Individuation & the “Dark” Side of Spirituality
“Every increase in knowledge may possibly render depravity more depraved, as well as may increase the strength of virtue”
John’s first son and second child, Nicolas, was born soon after the events at Bethlehem. (De Ruiter was also the second child and first son of his parents.) Nicolas was born in 1988, and those first few crucial years of his life were the years in which de Ruiter turned his band of Lutheran renegades into his own ministry. By 1995—the year Nicolas would have turned seven—de Ruiter was giving satsangs in the bookshop and moving into full guru mode. His marriage with Joyce ended four years later, in 1999, when Nicolas was eleven and on the threshold of adolescence.
De Ruiter claimed that he first “knew” he would commit adultery (not his words, of course) thirteen years previously. (“About thirteen years ago, there was a clear arising from the being that I would be with another woman, which for my mind was an incredible shock.”) That would have been 1986, the year his daughter Naomi was born. It was also the year his involvement began with the Bethlehem church, when he was first getting clear confirmation of his destiny as a Christian leader. The following year, his heady “romance” with Bob led to the “realization” that he was the fulfillment of the prophecy, “the One.” This was also the period in which he told Joyce he was “battling the Beast.”
If we leave movements of truth out of it, it seems safe to say that, when a married man with three children embarks on a secret affair with two sisters, he is either unsatisfied in his marriage or having difficulties with the role of husband and father (or both). By the time de Ruiter met the von Sasses, his own daughter, Naomi, would have been ten and she would have entered puberty exactly as the marriage reached crisis point. Apart from the specific circumstances of a guru sleeping with his disciples, this begins to resemble more and more the common case of a man undergoing a mid-life sexual identity crisis as his own children begin to come of age. De Ruiter even turned forty a month before the crisis broke.
So what was happening for de Ruiter internally during these critical years? Was he finding that his own family “patterns” were interfering with his capacity to function as a husband and father, the first intimations of this crisis arising in 1986, when Naomi was born and “a new woman” entered into his life? It would be understandable if, rather than follow his own counsel and “lie down” in those patterns and let his weakness, vulnerability, and inadequacy show, de Ruiter sought a “high level” solution outside of the marriage and came up with a spiritual get-out clause. By becoming sexually involved with some his disciples (there is no way to know how many or how soon), de Ruiter may have been attempting to “heal” his wounded masculinity just as many men do—by proving his sexual prowess. In this case, the wound was only perpetuated, firstly via the women—Joyce, his daughter, the von Sasses and however many other women in the group—and, less obviously, onto his sons and the men in the group, who received a distorted example of male sexuality hidden beneath a royal cloak of dissembling.
When de Ruiter reinterpreted his deviant sexual behavior as an irreproachable “movement of truth,” he publically disowned those patterns that were driving him and left them for his loyal servants to pick up. While the men were seeing, with their own eyes, the proof of their King’s woundedness, they were simultaneously being told a different story, a story which ensured they remain loyal to their King and look to him as a model of upright masculinity, while deep down in their bones, they would have known otherwise. This would be especially true for John’s sons, who initially turned against their father and sided with their mother, but who have since joined his “camp,” to sit on the left and right sides of the Oasis throne.
By putting forward this spiritual cover story, the message de Ruiter gave was that it was not okay for a man to let his wounded sexuality show. Even as that pattern-distorted primal id energy rose all the way into full expression in de Ruiter’s private life, the outer show of royal fineness and purity became ever more “refined.” I think it also became increasingly corrupting because, while the corresponding wounds were opening up in the psyches of all John’s male followers (as their id energy began to stir within them), they were denied the “low-down” necessary to understand what was happening to them. Their captain had lost his compass and, worse, was acting like he didn’t need it. And as the Dionysian goblins ran riot through the kingdom, the knights of Oasis were being fed the same old New Age Christian line about “movements of truth” and “bonds of being.” Behind the razzle-dazzle of the Truth Empire, a shadow was slowly engulfing the land.
It’s important to point out at this stage that my experience of de Ruiter has not been wholly negative—or even especially harmful. While it’s true I lost my way for a while and gave up my autonomy and sense of self—and while it is true that my marriage just barely survived the upheaval which seeing the truth about de Ruiter caused for us—recognizing this has been a learning, and liberating, experience. Yet while it would be wrong to say that de Ruiter had a detrimental effect on me, at the same time, I think this is only true because I recognized the ways in which he was potentially having such effects. A junky might well say the same about heroin, or, to be fairer, a psychedelic experimenter about LSD. One or two trips can be beneficent. But pretty soon the unhinging begins.
The truth—and the way of being—which I believed de Ruiter was embodying allowed me to connect to a new depth of understanding in myself. It wasn’t all lies. It was only that the stream I was receiving was laced with something else besides truth. After, it was up to me to sort the seeds of my experience and figure out which were real.
In de Ruiter’s imaginative explanation of his “high-level adultery,” at the December meeting in 1999, he said this:
I knew that I would do what I knew was true. Regardless of what it would cost me and regardless of what that would cost others. . . . I knew that I would give in to what I know even though it would do something, that for all appearances, I would no longer be beyond reproach. . . . I am surrendering to what I know regardless of what it looks like, regardless of how that assaults all of my patterns, all of my patterns of what a relationship is, what a relationship is confined to. And for all of those patterns it was ultimately devastating. But I would never hesitate in responding to what I knew, regardless of what kind of death that would introduce . . . . That is just an ultimate cost, personally, for Joyce, for my kids, and for those that come here being touched by truth and trust in me. . . . It is because of knowing what I would respond to regardless of what it would cost to me and to others. It is just a supreme love of what I honestly know.
What de Ruiter describes—his “supreme love” of doing only what he knows is true, regardless of the consequences for himself or for others—is the way of no compromise. It’s a notion that has a great deal of romantic appeal (especially to men), and I have tried to live by that same philosophy myself. In the process, like John, I justified all manner of harsh treatment of others—as well as myself—in the name of “truth.” Based both on my own experience and de Ruiter’s example, there is a world of difference between living for truth and living for others; in that context, living for truth might be the most “selfish” thing a person can do.
The idea that de Ruiter is so profoundly in love with truth—his truth—that he would willingly sacrifice not only his own comfort but other people’s too, is a powerful one. It isn’t only a religious concept, because it closely matches existentialism and certain, more progressive schools of psychology. The road of individuation is a lonely road. At the same time, what de Ruiter lays claim to is a form of enlightened selfishness that appeals to a very deep part of us. It appeals, for example, to the wounded child that has been abandoned, rejected, or betrayed, the child who brooded for years in his bedroom, late at night, and swore through lonely tears: “Never again!”
In 1998, de Ruiter said: “Following your conscience is the surest way to get away from truth.” He has advised his followers to let go of moral structures, because in the end only they can know what is right or wrong for them at any given moment. When I was twenty-four, I suffered heartbreak and reacted by giving up a large inheritance and traveling to North Africa to live a destitute life on the streets, begging and stealing for food. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, and I assured them I might never return. In a way, that was the easier path for me. It was the path “I knew to be true.” It was also what my patterns made me do when triggered by unacceptable loss. When I told my family I was leaving, I saw sadness but no recrimination, and no one questioned my decision. Perhaps they knew nothing would sway me from my course, but I think it was also a response to my “core knowing” that it was not a matter of personal choice but of psychological survival—of “destiny.” It was both a selfish and a selfless act. There was “nothing in it for me” except the knowledge that I was doing what I knew was true. But I was also disregarding everyone else’s feelings, to the point that it was just as if those other people didn’t even exist for me. I acted compulsively as well as “heroically,” because from my own point of view, there wasn’t a clear difference. That was my hero’s quest and it was necessary for my individuation. It entailed the abandonment of all my loved ones, and I had no qualms about how my decision would affect them. As I saw it, like de Ruiter, I literally had no choice.
Myths and action movies of the kind enjoyed by de Ruiter (and myself) make heroic enactments seem simple and straightforward, and the hero (whether Braveheart or Neo) is heroic in all the usual ways. In real life, doing the right thing is more complex and ambiguous. It isn’t a simple matter of meeting a series of external challenges but of exploring the psychological wounds which prevent us from growth, from becoming wholly and authentically ourselves. It’s about facing our deepest fears. Who’s to say what sort of unpleasantness the “hero” might be sucked into, as he follows his lonely road of truth? If his one-pointed determination is ruthless enough, he might even end up becoming the villain without ever realizing it.
Based on my exchanges with some of his ex-followers, I’d say this viewpoint is gaining some ground among people who have got close enough to de Ruiter to begin to sense his hidden agenda. Tim Gallagher told me in 2015:
In actual fact, he’s quite potentially malevolent. There’s almost a mechanical quality. If it serves him it’s fine, if it doesn’t . . . . And so there are people in the group, and he selects them according to their usefulness, I think, their wealth, their good looks, their connections. There are lots of ordinary people that he doesn’t give a fuck about. It took me a long time to realize that that’s how it was… By talking in absolutes he appeals to Germans, and the group has got a lot of Germans and the Germans do a lot of organizing. Who’s he picking up these days? Germans and Israelis. He keeps going to Israel repeatedly. . . . But also they’re the two most guilty nations on the earth. And I think he has them read like a book. He’s just hoovering up useful assets for himself, so that, if you ever want to come against John, you’ve got to go through a defense shield of Israelis and Germans. . . . I think he’s very clever.
In his community-cum-cult Oasis, de Ruiter offers a space for anyone who wishes to “enter” into the devastation of “absolute surrender.” There is very little mention (since his confession in 1999) of the damage which he has wrought, in his ruthless and one-pointed pursuit of goodness, upon home, family, and loved ones in the name of a transpersonal truth. De Ruiter welcomes with open arms his fellow walking wounded. They wander dazed and thankful from broken homes to join him in his icy fortress of solitude. It’s a familiar pattern, and however consciously he might be involved in his own healing process, underneath it all de Ruiter appears to also be a wounded child, seeking his father’s blessing and the loving warmth of his mother. Isn’t that the subtext of every heroic journey?
The temptation de Ruiter appears to have succumbed to is the temptation to render his actions symbolic and so inflate them out of the messy realms of the personal, and into the clean, cool light of the archetypal. Yet it is heroic, because it is also symbolic: de Ruiter is taking on the fiery patterns of the ancestors and a whole, sickly Christian tradition of disowned shadows and sexuality as expressed over centuries of religious persecutions, civil injustice, and domestic violence. If he believes he is taking on “the sins of the world,” who knows, maybe he is? Isn’t that what every man needs to do to assume responsibility for his own life?
As a child, John was given the name “golden hands,” most probably by his mother. The name suggests healing and transformative, solar (masculine) energy. (I noticed over the years how de Ruiter continues to use the word “golden” as a term of praise to denote what is of the highest.) The nickname came from his apparent ability for building things, yet the stories in his bio which immediately follow the mention of “golden hands” are of little Johnny breaking things down to their constituent parts. Apparently de Ruiter is at least as much a destroyer as a builder; that’s the dark side of spirituality, and without it, no teaching is complete. Maybe he even broke things apart in order to rebuild them? This is a pattern that played out during his apocalyptic stint at the Bethlehem Lutheran church, when he created a rift in the ministry and, from that wreckage, assembled his own church.
While his mother praised him, John’s father pushed him to be a carpenter and a cobbler, and no doubt hoped he would use his golden hands to earn an honest living. Did Cornelius de Ruiter (who was affectionately known as “Cor”) ever give his son his blessing, I wonder? Judging by de Ruiter’s rejection of the simple lot of carpenter/cobbler, he had no desire to honor his father’s wishes; and if de Ruiter did not respect his father, it was likely he never felt that his father respected him, either. Is it just coincidence that de Ruiter’s supreme virtue is what he termed “core-splitting honesty”? What’s in a word?
Enter the Dragon: Archetypal Possession
“The Defendant explained to me that part of his ‘burden from God’ was to act against his own message and to violate his own marriage so as to prepare him inwardly for his upcoming battle with Satan. He spoke in soft convincing tones, claiming to be a kind of willing victim suffering God’s will. He claimed this preparation was further ‘profound evidence’ of the truth of his ‘calling’ from God to be the ‘embodiment of truth,’ and that what ‘may appear or may be suffered on the outside’ is not ‘in reality what is happening on deeper and profound, unseen levels.’”
—Benita von Sass, from the affidavit
There is something about a man who believes he is Christ/God/Truth/the Messiah that—short of a simple diagnosis of insanity—doesn’t permit itself to be nailed down (pun intended). It is like trying to hold onto a live fish: the only way to keep it still is to kill it. What follows are the things I was able to deduce about the fish, before I gave up and threw it back into the ocean.
To be enlightened suggests to be filled with light and devoid of darkness. In psychological terms, it implies that the unconscious has become fully conscious and all of a person’s “shadow matter” integrated by the psyche. Until such a level has been attained, however (assuming it’s possible), that shadow matter will always find ways to express itself. If de Ruiter has publically assumed the Christly role of a living embodiment of truth, evidently he is trying very hard to be (seen as) “good.” At a certain point—or in other areas of his life—he might be compelled to take on the opposite pole, and become a “living embodiment of untruth.” The most obvious way that kind of polarity would manifest would be in public and private expressions, and at a surface level that seems to be the case.
While de Ruiter’s “guru” persona is overtly benevolent, he appears to have treated his wives with a degree of cruelty at odds with such benevolence. That’s the shadow. What is damning about de Ruiter is not that he is capable of cruelty and scheming, but that he attempts to conceal (and dissemble) his private behavior rather than let it form part of his total persona. He has done the opposite of owning up to it, and this suggests he is trying to disown it. The worst thing to do with shadow qualities is to try to conceal them, because it is only by bringing them to light that they can be “dissolved,” i.e., integrated. The goal isn’t goodness but wholeness.
Any kind of teaching—including one that purports to be “the living truth”—is inevitably in-formed by the person it comes through. If de Ruiter’s enlightenment experiences are trauma-based, then all his teachings and the transmission that comes through him is going to be shaped by that trauma. Although he might appear to be embodying truth/Christ energy, he is really only embodying a close imitation of it. It might seem like the real thing, but in fact it would be a clever counterfeit.
Bob Emmerzael claimed that de Ruiter was establishing truth “by what he is being and what he is teaching.” According to someone at Oasis, de Ruiter said, at some point outside the meetings, that while he was embodying truth on stage, it was quite different when he was living his day-to-day life in the world. So if de Ruiter at the meetings isn’t the same person as de Ruiter in his home life, does that mean some kind of supernatural transfiguration occurs whenever he enters the meeting space? His statement can be interpreted to mean that he is a channeler, but channeling is something de Ruiter has publically derided, and a far cry from being a living embodiment of truth. (Anyone can be a channel: it is a kind of voluntary possession.) A person might channel Christ—his words—but can they embody Christ energy without being one with that energy? If enlightenment is about being fully in the moment, where is the logic behind only being the living truth some of the time? It implies that this is a role de Ruiter assumes. Why is it more “important” for him to be true at meetings than in his day to day life? Because he is getting paid for it?
If some of his followers recognize Christ in de Ruiter’s performance, it proves, at most, that Christ is within them and that de Ruiter has a knack for bringing it out. But a talented hypnotist can make someone think they are a chicken; that doesn’t make him capable of transmutations. Is it really so different with de Ruiter? Giving people an experience of Christ consciousness doesn’t prove he is Christ. And if that experience is dependent on being close to de Ruiter, then what is its value, finally?
Judging by Benita’s testimony (allowing for some degree of misunderstanding on her part), de Ruiter believes his cosmic task is to permit the darkness of “untruth” to enter into him and to have expression through him (by violating his marriage and acting against his own teaching), as part of his truth-embodiment mission. That is his “burden from God.” There is a psychological equivalent to that process, somewhat at odds with de Ruiter’s more theological one, and it’s called “integrating the shadow.” The difference is that the Satan which de Ruiter is preparing to battle is not an external, cosmic presence but a disowned aspect of his psyche. It is his own shadow, an archetypal force which he summoned forth, through his own action and non-action, as a result of over-identification with Christ and denial of all that is “satanic” within him. By allowing himself to be possessed by Satan for “the salvation of the world,” de Ruiter would really only be showing his true colors—those suppressed distortions—as an ordinary human being. For those who have allowed de Ruiter to become the living truth, however, such an unveiling of reality might well seem like the end of the world.
The idea of archetypal possession is akin to being possessed by one’s own unconscious, which is where archetypes reside (Freud’s term for them was “archaic remnants”). The deepest and most powerful aspect of the unconscious is the shadow, which is the sum of everything a person rejects or disowns in themselves. A very obvious example of this is a Christian preacher who considers sex the devil’s tool and preaches hellfire sermons about how sensuality leads to damnation, while secretly fooling around with altar boys. Such devious, unnatural, and secret sexual activity is a way for his shadow to express itself without the preacher ever having to admit he is “damned.” (Bar the devil from coming in the front door, and he sneaks in the back.) De Ruiter’s case is both more extreme and subtler. He identifies with Christ (extreme), but his notion of sin entails any act of self-interest that does not serve “Truth” (subtle). Nonetheless, the same dynamic applies: whatever he rejects in himself is pushed into the shadowy regions of his unconscious, and it is that shadow material—or the corresponding archetypal energy—that possesses him.
What follows is a long description from Tim Gallagher from our talk in 2015. There are many correspondence with my own impressions of de Ruiter, impressions which initially I included in this work but then took out for fear that they were simply too “alarmist,” too reactive, and too melodramatic to do anything but confuse readers. I knew I had a bent for “paranoid” readings and so I thought it best to curb that bent as much as possible. Tim, on the other hand, was with John for many years, starting in 1998, and had only come to his conclusions via a very long period of contemplation and direct personal involvement with John. Hence I felt his testimony had considerably more weight. Here it is in full:
With John I felt that he may represent a nonhuman intelligence. My intuition was that he was representing like an extraterrestrial dimension. This sounds crazy but one of my very first experiences was of this, when I first came to Edmonton. I had a very clear vision, like a fully lucid vision, that John was from another dimension but he wasn’t as he appeared and my blood ran cold. I ignored that, because I saw that as my own internal opposition to the truth, and I talked myself round. But recently I’ve come to realize, what he pursues is the feminine. He pursues the juice of the feminine. It’s a bit like the energy of the earth itself, in a way. He kind of pretends that he embodies that, but I think he completely lacks that. That’s why he has use of the juiciest women he can get his hands on. That’s one aspect. But I also think he represents an agenda which is not an ordinary human agenda, and he has never disclosed what that is. He is coming from a strange place but he doesn’t trust us with sharing that so he himself cannot be trusted.
But that’s a lot of my own intuitive perception. He’s not a straightforward, run of the mill conman. He has huge insight, he has huge access to various levels of mental perception, I think. . . . When you first see him he sends out a lure, like a shiny coin almost, but it’s “the truth” and it’s this feeling. And that draws you out, and draws you further and further out, and what he’s done (I mean, this is my imaginarium of it), he is using the energy of everyone who invests in him, a bit like a bank. And what he’s done is he’s created a construct, but he himself hasn’t really got that energy. He’s using everybody’s energy to weave the construct, and then the contract becomes binding for those who have invested. I call it the crystal maze. It’s almost like a dimension within a dimension and it’s not an ordinary happening in the earth. It’s quite strange. And there is an energy that’s held in there, but I think it mostly belongs to people who’ve invested in John. I think there’s a very powerful trance state that means that you can’t think critically anymore, you can’t question John’s authority. You just withdraw if you feel threatened, and also that you can become quite hostile to a person that you sense is not on board.
“The ambiguous or narcissistic delusional guru is often extremely charismatic, persuasive—even hypnotic, and can be a gifted orator. They may be able to ‘channel’ a true emanation of being at certain times, such as when they are teaching, and hence they are good at impressing people and manipulating their ‘belief’ in them (although this comes ultimately from the astral ‘luminous attractor’ entity that is using them as its instrument).
—“Levels of Enlightenment”
The question I kept coming back to during my first attempt to write this book was, did de Ruiter really believe he was the Christ, and if so, what exactly did that mean? I came up with four possible interpretations of such a belief:
1) De Ruiter is the Christ.
2) He is deluded and/or insane.
3) He is lying for opportunistic or unknown reasons.
4) A combination of all of the above, namely, de Ruiter is possessed of certain Christ-like qualities, but has over-identified with them to the point of deluding himself that he actually is Christ.
During the first phase of writing this book (2010-11), I received an email from an ex-follower of de Ruiter which included a long article (quoted above) called “Levels of Enlightenment.” This person shared her experiences of de Ruiter, chief among which was the overwhelming impression of being in the presence of Christ energy. She told me that she had had numerous awakening experiences during her lifetime, including what she believed were visitations from “the Christ.” The moment she sat in John’s presence, she said, she instantly recognized the same presence. Despite all her doubts about him, she said that whenever she sat in his presence during meetings, she had powerful experiences of deep recognition and of “union with the divine beloved.” It was “the finest vibration” she had ever experienced with any teacher, she said. At the same time, she told me that she had enough private conversations with “John the person” to know that the presence coming through him in meetings was completely different from de Ruiter the man (even if de Ruiter would have people believe otherwise). She described how, when she first arrived in Edmonton (after having avidly listened to and applied de Ruiter’s teachings for many years), she was shocked to find that some of the most “senior” students (working in administration), people who had been with de Ruiter since the 90s, were some of the most self-righteous, cold-hearted, unloving, and controlling “religious conservatives” she had ever met. (She also mentioned that his two wives—presumably the von Sasses—weren’t the least bit interested in his teaching, and wondered if they knew something the others didn’t.)
When I first corresponded with her, I was somewhat resistant to her contention that she had experienced genuine Christ/Truth energy in de Ruiter’s presence. At the same time, I was curious to hear more, because her experience almost exactly matched my wife’s, who also believed something “divine” worked through de Ruiter but was separate from who he was as a man. The difference between this woman’s perception and my wife’s was that my wife didn’t experience any conflict over it, or at least wasn’t admitting to it. I shared some of what I had written about de Ruiter with my correspondent, and she remarked that I was apparently still somewhat emotional about the subject and that, as a result, I was assuming an overly “dualistic” point of view. I was suggesting that de Ruiter had taken the Christ energy for his own use and so become a kind of “Antichrist” figure; I believed it was easy enough to explain de Ruiter’s numinous effect on people as simply deception. “Even the elect would be fooled,” etc. The trouble was that I was reverting to a suspiciously Christian line, that de Ruiter was a false prophet and a servant of Satan, etc., etc., a limited view, at best, however emotionally satisfying it might be. The idea of archetypes being “good” or “evil” is a religious viewpoint, not a psychological one.
De Ruiter was raised by Catholic parents. His formative experience at the age of seventeen centered around some kind of awakening-cum-Christian conversion, after which he spent going on ten years practicing the faith, albeit in unorthodox ways. It wasn’t until his mid-thirties (around 1995), when he met “Boots” Beaudry and began to pick up some New Age terminology, that he shed his Christian garb and remolded his persona to suit a wider audience. Nonetheless, according to Benita’s more recent testimony, he continued to use Christian terminology behind the scenes, such as when he spoke of “doing the will of God.” If Benita was to be believed, he had identified himself as Christ. Christian belief only allows for the notion of Christ as a person, a divine being who came once and who would come again at the end of time. “Christ consciousness” is a New Age concept that is incompatible with orthodox Christian belief. De Ruiter has implied on several occasions that he is a higher manifestation of truth than anyone currently on the planet. Does that mean he believes he is the fullest living embodiment of Christ consciousness? And does that make him (in his own mind) Christ in person? If de Ruiter believes something of that nature, does his belief come with the corresponding mission, of judging the quick and the dead, ushering in the Apocalypse, and so forth? What if he should fail in his mission? Is that even a possibility? And what would de Ruiter be willing to do to ensure that he not fail? Are there any means that would not be justified in his mind by such an end?
Asylums are filled with individuals who believe they are Christ or that they are supposed to have been Christ before they lost the plot. They are usually diagnosed as schizophrenic. Joyce described a period in his twenties when de Ruiter believed he was becoming schizophrenic, roughly the same period he first claimed to have encountered “Jesus” while driving his truck. De Ruiter managed to escape being locked up in a psych ward, however, by being careful only to share his Christ-calling with people who would support him in his belief (starting with Bob Emmerzael). Through such a pragmatic (and quite sane) strategy, he was able to create a mini-consensus in which he was Christ, or as close as made no difference. This is a luxury few schizophrenics enjoy. Over time, de Ruiter learned to keep his more radical beliefs quiet, donned the relatively respectable guise of “author and philosopher,” and went on to give “seminars” in place of messianic sermons (or messianic sermons disguised as seminars).
As Tim Gallagher humorously put it to me:
I think he’s familiar with all kinds of . . . I wouldn’t say it’s just consciousness, I almost feel like saying technologies because I just don’t know what the point of him is, or what he thinks he’s doing. And the thing is he’s not transparent. If he were to tell you, “I’m from Zargon, and back home we like to find people that are a bit less intelligent than ourselves and have a good laugh and I’ve woven you into a crystal maze and you’re never going to get out. And I want the sex energy of you coz it connects me to the earth which is what I want because I actually want to suck the life out of the earth. How do you feel about that?” It’s like, “Well actually yeah, I kind of felt something like that was happening John.” It’s not just an ordinary conman, because his abilities are quite sophisticated.
I have heard de Ruiter assure his listeners that his drive to spread the gospel of Truth is devoid of a personal agenda. But even if he does believe in his divine mission (whatever it might look like in human terms), is that actually the case? If there was a period during his “awakening” when his sanity was in jeopardy, persuading others that he was Christ might have been the only means to escape the terrifying possibility that he was insane. There is a fine line between divine calling and lunacy, and if an insane man convinces enough people to believe his delusion, then to those people he is no longer insane but divinely inspired. What could be more of a personal investment than getting to be the Messiah?
By identifying himself as the Christ, de Ruiter would be getting to be that for as long as he could persuade others to believe it. But if the experience of awakening to the truth, and later his visits from “Jesus,” came to him not spontaneously and unbound but as a response to some deep need within him, the likelihood is that he was tricked, and that the entity that identified itself to him as “Jesus” was nothing of the kind. It would make no difference whether he realized his mistake later on, the “pact” he made with such an entity—i.e., whether some extraterrestrial overlord or simply his own unconscious—would be binding. He would have no choice but to continue to let the archetype possess him and move him.
By his own admission, de Ruiter is only doing what he knows—but what is that? He has soared unimaginably far and fast through the heavens since that first lift-off. If his instruments were even a tiny bit off in Bethlehem, by now he could have landed on the wrong planet entirely—or be drifting aimlessly through space.
Most bizarrely of all, he might not even know it.
 It is also at odds with de Ruiter’s alleged claim that, if he ceased to be true to what he knew, he would die.
 It is possible that the belief in John-as-Christ originated with Bob, since apparently the idea came into full form during their late night sessions together. Bob Emmerzael might even have been the sower (or at least waterer) of the seed of de Ruiter’s messianic mission.