truths in the Old Testament narratives, often abstracting the stories to draw out psychological or philosophical insights that resonate with modern audiences. While this method can uncover valuable moral or existential truths, it bypasses the need to first ground the text in its original setting. Peterson’s failure to engage with the historical and theological dimensions of the text leads to misinterpretation. He treats the Bible as a set of archetypal myths—stories that teach us about human nature but are not necessarily concerned with divine action in history.

This is where Walton’s approach provides a corrective. By focusing on the historical-grammatical method, Walton insists that we must first seek to understand what the text meant to its original audience before applying it to our own lives. Only after we have grasped the theological significance within its original context can we see how these stories contribute to the broader narrative of Scripture, which culminates in Christ. For Walton, the Old Testament is not a collection of symbolic lessons for modern self-improvement but a crucial part of God’s unfolding plan of redemption. Its power lies not in its ability to offer timeless moral truths but in how it reveals God’s character, His covenant with His people, and His ultimate purpose in sending Christ to fulfil the promises of the Old Testament.

By contrast, Peterson’s readings, while often insightful, lack this theological depth and historical grounding. His interpretations risk turning the Bible into a mere manual for living rather than the divine revelation of God’s redemptive work throughout history. Walton’s approach reminds us that the Bible is not just about us—it’s about God, His story, and His glory. And to truly understand its meaning, we must read it as the Word of God, not just as a repository of wisdom.

7. Gregory K. Beale’s Approach: Redemptive-Historical Fulfillment

G.K. Beale’s approach to Scripture stands as a powerful contrast to the pragmatic readings of both Jordan Peterson and Pentecostalism. Beale’s work focuses on the Bible as a cohesive narrative—a grand, redemptive-historical story that unfolds from Genesis to Revelation, with every law, prophecy, and event pointing forward to and finding its fulfilment in Christ. For Beale, the Bible is not a scattered collection of moral lessons or guidelines for personal success but a unified revelation of God’s redemptive plan for humanity.

Central to Beale’s approach is the idea that the Old Testament is filled with types, shadows, and promises that are fully realized in the New Testament. Every story, law, and prophecy is connected—not to provide immediate moral instruction but to illustrate God’s unfolding plan of salvation. For example, the temple in the Old Testament isn’t merely a physical building representing God’s presence; it’s a shadow of Christ Himself, who embodies the fullness of God’s presence with humanity. Likewise, the sacrificial system isn’t simply a set of rituals—it points directly to Christ’s ultimate sacrifice on the cross. Beale’s work emphasizes that the Old Testament must be read in light of the New Testament, where Christ fulfils everything the Old Testament anticipates.

In this way, Beale’s redemptive-historical approach offers a clear corrective to Pentecostalism’s pragmatism, which often uses Scripture as a tool for personal victory. While Pentecostalism might focus on how faith can lead to breakthroughs in health, finances, or personal struggles, Beale argues that this interpretation misses the Bible’s primary focus: God’s redemptive plan for all of creation. The stories of the Bible are not first and foremost about our personal success but about God’s grand work of salvation through Jesus Christ.

Where Pentecostal sermons may take the story of Joseph as a model for enduring suffering in order to eventually rise to power, Beale would point out that Joseph’s story is not just about perseverance and personal triumph. It is a typological story pointing forward to Christ, who, like Joseph, is rejected and suffers but ultimately reigns as King. The story of Joseph isn’t a template for how we can achieve worldly success but a revelation of how God works redemptively through suffering to bring about His kingdom’s purposes.

Similarly, when Pentecostalism focuses on David’s victory over Goliath as a metaphor for defeating personal problems, it risks reducing the gospel to a system of empowerment and self-help. Beale’s redemptive-historical reading would argue that David’s victory over Goliath isn’t primarily a lesson about conquering life’s obstacles but a foreshadowing of Christ’s victory over sin, death, and the forces of evil. The Bible’s stories aren’t primarily about us—they are about Christ.

Beale’s approach also highlights the eschatological dimension of Scripture—the way in which God’s redemptive plan, fulfilled in Christ, looks forward to the ultimate restoration of all things. This future-oriented reading shifts the focus from the immediate, earthly concerns of success and victory to the larger, cosmic scope of God’s plan to redeem not only individuals but the entire world. The Bible doesn’t just tell us how to live better lives now—it points to the ultimate hope of the resurrection and the new creation.

In sum, Beale reminds us that the Bible’s true purpose is not to offer us tools for achieving worldly success but to reveal God’s salvation through Christ. Every story, every law, and every prophecy in Scripture finds its ultimate meaning and fulfilment in Jesus. While the Bible does contain practical wisdom and moral guidance, its ultimate message is far greater: it is the story of how God has acted in history to save His people and will ultimately redeem all of creation. To reduce it to a mere manual for success is to miss the point entirely.

8. The Real Danger: Misuse and Misreading of Scripture

One of the most significant warnings Jesus issued in His ministry was directed at the Pharisees. These religious leaders were diligent in their study of Scripture, devout in their understanding of the law, and yet, despite all their knowledge, they failed to recognise the one to whom all of Scripture pointed—Jesus Himself. In John 5:39-40, Jesus rebukes them, saying, “You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.” This same Pharisaical tendency to study, moralise, and even revere Scripture without seeing Christ at its centre is the danger that both Jordan Peterson and modern Pentecostalism can fall into.

Both Peterson and Pentecostalism are in danger of focusing so heavily on practical or moral aspects of the Bible that they miss the deeper, redemptive message of Christ. Peterson approaches the Bible as a profound source of psychological wisdom, interpreting the stories of Scripture as symbolic representations of the human condition—archetypes for navigating life. Yet, in doing so, he remains blind to the greater truth: the Bible’s ultimate purpose is not to offer psychological insights but to reveal the person and work of Jesus Christ, the source of true life. Similarly, Pentecostalism, when it focuses on personal success, victory, and breakthrough, risks turning the Bible into a tool for self-improvement, missing the deeper reality of what Scripture is revealing—God’s redemptive plan through Jesus.

This danger of misusing Scripture is tied to what Paul warns against in Colossians 2:23: “Such regulations indeed have an appearance of wisdom, with their self-imposed worship, their false humility and their harsh treatment of the body, but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.” Peterson’s psychological framework, while rich in philosophical insight, and Pentecostalism’s success-driven theology, though motivating, both carry the risk of being “an appearance of wisdom.” They might look wise or practical, offering a way to make life better, more ordered, or more successful, but they lack the power of the gospel. They might improve someone’s earthly experience, but they cannot deal with the core issues—sin, death, and the need for redemption.

Peterson’s emphasis on responsibility, discipline, and order might offer people tools for improving their lives, but they fall short of the real transformation that the gospel offers—a new life through Christ. Pentecostalism’s message of personal victory might help people feel empowered to overcome challenges, but it risks becoming hollow if it neglects the deeper need for spiritual reconciliation with God. The true power of Scripture is not in its ability to provide us with metaphors for living a good life—it is in its revelation of Christ, the one who brings life out of death, not just order out of chaos.

The true purpose of Scripture is not to offer moral lessons, psychological insights, or keys to success. The Bible is not a manual for improving one’s life, though it contains wisdom that certainly impacts how we live. Its ultimate aim is to point us to Jesus—the one who conquers sin and death, who brings us into the right relationship with God, and who offers eternal life. When we reduce the Bible to something that serves our immediate needs—whether personal success or psychological understanding—we strip it of its ultimate power: the power to save.

In the end, both Peterson’s philosophy and Pentecostalism’s success theology can lead people down a dangerous path if they fail to see the Bible’s true purpose. The Bible’s stories and teachings are not primarily there to help us navigate life’s challenges or achieve our goals—they are there to reveal the grand story of God’s redemptive work in Christ. Only when we see Scripture in this light can we understand its full, transformative power.

9. The False Security of Pragmatism

One of the most seductive dangers in both Jordan Peterson’s philosophy and modern Pentecostalism is the false security of pragmatism—the idea that truth is found in what works. For Peterson, truth is practical, rooted in self-discipline, responsibility, and the ordering of life’s chaos. His emphasis on taking personal responsibility and bringing order into one’s life through hard work and moral action provides a sense of security—if you do the right things, your life will improve. This approach is undeniably compelling, especially in a world that often feels unstable and disordered. However, by focusing on “what works,” Peterson offers a form of security that is ultimately hollow without the gospel. The wisdom of the world, even when it brings temporary stability and success, cannot address the deeper issues of the human heart—sin, death, and the need for redemption.

Peterson’s pragmatism may lead to a more ordered life, but order alone cannot save. Self-discipline and responsibility, while important, cannot heal the fundamental brokenness that lies at the core of humanity. No amount of self-improvement or psychological insight can bridge the gap between us and God. The Bible teaches that “the world through its wisdom did not know God” (1 Corinthians 1:21). While Peterson’s wisdom may improve life in the short term, it ultimately falls short of addressing the deeper, eternal issues that only the gospel can solve.

Similarly, Pentecostalism’s triumphalism—the focus on personal victory, breakthrough, and success in life—can create a false sense of security. The message that faith will lead to victory over financial struggles, physical health issues, or personal obstacles is inspiring, but it can be dangerously misleading. Success in this life is not a guarantee of salvation. While God certainly works in our lives and provides for His people, the ultimate victory is not found in worldly success but in Christ’s sacrificial death and resurrection. The triumph of the Christian faith is not in our ability to conquer life’s challenges but in Jesus’s victory over sin and death. When Pentecostalism emphasizes personal success as the primary outcome of faith, it risks leading people to believe that earthly triumph is the measure of spiritual health when, in reality, the gospel points us to something far greater.

This leads to the danger of half-truths. Both Peterson and Pentecostalism offer partial truths about life. Peterson is right to emphasize responsibility, hard work, and the importance of discipline in living a meaningful life. Pentecostalism is right to proclaim that faith has real power to transform lives. But neither offers the full truth of the gospel. The gospel is not primarily concerned with helping people live better lives, achieve their goals, or bring order to chaos—though it does transform lives in these ways. The gospel is the good news of redemption: that through Christ’s death and resurrection, we are forgiven, reconciled to God, and promised eternal life. This truth addresses the most fundamental human issues—sin, death, and eternal judgment—things that no amount of self-discipline or personal success can resolve.

Both Peterson and Pentecostalism offer pragmatic approaches to life that work, to some extent, within the limits of this world. But by focusing on immediate, tangible results—whether it be personal success or psychological order—they risk obscuring the deeper, more profound truth that only the gospel offers salvation and eternal security. The danger of pragmatism is that it creates a false sense of security, convincing us that if we can just get our lives in order or achieve certain successes, we will have all that we need. But the reality is that without the gospel—without the cross, without Christ’s victory over death—this security is fleeting and ultimately empty.

True security does not come from “what works” in this life; it comes from the finished work of Christ. Anything less than this full truth leaves people vulnerable to the illusion that order and success are enough. But they are not. Only in Christ do we find the true victory that transcends both the chaos of life and the grave.

10. Grasping at Shadows: The Limits of Natural Wisdom Without Christ

While Peterson and certain Pentecostal teachings may offer valuable insights (the “shadows”), they miss the full, transformative power of Christ (the “substance”). This highlights the tension between general wisdom and the deeper, redemptive truth found only in the gospel.

Paul’s words in Romans 1 provide a crucial framework for understanding the strengths and limitations of Jordan Peterson’s philosophical approach to truth. In Romans 1:19-20, Paul explains that God’s truth is evident in creation, revealing His invisible qualities—His eternal power and divine nature—so that people are without excuse. This is what theologians call general revelation, and it’s something Peterson taps into in his work. Peterson is deeply engaged with the concept of universal truths—principles like order out of chaos, responsibility, and the necessity of morality—which align with the idea that certain truths about God are naturally evident in the world. He sees the natural order and human psychology as providing wisdom for how to live well, resonating with Paul’s assertion that God’s qualities can be discerned through what has been made.

Yet, as Paul makes clear, general revelation is not enough. While Peterson grasps these universal truths, he stops short of recognizing Christ as the fullness of that truth. The natural world and the order within it may point us to God’s existence and wisdom, but they cannot bring us into a saving relationship with Him. Peterson’s exploration of general revelation through psychology and philosophy may offer insights into human nature, but without the acknowledgment of Christ, it remains incomplete. Romans 1 tells us that while creation reveals certain aspects of God, it is through special revelation—the unveiling of God’s redemptive plan in Christ—that we fully understand who God is and how we can be saved.

Moving into Romans 2, we see the limitations of Peterson’s approach even more clearly. In Romans 2:14-15, Paul explains how the conscience bears witness to the law of God, even among those who do not have the written law. Peterson’s moral framework reflects this conscience-based wisdom, where he draws moral principles from natural law and human experience. His emphasis on responsibility, discipline, and the need for order resonates with the idea that humans, by nature, have an understanding of right and wrong—an inherent moral compass. But as Paul goes on to explain, while the law can guide us, it cannot save us. The conscience, though valuable, is insufficient for salvation. The law points to our need for redemption but lacks the power to transform the heart or reconcile us to God.

This is where special revelation comes into play. The Bible’s ultimate revelation is not found in general moral principles or even in the natural order—it is found in Christ, the one through whom God’s plan of salvation is fully revealed. While Peterson offers a moral framework that aligns with general revelation and natural law, it falls short of addressing the deeper issue of sin and the need for redemption. His system of ethics may provide order and direction, but it lacks the power of the gospel—the power to save, reconcile, and transform hearts through Christ’s atoning work on the cross.

In this way, Peterson’s philosophy shares a limitation with certain streams of Pentecostal theology that focus heavily on immediate victory—whether over sickness, financial hardship, or personal struggles—without addressing the deeper need for salvation. Like Peterson, Pentecostalism, when it focuses solely on earthly success, engages with general revelation in the sense that it emphasizes truths about human flourishing and overcoming life’s challenges. But without pointing to the special revelation of the gospel, which is centred on Christ’s death and resurrection, it remains incomplete.

Romans teaches us that while natural law and conscience can guide, they cannot save. Special revelation—the truth of Christ crucified and risen—is the only means by which humanity can be reconciled to God. Peterson’s philosophy, for all its moral insight, stops short of this revelation, and any theology that prioritizes immediate, temporal victories over the eternal victory of Christ shares this shortcoming. The Bible reveals that the ultimate solution to human brokenness is not found in general truths or earthly success but in the redemptive work of Jesus Christ—the fullest expression of God’s revelation to humanity. Without Christ, all other truths, no matter how helpful, remain inadequate.

11. There’s Nothing Necessarily Christian About Scripture or Success

At the heart of both Jordan Peterson’s philosophy and certain strands of modern Pentecostalism is a critical misunderstanding: there’s nothing necessarily Christian about Scripture or success when disconnected from Christ and His redemptive work. Peterson’s approach to the Bible, while intellectually engaging, treats it as a source of moral guidance and psychological wisdom, but not as divine revelation centred on Christ. Similarly, Pentecostal teachings that focus on success, personal victory, and breakthrough can miss the true meaning of Scripture by turning it into a manual for achieving worldly success rather than understanding it as the revelation of God’s plan for salvation.

The Bible itself, without Christ at its centre, is not inherently Christian. As Jesus said in John 5:39-40, “You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.” The Bible testifies about Christ; it is through Him that the Scriptures have their true power and meaning. Yet, when Peterson approaches the Bible as a source of practical wisdom for navigating life or when Pentecostalism reduces it to a guide for personal victory, both miss the essential point: Scripture is about God’s redemption in Christ, not just moral truths or success in this life.

Worldly success, too, is not necessarily Christian. As Paul warns in Colossians 2:8, “See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ.” Both Peterson’s pragmatic focus on order and discipline and Pentecostalism’s triumphalism can be seen as philosophies dependent on the “elemental spiritual forces”—the wisdom of the world. They offer temporary guidance for overcoming challenges but lack the power to address humanity’s greatest need: salvation from sin and reconciliation with God.

Paul goes on in Colossians 2:23 to warn that such teachings “have an appearance of wisdom… but they lack any value in restraining sensual indulgence.” This is the denial of true power—the power of the gospel, the power that not only transforms lives but also redeems and saves eternally. Peterson’s focus on “what works” and Pentecostalism’s emphasis on tangible, worldly success may appear wise, but without the gospel at their core, they are hollow and lack true, transformative power. Success without Christ, no matter how impressive, is still rooted in the wisdom of this world, not the wisdom of God.

In the end, both Peterson’s philosophy and Pentecostalism’s success-oriented theology share the same irony: they promise meaning but miss the truth. They focus on immediate order, transformation, or success but fail to acknowledge that the ultimate meaning and power of life come only through the cross and the resurrection. As Paul declares in 1 Corinthians 1:18, “The message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” The true Christian message is not about practical success or self-improvement—it is about the power of God to save, the power found only in Christ.

There is nothing inherently Christian about Scripture when it is read apart from Christ—it becomes just another source of wisdom among many. And there is nothing inherently Christian about success—it can easily become another form of self-reliance and pride. The true power of Scripture and the true meaning of life are found only when they are rooted in the gospel of Jesus Christ, who is the fulfilment of all that the Bible points to and the source of true and lasting victory. Anything less than this is worldly wisdom, empty of the transformative power of the cross.

12. Discernment in What We Hear and Teach

At the heart of every biblical narrative lies one central truth: Christ is the ultimate point of Scripture. Whether we are grappling with Jordan Peterson’s philosophical ideas or listening to Pentecostal sermons promising personal breakthroughs, we must never lose sight of this reality. From Genesis to Revelation, the Bible is not a collection of isolated stories or moral teachings but a unified narrative that culminates in the person and work of Jesus Christ. Every story, every law, every prophecy points to Him. The Old Testament anticipates His coming, and the New Testament reveals His fulfilment. Christ is the thread that ties Scripture together, the embodiment of God’s redemptive plan.

This brings us to the crucial role of discernment. Peterson’s ideas about responsibility, meaning, and order can indeed help us think deeply about life and its challenges, but these ideas must always be weighed against the truth of Scripture. We cannot allow his psychological framework to overshadow the gospel or confuse what Scripture is ultimately about. Similarly, Pentecostal teachings that focus too heavily on victory in this life must be held accountable to the whole counsel of God. Scripture does not promise unending triumph in this world, but it does promise eternal victory through Christ’s death and resurrection. Both Peterson’s pragmatism and Pentecostal triumphalism can be useful, but only if they remain in submission to the overarching message of Scripture: that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life (John 14:6).

Our task, then, is not only to engage with these ideas critically but also to encourage seekers and point them to Christ. Peterson and Pentecostalism, in different ways, have the power to stir people’s hearts and minds, raising deep questions about life, suffering, and the search for meaning. But stirring the heart is not enough. Our ultimate goal must always be to lead people beyond “what works” and toward the cross. It is not enough to offer insights into how to live a better life; we must offer the hope of eternal life found only in Christ.

Discernment is not about rejecting everything that falls short of the gospel but about seeing it in its proper place. Yes, let Peterson’s ideas provoke thought and let Pentecostal sermons inspire faith—but let’s never stop there. The final call of Scripture is to look to Christ, who is not just the solution to our temporal struggles but the Savior who has overcome sin and death for all eternity. Everything we hear, teach, or reflect on must ultimately lead us back to Him.

Conclusion: “Beware of the Yeast of Pragmatism” – Stay on Guard Against Half-Truths and Hollow Wisdom

In an age where motivational messages abound and practical wisdom is readily celebrated, it is crucial that we remember that the ultimate power of Scripture lies not in self-help, moral guidance, or worldly success but in the revelation of Christ’s redemptive work. The critiques of Jordan Peterson’s approach to the Bible and certain tendencies in modern Pentecostalism are not arbitrary—they arise from a deep concern for upholding the fullness of the gospel, which is easily obscured when we trade the bread of life for the yeast of human wisdom. Jesus’ warning to “beware of the yeast of the Pharisees” (Luke 12:1) applies not just to hypocrisy but to any distortion of the gospel, especially when it is subtly infused with worldly pragmatism. As alluring as these messages may be, pragmatism cannot save. It is the message of the cross that brings salvation and nothing less.

At the core of both Jordan Peterson’s pragmatic philosophy and certain strands of Pentecostalism lies the unsettling truth that there’s nothing inherently Christian about Scripture or success when they are detached from Christ. Peterson’s allegorical reading of the Bible treats it as a repository of psychological wisdom, drawing universal truths about human experience without acknowledging Christ’s central role. Likewise, Pentecostalism’s focus on success and personal victory can turn the Bible into a manual for worldly achievements, missing the deeper truths of the gospel. Scripture, by itself, is not Christian unless it is read through the lens of Christ’s redemptive work. Likewise, worldly success, while desirable, is not a marker of salvation.

Both Peterson and Pentecostalism promise meaning but ironically miss the truth of the greater power that comes through the cross. As Paul warns in Colossians 2:23, the world’s wisdom may have an appearance of wisdom, but it lacks the power to address the true needs of humanity—sin and death. Only the gospel of Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection offers the eternal victory that these teachings, however well-intentioned, cannot provide.

Peterson’s reading of Scripture is heavily influenced by Jungian psychology, treating biblical stories as archetypal myths that reveal truths about human nature, order, and chaos. This approach resonates with Romans 1, which speaks of God’s truth being evident in creation. But as Paul continues, this knowledge is not enough—it is suppressed and incomplete without the special revelation of Christ. Peterson’s insights into human responsibility and moral development may be compelling, but they stop short of the true bread of life—the redemptive power of Christ’s sacrifice.

Peterson’s popularity is largely driven by his ability to speak to the existential struggles of modern life. His focus on responsibility, order, and meaning is timely and necessary. However, by focusing solely on what works, Peterson misses the deeper truth of the gospel: the need for redemption, not just self-discipline. As Jesus said in John 5:39, “These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.” Peterson’s pragmatic approach is helpful for improving life but insufficient for salvation.

Modern Pentecostalism often falls into a similar trap by turning biblical stories into metaphors for personal success. Whether it’s the story of David and Goliath as a lesson in overcoming life’s challenges or Joseph’s rise to power as a model for enduring hardship, these interpretations risk reducing Scripture to a manual for achieving worldly success. True Christianity, however, is not about worldly victory but about Christ’s victory over sin and death. As Paul warns in Colossians 2:23, these teachings may appear wise, but they lack the power of the gospel to save.

Both Peterson and certain Pentecostal teachings risk falling into the Pharisaical trap of knowing the Scriptures but missing their central purpose—Christ. Just as the Pharisees diligently studied the law yet failed to see its fulfilment in Jesus, these teachings can focus so much on immediate results—whether personal victory or moral wisdom—that they overlook the true narrative of redemption. Jesus’ warning in Matthew 16:6 to “be on guard against the yeast of the Pharisees” applies here: focusing on success or self-improvement without Christ’s redemptive work is a spiritually dangerous distortion.

John Walton’s approach emphasizes the importance of reading Scripture in its historical and cultural context, showing that Old Testament narratives are not mere moral lessons but part of a broader redemptive-historical narrative pointing to Christ. Walton’s method serves as a corrective to both Peterson’s allegorical readings and Pentecostalism’s personal applications. As Romans 2 reminds us, even when the law is written on our hearts, it is Christ who fulfils it.

G.K. Beale’s redemptive-historical framework highlights how every law, story, and prophecy in the Bible ultimately points to Christ and His redemptive work. Beale’s approach provides a clear contrast to Peterson’s focus on moral development and Pentecostalism’s emphasis on victory. 1 Corinthians 15:22 reminds us that in Christ, all will be made alive. This is the victory that Scripture ultimately points toward—not personal triumphs but the eternal victory of Christ over death.

Pragmatism, whether in the form of Peterson’s emphasis on what works or Pentecostalism’s promises of victory, can create a false sense of security. As Paul declares in 1 Corinthians 1:18, it is the message of the cross—not worldly success or wisdom—that is the power of God. Success in this life may be fleeting, but the eternal victory found in Christ’s sacrifice is what truly saves.

While Peterson engages with general revelation—the idea that aspects of God’s truth are evident in creation—he fails to acknowledge the special revelation of Christ. Similarly, Pentecostalism’s focus on immediate victory reflects conscience-based wisdom, but as Romans 2 teaches, only the gospel has the power to truly save. Special revelation—the full and complete truth of Christ’s work on the cross—is the only path to salvation.

As followers of Christ, we are called to exercise discernment in all that we hear, teach, and share. Whether engaging with Peterson’s ideas or Pentecostal sermons, we must remember that the Bible is not about us—it is about Christ. Everything points to Him. Anything that shifts the focus to pragmatism or personal victory at the expense of the gospel is a distortion. Hebrews 12:2 calls us to “fix our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.” In Him alone do we find the true, lasting victory that transcends all worldly success.