Curious Christian

I’ve been doing some reflecting on narcissism recently, especially as it seems to be playing out so visibly in our world right now.

Narcissism is often described in terms of an inflated sense of self, a constant need for admiration, and a tendency to use others to maintain that image. But from the outside, what people usually experience is something more subtle and more exhausting: conversations that always turn back to one person, an inability to take responsibility, and a pattern where empathy is expected but rarely returned. Over time, it creates a relational environment where others are constantly adjusting, second-guessing, and walking on eggshells.

The difficulty is that our normal instincts for handling relationships don’t really work here. We tend to assume that if we are patient enough, reasonable enough, or gracious enough, things will improve. That honesty will be met with honesty, and goodwill with goodwill. But with narcissistic patterns, those instincts can actually make things worse. Vulnerability can be used as leverage. Patience can be interpreted as weakness. Attempts at resolution can simply become new arenas for control.

This is why modern psychology tends to emphasise a different approach. The focus shifts away from trying to change the person (something that rarely happens without deep self-awareness) and toward limiting the harm. That means setting clear boundaries and holding them, not getting drawn into endless cycles of argument or emotional baiting, and learning to recognise manipulation before getting pulled into it. It can feel counterintuitive at first, but the goal is not to “win” the relationship, it’s to stop the damage from spreading.

In other words, the usual rules of trust, reciprocity, and good-faith engagement don’t apply in the same way. Treating the situation as if they do often just leaves the door open for more harm.

At that point, the question becomes: how does this sit with Scripture?

While narcissism as a modern psychological category isn’t named directly, the Bible is not naïve about these kinds of dynamics. The Book of Proverbs, in particular, assumes that different people require different responses. “Do not answer a fool according to his folly… answer a fool according to his folly.” It sounds contradictory, but it’s really about discernment. Sometimes engaging feeds the dysfunction; sometimes it exposes it. Wisdom is knowing the difference.

We see something similar in the life of Jesus Christ. He is deeply compassionate, but not endlessly accommodating. In the Gospel of Matthew, he warns about casting pearls before pigs who will only trample them. He doesn’t entrust himself to everyone. He refuses to be drawn into manipulative traps, and at times he simply disengages. His love is real, but it is not naive. It is grounded in truth and shaped by discernment.

The early church continues in that vein. Paul the Apostle speaks of those who are “lovers of themselves” and, at a certain point, advises creating distance (2 Timothy 3). That can sound harsh until you realise the aim isn’t punishment, but protection of both individuals and the wider community.

All of this suggests that love and wisdom are not in tension here. They belong together. The call to love others remains, but it doesn’t mean ignoring patterns of harm or pretending every relationship operates on the same terms. Sometimes love looks like patience and openness. And sometimes it looks like setting limits and refusing to keep playing a destructive game.

Narcissism may be a modern label, but the underlying reality is not new. Scripture doesn’t give us a clinical framework, but it does offer something just as important: a way of engaging people that is honest about human brokenness, attentive to what is really happening, and committed to responding in ways that are both loving and wise.