You can educate yourself right out of a relationship with God.

Tammy Faye Bakker, a woman both scorned and admired, once uttered words that cut to the heart of faith and pride: “You can educate yourself right out of a relationship with God.” Do not mistake this for an attack on learning, but rather hear the warning in her voice. For knowledge is a noble gift, yet when it hardens into arrogance, it can blind the soul to mystery. One may fill the mind with facts, yet lose the wonder that opens the heart to the divine. Thus, education, if misused, can become not a ladder to heaven but a wall that keeps us from it.

The ancients spoke of this peril. Solomon, the wisest of kings, declared that “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom,” reminding us that wisdom without reverence becomes folly. The philosophers of Greece, too, wrestled with the limits of reason. Socrates confessed that his greatness lay in knowing he knew nothing, while others, puffed up by their knowledge, fell into the trap of believing themselves gods. Education, therefore, must serve humility. Without it, learning becomes a crown of pride, and pride is the enemy of the soul’s relationship with the Eternal.

History gives us vivid examples of this truth. Consider the French Enlightenment, which sought to strip the world of mystery, leaving only cold reason. In their zeal for progress, some thinkers cast away not only superstition, but faith itself, enthroning human intellect as the highest power. Yet this same age, so confident in its own knowledge, plunged into revolution, bloodshed, and chaos. The lesson is not that education is evil, but that knowledge without humility and faith can lead to destruction. To “educate yourself out of God” is to lose balance, mistaking human wisdom for the ultimate truth.

And yet, there are also those who joined learning with devotion and rose to greatness. Augustine of Hippo, deeply educated in philosophy, nearly turned from faith altogether. But he discovered that knowledge without God left him restless, unsatisfied, and broken. When he finally bent his wisdom in service of faith, he became one of the most powerful voices of the early church. His story shows that the danger is not in knowledge itself, but in the pride that severs it from reverence.

Tammy Faye’s words also reflect her own world. She lived among televangelists, some of whom prized power, wealth, and cleverness above humility. In that setting, her warning becomes both personal and prophetic. To “educate yourself out of God” is to let clever arguments, philosophical pride, or intellectual superiority erode the simple foundation of trust, humility, and love. She feared not knowledge itself, but the way it can lead us to forget the heart in pursuit of the head.

The lesson is plain: guard your soul from arrogance. Seek knowledge, but never let it blind you to mystery. Read books, but do not forget to pray. Build understanding, but let humility guide you, remembering always that human wisdom is but a shadow of divine truth. The danger is not that learning drives us from God, but that we, intoxicated by our own intellect, walk away thinking we have no need of Him.

Practical action flows from this teaching. Pursue learning with joy, but keep a spirit of reverence. When you study, ask how knowledge can serve compassion, justice, and love. When pride rises, remind yourself of the vastness of the universe and the limits of human sight. Spend time in silence, in awe of what cannot be measured, and let education lead you not away from God, but closer to Him.

So let this wisdom be remembered: you can educate yourself out of God, if you allow pride to replace humility, if you choose reason without wonder, intellect without reverence. But if you hold both together—knowledge and faith, learning and humility—you will rise higher, walking in wisdom that feeds both mind and soul. For the truest education does not end in pride, but in awe, and awe is the beginning of a living relationship with the Eternal.