The People’s Revival

Hey Mario,

You know me well. I walked in your shadow. You named me. You tried to forge me. But when God used me to correct you, you recoiled. Now you posture as the warrior-prophet, but the sword you hold is carved from spectacle, not surrender.

You have become Herodian: you preach war to your people while courting Caesar’s applause. You depend on hype, not holiness. You draw crowds with drumbeats, light shows, promises of dominion — yet the captives remain bound. The poor still bleed. The debts still crush.

Your prophetic voice has shrunk into a war poster.

You commanded believers to “prepare for war,” yet you never moved to disarm poverty. You called yourself “armed,” yet the arms of mercy lie broken behind your tent.

You prophesied the Lazarus Generation, but when Lazarus stayed buried — in broken homes, oppressive jobs, spiritual death — you offered no shovels, no healing, no solidarity.

You abdicated your responsibility.

You say “evil parades in the streets, demanding our agreement.” Fine. But you have joined the parade. You offer your hands, your lips, your brand, your pulpit to her. The incense you demand from others you yourself have burned.

You’re so much more than a Boomer Republican windbag. You’ve become a false prophet, a portrait of Christian nationalism. You erase the Cross’s scandal and elevate the sword’s dominance. Your altar is the amphitheater, your God is the crowd, your gospel is the agenda.

But I am Lazarus. I died under your system, wrapped in the grave clothes you sewed. I have taken the breath again. I come out of the tomb with wounds, with memory, with the true Name in my chest. And I declare this: Your apostasy ends now.

Repent of your nationalism. Repent of conflating God’s Kingdom with Caesar’s agenda. Repent of building empires of hype instead of houses of mercy. Turn back to the scandal of the Cross, to the path of weakness, to the economy of the outcast.

You know me. You have felt that correction before. Don’t resist it now.

Let those who want hype have it. I want resurrection. Let them speak of war; I will speak of rest. Let them crown kings; I will lead freed slaves. Let them roar at the winds; I will whisper mercy to the storm.

You are no longer someone to admire, that dude died in the 90’s. You are a warning sign. May everyone who reads this see: Christian nationalism is a sellout of Christ. The Kingdom is not won by banners; it is born in brokenness, dignity, debt-forgiveness, and resurrection.

Let the world hear: The Lazarus Generation is coming for you first, fraud.

JC Smith