Barbara’s phone rang twice. She answered on the second ring because the caller sounded like someone trying not to sound scared.
“Barbara… I’m sorry to bother you,” the woman said. “I just got a link in a group chat. It’s about Nigeria—Christians being attacked—and then something about officials hiring people in the U.S. to control the story. The comments are going wild. I don’t know what to believe, but I don’t want to ignore it either.”
Barbara stopped in the grocery store parking lot with her keys in her hand and the cold biting at her knuckles. “You’re not bothering me,” she said. “You’re doing the right thing by asking before you react. Send me the link. And please—don’t forward it to anyone else yet.”
A pause. “Is it… that serious?”
“It’s serious enough that you deserve the truth,” Barbara replied. “And the truth takes a minute.”
When the text came through, Barbara didn’t open the comments first. She opened the source. She read the details slowly—what was claimed, what was documented, and what was implied. Then she read it again, because she’d learned the hard way that the first reading tells you what happened, and the second tells you how people will try to use it.
She turned the car around and drove straight to The Shepherds Cafe.
Inside, the place was busy in a quiet way—steam rising from cups, jazz sliding beneath conversation, the espresso machine punctuating everything like a metronome. Barbara moved through it with purpose, scarf tucked neatly at her neck, and found Elijah and Jeremiah already at their usual table.
Elijah sat upright with a notebook open, rectangular glasses catching the light when he looked up. His short white beard made him look more patient than he felt. Jeremiah sat across from him—an older Black man with a salt-and-pepper beard, calm posture, hands loosely around a mug like a steady weight.
Barbara didn’t start with small talk. She slid into her seat and placed her phone on the table like evidence.
Elijah glanced at the screen. “Let me guess. A real situation being turned into a contest.”
Barbara nodded. “Violence against Christians—and then the narrative war that follows. People are already using it to bait each other.”
Jeremiah’s eyes lifted from the mug to Barbara. “What did the caller ask you?”
Barbara looked down for a moment. “They asked if it’s real. But what they meant was: ‘Is it safe for me to be angry?’”
Elijah’s mouth tightened. “That question is driving half the internet.”
Jeremiah leaned forward slightly, not rushed. “And it’s a dangerous question, because it replaces ‘Is it true?’ with ‘Can I justify my reaction?’”
Barbara tapped the phone once. “The article has specific claims—contracts, messaging, pressure, all of it. It’s not just vague outrage.” She paused. “But the comments are a mess. People are picking sides before they pick facts.”
Elijah reached for his coffee, steadying himself with something ordinary. “The suffering is real. The political layers can be real too. The problem is that people treat complexity like betrayal.”
Jeremiah nodded once. “So we shepherd hearts before we discuss headlines.”
Barbara’s expression sharpened. “Practically, how?”
Elijah turned his notebook slightly. “We teach a process. Something simple enough to remember, strong enough to hold.”
Jeremiah spoke calmly, but every word landed like a nail set straight. “First: we remember there are souls under the headline. Not arguments.”
Barbara nodded.
Jeremiah continued, “Hebrews says, ‘Remember the prisoners, as though in prison with them, and those who are ill-treated, since you yourselves also are in the body’ (Hebrews 13:3, NASB). That doesn’t authorize panic. It commands compassion.”
Elijah added, “And compassion that’s disciplined.”
Barbara lifted her eyebrows. “Meaning: verify.”
Elijah didn’t soften it. “Exactly. Proverbs 18:17—‘The first to plead his case seems right, until another comes and examines him’ (NASB). If the first thing the post demands is speed—share now, rage now, donate now—slow down. That’s not cynicism. That’s wisdom.”
Jeremiah’s voice stayed low. “And it’s obedience. ‘But examine everything carefully; hold fast to that which is good’ (1 Thessalonians 5:21, NASB).”
Barbara turned her mug slowly between her hands. “So prayer first, then verification.”
Elijah nodded. “Then action—if it’s action we can support with integrity.”
Barbara’s eyes narrowed. “That’s where donation links start appearing.”
Jeremiah’s gaze held steady. “Yes. The devil and scammers both love urgency.”
Elijah looked directly at Barbara. “We need to be blunt with our people: a tender heart is not the same thing as a guarded mind. Love isn’t gullibility.”
Barbara exhaled. “Some will hear that as cold.”
“Only because they confuse warmth with impulsiveness,” Elijah replied. “Scripture teaches accountability in giving. Second Corinthians speaks of taking precautions so no one discredits the administration of the gift—integrity matters (2 Corinthians 8:20–21, NASB).”
Jeremiah added, “And integrity protects the saints from manipulation.”
Barbara’s tone shifted into her practical gear—less emotion, more implementation. “So what do we say to the congregation when this kind of thing starts circulating?”
Elijah’s pen moved. “We offer guardrails, not outrage.”
Jeremiah nodded. “A short statement. Clear enough for group chats.”
Barbara watched Elijah write, then began dictating the kind of message she knew people would actually read:
“Brethren, when you see reports about persecuted Christians, please do three things: (1) pray specifically and sincerely, (2) check the source and avoid forwarding claims you cannot verify, and (3) if you want to give, use verified channels with clear accountability. Let’s remember the suffering without spreading confusion. Let’s be quick to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger (James 1:19, NASB). Let’s speak the truth in love (Ephesians 4:15, NASB).”
Elijah paused his pen. “That’s solid.”
Jeremiah’s expression softened slightly. “That gives people a way to be faithful without being played.”
Barbara stared at her phone, then turned it face down. “I hate that we have to teach people how not to be manipulated.”
Jeremiah’s reply was quiet. “We’ve always had to. The tools change. The temptations don’t.”
Elijah closed his notebook with a gentle thud. “The church cannot control headlines. But we can control our conduct.”
Barbara stood, scarf tucked close again, shoulders squared like someone with an assignment. “I’m calling her back,” she said. “Not to give her a ‘take.’ To give her a path.”
Jeremiah rose too, unhurried. “That will do more good than a hundred arguments.”
Barbara walked toward the door, phone in hand, not angry—focused. And behind her, in the steady warmth of The Shepherds Cafe, two faithful friends sat quietly with an open notebook and a settled resolve: truth first, then love, then action.