Amid the tumult roiling the West, a powerful renaissance of psychedelic drug use is sweeping through our culture. This resurgence results from a concerted, highly motivated effort by key individuals and institutions to normalize the use of these substances for medical and spiritual applications.

In the 1970s, American and Canadian legislation drove psychedelics underground, causing them to largely fall out of public view. However, philosophical materialism’s weakening grip on the Western mind has presented a golden opportunity for enthusiasts (or as some have called them, “psychevangelists”). Judging by media attention and polling, they’ve successfully stoked massive public interest.

The rapidly growing movement includes well-funded advocacy groups, medical research, and for-profit clinics setting up to meet the rising demand for legalized psychedelic use. Combined with changing regulations and court rulings, and with the “Make America Healthy Again” (MAHA) movement making psychedelic therapy a major point of focus, the psychedelic landscape is poised to continue gaining mainstream acceptance.

The rise of psychedelic medicine isn’t surprising given the catastrophic loss of trust in traditional medicine over recent years. Every alternative approach—except leeches and lobotomies, thankfully—seems to be having a boost of interest.

What are thoughtful Christians to make of these developments? Despite what advocates claim, the evidence reveals the psychedelic renaissance is largely a story of hype and hubris.

Hype

It doesn’t take long in pro-psychedelic circles to hear about the substances’ incredible power and promise. “We envision a day,” writes Rick Doblin, a major figure in the movement, “when psychedelics will be more than a last-ditch treatment: they will be a catalyst for mass mental health.” Elsewhere, Doblin claims that MDMA-assisted therapy could usher in “a world of net-zero trauma by 2070.”

Christian Angermayer, a billionaire investor, manages to one-up even these utopian visions when he claims that “psychedelics are like packing 10,000 hours of psychotherapy into four hours.” There’s no shortage of hype in 2025.

Three brief points are relevant here. First, many suffering from depression, PTSD, and other ailments say they’ve been helped by psychedelics. Something about the way the drugs affect the brain has helped interrupt ingrained thought patterns and offered a fresh perspective on life and relationships. Whether these experiences are worth the risks or lead to lasting change remains a matter of debate.

Second, the pro-psychedelics movement’s track record has been to downplay adverse effects and silence those who try to speak out about their negative experiences. What you won’t hear in the puff pieces and during the keynote conference messages is what Roland Griffiths, a leading psychedelics researcher, said to journalist Dan Lattin about the danger of the current “bubble” of psychedelic hype:

Psychedelics are not harmless. People are going to die. People are going to become psychotic. We are in a bubble and that bubble is going to break.

Third, the research undertaken with these substances isn’t as purely medical or scientific as advocates would have us believe. Evidence comes directly from those pioneering and funding the research at Johns Hopkins. For decades, advocates discussed and planned to fund these kinds of studies. Their goal was to leverage the medical and scientific reputation of an institution like Johns Hopkins to advance public acceptance of psychedelics within culture and religion. The public is rarely informed about this. Some within the movement openly refer to this as the Trojan Horse strategy, and as in the Aeneid, it seems to be working.

The pro-psychedelics movement’s track record has been to downplay adverse effects and silence those who try to speak out about their negative experiences.

Furthermore, people associated with the Johns Hopkins studies have been outspoken about their own spiritual beliefs, and even some working directly on the studies have gone public in The New York Times to express their worry that these beliefs have colored the research. In the words of psychedelic-enthusiast-turned-whistleblower Joe Welker, the result is “science in name only.”

Much of the so-called medical research and subsequent journalism functions as a public relations campaign for the broader psychedelics movement. Consider the publication of perhaps the most highly anticipated study of recent years, led by Johns Hopkins, on the effects of psilocybin mushrooms on religious and spiritual attitudes and behaviors in clergy. The journal article was followed by a celebratory piece in The New Yorker titled “This Is Your Priest on Drugs,” despite the fact that Johns Hopkin’s own Institutional Review Board ruled that multiple aspects of the study, from conflicts of interest to undisclosed funding, “constituted serious non-compliance.”

One thing ought to be clear: It simply isn’t the case that disinterested scientists have stumbled on surprising cures for mental health problems. Rather, advocates already committed to the promise of psychedelic therapies, usually bundled with New Age spiritual beliefs, have patiently pursued a strategy to build a veneer of scientific, medical respectability for their agenda.

This state of affairs makes it difficult for the public (and regulators) to parse the data and evaluate possible legitimate medical applications of these substances. It may be many years before those assessments can be made confidently, but that won’t stop a growing number of people from trying psychedelics for themselves.

Hubris

This brings us to the spiritual hubris inherent in the movement. After two centuries of deepening secularism in our world, many people operate with a spiritual blank slate. Cut off from the wisdom and warnings of Scripture and of past generations, they encounter the spiritual elements of psychedelic experiences with dangerous naivete.

Consider one often ignored effect: These drugs enhance the user’s suggestibility and openness to changing his or her beliefs, partially through the powerful feelings of profundity and epiphany that accompany the experiences. A study examined this phenomenon and found that psychedelic users move away from certainty and toward open questioning of their metaphysical beliefs, except for those already committed to panpsychism (the view that all things are on some level conscious). Psychedelics don’t offer value-neutral experiences; rather, they catalyze profound changes in beliefs in certain directions.

Psychedelics don’t offer value-neutral experiences; rather, they catalyze profound changes in beliefs in certain directions.

Psychedelic experiences often include entering strange parallel realms and encountering mysterious beings that appear to have agency and knowledge. It’s hubris to assume anyone has the wisdom and insight necessary to comprehend their messages and discern between truth and deception at the moment when his or her mind is at its most impressionable.

Interestingly, this hubristic spirit is present not only among non-Christians but also in the church. In pockets of mainline denominations and nontraditional Catholic circles, some have integrated psychedelics with Christianity. Advocates usually have a personal story that follows a predictable arc: A Christian struggling with depression (spiritual or otherwise), unable to find relief from the resources found within his or her Christian tradition, tries psychedelics out of curiosity or desperation and has a positive, paradigm-shifting experience that functions as a kind of divine calling to share the gift of psychedelics with others.

My experience reading and listening to such advocates is that they end up speaking more passionately about the good news of psychedelic experiences than the good news of forgiveness and salvation in Christ. Psychedelics for these folks tend to become the answer to both personal and corporate struggles—an aid to sanctification and the key to revitalizing a supposedly dying faith.

If this sounds oddly familiar, it might be because in every generation there are voices in the church who are convinced they’ve discovered what will rescue Christianity from looming demise. The student of church history understands that, in Michael Haykin’s words, “the history of the church is the story of revival.” The church always needs revival—not through syncretism or man-made innovations but through God’s Spirit working through God’s Word. The living faith once for all delivered to the saints needs no manipulated boost of spiritual energy from mushrooms and toads.

The hype of healing will not ultimately deliver on its promises, and the hubris of spiritual exploration outside of Christ will expose many to unbiblical ideas and even demonic spiritual forces.

Where Do We Go from Here?

When it comes to psychedelics, it’s hard to draw clean distinctions between science and medicine, recreational use, and spirituality. Where psychedelics are used deliberately to connect to the divine or transcend ordinary consciousness, they clearly fit the biblical pattern of pharmakeia—a word typically translated as “sorcery” (Gal. 5:20; Rev. 18:23). For those who take the Bible as authoritative, this warning should render all such uses out of the question.

While purely medical applications do exist, and should be considered separately, the movement’s energy is in the promise of traumas and disorders healed by mystical experiences and the goal of an “elevated consciousness,” which is just repackaged New Age paganism. This is the consistent testimony of the growing number of believers who have turned from psychedelic-fueled spirituality to new life in Christ. One prominent example is Ashley Lande, whose memoir The Thing That Would Make Everything Okay Forever beautifully captures that journey.

The living faith once for all delivered to the saints needs no manipulated boost of spiritual energy from mushrooms and toads.

The church must be sober-minded about the psychedelic renaissance. It’s here and already beginning to wash over our confused culture. If you thought the spiritual landscape of the public was already chaotic, just wait until it’s injected with countless “revelations” from psychedelic trips. More troubling still, a growing number of people within the church are convinced psychedelics can catalyze spiritual revitalization. The church will need clarity, conviction, and courage to navigate these challenges faithfully.

Christians must also be ready to minister to the people who have had their hopes dashed by a hype that didn’t deliver and their minds deceived by forces that took advantage of their spiritual hubris. They’ll come with stories of fantastical experiences and perhaps encounters with demonic entities. We should remember that our unfamiliarity and discomfort with such things is largely due to modernity’s influence; a medieval monk like Luther had no trouble dealing with them in his Table Talk conversations. What these psychedelic casualties were longing for—help and healing, a touch of the transcendent, a beatific vision—is found ultimately in union with the risen Christ and in fellowship with his people.

May our churches be the kinds of places where that could happen.