THREAD: Following the death of @JarridWilson, my social media feeds have been speckled with the cruel responses of those who bear the name of Christ. One friend even posted today about how he thought mental illness disqualified you from the pastorate.
I know that friend and his family, and I’ve spent numerous nights in his home. I’ve remained his friend despite his plagiarism, arrogance, and misogyny.
Unsurprisingly, that friend didn’t donate a cent to Juli’s gofundme. Reminds me of Jesus’s words: “And you experts in the law, woe to you, because you load people down with burdens they can hardly carry, and you yourselves will not lift one finger to help them.”
Christians are commanded to bandage wounds, yet some reach to unravel them. Christians are commanded to care for widows in their time of need, yet some seek to leverage their pain before their lovedone’s bodies have even been laid to rest.
I feel I need to say something publicly so all who witness these kinds of responses know that there isn’t even a whiff of the crucified Christ in these kinds of proclamations. These are the ramblings of people who think access to a concordance and Canva makes them exegetes.
How sad that Christians are willing to hang millstones on broken necks, and for what? For followers and likes—the 21st Century’s 30 pieces of silver.
And into these merciless, loveless, opportunistic ramblings, the living Christ whose name is love speaks a better word: “Go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, and not sacrifice.’” Maranatha.
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