There is an intuition that comes from experience and other sensations, but it is purely human. There is another intuition that comes from the spirit of man. According to the academic definition, reason is the intellectual faculty that allows human beings to think, reflect, argue, and form judgments in order to reach logical conclusions or justify an idea or a fact. This capacity differentiates humans from other animals and, in philosophy, it is explored as the virtue that allows questioning and deducing knowledge.
In religious understanding, this faculty—given by God to humanity from creation—has largely been suppressed in believers due to the traditional interpretation of faith.
According to the New Testament, faith is a belief without tangible proof. It is the inner certainty that what is hoped for will be received, the conviction of what is not seen. In my opinion, this definition is accurate. However, this definition of faith applies to the promises we will receive from God, whether in this life or beyond it—for example, believing in life after death or that we will return to the Garden of God. The problem arises when we apply this same definition to biblical reading. There, we commit a serious error of understanding, because it prevents us from reading and understanding correctly.
We should not blindly believe what we are told or what we read. Even if it came from God, it always passes through us—and we are imperfect, with different intentions when speaking and writing. Moreover, our human vision and perspective are always limited to one, two, or three angles, but never a full 360 degrees. We should always test the spirits.
This advice comes from 1 John 4:1, which according to this translation says:
“Dear friends, do not believe everyone who claims to speak by the Spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, because many false prophets have gone out into the world.”
Of course, the test proposed by this writer is based on a partial belief, one that belongs to a specific group of people. It is not universal or personal—meaning, it is not the measure that one’s own intuition would indicate to decide whether to believe or not what someone says. In my estimation, that personal measure should be the correct one. The writer’s warning is clear: not everything that presents itself as “spiritual” comes from God. On that, I agree one hundred percent. The problem is that he provides the measure of the test, which is his own opinion based on a personal belief.
You could apply this advice to me, but you do not apply it to the biblical books you were taught are all inspired by God. The warning excludes others, but not the author of the book. Why? Because he is the author, and he writes to reinforce his own idea or belief with a clear intention. In my personal case, however, I do not know him, and my nature is inquisitive. I am like the anonymous writer of the Gospel of Luke, who diligently sought evidence to be certain whether he could believe what he was being told. Or like Paul when he advised us to examine everything carefully and hold on to what is good—or what we believe to be good. I do this because I find those pieces of advice very wise.
There are topics where I agree with Paul, and others where I do not agree at all. Believe it or not, you know more about me—through what I say in my audios and what I communicate about my spiritual beliefs using my full name—than about the anonymous writer of 1 John. In reality, we have set aside this warning in biblical reading because we were told that all those books are inspired by God, and we were also told that if a person does not express what the author believes, that person is a false teacher. This is undoubtedly manipulative, because it traps us in a dead end: if we try to step outside of it, we are labeled as fallen—fallen from their faith.
When we read any written text, intuition or discernment of spirits alone is not enough. We also need reason and logic. Discernment tells us whether a spirit comes from God, but reason and logic confirm and secure that intuition. Those of us who believe in the spiritual world have fled from logic and reason due to an incorrect application of the concept of faith to spiritual reading. In a sense, we have applied this part of the New Testament definition—“the conviction of what is not seen”—to biblical reading as “the conviction of what is not understood by faith.” Nevertheless, it is through reason and logic that we can obtain evidence even of the spiritual world.
There is a spiritual logic and reason, and there is a human one. What I mean is that as a spiritual woman, I have faith, reason, and logic, and these three are not enemies but work as a team to help us discern what comes from God and what does not in any text we read. We speak of sacred texts as if they all truly were sacred. The reality is that these texts were communicated by imperfect beings, like all of us, and communication is an art that, if not well developed, can lead to serious misunderstandings.
Can a man without training in communication convey something with the highest degree of certainty? Yes, I know—it could happen. An Aaron might appear, who did not speak very well, yet God told him what to say. But that happens on rare occasions. We live in this body and on this earth in exile, and the divine command was to live with our feet on the ground, not floating in an ethereal world. Although we have the spiritual capacity within this body to break the law of gravity—as Jesus did when he walked on water—our habitat is the material planet Earth.
The Scriptures come from men who had a limited command of written language. Not as we use it today, after centuries of development aimed at communicating more precisely what we know and understand. But at the end of this entire process, we should also understand that due to the very nature of spiritual matters—which cannot be grasped by human senses such as smell, touch, or sight—we must rely on a near-perfect balance between our material or human nature and the intuition of the spirit.
That maturity, however, is achieved through growth and inner transformation, and not many seek or work toward it. Without that balance, we are like a body missing one leg—unable to stand firmly on this earth until we leave it. Because through the transgression of our first parents, we were ordered to live on this planet until God’s plan of love for us is fulfilled, and thus the promise God made to Adam—that we would return to the Garden of God—would be completed.
If we believe that the entire Bible is the Word of God, we read it by faith under that understanding, leaving logic and reason aside. There are many things in Scripture that do not make sense when we use reason and logic. That should draw our attention, because reason and logic are blessings from God. He gave them to us not only to understand better, but also to protect us from spiritual deception. We blindly accept biblical inconsistencies by applying a doctrine that does not correspond to proper reading. This prevents us from simply accepting that some things do not make sense.
Why is it so important to understand this differentiation and the correct application of the definition of faith given by the writer of Hebrews? Because there is power in reading a text—no matter where it comes from—and because it goes directly to the human soul with an intention. Regarding the power of the written word, the Book of Enoch says something very interesting. But first, it is helpful to give some historical context.
The so-called Book of Enoch was not written by the biblical patriarch Enoch. It is actually a collection of writings produced by different authors, possibly between the 3rd century BCE and the 1st century CE, mainly within Jewish communities influenced by Babylonian, Persian, and later Greek culture. That is why scholars today refer to it as “Enochic literature,” not a single book.
There are several sections or “books within the book”:
The Book of the Watchers (possibly the oldest, written around the 3rd century BCE), which recounts the fall of angels who united with the daughters of men and taught forbidden arts.
The Book of Parables or Similitudes (probably written in the 1st century BCE or CE), where the figure of the “Son of Man” appears in a messianic tone that later influenced Jewish and Christian traditions.
A note on the figure of the Son of Man: In the prophets, such as Ezekiel, “son of man” was a logical appellation God used to address the prophet. It simply meant “human being,” a reminder of his mortal condition in contrast to divine glory. But in Daniel 7, a shift occurs. There, it is not God calling a prophet this way; rather, Daniel describes what he perceives in a vision: “And behold, with the clouds of heaven there came one like a son of man, and he came to the Ancient of Days…”
This being, with human appearance, receives something astonishing: access to the heavenly throne, authority, glory, and an eternal kingdom. Here an inconsistency appears. God, through the prophets, had affirmed that He does not share His glory or His throne with anyone, and yet in Daniel a man is described as being exalted to that very place. Here it is not God calling someone “son of man.” It is Daniel describing a figure he perceives as human (“like a son of man” = of human appearance).
Today, most scholars say that the book of Daniel was not written by the historical Daniel of the exile, but by an anonymous author in the 2nd century BCE, during the persecution of Antiochus Epiphanes. It is not a revelation written 600 years in advance, but a later text meant to give hope to an oppressed people.
Knowing this, it becomes clear that Daniel is interpreting a vision using human categories: he describes the “Ancient of Days” as an old man with white hair, even though God does not age, and a “son of man” as someone who receives the glory that the prophets said God does not share. When I say that God does not age, I affirm this with reason and logic in a spiritual matter. Aging is part of the process of dying, but God does not die. Therefore, He cannot have the image of an old man with white hair. That is only a human comparison.
Later, in The Book of Parables or Similitudes (possibly written between the 1st century BCE and 1st century CE), the figure of the “Son of Man” became a messianic character that directly influenced Jewish and Christian traditions. Jesus himself used the title Son of Man to speak about himself—not to proclaim ownership of God’s throne, but to remind us that he was a common man, a mortal manifesting the power of God, as Ezekiel did in his time.
This evolution shows how a logical appellation—son of man = simple mortal—was transformed into a belief in which a man sits on God’s throne. This contradicts what God said through the prophets about His glory and honor. Recognizing this inconsistency does not weaken faith; it teaches us to use reason and logic freely when reading texts. In this way, we understand that not everything we read is divine revelation—often it is human interpretation—and our faith in God should not be afraid to accept this.
The other three books of Enoch are The Astronomical Book and The Book of Dreams, which reflect a strong interest in calendars, visions, and Israel’s history reinterpreted, and The Epistle of Enoch, with moral exhortations and visions of judgment. Some ideas well known in early Christianity seem to have originated—or at least taken shape—in the writings attributed to Enoch. It is no coincidence that later authors adopted these ideas. The writer of the Epistle of Jude quotes a passage from Enoch word for word, and the Second Letter of Peter recalls the punishment of fallen angels just as described in The Book of the Watchers. Even early Christian writings, such as the Epistle of Barnabas, echo these themes. And if we look at other texts from the same period, such as those found at Qumran or the Apocalypse of Abraham, we see the same atmosphere of rebellious angels, cosmic judgments, and the hope of an exalted heavenly being.
For this reason, although the Book of Enoch was not written by the biblical patriarch nor accepted into most canons, its influence was very real. It preserved and transmitted ancient beliefs that shaped the spiritual imagination of many believers of that time, preparing the ground for later interpretations. The Book of Enoch is debatable, but for this topic I want to highlight something very interesting it says about the power of writing.
When it recounts the names of the fallen angels and what they taught humanity, it says:
“The name of the fourth angel is Penemue; he showed the sons of men what is bitter and what is sweet, and revealed to them all the secrets of his wisdom. He taught humanity how to write with ink and paper, and through this many have gone astray from the beginning until this day. For men were not created for such a purpose—to confirm their belief through ink and paper—but so that they might live in purity and righteousness, so that death, which destroys everything, might not overtake them. But through this knowledge, its power consumes me.”
When I first read this passage, I did not understand it. But it did not take long for me to realize what it meant. It is obvious from the way the writer names this ability as part of a knowledge or wisdom that this angel possessed from the Kingdom. When it says, “men were not brought into the world to confirm their belief through ink and paper,” the text suggests much, though it does not explain it clearly. To understand it better, we can use the words of Isaiah 5:20–21:
“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and prudent in their own sight.”
In this world, where the knowledge of evil exists, “ink and paper” have the power to lead humanity astray, to cause it to miss the mark or its true purpose. The gifts of God in this body, when placed in the hands of darkness, aim to divert humanity from the path of light. To move away from the light means to draw closer to darkness. A false belief or an error can be written down for centuries and cause many to miss the mark. Believing that the Scriptures are inspired by God from Genesis to Revelation is a mistaken belief—one that can be demonstrated through inconsistencies, contradictions, and even by the very Word of God spoken through the prophets.
There are talents we have been allowed to possess in this body, but the one who decides how and for what purpose they are used is the spirit of man. If the spirit is evil, there is darkness in the body. If the spirit is good, the body is full of light. What a writer pours out through the pen reflects the intention of their spirit. That is why we were also equipped with discernment of spirits. We all have it. In many, it lies dormant. Discernment allows us to recognize where the voice of a writer or speaker comes from, but reason and logic help confirm that recognition.
The author of this book was a scribe. He had the ability to write and the awareness of its power. The capacity for discourse and writing is a spiritual gift, and depending on the spirit one has, one will speak or write according to that nature or essence. Out of the abundance of the heart—or spirit—the mouth speaks, and it also writes. If darkness dwells in the heart or spirit, darkness is what will be manifested. The intention of darkness is to extinguish the light in us and cause us to miss the mark in our path.
The written word has the power to make us wise or foolish, depending on the spirit that wields the pen and on our decision to believe or not believe it. The reason given for why humanity should not have been taught to write is tied to its fallen state, because writing has the power to reinforce corrupting and deceptive beliefs. This helps us understand that humanity reinforced beliefs apart from God, based on the arrogance of its own opinion regarding spiritual matters. That is exactly what Adam and Eve did.
God created everything good, but there was someone in the Kingdom who had been granted great power. However, through envy of the sons of God, evil was conceived in him, and he was cast down to the earth along with those who followed him. Since then, malice has reigned here. Seeking to prevent the rightful divine inheritance of the first created couple—the authority to be children and heirs—he planned to strip them of grace through the manipulation of thoughts.
Our first ancestors underwent a real transformation: from spiritual beings they became animal beings. Even scientists who do not believe in God place us in the animal kingdom. It is the Spirit within us that elevates us from that nature, now earthly—but it was not so in the beginning. When humanity fell and was stripped of its spiritual nature, it inherited the malice and death of the one who deceived them through manipulation of thought. This is the consequence and judgment of infidelity to the covenant with God. Since then, humanity has had the capacity to call evil good and good evil. We have before us the path of fulfillment or desolation to choose from. This is our right, for we were created free. Spiritual transformation elevates us from the animal to the spiritual, but while we live in this body, balance must be achieved.
Adam and Eve were the first called, in their creation, to live in the spiritual image and likeness of God. Their life was in perfect relationship with the Creator until disobedience to spiritual laws opened the door to evil and, with it, to death. From then on, every human being must be reconciled with God in order to return to that original form. Adam and Eve’s life was without problems because they were in the Garden of God, where there is no death, no pain, and no evil. But it was not “life” as we imagine it here. We think we die and the soul goes to rest with God, which is an absurd belief because the one who needs rest is the body—and it dies. Our first ancestors were not dead. It was real life, with a real body, but of a different substance than the one we now have. God had given them a home to work and live in the original form in which they were created.
When we hear the phrase “we are not of this world,” it is true. We do not know everything. We do not understand everything. But we know and understand some things—those necessary for our salvation and for our earthly life. After the fall, God called Abraham and from his lineage Israel as a people. God called Israel to show how life is lived under His government. But they mixed God’s voice with human traditions and ceased to be light to the nations. What they did was like pouring water into a fine and exquisite perfume, stripping it of its virtue. Instead of being light to the nations, they obscured God’s will and His true nature. And He warned them:
“How long, you who think yourselves important, will you turn my honor into shame? How long will you love delusions and seek falsehood?”
Despite this, the Voice of God—which is free and cannot be silenced by anyone or anything—made its way through the darkness to reach us, fulfilling the promise made to His friend Abraham. No longer as a nation, but as individuals. With diligence, the keepers of the true law, faithful to God’s covenant, protected the promises, the prophets, the individuals who loved God, and Jesus himself. But no longer as a nation.
The prophets were sent to remind the people of the lost path. They announced that a new time would come—a covenant not written on tablets of stone, but on the heart: a sensitive heart, willing to obey, reconciled with the Creator. This was a fundamental part of God’s plan to restore our spiritual nature. Then Jesus appeared—not as part of a religious sect, nor as a ritual leader, but as a common man, a carpenter by trade, who lived his spirituality free from human constraints and religious traditions.
He also showed us the power we possess when we reconcile with the Creator and return to our spiritual form—now inwardly, not yet fully in the body. That will come when we receive the spiritual body that Adam and Eve had, when death will be overcome by us and God will eliminate it forever.
In the Kingdom—or domains—of God, obedience to His Word or spiritual laws maintains order and peace. There is no pain or death, only contentment and complete fulfillment, together with a capacity for development unknown or unimaginable on this earth. Many imagined the Kingdom as a resting place for the dead, not understanding that the spirit does not need rest—only the body does. In the Kingdom of God, life never stops, because death does not exist there. It is like the fullness of spring or the lushness of summer: everything flourishes, everything grows, everything remains alive. When we arrive there, growth and full spiritual development await us.
Many who claim to believe in Jesus demonstrate through their actions that they have not believed the most important messages he left us. When Jesus was baptized in the Jordan and received the Holy Spirit, what the prophets had announced occurred in him: the transition from a heart of stone to a heart of flesh. Jesus, like every human being, had to reconcile with God. That is why he called himself “the Son of Man,” the son of Adam—to remind us that he was as human as any of us. Through his life, he demonstrated what God’s government looks like in a single individual, how God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven.
If Jesus had not existed, we would not know our potential in the renewed spirit and its power. Human power is like a drop compared to the power God gave us at creation. That power was manifested in Jesus: walking on water, multiplying food, restoring life. He did not do these things to impress, but to show us what happens when we are reconciled with the Source. And Jesus said it plainly: “The works that I do, you will do also—and even greater.”
Now we know the path toward spiritual transformation: it begins with reconciliation with the Creative Source and with an intense desire to reach the summit. Because it is there that all of God’s promises will be fulfilled. Just as in earthly life we aspire to grow and reach the highest point, in spiritual life we aspire to the summit of transcendence and complete transformation. Transformation is not produced by human effort, but by God Himself.
We are like the joyful farmer who places the seed in the soil with the hope that it will bear fruit. But it is not a solitary or heavy task: the preparation of the soil, its nourishment, and the growth of the seed are given by the Lord, through His patient and tender work. He prepares the soil of our soul so that our spirit may develop through His power. The seed is the simple and humble surrender of our will to God, so that He may heal, free, and transform. After that, the work is His, whether we are awake or asleep. When the body rests, the spirit remains active with Him. And so we understand that it is not so difficult: it is enough to surrender to God and allow Him to do the impossible within us.