The People’s Revival

Revolution doesn’t start in a think tank — it starts in a grocery line when the card runs dry.

It starts in a break room where somebody whispers I can’t do this anymore.

It starts when the people who built the machine realize they’ll never be allowed to own it.

France had its Third Estate, Russia had its workers, Cuba had its farmers.

All different tongues — same hunger.

The rich had their cathedrals and palaces; the poor had their backs and their prayers.

When the system can’t feed both, the prayers turn into curses, and the curses turn into crowds.

The fuse is always economic, but the explosion is moral.

Because what breaks a people isn’t just poverty — it’s betrayal.

When the ones who claimed to speak for God end up protecting Pharaoh, the exodus becomes inevitable.

Revelation

The church doesn’t realize it yet, but it’s standing where Versailles once stood — too gilded to notice the gate is cracking.

For fifty years it traded the poor for proximity to power, preaching “personal responsibility” while corporations drained the nation dry.

They called greed “freedom,” exploitation “opportunity,” and apathy “faith.”

It’s the same story every time:

In France, bishops blessed the nobles. In Russia, priests kissed the ring of the Tsar. In Cuba, the clergy kept silent while Batista’s thugs bled the people. Now in America, the pulpit waves the flag of empire and calls it the cross.

But the poor have eyes now.

They see the mansions, the jets, the tax shelters.

They see pastors living like kings and telling the broken to “trust God.”

And one day soon, they’ll stop tithing to the golden calf and start flipping tables again.

Response

If you claim the name of Christ, it’s time to choose: repent or be replaced.

Because when the people finally rise, they won’t ask for your permission.

They’ll take back what they built. They’ll reclaim the land, the labor, and the light.

Don’t call it rebellion — call it resurrection.

Every revolution worth anything is a moral correction —

the earth groaning to shake off parasites dressed as prophets.

If you want to survive the fire, here’s how:

Decentralize faith.  Get out of the megachurches and back into living rooms. The Kingdom never needed a stage.

Redeem property.  Turn sanctuaries into shelters, fellowship halls into food banks. If it’s not feeding people, it’s not holy ground.

Break the idols.  Stop baptizing political parties. Christ doesn’t campaign.

Serve without cameras.  Mercy isn’t marketing — it’s warfare against despair.

Equip the people.  The next priests will be welders, nurses, teachers, and mothers — not career clergy.

This is the coming storm, and it’s righteous.

Because when the poor rise, the altars fall.

And out of the ashes, something honest can finally breathe again.

Let’s build something better.

— JC Smith