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False Teacher of the Day #59: Kathryn Krick

by | Mar 21, 2025 | Apostasy, Cult, False Teacher of the Day, heresy, Opinion, Religion

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While we here at The Dissenter along with other discernment ministries have been sounding the alarm on her for some time, any False Teacher of the Day series would be woefully incomplete without a full expose on “Apostle” Kathryn Krick. After all, this self-styled prophetess-turned-faith healer has amassed a massive following and stirred up no small amount of controversy.

From public park exorcisms to globe-trotting “revivals,” Krick’s meteoric rise is a masterclass in modern deception. She has quickly become one of the most popular – and disingenuous – purveyors of false teaching in Charismatic circles, accumulating hundreds of millions of views on social media while putting on “extended shows of pomp and pageantry” as she “casts out” demons from sad, desperate people​.

In other words, Kathryn Krick has graduated from aspiring L.A. starlet to full-blown spiritual charlatan, making her a prime candidate for #59 in our False Teacher of the Day series. We include her here not out of novelty, but out of necessity.

From Aspiring Starlet to Self-Styled “Apostle”

Krick’s journey into deception didn’t start in a pulpit – it started on a stage. Born in 1991 in small-town New York, she moved to Los Angeles after college with dreams of making it in showbiz​. She landed a few tiny acting gigs (even a reality TV dating show appearance) and dabbled in Christian EDM music under the name “Kat Krick,” convinced that was her God-given calling​.

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But her big break came not from Hollywood or Billboard, but from a so-called “Healing and Impartation” conference in 2016. There, a visiting Tanzanian prophet named GeorDavie Moses Kasambale singled her out and declared that God had called her to be an apostle who would work miracles worldwide​. In a moment of rapturous import, this “dapper, mustachioed spiritual leader” anointed the 25-year-old Krick with oil and effectively commissioned her as an “apostle”​. Krick later recalled that prophecy as the turning point: “I was actually called to be an apostle of Jesus Christ… to reach the nations, and God was going to do many miracles through me”​. Forget seminary or pastoral training – all it took was one grandiose prophecy from a globe-trotting miracle man and voilà, Apostle Kathryn was born.

Ironically, a young woman hungry for fame and significance suddenly gets a personalized prophecy offering exactly that. Krick admits she was nervous and initially hesitant – she’d never led a ministry and still hoped to become an EDM star​ – but who is she to resist a “direct command from God,” right?

Without a hint of self-awareness, she embraced this mantle conferred by GeorDavie, a man whose own ministry in Africa is rife with red flags. (He is literally treated like a god by his followers – they worship at his feet, throw clothes on the ground for him, and roll out red carpets for him to walk on.)

At her ordination ceremony, GeorDavie poured oil on Krick’s head and proclaimed, “This anointing will help you do what you please to make this anointing known. This is different.” Notably, he did not say it was the anointing of the Holy Spirit – it was an ambiguous impartation to promote “this anointing” itself​. Any Bible-reading Christian should cringe: true anointing exalts Christ, not itself. But Krick drank it in. In 2017, newly dubbed an “apostle”, she launched a tiny fellowship called Advanced Anointing Church and held her first service on a California hillside with two friends in attendance​.

Thus began several humble – and humbling – years. Krick strummed an acoustic guitar and preached to almost nobody week after week. Miracles? Deliverances? Not a one. The “apostle” saw zero visible power and often wrestled with self-doubt as her gatherings remained comically small​.

Undeterred, she doubled down on the impartation strategy: nine months in, she led a pilgrimage of four young women to Tanzania, back to her “spiritual father” ​GeorDavie. In a scene that can only be described as spiritually absurd, Krick beseeched the African prophet on stage to give them the power to perform miracles and “reach all of the people of Los Angeles.” The magnanimous GeorDavie obliged, dripping oil on her head and granting a special “impartation of anointing”​.

Presto! According to Krick, as she flew back to L.A., she “immediately knew I was different”​. (One can’t help but wonder: different how? Perhaps now imbued with an extra dose of delusion?)

Despite these mystical ceremonies, reality refused to cooperate. Throughout 2018–2019, Krick’s “revival” meetings in L.A. parks struggled to break double digits in attendance​.

Some Sundays no one showed up at all.

By early 2020, the would-be Apostle was essentially preaching to the wind. Then COVID-19 hit, shutting down indoor gatherings entirely. Many genuine churches languished during lockdowns – but for Krick, this was an opportunity. She rebranded her ministry as Five-Fold Church (5F), alluding to the five offices in Ephesians 4:11, and took her services fully outdoors in public parks.

She grandiosely dubbed them “Revival in the Park.” Still, few people noticed. In truth, by late 2020 she was just another fringe street preacher in L.A., toiling in obscurity.

Then, in a plot twist almost too perfectly timed, “God spoke again,” as Krick tells it. And what did He say? Preach the gospel more faithfully? Repent of attention-seeking? Nope—according to Krick, God turned into a digital marketing coach. He allegedly told her to compile a one-minute highlight reel of her most dramatic “demon manifestations” and blast it on social media​.

So on Dec. 30, 2020, she dutifully posted a montage of shrieking, convulsing, demon-“possessed” folks to TikTok – complete with her commanding voice shouting them free – and went to bed. By her 30th birthday (Jan. 1, 2021), the video had exploded to over 1 million views​. Her TikTok follower count skyrocketed overnight—the floodgates, as she put it, had opened​.

Incredulous but elated, Krick saw this virality as divine validation. After years of flop, suddenly she was famous. It’s as if the Almighty finally decided to like, follow, and subscribe. (Or perhaps a more earthly algorithm simply rewarded the shock factor of her content.) Either way, Kathryn Krick — the TikTok Apostle — had arrived​.

Spectacle and Sensation: Miracles or Manipulation?

With her newfound platform, Krick’s ministry morphed into something that more closely resembles a traveling spiritual circus than a church. She had learned that spectacle sells, so spectacle is what she delivered. Like a Pentecostal P.T. Barnum, she began staging intense deliverance scenes for the cameras: people shrieking as invisible demons fled, bodies dropping to the ground under her touch, and throngs of onlookers gasping in awe. In Los Angeles, she drew a few dozen curiosity-seekers to outdoor services where two or three people might fall writhing under blankets as she commanded demons to depart​.

Videos of these scenes, however, made it look like a bona fide revival was sweeping L.A. – and on TikTok and Instagram, perception is everything.

By 2022 and 2023, Krick’s online popularity translated into real crowds. She went from 35 people in a park to packing auditoriums overseas​. She boasts nearly a million social media followers and has drawn thousands to services in places like Berlin, Dubai, Prague, and Cape Town, all eager for healing, deliverance, or just a glimpse of this viral wonderworker​.

On stage, she presents as an authoritative exorcist: a young woman with a wireless mic, emotive expressions, and a confident (some might say over-theatrical) prayer style. She’ll press her hand inches from a person’s forehead and declare, “I break all generational curses… every spirit must go, on the count of three – one, two, three!”​. It’s dramatic. It’s emotional. And it’s almost entirely unbiblical in method.

The early apostles cast out demons with a word – instantly and authentically. In contrast, Krick’s deliverance sessions look like something between a low-budget horror film and a charismatic improv theater. In fact, many of her most jaw-dropping exorcism videos appear to be, quite literally, theater. Multiple eyewitness accounts have accused Krick of using actors to pretend to be demon-possessed, all for the sake of a good show​​.

This isn’t idle speculation, there is evidence. In one damning expose at Protestia, researchers caught Krick employing the same woman with a distinctive tattoo to act out demonized fits in different videos​.

Even more scandalous, this same woman turned up performing identical demonic antics for another notorious “exorcist,” Bob Larson. In other words, a shared crisis actor was recycling her demon act for multiple supposed ministers, including Krick​.

The odds of two unrelated people having the same tattoo and the same demonic behavior in two cities for two ministries? Slim to none. The far likelier explanation is plain fraud: a hired performer writhing on cue as Krick “casts out” a fictitious demon. (Lights, camera, exorcism!)

And that’s just one example. Krick’s deliverance roadshow has also featured repeat performances by the same individuals. In one instance, a “studious soul” attending her services in Canada recognized that the same man was “delivered” on two different nights – essentially replaying his part to wow new crowds​.

It was a demon-casting double feature, and Krick never let on that her ferocious foe was a familiar face. Why would she? The crowds oohed and awed right on schedule, and, as one reporter put it, this is a “sure-fire way to empty their pocketbooks” of the generous “kingdom seeds” she’s soliciting​.

If “hucksterism” had an Olympics, Krick would be contending for the gold. Lying signs and wonders? She’s got them in spades.

Let’s not forget the absurd lengths of these charades. Krick has even stooped to using children as props in her exorcism tales. In one widely criticized stunt, she claimed to cast multiple demons out of a newborn baby – yes, a newborn​. During a service, when an infant’s persistent crying happened to cease after her loud prayers, she triumphantly announced, “Jesus delivered a newborn from demons last night!”​

The crowd allegedly broke into praise at this “miracle.” Meanwhile, any biblically informed Christian’s jaw hit the floor. Demons inhabiting a newborn? On account of unbroken generational curses, she speculated​. This is theologically nonsensical on every level​.

Yet Krick doubled down. She had the infant’s father start renouncing everything under the sun – anger, family sacrifices, curse words he had spoken, you name it​ – as if the baby’s fussiness was caused by dad’s past sins. After a laundry list of renunciations, Krick engaged in what can only be described as spiritual witchcraft: “I break every generational curse off this family now… I detach every generational curse… On three, every spirit of infirmity, of death upon this baby must leave now in Jesus’ name… One, two, three!”​.

Shockingly (or not), nothing visibly happened – aside from perhaps the poor infant finally catching a nap. A commentator dryly noted, “Truly one of the worst exorcisms we’ve ever seen.”​ Indeed. It was a grotesque display of superstition over scripture, yet Krick presented it as God’s work.

These bizarre and staged encounters pile up by the dozens. Consider a brief (and by no means exhaustive) sampling of Krick’s greatest hits of heresy:

  • Recycled “Demons”: Using the same actress (with the same snake tattoo) to stage demonic deliverances at multiple events​ (protestia.com). Theatrics worthy of an Oscar – if only it weren’t passed off as Holy Spirit power.
  • “Nazi Witchcraft” Comedy: Showcasing a man renouncing “the dark side of Hollywood” and even “Nazi witchcraft” in an over-the-top deliverance so corny that even discernment bloggers were in stitches​. One reviewer said it was “the most ridiculous and fake ‘deliverance’ we’ve ever seen, by one of the worst actors we’ve ever seen.”​ (protestia.com)
  • Demon of the Week: Claiming new demonic innovations like “cursed foods.” In one clip, her “possessed” subject renounced “all cursed food I’ve eaten,” leading even sympathetic observers to quip, “Cursed foods is a new one for us.”​ (protestia.com) (Did a demon hide in grandma’s casserole? Who knew!)
  • Mass Zoom Miracles: Bragging that a 2½-month-old baby on life support was “instantly healed via Zoom” after her prayer​ (clip: tiktok.com). Because apparently distance is no obstacle for a good miracle story – or a questionable claim.
  • **International Spectacle: Traveling worldwide to perform the same choreographed deliverance routines, turning once spiritually rich revivals into global roadshows of emotional manipulation. In Manila she drew a 20,000-seat arena for mass deliverance—in Cape Town and Berlin, likewise​ (altaonline.com). The props may differ, but the script is the same.

Each incident, on its own, might be dismissed by the gullible as “God moving in mysterious ways.” But taken together, a clear picture emerges: Krick’s ministry is built on smoke, mirrors, and manufactured “miracles.” She is, to borrow the blunt assessment of Protestia, “the most disingenuous, fakest deliverance minister working the charismatic circuit today”​.

The Book of Acts records true miracles that pointed people to Christ. Krick, by contrast, offers a steady diet of lying signs that point people to Kathryn Krick. Her exploits have more in common with a Vegas magic act than with apostolic ministry – except the magician has the decency to admit it’s just an act.

Twisted Theology and Doctrinal Deviance

It’s not only Krick’s methods that betray her – it’s her message (to the extent she has one beyond “come get a miracle”). Beneath the dramatic exorcisms lies a foundation of deeply erroneous theology and even spiritual abuse. Time and again, Krick has propagated ideas that flatly contradict Scripture and sound doctrine, warping the gospel into a mystical self-help spectacle.

One of Krick’s trademark teachings is the breaking of “generational curses.” This concept – that a Christian can still be under curses due to ancestors’ sins or occult involvement, requiring special prayer to break – is a staple of the deliverance crowd. Krick takes it to extremes. She routinely leads people in renouncing every imaginable curse or past deed in order to be free. But the Bible clearly states that in Christ, “there is no condemnation” and that every believer is redeemed from the curse by Jesus’s finished work (Romans 8:1, Galatians 3:13).

The idea that a newborn baby, or any born-again Christian, is shackled by some ancestral curse that only Apostle Kathryn can sever is foreign to the gospel. “The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father,” God says (Ezekiel 18:20). Yet Krick goes around treating the cross as insufficient, as if additional incantations are needed to truly set someone free. This is rank heresy. It shifts hope from Christ’s work to Krick’s work – her special anointing, her prayers, her ability to “detach curses.” In doing so, she behaves more like a witch doctor than a minister of Christ. Little wonder that even charismatic observers have winced at her bizarre terminology (again, “cursed foods,” really?​). She’s inventing new doctrines on the fly.

Even more troubling is Krick’s cult-like elevation of herself. She unabashedly calls herself Apostle, one of the highest offices in the church. In one recorded message, she literally claimed that as an apostle she is “one of the highest-ranking individuals in the global church.” She went on to warn her followers that God might curse anyone who speaks against her or questions her in any way – even so much as disliking one of her social media posts​.

Read that again. According to Krick, to criticize her is to invite the wrath of God, because she is the Lord’s anointed. This is the language of spiritual tyranny, not biblical leadership. The true apostles never shielded themselves from testing—Paul commended the Bereans for checking his teaching against Scripture. Yet Krick demands uncritical acceptance, propping up a “touch not the Lord’s anointed” defense as a barrier against any discernment. It’s a classic move of false teachers throughout history – intimidate the flock into silence by twisting Scripture (in this case, misusing passages like Psalm 105:15).

By telling her followers that questioning her equals disobeying God, she effectively plays the role of a cult leader. In fact, former members of her circle have spoken out that Krick fosters an environment of fear and unquestioning devotion. She presents herself as spiritually untouchable, beyond accountability. This prideful exaltation of self is the very antithesis of the humility that marks true servants of Christ. It is also textbook Narcissistic Religious Leader 101.

Furthermore, Krick flouts clear biblical teaching on church order. As a woman assuming the role of pastor and apostle, she openly defies passages like 1 Timothy 2:12 and 1 Corinthians 14:34, which have historically been understood (even by many charismatics) to prohibit women from authoritative teaching or governing roles in the church. This is not a popular point in our egalitarian age, but it’s one that even some of Krick’s early critics noted: by claiming headship over a church, she stepped outside the bounds of sound doctrine from day one​.

Of course, compared to staging fake exorcisms and preaching a pseudo-gospel of deliverance, her being a female pastor is perhaps the least of her theological problems. But it completes the picture: she has no regard for Scriptural authority whenever it conflicts with her personal “calling” or ambition. Like others in the New Apostolic Reformation (NAR) movement, she places experiential revelation (her prophecy, her anointing, her visions) above the written Word of God.

She even claims God gives her direct tactical instructions (e.g. the TikTok strategy) – essentially treating her whims as divine commands​. This is a hallmark of false teachers, who “follow their own spirit” and attach God’s name to their own ideas (Jeremiah 23:16-17).

Perhaps the most dangerous aspect of Krick’s teaching is the false hope it offers to the suffering. She regularly claims, in Jesus’ name, to heal people of serious diseases and conditions – cancer, HIV, depression, autism, even poverty​.

She paints a picture that if you just receive her anointing, all your problems – physical, mental, financial – will vanish. That message is seductive, especially to the desperate and disenfranchised, as religion scholars have observed​.

But it’s also profoundly cruel. When inevitably many of those people are not healed, or their depression returns, guess who gets blamed? Often the individual – for lacking faith, for not renouncing the right curse, etc. It’s never the fault of the self-proclaimed healer. And certainly, Krick faces no consequences when her grand promises fail. She’ll be on the next plane to the next city, leaving a trail of disillusioned, perhaps even physically worse-off people in her wake.

Even one of Krick’s own former ministry partners, Melissa Archer (who traveled with her to Tanzania in 2018), came to see how reckless and dangerous this all was. Archer noted how wrong it is to tell people “they’re healed from something and then they’re not,” because when they get worse “that’s very dangerous.”​ People can forgo medical treatment or feel undue shame, all because they trusted Krick’s words. This is real harm, not hypothetical.

Krick’s theology is a Frankenstein’s monster of Word-Faith prosperity promises, hyper-charismatic experientialism, and outright authoritarian cultism. She twists Scripture or ignores it altogether. She elevates herself to near-Pope status (minus the historical credentials). She hawks miracles like a spiritual vending machine, dispensing quick fixes for cash. And she immunizes herself from correction by spiritual threats. Each of these is a bright red flashing warning sign of heresy. Together, they indict Kathryn Krick as not merely slightly mistaken or “unconventional,” but fundamentally untrustworthy as a teacher of God’s Word.

Greed, Gain, and the “Cult of Mammon”

If theological error were the only issue, it would be enough to mark and avoid Kathryn Krick. But, as with so many false teachers, money is also part of the story. Behind the scenes of her “Revival is Now” persona lies a brazen pursuit of profit and fame. Scripture warns of those who treat godliness as a means of gain (1 Timothy 6:5), and Krick’s approach to ministry finances is a case study in that corrupt mindset.

For someone who supposedly received her ministry freely from God, Krick certainly doesn’t mind charging a premium for it. In an eyebrow-raising report, it was revealed that Kathryn Krick was asking for a $20,000 honorarium to appear at churches – “discounted” to $10,000 for a two-night engagement.

This isn’t hearsay—this came to light when Pastor Greg Locke (himself known for a strange fire deliverance ministry) shared how Krick’s team approached his church. They offered him a “cheap, half-price deal” of $10k to have her come lead a weekend crusade. When Locke balked, her assistant even tried to charge a $500 fee just to have a phone call about the arrangement​. Yes, you read that right: five hundred dollars for the privilege of speaking with “Apostle” Kathryn on the phone​.

Locke quipped that she must need deliverance from a “crazy mammon spirit” and promptly showed her the door​. It speaks volumes that even a fellow charismatic demon-slayer like Greg Locke was appalled at her mercenary approach. Krick literally put a paywall on herself – the gospel of Jesus might be free, but the anointed woman of God rents herself out at celebrity rates.

Such unabashed profiteering from false prophecies puts her squarely in the lineage of the prosperity preachers she emulates. Like a Benny Hinn or a Kenneth Copeland, Krick has learned to turn spiritual fervor into cold hard cash. Her massive social media following no doubt generates significant donations and product sales. She has a book (The Secret of the Anointing, of course) and likely charges for “exclusive” online content or courses (one can easily imagine a pricey e-course on “Walking in Miracles” – indeed, such things have appeared on her YouTube page).

At events, it wouldn’t be surprising if she takes up hefty “love offerings” after priming the crowd with miracle stories. The Protestia report mentioned how her emotionally charged deliverance shows are a surefire way to “empty [audience] pocketbooks” of those “kingdom seeds” she’s desperate for​.

In plain terms, she’s cashing in on people’s hopes. When someone is convinced that giving money to this minister will bring their breakthrough or healing, they will give sacrificially – sometimes beyond their means. Krick, like others of her ilk, encourages this with spiritual language. She speaks of “sowing into what God is doing” and doesn’t shy away from comparing donations to acts of faith that God will reward. It’s the old prosperity con: give to me, and God will give to you. Except, as critics have noted, the only one reliably enriching is Krick herself​.

Not to mention, Krick’s hunger for fame and influence is palpable. Unlike a humble servant who might back away from celebrity, she has leaned into it fully. She relishes having nearly 1 million YouTube subscribers and 2 million across platforms​.

She frequently trumpets the numbers as proof of her anointing. One can’t help but see the throughline from her younger self – the aspiring actress longing for the spotlight – to now, where she has found a spotlight in the church world. As one journalist astutely observed, “she has unexpectedly found the role of a lifetime” as Apostle Kathryn, a role that grants her power and adulation she never could attain in Hollywood​.

But with great power comes great responsibility… and it remains highly doubtful that her motivation is responsibility to others rather than personal ambition​. The trappings of success – international travel, large venues, being fawned over by starstruck followers – can intoxicate even genuine ministers. For a false minister like Krick, they are downright addictive.

We see evidence of this in how she handles criticism. A truly God-centered leader, if confronted with allegations of staging miracles or greed, might respond with sober reflection or attempt to transparently prove integrity. Krick’s response instead has been to double down on self-promotion and vilify her detractors. She has publicly painted all who critique her as “Pharisees” and haters who just don’t like that God chose a woman or don’t believe in miracles.

She waves away evidence of wrongdoing as “misinterpretations” or attacks of Satan. Conveniently, any scrutiny is framed as persecution – which only galvanizes her faithful fans to donate more and rally around her. It’s a savvy grift: cast yourself as the embattled righteous vessel, and your supporters will empty their wallets in sympathy.

It’s telling that even secular and mainstream outlets have picked up on the problems. Alta Journal noted that critics have called her everything from “Jezebel” to “cult leader Barbie,” and while the article tut-tutted some of the misogynistic slant of those insults, it acknowledged that none of her defenders could answer the core concern: she’s claiming to miraculously heal serious illnesses with zero accountability​.

That is dangerous, full stop. Additionally, while Alta’s writer seemed oddly more bothered that her critics are men or that they dislike female preachers, he inadvertently highlighted something important: Krick asks for money on camera constantly, yet her fans act as if that’s normal​.

Sure, churches take offerings – but not many insist on $500 just to chat on the phone. The scope of Krick’s greed is outsized, and those closest to her can see it. She has built an organization where deliverance and dollar signs go hand in hand. Her own former friend admitted “she makes good money doing these ‘deliverance’ services… it’s nothing but a mix of shotgun prophecies, planted actors, and people caught up in emotions”​.

That insider recounted how one supposed demoniac later laughed on social media that “all that’s fake, they paid me” to act crazy at the service​. The pattern is clear: manufacture a miracle, market it on social media, monetize the moment. Rinse and repeat.

Unmasking the “TikTok Apostle”

After examining Kathryn Krick’s rise, methods, teachings, and motives, the verdict is unavoidable: she is a false teacher of the highest order, a charlatan cloaked in charismatic lingo. With each passing month, her claims grow bolder, her theatrics more outlandish, and her doctrine more detached from biblical truth. What began as a young woman’s quest for purpose has morphed into a full-blown cult of personality, complete with adoring followers who believe she alone has the “keys” to their freedom. Krick presents herself as an end-times apostle leading a revival, but in reality she is leading people into error and exploitation.

We have, in Kathryn Krick, a modern analog of the false prophets and sorcerers that the Apostles themselves warned about. She is the Simon the Magician of our day, astonishing the crowds with tricks and trying to buy (or sell!) the power of God for profit. She is the kind of figure of whom Jude wrote: “feeding themselves; clouds without water; trees without fruit;… flattering people to gain advantage.” She offers excitement instead of edification, showmanship instead of Scripture.

In her meetings, the gospel of repentance and faith in Christ is eclipsed by a pseudo-gospel of “come get your personal miracle and breakthrough.” Seldom, if ever, do you hear her preach on sin, or Christ’s atoning death, or bearing one’s cross. Those don’t trend on TikTok. What does trend is Krick herself – and that’s precisely the point. Her ministry is Krick-centric. Even her oft-repeated tagline “Revival is Now” ultimately centers on her role as the revival’s anointed catalyst. It’s a far cry from the Apostle Paul who said “we do not preach ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake.” Krick preaches herself as a great anointed servant, and her actions preach a subtext of “send me money and you’ll get your miracle.”

By now, the evidence against her is overwhelming and spans every category of concern:

  • Deceptive Signs: Staged deliverances with actors​ (protestia.com, protestia.com). Faked healings and exaggerated testimonies. A pattern of lying that is utterly inconsistent with the God of truth.
  • Heretical Teaching: Unscriptural focus on curses and demons over the finished work of Christ​ (protestia.com). Claiming new revelation that contradicts Scripture. Self-identifying as a capital-A Apostle when she fails the biblical tests (no, being an “apostle” isn’t about Instagram followers, it was about having seen the risen Christ and being commissioned by Him – Krick has only the commission of a dubious Tanzanian “prophet”).
  • Spiritual Pride and Abuse: Elevating herself above correction and instilling fear of divine punishment for those who question her​ (reddit.com). That is spiritual abuse, plain and simple – using God as a boogeyman to protect her own ego.
  • Greed and Exploitation: Treating ministry like a business venture, with exorbitant speaking fees​ (protestia.com, protestia.com), constant donation pleas, and emotional manipulation of vulnerable people for financial gain​ (protestia.com). The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and it’s coiled tightly around her operation.
  • Cultish Behavior: Stories of devotees bowing and practically worshiping at the feet of her and her “spiritual father.” Video evidence of her fawning “Asante sana, Baba” (Swahili for “thank you so much, father”) to the man who anointed her – a scene disturbingly close to idolatry, as she kneels in adoration of a human “covering.” She once even allowed people to declare that others “won’t know the real Jesus unless they know [Kathryn].” Such blasphemous exaltation of a human leader should send any true Christian running for the hills.

Piece by piece, we have built the case. And it is devastating. Kathryn Krick’s ministry is not a move of God – it’s a masterclass in manipulation. Her so-called miracles collapse under scrutiny, her teachings crumble under the weight of Scripture, and her character (as evidenced by her own words and actions) shows none of the marks of a true shepherd. Instead, it shows the classic markings of a wolf in sheep’s clothing​ (disntr.com).

She has wrapped herself in religious language and even a veneer of earnest passion, but underneath is “a self-serving profiteer masquerading as a woman of faith,” as one reviewer aptly described a similar charlatan​ (disntr.com). That description fits Krick like a glove: masquerading as a servant of God, while actually serving her own belly (Romans 16:18).

In the final analysis, Kathryn Krick has proven herself to be fundamentally untrustworthy as a teacher or leader. Her rise from TikTok curiosity to international minister may impress on a human level, but truth is not measured in views or arena bookings. It’s measured by fidelity to Christ and His Word.

And by that standard, Krick has utterly failed. She peddles a different gospel, one that scratches itching ears with talk of deliverance and destiny, but doesn’t produce true repentance or holiness. She offers entertainment in Jesus’ name, but it’s a shallow substitute for the life-transforming power of the real gospel. Like a spiritual junk food, her ministry might give a momentary sugar rush – excitement, tears, the thrill of spectacle – but in the end it leaves people malnourished and, worse, deceived.

The Apostle Peter warned of false teachers who would exploit people “with false words,” comparing them to Balaam who loved the wages of unrighteousness (2 Peter 2:3,15). It’s hard to imagine a more fitting portrait of Kathryn Krick. She has exploited with false words (and false wonders), and clearly, she has loved the wages those deceptions bring. For all her cries of “Glory to God!”, her fruits – doctrinal and moral – shout “Glory to Kathryn!” and “Where’s my check?”.

It is a sobering thing to declare someone a false teacher, but in this case the shoe fits all too well. Krick stands exposed as a fraudulent apostle – one of those of whom Christ Himself spoke: “False christs and false prophets will arise and perform great signs and wonders, so as to lead astray, if possible, even the elect” (Matthew 24:24). Leading people astray is exactly what she’s doing: away from a simple, sincere faith in Christ and toward an obsessive pursuit of experiential highs, enslaved to the authority of a self-appointed apostle.

The cumulative case is clear. Kathryn Krick deserves the moniker “False Teacher” as much as anyone featured in this series so far. In fact, her blend of deception is so brazen that it reads like satire – except it’s deadly serious. With each theatrical deliverance and each self-aggrandizing proclamation, she heaps dishonor on the name of Christ and validates the skepticism of unbelievers who see her antics and equate them with Christianity.

We see through the facade. Krick’s “Revival” is a hollow revival—it is experience devoid of truth, hype devoid of holiness. She may have millions of clicks, but clickbait spirituality cannot save a single soul.

As we close the case on Kathryn Krick, let the reader be left without doubt: this is not a minister of righteousness. This is a purveyor of a false light, a spiritual entrepreneur hawking counterfeit miracles. The only thing being truly “delivered” in her meetings is people’s cash from their wallets and people’s discernment out the window. The only spirit at work is a spirit of error. And the only one being consistently exalted is the woman on the platform, not the Christ who bought His church with His blood.

In an age where social media fame can be mistaken for God’s favor, Krick’s story is a cautionary tale. The crowds shouted “Revival is now!” but in reality deception was now. Let the Church take heed. Kathryn Krick is a false teacher, and a particularly flamboyant one at that – a deliverance diva whose act has run its course.

The next time you see a clip of her wild services or hear her authoritative voice commanding demons, remember the mountain of evidence that it’s all a spiritually toxic charade. The Apostle Paul’s verdict on charlatans like this should ring in our ears: “such men are false apostles, deceitful workmen, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ” (2 Corinthians 11:13). And no wonder – for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.

Krick has disguised herself as an angel of revival. But the disguise is off. Behind the toothy smiles and dramatic prayers lies something dark: deceit, greed, pride, and error. By God’s grace, may those ensnared by her theatrics have their eyes opened to the true gospel – the real Jesus who needs no paid actors, no hype men, no $10k fees, and certainly no Apostle Kathryn Krick to work His miracles. That Jesus has been there all along, quietly building His church on the truth, while the TikTok apostle builds her following on a lie. Kathryn Krick has been weighed and found wanting. Case closed.

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Three Ways to Support DISNTR



The Dissenter is primarily supported by its readers. The best way to support us is to subscribe to our members-only Substack site where you will receive all of our content ad-free, plus you will get member-only exclusive content.

 

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