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One thing Christians like to know is who is in charge of something, because that way we can know who to complain about.  Like all those homeschool association meetings in 1993 where our parents complained about Clinton because they thought he was coming to take homeschool kids away and put us in public schools so we could learn about evolution and get free condoms, which would have been a waste of condoms, but still.

Anyway, probably the most important issue in Christianity right now is who is in charge of the Christian blogosphere.  (The blogosphere is a place where Christians go to feel important.  Sometimes there is yelling.)

With respect to the delicate and nuanced nature of this issue, I would humbly suggest the following answer:

I am.

I am in charge of the Christian blogosphere and I will rule over my fellow believers as the philosopher-king they so cravenly desire.

Some people might have a problem with this, but it’s like my mom always* said: if someone doesn’t like you, Matthew, it’s probably because they don’t know you.  So maybe people just don’t realize how qualified I am:

I am offended by things that haven’t even happened yet.  I am outraged by things that never happened.  I am woke about things that aren’t even hashtags.  I am excellent at identifying privilege, in other people.

I have read The Shack.  I have been inside the shack.  I have exercised like a non believer inside the shack.  I burned the shack down, using only Veronica Partridge’s yoga pants as kindling.  I then rebuilt the shack using nothing but Gospel Coalition think pieces mortared with Ann Voskamp’s tears.

I ask the questions that other theologians are afraid to ask, such as which person in the Bible had sex the most times.

I strongly suspected that God was not dead even before God’s Not Dead came out.

I was blocked by Joel Osteen for asking a simple theological question about Song of Solomon:

I once printed out a Matt Walsh article, rolled it up, smoked it, passed out, left my body, floated through space and time, and fought Melchizedek at the gate of New Jerusalem just to prove that heaven was in fact for real, even though Todd Burpo continues to take all the credit.

I was blocked by Jim Bakker for offering nothing more than a common compliment:


There is much work to do in the Christian blogosphere.  Under my leadership, we will pardon Sho Baraka’s penis.  We will write daily–nay, hourly–think pieces on why millennials are leaving the church in droves.  We will combine the Billy Graham Rule and The Benedict Option into a single ethos where no one is allowed to talk to women ~or~ nonbelievers and we will call it “Promise Keepers.”  We will do whatever it takes to finally get progressive believers to write about gender roles, preferably in some sort of angry, open letter-type format.  We will get Phil Joel back into the Newsboys.  We will end every post with a Carman music video.  We will continue the Christian Swimsuit Issue.  We will address whether McGee & Me was actually a show about a boy struggling with mental illness.  And we will defend The Sandlot against all takes.

Also, we will promote this person, who might be our greatest living saint:


*my mom also said that lots of women would be looking for a man just like me, but when I got to youth group that did not turn out to be true.