“Why is my face on this?”
Barbara didn’t raise her voice, but the question landed hard. She stood at the end of the table in The Shepherds Cafe, phone held out as if she didn’t want the screen any closer than necessary. Her scarf was still half-loosened from the cold, and her eyes weren’t angry so much as stunned—like someone who just discovered a door in their house had been left open all night.
Elijah looked up from his mug. Jeremiah turned his head slowly, already bracing for whatever the screen was about to show.
Barbara pressed play.
A short video clip filled the phone: a moment from a church gathering—grainy, zoomed, cropped tight. It wasn’t scandalous in content. That was the problem. It was ordinary: someone walking past, a brief expression, a half-second of body language that could be interpreted ten different ways. But over it was text, bold and accusatory:
“Watch how she treats people. This is why folks leave.”
Underneath: comments. Dozens. Speculation. Condemnation. A few people calling for “accountability.” A few others piling on with details that didn’t belong in public.
Elijah watched it once and didn’t need to see it again. “That’s a public trial.”
Jeremiah’s voice stayed calm, but the words were heavy. “And the evidence is a half-second.”
Barbara stopped the video and set the phone down. “It was taken from the livestream.”
Elijah’s eyebrows lifted. “And someone clipped it.”
Jeremiah nodded, almost to himself. “So a tool meant for edification got turned into ammunition.”
Barbara sat, but she didn’t relax. “I’m not in the clip, but I know the sister they’re targeting. She’s quiet. She’s awkward sometimes. She’s also faithful. And now she’s being dissected by strangers like she’s a news story.”
Elijah’s tone went blunt. “That’s sin.”
Barbara didn’t argue. She just asked the practical question. “What do we do?”
Jeremiah took a slow sip of coffee—buying a moment, not avoiding the issue. “We do what Scripture says, not what the internet demands.”
Elijah leaned forward, notebook appearing like it always did when the conversation got serious. “Start with the first principle: we don’t correct saints through public humiliation.”
Jeremiah nodded. “Matthew 18 is clear. If your brother sins, you go to him in private first (Matthew 18:15, NASB). Not to your followers.”
Barbara’s eyes stayed on the phone. “But people will say, ‘I’m just warning others.’”
Elijah didn’t soften. “That’s how gossip baptizes itself.”
Jeremiah added, “And James doesn’t leave room for it. ‘The tongue is a fire… it stains the whole body’ (James 3:6, NASB). Digital tongues count too.”
Barbara exhaled slowly. “So step one is removing the clip.”
Elijah nodded. “Yes. Whoever posted it needs to take it down.”
Barbara’s voice tightened. “They won’t like being told that.”
Jeremiah’s expression didn’t change. “They don’t have to like it. They have to obey God.”
Elijah spoke with quiet precision. “And we need to protect the sister being targeted. Not by forming a counter-mob, but by stopping the bleeding.”
Barbara’s mind was already moving through logistics. “So—private contact with the poster, private care for the sister, and a public reminder to the congregation about biblical conflict resolution.”
Jeremiah nodded. “In that order.”
Elijah added, “And we need to address the livestream angle. Because this will happen again if we don’t.”
Barbara looked up. “What do you mean?”
Elijah tapped the table once, as if marking off points. “We’ve treated livestream like it’s neutral—just a camera. But it changes behavior. It creates an archive. It tempts people to weaponize moments. We need boundaries and expectations.”
Jeremiah’s voice stayed level. “The camera doesn’t create sin. It exposes what people are willing to do with power.”
Barbara looked back at the comments, then flipped the phone face down like it was a dirty tool. “Some of those commenters aren’t even members.”
Elijah nodded. “Which means we’ve invited outsiders into an internal matter. That’s not evangelism. That’s disorder.”
Jeremiah leaned forward slightly. “And it violates a basic Christian duty: protect reputations unless there is a legitimate, biblical need to address something. ‘Love covers a multitude of sins’ (1 Peter 4:8, NASB). That doesn’t mean hiding serious wrongdoing. It means refusing to broadcast flaws for sport.”
Barbara’s eyes narrowed. “How do we make sure we don’t swing too far? Because sometimes correction is necessary.”
Elijah agreed. “Correction is necessary. Public call-outs are not the default. Scripture gives processes. When correction must be public, it’s handled with authority, evidence, and purpose—not social media outrage.”
Jeremiah’s tone was steady. “And not based on a half-second clip.”
Barbara sat very still for a moment, then said, “I know who posted it.”
Elijah didn’t look surprised. “Of course you do.”
“It’s someone who feels overlooked,” Barbara continued. “They’ve been hurt. They don’t trust leadership. And now they’ve found a tool that makes them feel powerful.”
Jeremiah nodded slowly. “Hurt people can become dangerous when they mistake exposure for righteousness.”
Elijah’s voice stayed controlled. “Then we address their hurt without excusing their sin.”
Barbara asked, “Who calls them?”
Jeremiah answered, “One of us with calm authority—and another of us present if needed. Not to corner them. To keep the conversation honest.”
Elijah didn’t hesitate. “I’ll call. Jeremiah, you come with me if we need to meet.”
Barbara nodded. “And I’ll go to the sister. Not to discuss the clip—just to care for her.”
Jeremiah’s expression softened slightly at that. “Good. Because she’s probably embarrassed, confused, and tempted to withdraw.”
Elijah looked down at his notebook and began drafting a short statement—not a rant, not a lecture—something the congregation could actually hear without going defensive.
Barbara watched his pen move. “Make it simple.”
Elijah spoke as he wrote. “We’ll remind them: Christians do not settle matters through public shaming. We go privately first. We refuse rumor. We protect each other’s reputations. And we pursue peace with purity.”
Jeremiah added, “And we anchor it in Scripture so it’s not just ‘leadership preference.’”
Elijah nodded and began listing references aloud: “Matthew 18:15. Ephesians 4:29—‘Let no unwholesome word proceed from your mouth…’ (NASB). James 1:19—‘quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger’ (NASB).”
Barbara added, “Proverbs 18:17 too. People treat the first post as proof.”
Jeremiah nodded. “Yes. And Galatians 6:1—restore gently, watching yourself (NASB). That’s the spirit.”
Barbara’s voice went firm. “But we also need to tighten livestream practices.”
Elijah looked up. “Agreed.”
Jeremiah spoke like a man laying out guardrails. “No more leaving streams publicly archived by default if it becomes a source of harm. Or we limit angles, avoid capturing the congregation, focus on teaching. And we set an expectation: clips are not to be used to accuse saints.”
Barbara nodded. “And if there’s a legitimate concern about someone’s conduct, it goes to the elders, not the comment section.”
Elijah finished the draft and set the notebook down. “This is where modern discipleship has to be modern in application but ancient in obedience.”
Jeremiah’s voice was quiet. “The medium changed. The command didn’t.”
Barbara picked her phone back up, not to scroll, but to act. “I’ll go see her this afternoon.”
Elijah stood. “I’ll call the poster now.”
Jeremiah rose with him, unhurried and steady. “And we’ll ask for repentance, not explanation.”
Barbara paused, hand on her bag strap. “You know what scares me?”
Jeremiah looked at her.
She said, “People think they’re defending righteousness. But they’re actually training themselves to enjoy tearing people apart.”
Elijah didn’t sugarcoat it. “That’s exactly what’s happening.”
Jeremiah’s eyes stayed steady. “Then we confront it. Not with another post. With Scripture, with courage, and with the kind of love that refuses to make a spectacle of a soul.”
They left the table without drama—just three believers choosing the harder path: the path that protects the church, protects the wounded, and refuses to turn fellowship into a public arena.
And on Barbara’s phone, the clip remained paused—one frozen moment—waiting to see whether the saints would feed the fire or put it out.